Page 3 of Of Mercury and Mist

My head buzzed from the combination of her scent and aura with my angst and hunger. The letdown of her behavior was debilitating. All I could do was stare, not wanting to believe what was right in front of my face.

I had every right to dig her heart straight out of her chest, to rip it up from beneath her ribs. That would be the proper thing to do.

Zero tolerance.

Yet, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Instead of doing what I was supposed to, I slid up behind her, winding one arm around her neck and the other around her waist. She held her breath and her energy field retracted, away from me, balling itself into a little knot deep within her belly. She was beyond terrified and precisely where I wanted her to be, in my arms and hopeless.

Bending my head, I dragged my covered mouth through her curls, and then along the side of her neck. Her pulse increased when I flexed my arm and lifted her to her toes, tightening the noose. A couple inches forward, and her ass was against my thighs and her back to my chest.

I took a deep breath, luxuriating in the feel of my body next to hers along with the taste of her misery rushing between my lips. My swollen cock pressed into her spine, and she faltered, her legs weakening as she fought to gain a foothold.

Ashley was hanging almost entirely by her neck. Thrusting a leg forward, I propped her up. She whimpered and began trembling, the tiny pills jostling together in the little bag somewhere in the cluster of items she grasped. Her heat and fragrance seemed magnified far more than it should’ve been, given her precarious position.

I pressed my thigh inward, pushing her against the countertop. Her hands fell forward to brace herself, the satchel hitting the surface with a rattle. Her pussy was practically burning my leg. The girl was hot for me, her aura starting to glow a fiery crimson and her scent muddled not only with fear, but the distinct flavor of crushing lust.

The notes danced around me, heady, airy, clutching at me as if they would drag me down to hell. Intrigued, I cursed the facemask blocking my mouth when I lightly dragged it over her cheek, right next to her lips. If I could’ve, I would’ve sunk my teeth into her succulent flesh. My hand traveled to her hip, smoothing along the curve before I wrapped my fingers around her hipbone. It would be so easy to tear away her clothes sink my cock into her molten heat.

So easy.

At that thought, I released my hold on her waist and dropped my arm from her neck, sliding it down her shoulder before smoothing a gloved hand along her arm, all the way to the little bag of stolen goodies clutched in her fist.

As much as I wanted to drink from her, I wanted her to suffer. And suffer, she would. There was no Realm in which this behavior could go unpunished. She deserved everything she had coming to her.

While I began planning her torture, I moved my covered hand to hers, tracing a circle with my finger over her soft flesh. She shivered beneath my ministrations, remaining too fearful to try and see who had captured her. It was overly easy to pry her stuck fingers from the packet she had a stranglehold on, and the other items fell to the floor.

Slipping the silky material into my pocket, I backed away. Ashley remained slightly hunched over the table, her false belief I wouldn’t hurt her an almost living entity, tangible. She relaxed her shoulders, and her spine straightened with a false sense of bravery.

What should’ve happened next, if I wasn’t going to kill her, was an interrogation, an ordinary firing, followed by a formal escort from the building. Perhaps, even, a phone call with local law enforcement.

None of that occurred.

My fists clenched yet again, and I turned on my heel, walking away.

TWO

Ashley

My back hit the door before I slowly slid to the floor. When I finally let myself exhale, my breath came out short and gasping. With my head tucked on my knees, I focused on the hardwood floor, trying to think.It didn’t matter how much I beat myself up over it, I knew I couldn’t change what I’d done. The smart decision—to let someone know I’d left my stuff downstairs, that wasn’t the one I’d made.

Nope, I craved adrenaline rushes like an addict craved drugs. The thrill I got from beating the odds was better than the most luscious chocolate cake. The most mind blowing sex. It was like weaving in and out of traffic in a Lambo quicker than the wind. It made me feel alive.

I used to take stupid risks when I knew better. I never did figure out where my wild ways came from, but I mostly kept them in check these days. Until today. It was a huge risk to sneak downstairs and if I was honest with myself, I’d enjoyed breaking the rules.

Andy and my parents knew about my past, they’d bailed me out of trouble before. But I’d never let any of my newer friends like Della or Karissa know the fine details of my crazy past. They only knew I used to run with a shady crowd.

I was broken, somehow. I’d never gotten to the root of why I’d needed the excitement or why I was wired differently than most of my friends to crave and seek out danger. At my age, I sure as heck should’ve known better than to try and break the rules.

Micha was going to be utterly delighted to find out I’d violated policy. The production room where I’d left my things after a photo shoot was off-limits to me. I’d only been allowed in there for a few hours while taking selective shots for a marketing project. As it was, I hadn’t even gotten the chance to get my things back, so I was doubly screwed. Personal items plus trespassing.

I was done for.

Micha wasn’t even my direct boss. He was my boss’s boss. He had no business harassing me, I was nothing to him. Nothing, other than someone he loved to give a hard time to at every available opportunity. And there were a lot of those since he was always around, lurking, watching me like I was a show dog about to do a trick.

He picked on the way I talked, the clothes I wore, and even went so far as to tell me I shouldn’t eat soup every day. In my defense, the restaurant here made the best soup I’d ever tasted in my life, of course I was going to consume as much of it as possible. Just because Micha tore my bowl away one day and replaced it with steak and salad mumbling about my iron levels being low, it didn’t mean I was going to stop eating it. His sense of boundaries was abysmally nonexistent, never mind my iron levels. How would he even know?

Gone were the days when he’d praise my work. I missed when he’d check on me the way he used to when he was normal and kind of helpful. Not that he knew much of anything about social media marketing—I was the expert, after all. But he had a great eye for detail.

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