Chapter Sixteen

We spend the rest of our time in a way I feel has been stolen from me this past year. Relaxed. Leisurely. Jesse sips his drink unhurriedly, as if he could listen to my voice and sit here with me until the stars fall from the sky.

He confides in me about his busy workday, and the stress of living up to his father, who I know was a god in Jesse's eyes.

"My father had many profitable ventures aside from the business, like this bar," he explains. "I took over everything."

"That's a lot of responsibility, Jesse."

He lifts a shoulder nonchalantly. "I'm smart about who I delegate certain responsibilities to, so it doesn't all fall on my shoulders."

My drink has long been finished, and I declined to order a second. Heat prickles along my neck and up my cheeks as it is, and I need to keep a clear head in order to battle any unwanted sensations.

"Would you like to see the office?" Jesse asks. "It's not far from here. We can walk."

I hesitate, but Jesse's pleading look has me acquiesce. "Ok."

Jesse rises and offers his hand to help me up. We exit the speakeasy through a back door that leads to a less crowded street. The temperature has dropped significantly, and Jesse shrugs off his jacket and wraps it around my shoulders. I'm on the verge of refusing, but realize if I were a normal girl without the ability to regulate my body temperature, I'd likely be chilly.

We walk only two blocks before standing in front of a massive building, its apex obscured by how far it stretches into the night sky. Jesse leads me through a set of revolving doors and pauses before a turnstile security system. A security guard sits behind a large desk, his eyes darting back and forth between numerous screens.

"Good evening, George," Jesse greets, fishing around his pants pocket. He retrieves a card and glides it through a keypad. The two small waist level doors swish open with a small beep , and I follow Jesse toward the security desk. My heels clack loudly against the smooth polished floor, echoing in the otherwise silent building.

"Evening, sir. Another late night?"

Jesse gestures towards me, smiling. "Not tonight. Just showing Rhi the office."

George directs his smile toward me, his dark eyes creasing at the corners. "Enjoy. I'll be down here if you need anything."

I follow Jesse towards the elevators, noting there are six total. Three along on the right and three opposite.

"What floor is your office on?" I ask as the elevator doors silently open, and we file inside.

In answer to my question, Jesse pushes a button labeled "PH" and I shake my head. "I should have known."

Jesse grins back and rolls up the sleeve of one arm, then switches to the other. I sneak glances at his exposed forearms before my gaze travels toward his tanned skin peeking out from his perfectly starched collar. My eyes finally settle on the hint of his muscled chest.

That's when the hunger stirs.

I swallow and avert my gaze, clasping his jacket tighter around me, even though heat cloaks my body like a shroud.

A quiet ding signals our floor, though the soundless ride hardly seemed to last a minute. The doors open directly to a posh office that's reminiscent of a lounge. It's decorated similarly to the speakeasy, with a bookshelf spanning the length of the left wall. Two leather couches, a rich dark red, sit below it, facing each other. The right wall houses an unlit fireplace with a gilded, ornate mirror suspended above the mantle. An antiquated Edwardian desk, so large it makes Professor Talbot's look like grammar school furniture, sits in front of floor to ceiling windows, boasting the most magnificent view of Manhattan.

I walk toward those windows, staring out at the extraordinary landscape of Central Park, which looks like nothing more than a green rectangle from this height. It's the same image from the picture he sent me a few days ago, only this time, night blankets the sky. Stars dot the inky twilight and glisten against the city's own inherent radiance.

The bustling streets below appear so serene from this distance that just for a moment, it feels like I can find peace here, too.

A wistful sigh escapes my lips. "It's beautiful."

"It really is," Jesse chimes in. Only, when I drag my gaze from the sparkling cityscape, his eyes are on me.

I drag in a shuddering breath at the intensity of his stare. His chocolate brown eyes flare with unrestrained desire, searing through me with such heat I swear my dress will melt beneath his gaze.

That I will melt beneath his gaze.

"Fuck it." Jesse kills the short distance between us, grabs me by my nape, and presses his lips to mine. His other hand snakes around my waist to pull me flush against him, and I don't fight it. I let it consume me.

His mouth is timid and unsure, so I erase any trepidation by stroking his tongue with my own. The hunger stirs then, reminding me of his honey-tinged blood exploding across my tongue. I pull back before my fangs descend, and I finish what I started in my bedroom. Instead, I bite Jesse's bottom lip, drawing the smallest drop of blood. I lap it up gently, earning a rich, growl from Jesse's throat. A growl that reverberates from my ears and shoots jolts of electricity right between my legs. Never mind how his blood tastes…

Fuck . How the fuck can he taste this good?

I don't realize my claws are out until I grip his shoulder blades and he throws his head back, biting down on his lower lip. I sheathe them quickly, but Jesse slides his hands beneath my thighs and lifts me so that I sit atop his desk, my legs straddling his waist.

I stare up at him beneath my lashes. My palms rest on his chest, the hard muscle rising and falling with his rapid breathing. Something shifts in the air, electric currents zapping like a rogue wire. Jesse's hands glide up my thighs, pushing the hem of my dress towards my waist. My breath catches at the feel of his fingers inching toward my aching core, my desire to feel him inside me and the insatiable urge to feast on his flesh while I fuck him hardly discernible.

"I want you, Rhi." There's a dangerous edge to Jesse's voice. "I want you so fucking bad, even though I shouldn't."

It pains me to hear him say that, since I know he means he shouldn't want me because I can't love him.

His hands travel further up my thighs, and his fingers hook roughly into the sides of my underwear. My hands shake with restraint to not unleash my claws and rake them down his entire front.

"But I don't care," he continues, staring down at me salaciously. "I want to gorge on every fucking inch of you, even if it kills me."

A shudder rips through me, his words striking too many unhinged cords within me. I should put a stop to this now, before it goes any further. Before I hurt him, either physically or emotionally.

I open my mouth to say as much, but he dips his lips toward my neck, sucking and biting on the tender flesh. I let out a noise dangerously close to a rabid animal, my prior rationality fleeting, and I rip his shirt from his chest. It falls from his shoulders in ivory tatters, and I bury my face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his citrus and sandalwood scent that has my mouth watering for more than his fingers and mouth inside me. To my dismay, Jesse's hands roam higher, to the curve of my waist, when all I want is for them to relieve the ache that sits between my legs like a fucking itch I can't scratch. One of his hands brushes over my peaked nipple, still demure in how he palms my breast.

Even his mouth has turned gentle, when all I want is the feel of his teeth piercing my skin. To urge him on, I sink my own teeth into his shoulder blade, and I relish the way his soft hands transform into a rough grip. The way he releases his own savage groan. The way he thrusts his hips into me, so I can feel his hardness beneath his trousers.

I continue to bite down on his neck, the taste of honey and copper a sweet ambrosia, heightening all my unsavory urges. I want him to lose his restraint, to fall into this madness with me. I want him to be forceful and punishing, to stop handling me like I'm something that might break beneath his fingers. I want his fingertips to leave bruises. I want his hand around my throat. I want his claws to make me bleed -

If it wasn't for his addictive flavor washing over my tongue, I would have jerked away.

Because everything I've just described in my head, every dark desire and sinful thought is all bound together in one person. One person who made me feel things no one else ever will. One person who's just monstrous enough to have my own beast begging and writhing. One person who had me screaming his name until my throat was hoarse, and I could no longer stand.

What I want, what the monster within me wants, no one else but him can give me.

There will be no one else. Not for you. Not for him. In this life, or the next.

The memory of those words causes me to look up, and I stifle a scream at the image before me.

Through the clear windows, rain pellets to the ground like gunfire. It's so intense I can barely make out anything beyond the wall of water outside. But that's not what has me terrified beyond comprehension.

Jesse and I are visible in the reflective glass, the image seemingly innocuous, nothing more than a normal sexual encounter between two people. My legs are wrapped around his waist as his back curves toward me, his hands completely obscured from view now hidden beneath my dress.

Mine, however, latch onto his shoulders. Blood trickles down his back as the black curved tips of my claws pierce his smooth skin. Crimson leaks down his skin in another spot, the area directly below my lips, the area where I'd thought I was biting him with my normal, human teeth. I remove my mouth from his flesh and run my tongue along the sharp points of my fangs, then glance down at the gruesome bite mark I left behind. My breath hitches, getting trapped somewhere in my chest when it dawns on me that I'd been eating Jesse slowly . The puncture marks around the bite wound are deep. I bring my gaze back to my reflection, once again swallowing the urge to scream.

If Jesse's marred back and the blood streaking down it like a grotesque painting weren't enough to horrify me, then the sight of my eyes pushes me over the edge. Once a mixture of green and blue, with the green usually usurping its color counterpart, they are now a greenish-yellow, too reminiscent of Leviathan's eyes, right down to the black reptilian shaped iris in their center .

It strikes me then, what I am. What I really am. The uncanny shift in my eyes, the image of me with my black claws hooking into skin, and my fanged, bloody mouth hovering over serrated flesh.

I look like a fucking monster.

I shove Jesse away. He stumbles back, struggling to catch his balance as surprise laces his features, no doubt at the sudden change in my demeanor but also at the brute strength I just carelessly exhibited.

But I don't care. I avert my gaze as I pull my dress down and attempt to round the corner of the desk, but a hand grabs my wrist.

"Rhi, stop." He pants heavily. "What's wrong?"

I push his hand away and attempt to pull my wrist from his fingers, but it's no use. His shockingly strong grip is relentless.

"Jesse, please just let me go." I keep my eyes on the floor, terrified they're still reptilian. I can control the claws and the fangs, but my eyes…that's never happened before. I don't know if and when they'll return to normal.

"Don't do this again, Rhi. Please."

It's the please that makes me relinquish my struggle against him. I still won't look at him, though. "I hurt you."

"Rhi, look at me. "

I don't.

"Rhi," I gasp as his grip tightens and pain splinters through my skin. "I said, Look. At. Me."

The authoritative darkness in his tone is what causes me to acquiesce. My gaze settles on his chocolate brown eyes before they dip toward his bloody neck. Jesse takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing my attention.

"I don't care, Rhi. Do you understand? I don't care ."

I shake my head. He doesn't know what he's saying. Jesse thinks this is all some taboo sexual shit I'm into. He has no idea how much danger he's in.

"Jesse, please. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

Surprisingly, he releases my wrist from his hold, and I backpedal toward the elevator doors.

"This is about him, isn't it?"

I freeze at the accusation in his voice. The hurt. And the clarity.

There's no use in me denying it. After all, the reality is, even if I didn't have the urge to eat him like my new favorite meal, it wasn't Jesse who my thoughts turned to while his hands and mouth were all over me.

It was someone else.

"I'm sorry, Jesse." I continue backing towards the elevators.

Jesse holds his palm up. "Rhi, wait. It's fucking pouring outside. You can't see two feet in front of you. Let me at least drive you back."

I reach behind me and press the button. The doors open immediately. I quickly step inside and slam the "doors close" button. The last thing I glimpse before they shut is Jesse's pain-stricken face.