Page 4 of Jorax
We soon pull up to an imposing building almost hidden from pedestrian eyes by lush trees and foliage. I crane my neck to take it all in. “Is this a hotel?”
“Hallion’s most exclusive,” Icaron confirms, his voice oily with superiority.
He hands his keys to the valet and guides me inside with a proprietary hand on my lower back. The lobby glitters with gold accents and chandeliers. My heels sink into plush carpet as we cross to the bank of elevators.
Icaron presses the button for the top floor. “I thought we’d have dinner in the sky lounge.”
“How fancy,” I murmur, smoothing my suddenly sweaty palms over my dress.
The doors open to reveal a lavish lounge with a view overlooking the twinkling city. Other well-dressed patrons sip colorful cocktails, some steaming with dry ice, or swirling from one color to the next. A host leads us to a table beside the floor-to-ceiling windows.
I can’t help but gawk. “This is incredible. Have you been here before?”
“On occasion.” Icaron shrugs, a small smile playing on his lips. “Forspecialguests.”
Something warm unfurls inside me at the realization I’m one of those “special guests.” I pick up the leather-bound menu with gold embossed lettering. “Any recommendations?”
“Allow me.”
Over the next few hours, Icaron expertly selects each course and wine pairing. He keeps the conversation flowing with amusing anecdotes, leaning close to speak intimately over thelow music. His knee occasionally brushes mine under the table, sending sparks up my leg.
By the time tiny desserts arrive, my head is pleasantly fuzzy. Everything glitters around the beautiful, cultured man across from me.
After the bill is settled, Icaron suggests a walk through the sculpture garden on the perfectly groomed grounds. I wobble slightly on my heels, but his hand at my back steadies me.
The garden is eerily quiet, the foliage lit in pools of blue and green. Abstract metal sculptures tower overhead. When Icaron pulls me into an alcove beneath a twisted bronze piece, excitement wars with uncertainty inside my chest.
His hands trail down my bare arms. “You are exquisite, my dear.” His breath tickles my ear.
I wet my suddenly dry lips. “Th-thank you.” Why is my heart beating so fast? It’s part arousal, sure, but something about him puts me off balance.
“I’ve never met someone who intrigues me more.” His eyes burn with hunger.
My breath catches when his lips meet the racing pulse in my neck. The points of his fangs scrape my sensitive skin in a way that’s both terrifying and exhilarating.
Before I can fully process the maelstrom inside me, he pulls back with an inscrutable smile. “I should return you. Big day at the lab tomorrow.”
Disappointment wars with relief during the limo ride. By the time we reach my little rental house, doubt solidifies into resolve. As alluring as he may be, Icaron’s so intense… and he’s my boss. To be accurate, since Jorax is in charge of our project, Icaron is my boss’s boss. Starting a romance my first month on the job would be a terrible mistake.
By the time I escape behind my front door, I’ve made the clear decision not to pursue things with Icaron.
Chapter Six
Syrryn
After a restless night and a long weekend, I’m resolved to bury myself in work on Monday morning. Delving into the research will steady my chaotic emotions and get me back on track.
Jorax startles when I appear in the lab, but his misshapen mouth hitches into a smile. “Syrryn! I hope you had a good weekend and are finished unpacking.” He indicates a new rolling cabinet near my workspace. “Just as you requested. Please, make any adjustments necessary. If you need anything, I can requisition it for you.”
“It’s perfect, thank you.” I touch his roughened hand, noticing the striking contrast with Icaron’s smooth caresses from the other night.
Jorax ducks his head shyly. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
We quickly fall into the easy working rhythm we’ve already established. Jorax answers my questions without any hint of condescension. Now that we’re more comfortable together, he offers to show me around Arixxia Fields on his off hours.
“That’s very kind, but I couldn’t impose on your free time,” I protest.
“It would be my pleasure. I don’t have much of a social life, anyway.” He shrugs.
