Page 27 of Twisted Devotion

I arch a brow. “Is that some lame attempt at a joke about that night we masturbated to each other?” I’m not too shy that I won’t say it, especially to call him out on a poorly executed attempt at humor.

His eyes light up with amusement. “So crass.”

I shrug, forcing a neutral tone. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with finding pleasure in oneself.”

“Oh, I completely agree.”

“Great. Can we move on? We’ve got a busy day.”

He frowns. “Do we have to? We were having so much fun.”

“You and I have very different ideas of fun, Jax.”

He leans in, and when I try to shift back, I hit the counter. “Really? I don’t think that’s all true. I’m confident we could have fun together. Many, many times.”

I swallow hard and put on a blank face as I lean toward him. Very slowly, I lift my hand, trailing it up his arm until I reach his neck. Leaning closer, I inhale and let out a soft sigh, letting my lips graze his throat.

His response is immediate and crystal clear. His body stiffens as his pulse races, heart pounding, and I can practicallyfeelhis blood boiling.

“Mmm,” I say, “That money is mine.” Without another word, I step around him and head toward the stairs to my room to finish getting ready.

The second my door is closed, I fall against it and exhale heavily, attempting to catch my breath. I don’t want to admit that little stunt I pulled downstairs affected me as much as it did Jackson, but the pounding in my chest is determined to make a liar out of me.

I spend the afternoon with Jackson in his office. I lounge on the couch while he sits behind his desk, typing away on his computer. I flip through incident reports sent through by the security team down the hall. The main thing they’re concerned about right now is chatter in parts of the fae community.

I haven’t heard anything firsthand—perks of essentially being locked away in a mansion for the last three weeks—but fae are talking. Murmurs about Jackson being a shady businessman. Stealing from the desperate and being just as bad as The Experiment for suggesting that fae shouldn’t want immortality. Some of it really doesn’t make sense, considering Jackson is by no means forcing the treatment on anyone. His business comes entirely through word of mouth, and fae searching him out and flocking to him from across the globe. He can’t exactly put an advertisement for the procedure in the local paper.

I debate whether or not to bring it up to him, but I figure he has to know. His business isn’t exactly helping puppies find their forever homes or curing cancer. And after knowing him for a while now, something tells me gossip like this wouldn’t bother him. Jackson is the furthest thing from self-conscious there is.

I start writing an email to Nik, requesting an update on Skylar’s travels and asking if he’s heard anything from Seth. I still haven’t and I’m hesitant to reach out. He obviously still needs time to heal and move on after the battle, and I completely understand his staying away from Rockdale. But god, I miss him. I don’t think that pit in my stomach will go away until he comes home.

My eyes drift up from my computer screen when Jackson sighs and leans back in his chair, propping his hands on the back of his head.

“Keeping out of trouble over there?” I ask him, my eyes trailing the tight muscles in his arms, admiring how good they look in his baby blue dress shirt.

He throws me an easygoing grin. “Cross my heart and hope to—well, eternity sort of ruins the last part.” He shrugs, then nods at my laptop. “Whatcha up to?”

I hit send on my email and sigh. “Not too much. Reading reports from your team and sending emails.”

Jackson frowns. “Sounds boring.”

Nodding, I say, “It’s the job.”

“Speaking of,” he gets up and walks around the desk, approaching the couch, then leans against the arm at the other end. “I thought you might want to watch today.”

“Watch?” I ask—and then it hits me. There’s a procedure this afternoon. He’s offering to let me oversee it. “Oh, um, I don’t know.”

“Come on. It’s pretty cool to see in action.”

I chew my bottom lip, considering it. I have to admit, I’ve been curious about the procedure since Tristan and Aurora underwent it, but I’ve never asked for details. I’m not sure how much they recall and I don’t want to bring it up for fear of upsetting them—especially considering the forced, violent way Aurora became human again at the hands of those behind The Experiment.

“There’s a viewing room. I’ll sit with you if you want,” he says, as if he believes that will make me more likely to agree, as if his presence will be a comfort.

I don’t want to admit that it just might.

Jackson doesn’t perform the procedures himself; he just runs the business that profits off those who do. Yes, he pays them very well to do so, but he mostly meets with clients and family members to explain the process and sign paperwork.

I take a deep breath and blow it out. “When is it?”

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