Page 3 of Isaiah and Jameson
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“Okay, so is there anything else I need to know last minute?” The drive up from Albuquerque to Santa Fe started out sort of flat gray, but as he moved up in elevation, red crept in even at night, the Sangre de Cristos rising with the snow a stark white up there.
Lovely. Jameson approved.
Harve chuckled over the words. “Isn’t that enough for now?”
“Does he know?”
“He knows you’re coming.” Oh little shit. Harve was always so cagey. That had not been what he was asking at all.
“And?” Jameson drawled out.
“He sort of thinks you’re a little baby sub coming to be his beard?”
“What?” Oh, that was fucking hilarious. “Good thing I like acting out.”
The last thing Jameson was at all was a baby sub. His cheeks hurt, his grin stretched them so wide. “What is he? Why does he need a beard?”
It would be easy as pie to pretend to desire the man—this Garces guy was hot as a two-dollar pistol, pale as milk with a shock of copper hair and eyes an icy blue. Gorgeous, old world, very traditional vamp.
“Well, you know he’s a vampire clan head.”
“Right. The dossier said everyone else died and left him the only heir.”
“Right. Thing is, he’s no dominant. At all. Now, that’s not common knowledge which is why it’s not in the dossier, just in case. His whole family is pushing him to take a consort.” Harve snorted, then sighed. “He’s smart, clever, well-read, and about as submissive sexually as they come. Your kind are as bad as wolves.”
“What?” Jameson put a ton of exaggeration in his tone.
“As far as hierarchy, I mean. He’s scared of losing his clan to an outsider.”
“Ah. Well, from what I hear that would put him in the doghouse. Make him and what’s left of his family the lowest of low.” How would he know for sure? He was a made vampire. Alone all his life and his only knowledge of vamp politics was hearsay.
“I’ve known him for years. He lost everyone—he was the seventh son. No one expected him to rule anything.” Harve sighed. “Bless his heart, he even filled out the application without calling me so he could go through channels.”
“Well, the low expectations he and I have in common.” Jameson chortled. “Okay, so. Let me see if I have this right. I go. I get… what? Paid to be his beard? Do I get to pretend I think I’m really there to date him, or does he think I know all this?”
“That’s up to you. I promised to deliver someone to fulfill his needs, that’s all. You know with me that can have a lot of levels.”
“Oh, how amusing!” Oh, God, this could be the most fun ever. Ever.
“I thought you’d enjoy yourself. It’s right up your alley.”
“It is. You’re so good to me. How’s your, um, boss?” He knew Harve had finally hooked up with his employer, Stone.
“Delicious.”
Oh, naughty angel! “Sounds like we’ll both be having a good time.”
“That’s my hope, dear friend.”
Jameson slid off the highway and cruised into town, the magic of the place thrumming through his skull and in his veins. “I think it’s inevitable. Thank you, Harve. I’ll keep you posted.”
“I can’t wait. Have fun!” Laughter followed him until the line went dead.
He tossed his phone into the passenger seat after hitting the off button. What a fascinating situation. Now, how was he going to go about this?
Just seeing the picture of Isaiah made him growl, made him ache in the base of his spine. What he could do to that lovely, oddly icy looking man. He would tear that up, teach Isaiah to love being spanked and bitten.
