Rockstar Romance: Julian (Contemporary New Adult Bad Boy Rock Star Romance) (Hard Rock Star Series Book 3) (54 page)

****

Only when Dominic had felt like he had put enough space between them and his family did he bring the bike down to a more reasonable speed. He was taking her to his safe house—safe as in the one place his family did not know he owned. He knew that they wouldn't come looking for him, or Miriam, for that matter. They had meant to demonstrate their collective strength over Dominic and punish him for thinking he could make it in the world on his own. Dominic had received that message loud and clear.

After another half-hour, Dominic pulled the bike into the side driveway of his lake house, which he used when he felt the need to get away from the world. It was quiet, unassuming and, most importantly, secluded.

He brought the bike right up to the front porch and then turned the engine off.

"Miriam, are you alright?" Her fingers were digging into his leather jacket; perhaps he had driven a bit too fast?

"I'm okay," she croaked. She slowly let go of her strong grip and attempted to slide off the bike. She wobbled as she stood and Dominic caught her before she collapsed.

"Here." He dipped and lifted her from behind the knees, holding her body tightly against his firm chest.

"I’m perfectly fine to walk—" Miriam started, but then gave up the fight as he carried her inside. It was obvious she was exhausted; barely escaping a den of vampires can do that to a human.

He brought her to the main room where he laid her out on a sumptuous duvet. He could see her struggling to keep her eyes open.

"Where am I?" she questioned as her lids grew heavy.

"You are at my lake house. You’ll be safe here, I promise." He turned to leave, "We can talk in the morning."

"Oh, okay," she acquiesced sleepily. Dominic shut the door behind him as he left.

He finally breathed his sigh of relief.

He felt guilty that she had been dragged into his family drama. The Kane clan was a complicated one and it was a bit much for one human to try and wrap her head around in a single evening—especially when the threat of death had been hung over her head.

He moved towards the living room and began to build a fire in the large fireplace. It was the main source of heat for the small house and, although he didn't require it, he knew that Miriam would need it once the shock wore off.

As the fire crackled in front of him, he tried to figure out his next move. He knew that it was his family that had stolen his Anima as a way of teaching him a lesson. He figured that they must have instructed his driver to leave it in some strange place in town, as a way of forcing him to use his dark magic to find it and thus speeding his dark transformation. They were hoping he would come crawling back to them, begging for their help before he devolved into a merciless creature of the night.

They had thought wrong. But despite their plan not going as they had expected, it didn't mean that they hadn't won.

It hadn't taken him long to realize that his driver had been bought off and that Miriam was not on her way home, but to somewhere sinister.

He rested his head in his hands; what was he going to do about Miriam? He felt it the moment they had touched; the connection between them that went beyond the bond created when someone with the sight holds the Anima of a vampire. This attraction was much more primitive.

He longed to smooth her hair back, to touch her lips with his, and to kiss away any fears. He longed to bring their bodies together, to explore her curves, and to taste her essence at the precise moment that she came.

He groaned in frustration and unquenched lust.

****

Miriam woke up disoriented. She had drifted off, despite her best efforts not to. The strange events of the past day had played out in her dreams and had jolted her awake. She realized that she was suddenly alone.

She swung her feet over the bed and noticed a bit of dull light emitting from under the door. Miriam made her way out to the hall, feeling her feet pulling her forward, as if something within her was being called.

She stopped once she noticed Dominic sitting before the fire. His eyes glazed over as he stared into the wavering flames with a dark intensity.

When she moved forward, he looked up to meet her gaze.

"You should be resting," he noted quietly.

"I can't sleep." She had too many questions, too many thoughts racing through her mind to be able to quiet them long enough to find rest.

He motioned towards the plush chair next to him. "Then I could use the company."

Miriam moved to join him. They sat like that, side by side, in silence for a long time before Miriam found her voice to start delving into the topic ahead of them.

"It
was
you," she started, "in my dreams, that is."

He nodded slowly. "I'm afraid so."

When he didn't elaborate, Miriam pushed further. "So you and your family are..."

"Yes, Miriam, we are vampires, although not the kind that you’re thinking of. Our humanity is locked away in an object that we must never lose."

"Oh," Miriam added with surprise. "So the medallion held your humanity, then?"

"Yes, we call them Animas," he added.

"So," Miriam began in an attempt to make sense of the events surrounding the strange day. "So when I touched your, um, Anima, I was able to read your soul?"

"In a way," he flashed her a wry smile. "Only a few humans possess your ability to read objects; even fewer ever have the opportunity to read a vampire's soul. Once you do, you become bound together." He leaned in closer, closing the distance between their bodies.

"Oh," Miriam gasped. "So is that why I, um, we—"

Dominic laughed softly, "No, Miriam. That is a whole other beast."

"Oh," Miriam's breath hitched in her throat and her stomach did a tumble. She could feel her heart race with anticipation, while her center began to throb with desire.

"And?" Dominic threw the question out there; it hung in the air between them, thick with potential and heated promise.

Miriam knew that if she chose to go down this road, that there would be no turning back. Their relationship was a complicated one, to say the least. Dominic was anything but the safe choice, although she was long past making safe choices. She didn't know why or how they had found each other, but she was past looking for logic in this situation. She herself was a walking contradiction with her strange ability to find the past in inanimate objects. Dominic himself shouldn't exist, but yet here he was before her. She had a choice.

"Well, who am I to deny the beast?" she teased.

In the next instant, his mouth was upon her. She groaned as their bodies came together in a fervent, wild passion. She felt like her body was on fire with the rapid sensations that coursed through her.

She could sense his desire, feel his thoughts as they were focused on her, and taste the danger on his tongue. It all excited her.

He lifted her body from the chair and brought her to rest on the soft carpet. The fire roared next to them as it casted a warm glow across their bodies and illuminated the dark room.

She enjoyed the pressure of his body stretched over hers and felt his hard desire press up against her thigh. She brought her legs up to wrap around his waist and pull herself closer to his body.

When Dominic reached up under her shirt to squeeze her breasts, she shivered with pleasure. He roughly brushed his palms against her nipples; Miriam gasped as her body began to hum with erotic anticipation.

She moaned when Dominic nipped at her bottom lip. He raised his head up from where he had been lavishing her mouth with his and locked her eyes in an intense gaze.

Miriam sighed as he brought his other hand around to grasp the edge of her T-shirt to slide it up and over her head. He tossed it to the side and quickly unclasped her bra, soon replacing his mouth where his hands had been, lavishing erotic caresses across her breasts.

He brought his lips down to take one of the pert buds into his waiting mouth; Miriam groaned in response. She could feel his sharp fangs graze her full breasts, which only excited her more.

Her desire for him was almost unbearable. She needed him inside of her—now.

"I need you inside of me, Dominic—"

His lips curled around his fangs, his gaze heated, and his voice came out deep and raw. "Say nothing more."

In an instant, Miriam felt him tear away her clothes before he flipped her around so that she could straddle him.

She was fully exposed to his gaze, but it only excited her more. His throbbing, hard member was pressed against her. She moved to reach down and guide him towards her entrance, pushing him inside of her waiting body and began to rhythmically rock her hips against him.

His gaze grew hooded as the carnal pleasure began to take over both of their senses. He brought his hands to rest on her hips, aiding her in the sensual movements.

She began to increase her pace as the urgency of the moment took over. They became consumed by the pleasure and the connection created by their bodies.

Miriam spread her hands out on Dominic's chest; her eyes closed as she became focused on the heat of their bodies, the way his thick manhood felt inside of her, and the carnal movements as she rode him to the end of both of their pleasures.

They came at the same time, their cries the result of intense euphoria.

Miriam collapsed on top of Dominic's broad, strong chest. She felt his arms come around her, holding her tightly as she gasped from the exertion of their lovemaking.

Neither one made a move to stir, instead they enjoyed the way they remained connected.

Dominic was the first to break the silence. "Do you have to work tomorrow?" he teased lightly.

Miriam gasped as it dawned on her how late it actually was. "Oh shit," she exclaimed as she attempted to get up. "I need to get home."

Dominic rolled her under him and trapped her hands above her head. "Not yet," he spoke as he brought his mouth to meet hers.

Miriam became lost in his steamy kiss. "I guess," she breathed against him.

Dominic lifted his head from where he was lavishing kisses upon her full mouth. "I was asking because I have a business proposal for you."

Miriam looked at him quizzically. "How so?"

"Well, I was thinking, with your ability to assess antiques and my ability to breed success in all my ventures," he winked at her, "I thought we could upgrade the shop and maybe start dealing with higher end antiques."

Miriam paused for a moment. "But what about your family?" she asked.

"Miriam," Dominic took her face into his hands. "You don't need to worry about them, they will not touch you again. I guarantee it."

Miriam trusted Dominic despite everything—his mysterious past, unpredictable family, and the dangerous nature that made him a little otherworldly. Theirs wasn't exactly the start of a normal relationship.

But then again, she wasn't exactly normal, either.

She paused for a moment. "I'll agree on one condition."

Dominic stilled as he waited for her terms.

"You kiss me," she shot him a teasing wink.

"That, I can do."

And as they came together again, they both reveled in the knowledge that there would be many more moments like these to come. After all, there was no fun in business if they couldn't mix in a bit of pleasure here and there.

THE END

“Didn't your mother ever teach you it's not polite to touch things without permission?” Charlotte chastised the man whose drink had nearly landed in his lap. It would've served him right, too, given that the precariously perched drink nearly toppled from her tray when he tried to squeeze Charlotte's ass as she leaned over to place the drinks on the table. She glared down at the offender, who returned a look of semi-inebriated chagrin.

Ugh, I already feel like I need a shower
, she thought.

She was supposed to be off this evening, but she'd naively accepted the shift for a coworker who claimed she had an important family function.

“Family function, my ass,” Charlotte muttered to herself. By now, she was quite certain that Alison had simply been aware of the guests who would be occupying the sports bar tonight: a bachelor party! If they wanted to spend the evening in a drunken stupor, grabbing at every woman within arms' reach, then Charlotte had no problem with that. But, they really should have moved their party to a more fitting venue—like a strip club or a brothel! But maybe that was the problem; perhaps the groom had blown all his money on the wedding and had none left to enjoy his last night of single-hood with a bang. Charlotte smiled at the pun.

If he'd only budgeted more wisely, the table full of overgrown little boys could be enjoying all the tits and asses they could afford and Charlotte, who had opted for a job where her clothes remained on, could finish out her evening without fingerprints covering every inch of her uniform. It didn't help that the owner's idea of a “uniform” was a skirt that resembled something a school girl would wear, along with a tight, button-up, white blouse.
Yeah, like those weren't designed to provide the bar's patrons with walking fantasies
, she thought dryly.

Charlotte moved on from the table, grateful that the night was nearly over. “Just one more hour and I'm out of here,” she comforted herself. She moved around the room, checking to see if customers needed refills or another order of wings, and then headed back to the kitchen to hand over two more orders for the evening. She could survey the bar from her position just outside the kitchen. It was the part of her job that she loved; watching people come and go, seeing the play of expression on their faces, guessing why they're celebrating or drowning their sorrows in drink. While she was in the crowd, she couldn't see what was going on around her, but from here, it was the ultimate improv—reality TV at its best. It wasn't that she was a nosy person—it wasn't any of her business what was really going on in her customers' conversations—Charlotte was just fascinated with people.

She'd grown up as an only child, with two professional parents who spent a great deal of their time working. When she was young, it wasn't uncommon for Charlotte to wind up eating dinner with the babysitter, and then once she was old enough to care for herself, eating entirely alone. She used to eat in front of the television; not to keep up with her favorite sitcom or drama, but to watch the news. It made her feel better to know that the people on the television were actually out there somewhere. When her parents passed away in a plane crash just after her seventeenth birthday, Charlotte waited for something to be different. They had gone away for an anniversary vacation and on the day they were expected home, they never arrived. It wasn't until Charlotte was dining that evening in front of the television that she saw coverage of the crash on the news.

Day after day, she continued with her usual routine. She didn't miss her mother tucking her in at night—her mom never did that. She didn't miss tossing a ball around with her dad—he didn't have time for that. In the days, weeks and months following her parents' deaths, she made her own food, stayed on top of her own homework and tucked herself in at night—just like she always had.

Charlotte shook her head to dispel the sad reverie, and as her mind cleared, she noticed a new figure sitting in the darkened area of the bar. It wasn't odd to have new customers, and he probably wouldn't have caught her attention if he hadn't been staring back at her with a piercing gaze that she swore he was using to try to see into her soul.

She was accustomed to her fair share of ogling; at five foot, eight inches with a model's figure, attention from men, and even a few women, was an everyday occurrence. Her flaxen hair shimmered even in the poor lighting of the bar, and her big, stormy blue eyes captured almost as much attention as her long, slender legs and full breasts.

Even when she met the stranger's gaze, he didn't turn away, and the combination of a thrill and a chill ran down her spine. She knew she should be wary of the stranger; blatant attention like that was often a warning sign that the creep might be waiting outside after work. But for some inexplicable reason, she wasn't scared. And then, seemingly of their own volition, her legs began to propel her forward, moving her slowly toward the table where the stranger sat, still staring. She didn't know why she couldn't help herself—a tiny warning bell should have been going off in her head by now. But, she just kept moving until she stood directly in front of him.

“Hi there. Is there anything I can get for you this evening?” At least as a waitress, even if the guy turned out to be just another creep, her approach wouldn't strike him as odd or inviting. She was just doing her job.

“I'm fine for now. Thank you, Charlotte,” he replied politely, still staring at her intently. She wondered how he knew her name, and then figured he read it on her name tag. She wasn't accustomed to the patrons here being sober enough to bother with reading a name tag. But, as she looked down at her chest, following her mind's train of thought, she froze—she must have forgotten to put her name tag on before her shift started.

“How do you know my name?” she queried, a hint of panic in the tone of her voice.

“I know a great deal about you, Charlotte. And I'd like to know more,” he responded. The accent in his voice threw her off; she couldn't place it from any country she'd heard of.

“I bet you would,” she muttered aloud, beginning to think her “common creep” theory had been correct.

“No. Not in that way, though you are incredibly beautiful,” he said gently. “I mean, I would like the opportunity to learn about who you are,” he clarified, as if that should put her discomfort at ease.

He sounded 100 percent genuine, which made the situation all the more perplexing. Charlotte didn't know what to make of this stranger. By the way he spoke, how he held himself upright and looked clearly at her, she had a difficult time believing he was drunk.

“Yes, well, maybe I'll see you around here sometime.” She didn't know what else to say, and so a casual, uncommitted response seemed most appropriate. It was either that or, “You're creeping me out and I'd appreciate it if you'd leave,” she thought.

“I do not wish to leave. If you'd just join me for a drink, I am sure you'll come to see I am not here to 'creep' you out,” he explained.

The fact that he seemed to be reading her thoughts was disturbing Charlotte even more, and yet she didn't immediately tell him no. What was wrong with her?

“I'm in the middle of work, I'm afraid,” she told him honestly.

“I'm sure no one will mind if you took a break. I've seen you working all evening, and you haven't stopped even once.”

All of a sudden, “Charlotte!” her boss, Michael, shouted to her from across the room.

“Great. I'm in trouble already and I didn't even take the damn break,” she though exasperatedly.

“Go ahead and take five. We've got the floor covered for now,” Michael continued, and Charlotte's jaw nearly dropped to the floor. Michael wasn't the type of boss who was...well,
nice
.

Uncomfortably she nodded her head and sat down at the stranger's table, though she wasn't entirely sure when she was the one who had commanded her legs to lower her to the seat.

Her boss, her body with a mind of its own tonight, and the potentially-telepathic stranger sitting across from her; Charlotte was beginning to wonder if she was dreaming—or living in an episode of the X-Files.

“What's going on?” she queried, certain at the least that something wasn't right here. As she spoke, she looked up at the stranger.

Even sitting she could tell that he would stand nearly a foot taller than her. She looked closer; something wasn’t quite right about his features. The stranger had ridges on his forehead and markings along his hairline down to his neck. She couldn't make them out, but they seemed to shimmer iridescent. He had incredibly defined, chiseled cheekbones, and a hard jawline. His eyes were gently slanted and he had incredibly long lashes for a man. His dark hair was long, too, falling just below his shoulders, and she could just barely see the tops of his ears peeking out, suggesting they angled away from his head—sort of like Will Smith's ears, she thought wryly.

He didn't look like any man she'd ever seen before; every one of his features was exaggerated; some men might have a strong jaw or prominent cheekbones, or eyes that really stood out, but never a combination of all these things. But, he was beautiful—a solitary masterpiece unlike any other.

“Thank you,” he said.

“For what?” she asked, confused. When he didn't respond but looked at her knowingly, “You heard that?!? But, how is that possible?”

“Why would you suppose that such things are not possible?” he queried back to her. But, as intelligent as Charlotte was, she couldn't find a logical argument.

And then he spoke again, an edge of frustration in his voice. “I wish I had time to do this another way—to woo you tenderly, I would like that very much—but I’ve been gone too long. It has taken me so long, and while I know you cannot possibly understand, I have come here for a reason, Charlotte. And it turns out, that reason is
you
. And I’m more glad than you can possibly imagine,” he explained cryptically.

“I don't understand,” Charlotte replied, completely at a loss. She had no idea what to make of the stranger's ramblings. This had to be the weirdest conversation she'd ever had. Weirder still was the fact that she was still sitting there. She really should have taken a hike when the guy started repeating her thoughts.

“And I see that all I'm doing is confusing you right now. I will be back,” he assured her before standing, settling up his bill and strolling out of the sports bar. Charlotte was left to stare after him, wondering if perhaps she'd just imagined the exchange between them. She remained still for a moment after he'd left before sweeping up the money on the table to cover the stranger's bill.

She shook her head, trying to clear it of the confusion from her bizarre conversation with the stranger. It was a difficult task, but her five minutes was up and it was time to get back to work. Fortunately, the rest of the night passed quickly and much less disturbing than she had expected. Strangely, the immature grabbers at the bachelor party table had calmed down immensely since her last trip to their table. She stopped by to refill glasses two more times during the evening and her entire body remained untouched the entire time. “Jeez, I gotta find out what's ended up in their drinks and stash some for the next raucous group of males,” Charlotte thought to herself.

She swept the floors and washed down the tables after the last customer cleared out of the bar and then headed out quickly, never terribly enthusiastic about the long walk home after dark. She looked around for the stranger that had confused her earlier, but he was nowhere to be found. So, she started out down the sidewalk, moving quickly while her low heels kept a staccato beat to spur her onward.