Blake had helped plan. The one that could bring them millions and ensure the livelihood of the pack for the next decade—hell, the next century. And Blake was cast aside like a piece of rotting meat. It made him sick.
***
Sabrina hovered in front of the counter at the coffee shop, her cheeks going red.
"It was declined," the barista said. " Again ." The girl, so young she still had acne, gave Sabrina an exasperated look.
"But I know there's money in it. Try again." The barista sighed but banged some keys on her register and the credit machine reset. Sabrina swiped her card. It made a loud beeping noise and the screen flashed red: DECLINED.
"Do you have another form of payment ma'am?"
Ma'am? Did she just call me ma'am? Jeez, this day was getting worse and worse. First, there was the same tired fight with her mother. Next, she crashes into a supermodel body builder who makes her skin tingle, and she walks away from him because she's too disillusioned to see any point in granting even a small flirtation.
She wished she'd gotten his name. She felt his eyes on her even now, that deep brown that sucked you in, mesmerizing like a magician. She knew she was probably idealizing him in her mind. No one was that perfect.
"Ma'am," the barista's voice rose. A line was forming behind Sabrina. "Are you gonna get the latte or what?"
"I guess not," she said, lowering her eyes a fraction of an inch. She could already taste the latte on her tongue.
"Allow me," a voice crooned from behind her.
Sabrina didn't need to turn around. The voice was unmistakable. It was too deep, too sultry to be anyone other than the model she'd left on the sidewalk only ten minutes before. Her blood pressure shot up twenty points as he stepped towards her.
His shoes made soft clunks on the ground as he moved through the crowd. They parted for him like a celebrity coming down a red carpet. Sabrina turned her head and saw the jaw on the girl behind her drop open and begin to salivate. He handed the barista a fifty. "Please, add the change to your tip jar." The girl blushed.
The supermodel smiled at Sabrina and when his arm brushed hers she felt her heart skip several beats. She took a great gulp of air and said, "You don't have to do that."
"I insist ."
She couldn't stop the corners of her mouth from curving up.
"Did you follow me here?" she asked.
"Yes."
His honesty startled her. She wasn't sure whether she should be flattered or frightened.
"I'm Jakob Moore." He stretched out his hand and she took it again without thinking. It was almost as hot as the latte he handed her.
"Now," he said, leading her away from the crowd. His eyes followed her as she walked, watching her ample hips swish back and forth over her shapely legs, crafted, no doubt, to entice him. "Tell me your name."
"Oh," she said. "I'm... I'm..." Her brain wasn't working for some reason. "Sabrina," she finally spit out.
"Sabrina," he repeated. Her name rolled off his tongue like sugar. "Now that we've been introduced. I have a favor I'd like to ask."
Sabrina hesitated, searching his face for the telltale signs of a serial killer, but seeing none. "Yes?"
Jakob gestured towards her latte. "An exchange. Coffee for companionship."
Her reaction confused him at first. She looked mad.
"You want my companionship ?" she shouted. Her beautiful blue eyes turned red. "What do you think I am? Some kind of prost—" But Sabrina couldn't get the word out. The taste was too vile in her mouth.
Jakob immediately realized his error. "No," he said, "I didn't mean it like that. I only meant—"
She threw her coffee on the floor. It splattered against his legs and singed his skin, a bee sting that would heal in minutes. Sabrina was already to the door. He moved to follow her.
"Sabrina," he called. "Stop." His tone was commanding, and she did as he said. Good.
She turned to him. "If you follow me again, creep , I'll break your balls off."
She pushed the door open and left Jakob standing wet and
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