Page 4 of Isaiah and Jameson
He’d trained subs for decades, and this one needed attention, surely. Jameson would be happy to provide it.
He grinned, his fangs pricking his lower lip as he reached the Cerrillos Road turn off. He would be there well before dawn. Plenty of time to annoy his new “boss”.
Soon the city was past him and he had arrived at a huge compound at the foot of the Sangre de Cristos. Lovely and strong—the place screamed of age and power. It hummed like some of the land around Sedona or Taos, but the buzz at the base of his neck was pleasant not annoying.
Possibly arousing, even, running up and down his backbone like someone had pressed a vibrator there.
Hmm. Interesting.
He pulled through the gates, which had opened magically, it seemed, and headed up the long drive to the house. No one had sent him information on where to park, or if he was supposed to call first, so he would just brazen it out.
Of course, Harve had probably called and the boss guy would want to look like he was the one in control. Smoke and mirrors. Vampire bands were big on that shit.
Oh, look, dogs. Big ones. Some sort of mastiffs, he thought. Mastins, maybe. Spanish style. How cute. He rolled down the window as they rushed the car, speaking softly to them. He’d always been a dog lover, and he had an affinity for them, communicating well with them.
They were unhappy, worried, and more than willing to come to him, sit and moan about how everything wasoff.
“Hey, guys. It will be okay. I promise. We got this.” He opened the door, holding out his hands.
“They bite. Be careful.” The voice was soft, gentle, husky.
“Oh, they won’t bite me. Not unless I ask them to.” He didn’t look up, but he was scenting the air, smelling spice and musk. Yum. “Yours?”
“My father’s. I inherited the pack.”
“They’re good dogs. They miss your father.” He stroked the high, intelligent ears. “I’m Jameson. Harve called you about me?”
“They’re amazing, and of course they do.” Isaiah cleared his throat. “Harve did call. Come inside. It’s chilly.”
“Thanks.” He climbed out of the SUV, surprised at the coldness in the air. “Oh, more freezy up here.”
“It is. Do you have baggage?”
“Just my one suitcase for now. I can get it.”
“Of course.” Isaiah waited patiently for him to pull out his roller bag and gesture for Isaiah to lead the way.
“Welcome to the Hacienda de Sangre. Diego, please get our guest a glass of wine.”
A huge, bald man stood in the shadows, moving silently at the request to procure him a drink.
“Thank you. No one else about?” He hoped he wouldn’t have to meet a whole troop of vampires tonight.
“No. They all have homes on the compound, but everyone else who lived in this one is gone.” There was just… nothing. No emotion there. Jameson thought someone was very brittle right now. “Diego is loyal to the death, bound to my family. To me. I’m lucky to have him.”
“Good deal.” Jameson smiled at the big guy when he returned with a glass of the good stuff. Blood with a little wine mixed in. Nice. And warm too.
“Please come in to the fire. Diego, please take Senor McMann’s luggage to the red room.”
Diego nodded, then hoisted his case, gliding out of the room without so much as a grunt.
Jameson moved to stand before the fire, which warmed his cold skin nicely. Then he studied Isaiah. Everything about the man screamed refinement, intelligence, and class, but beneath that was need. The coppery hair was brighter in real life, the blue eyes light and focused.
Someone was… he sniffed. Desperate for companionship. Sad. Lonely. And oh so starved for touch.
Jameson sipped his wine. “So, Harve told me the situation about your family, but why don’t you explain what you want from me, Isaiah? I like to hear it in your words.”
“Harve says you’re trustworthy. I wish someone to be my companion. Just someone to appear at functions, at family events, dances. In exchange, you’ll have the run of the house, barring my quarters, and you’ll be well cared for.”
