Page 20 of B Negative
Eight
Weather didn’t bother me.Rain, sleet, snow, none of it mattered.
Wind, though? That was another matter entirely, because even though it didn’t bite and cut through me like the bitter winters of my human life, it could still knock me the fuck off a bridge. Or slam me into the iron girders of said bridge. Or into the windshield of an oncoming Mac truck.
I hunched over, bracing against the brunt of the gale as I blurred across the bridge between the two kings.
I had no plan.
No phone to contact anyone to make a plan.
I had no idea where I was going.
I just needed off the bridge and into the cove where things weren’t so…
Different.
The moment I crossed that invisible barrier between the two territories, my shoulders relaxed, the tension in my neck and jaw eased. Titus’s ward had left its mark on me the entire time I was in Cypress City, and I’d only noticed now that it was gone.
I couldn’t blame him for warding his territory, but that didn’t mean I was happy about it.
Blurring into the cove from the bridge put me closest to the one property of mine Julian didn’t know I had. My storage unit with all my safe cracking stuff was only a few blocks from me. I could hole up there.
Except I still didn’t have any clothes or a back-up phone.
I could kick myself for not adding those items to the unit the last time I was in this position.
When I’d busted out Julian’s window and made a third-floor jump to get back to my human life.
Humans were so much easier than vampires.
I had to make a decision, otherwise I’d end up wandering the streets aimlessly and probably end up right in front of Julian’s door, like always.
I blurred by the storage unit and headed for my studio. My phone wasn’t there, but I could figure that out later. And even if Julian’s men were still there, which I doubted, it was still my studio, damnit. I wasn’t going to avoid it on the chance that word might get back to Julian.
I’d just turned onto my street when a familiar bald head stepped from the building.
“Jaxson!” My voice broke as I catapulted myself into his arms, knocking him backward a few feet. I took a deep breath of him, that warm, familiar scent of his, and let myself relax in his arms.
“Hey you, what’s going on? Are you OK? And what the hell are you wearing?” He peeled my arms from around his neck to assess my outfit. “I mean, it’s a nice upgrade, but it’s not really ‘you’, is it?” He met my gaze, mirth leaving his features as he took in mine. “Eeds, what’s wrong?”
My chin quivered, and a part of me really wanted to fall apart. I didn’t. I bit the shit out of my lip until the feeling passed. “Everything is wrong. Do you have time to talk?”
“Yeah, of course, let’s go inside.” Jaxson spun on a heel and herded me into the building. “Yours or mine?”
“Definitely yours,” I said.
“Margs?” he asked as we entered his studio.
It was the mirror image to mine, but where I hadn’t cared about my furniture as long as it was functional, Jaxson had made his studio a whimsical oasis. Plants covered every flat surface, hung from the ceiling, and sat on top of the kitchen cabinets. He’d even used the vines from a particularly large plant to divide the sleeping space from the living space. He kept the palette warm and neutral, with boho accents here and there.
I sighed at his suggestion. “Margs sound like the best thing I’ve heard all week.”
He grinned and busied himself making margaritas on the rocks, apologizing for not having the time for our ritual frozen cocktail.
“Don’t even mention it. I’m the one who dropped by unannounced.”
Jaxson handed me a rocks glass, and I took a long, perfectly salty, sour, tequila-y swig as he made himself comfortable next to me on his small rattan sofa which I’d helped reupholster, turning it from patio furniture to a cute and comfy indoor piece.