Love's Interruption Read online

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  Jordan Gilliam has lived most of his life in the shadow of someone he barely knows, and everyone seems to get close to him for the wrong reasons. So when he meets a warrior that wants him for all the right—and naughty—reasons, he can’t help but take a break from work and give him a taste.

  Jeston Koch loves the quiet of snow and winter but is troubled with the changes the camp is making and all the influx of people… Except he’s grateful when he meets a gorgeous man with ice blue eyes he can’t forget. All of his friends have been paring up and finding partners, but he’s not sure he’s capable of that kind of love.

  At first, all they seem to have in common is hot sex and poking each other’s faults, but it builds into something more and faster than either are comfortable with. There’s a lot of problems, so what kind of idiot would seriously consider a serious relationship no matter how hot the sex?

  1

  “I really love your work, Jordan,” a human woman wearing too much perfume told me as she touched my arm. I pulled away, and she gave me a smirk. “You don’t have to be shy with me.”

  I gave her a bored look. “I’m not a fan of strangers touching me, just as you wouldn’t like any random man doing it to you. You being a woman doesn’t justify unwanted physical contact but really gives other predators the chance to do the same to others as you allow yourself to be an example.”

  Her eyes filled with anger. “Are you saying women are at fault for the sexual harassment, assaults, and rapes men do?”

  I sighed, hating this part of my job. The part that involved people mostly. “No, that wasn’t even close to what I said. I’m saying the first rule of equality is ‘treat those as you would want to be treated,’ so is this how you want men to treat you? How about if a sick man uses your example to do the same to another woman?”

  She frowned. “So you have a problem with PDA?”

  I blinked at her and had the mental image of thumping the heel of my hand into her forehead like those V8 commercials so maybe her brain reconnected the right way and she could use it again. “It’s been a tiring night, so if you’ll excuse me.”

  “Wait, he promised…” she trailed off, realizing she’d said too much and was letting something out of the bag.

  Right, like I didn’t already know. I dipped my head to her and went straight for my agent, yanking him out of his conversation and not even caring if it was rude. He struggled against me, hissing to stop.

  “How are you so damn strong?” he asked as I released him once we were in the loading area of the gallery. He looked me over, clearly looking down at me and the difference in height.

  “I’m short, not incapable of using the muscles I have,” I drawled. “I work with molten glass and huge pieces all the damn time. I could easily bench press you.”

  “Fine, what did you need, Jordan? Did you have to embarrass me like that?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Yes, because my art show is all about you, isn’t it?” I didn’t wait for him to answer, knowing in his mind he was the star, as he’d made me what I was, which couldn’t be further from the truth. “You work for me, and you’re seconds from getting fired.” I held up my hand when he went to argue. “Set me up on another date you will leak to the tabloids or whatever else and you’re done.”

  He snorted. The jackass actually snorted at me. “You can’t fire me. I made you.”

  I laughed. I full out laughed. “I was already ‘made’ and come from a long line of artists. You’re basically the assistant who calls galleries when I’m in the mood to have a showing and the jackass who has grown too big for his britches. It ends or your job does. Is that clear?”

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “We have a contract for another decade that I’m not letting you out of for any reason.”

  “That was a bad call, Abe.” I shook my head, giving him a look of pity that he was too stupid to get it, which just enraged him even more. “A bad call.” I walked away, ignoring his protests. I pulled out my phone and sent a few texts to get the ball rolling to kick Abe to the curb.

  “I’ve never seen anything like this,” a man whispered in awe, not far from me. I took note not because someone fawned over my work—I was used to that without meaning to sound egotistical—but because of what he was. I glanced over to the young vampire, noting he was a warrior and swallowing down my sadness anytime I saw one.

  Shock rocked me as I saw who was next to him, touching the warrior protectively and possessively with a simple hand on his lower back. It had been a century since I’d seen Alastair MacPaden. I bit back a smile, as he always brought trouble with him, and honestly, I enjoyed that as much as his company.

  What was immortality without a bit of trouble now and again?

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out.

  I walked over to Alastair and took a closer look at him, getting my next huge shock when I realized I was witnessing something I’d never thought possible. “You mated? You mated, Alastair?”

  He glanced at me over the piece with a smirk. “I can’t even get offended at your shock. I find it shocking too, but all it took was the right person.”

  “Congratulations,” I chuckled, shaking my head. “I’ll get right to work on a mating gift.”

  “You made this?” the warrior asked, his eyes wide. “I’ve never met the actual artist of awesome work before.” Then he seemed to register how his mate was acting with me. “You know each other?”

  I nodded. “I haven’t seen him in a century, but that’s typical of Alastair.” I studied them, and it made me wonder if there was actually a chance for those of us who didn’t find love when young to find love after all. “What can I do for you, old friend?”

  “Lots but first, who is the pissant human talking on his phone behind this gallery saying he owns you?”

  I let out a heavy sigh, knowing his hearing was much better than mine and not to doubt him. “Someone who doesn’t know he’s a pissant. He thinks he made me.” I rolled my eyes when Alastair burst out laughing. “Yes, the egos of men and all of that. He’s now moved from my agent to my pimp and wasn’t a fan of my calling him out on it. My attorneys will handle it.” I studied Alastair, seeing the hunt in his eyes. “Or you could.”

  “I could,” he agreed, running his tongue over his teeth as he glanced at the back door. “It’s the least I could do for an old friend for dropping in unannounced.”

  “Good, it gives me time to speak with your young mate who has yet to give me his name and seems a bit out of it.”

  The guy shook his head a
nd seemed to shake himself out of whatever. “Sorry, we’ve been traveling, and that’s new for me. Well, like that.” He extended his hand. “Zibon Strickland.”

  I was all for getting to know him until I heard his last name. I blinked at Alastair. “Really?”

  He snorted. “He’s nothing like his parents. I met them and it was—there’s a situation with that you should know of given you’re in tight with the East Coast Council.”

  I rolled my eyes. “In tight and playing the game so they leave me alone are two very different things.” I shook Zibon’s hand. “It’s a pleasure.” I pulled him closer and studied his eyes. “Interesting. I would like a high resolution photo of your eyes.”

  “Excuse me?” he asked, trying to move away. I released him so he could, but I was too old for him to have done it on his own.

  Alastair chuckled quietly, used to where my head went. “He’s an artist who works with colors and lighting and pretty. He’s saying your eyes are pretty and the coloring sparked something in his head.”

  “And you love him so you love his eyes too. I thought it would be a nice incorporation to your mating gift.”

  “Oh, yeah, um, thanks,” Zibon muttered, bobbing his head.

  “Why don’t you start filling in Jordan, at least with what happened with your parents, and I’ll go handle the human agent fuming that he will sue Jordan for all he has if he’s fired.” Alastair waited until we both nodded and left.

  “I apologize if I made you uncomfortable,” I said when Zibon didn’t immediately start talking. “I also wasn’t hitting on my friend’s mate saying your eyes were nice.”

  “Yeah, no, of course,” he mumbled, looking relieved. I reminded myself he was a pup and to have some patience if the boy was jet lagged and thrown into the deep end of Alastair’s world.

  “So your parents? What have they done now?”

  I spent the next ten minutes getting caught up on way too much. “Oh dear, the children are throwing tantrums again and pushing the limits of their power.” He gave me a confused look, and I snickered. “This is not a new concept of those with power and money flaunting it for bad things, forgetting there are always people with more than them. It’s like the kid who takes all the best toys when they have the chance so people come find them to play.”

  “Yeah, sounds about right, but as someone who was the toy, it’s terrifying,” he admitted.

  I reached over and gave his shoulder a quick pat, which was the limit of my comforting abilities. “I have been the toy as well. We all have. The only difference between those who are good and bad is how we react to what’s been done. Some vow never to be the toy again and become the bully and thing they hated to stay safe. Others do all they can to fight the bullies as soon as they can.”

  He seemed to consider that a moment. “Which are you?”

  I gave him a genuine smile, thinking he was a good fit for Alastair, certainly someone who would challenge the ancient Wyrok. “I’m an anomaly. I’m a bit of both.” I held my finger to my lips when he opened his mouth to ask what that meant. “I’ve survived this long by keeping my secrets.”

  “Fair enough.” He seemed to shrug it off and then asked me about one of the pieces hanging on the wall. He definitely had a well bred education, as he knew enough to speak well about it. He could even have been impressive as a critic, but he was missing the biggest part of art when he looked at the piece.

  The feeling.

  “All of that is great, but what do you feel when you see it?” I asked him quietly, hoping not to embarrass him. “You like it, I can truly see that. You’ve been educated to speak on art. Wonderful. But what does it make you feel?” He didn’t answer, and I guessed that was the moment he heard his parents’ voices in his head lecturing how to handle the situation of “polite” society. “There is no wrong answer.”

  “Conflicted,” he replied after another moment. “There’s light where there should be dark and dark where you would think there would be light. It makes me think of that moment you wake after a nightmare and you’re not sure if you’re coming or going, but all you really care about is getting your footing.”

  “Well done,” I praised, smiling when he shot me a worried look. “Truly. I’ve had several answers, and that was layered, which the piece is. Art is meant to mean something different to all of us, but sometimes people only note what they think the answer is instead of paying attention. It’s how they get trapped into thinking there’s more meaning on sculptures where there’s a wine glass sitting on a toilet and treat it as actual art instead of a scam.”

  His eyes flashed shock. “I wouldn’t have thought artists would be so harsh on each other.”

  I laughed hard enough to have to lean on the wall. “Oh dear, you are young. Yes, we’re some of the harshest critics and judges you’ll find. A lot of that stems from jealousy and envy, but for me, who senses more than most, it’s a statement of those who are frauds. Not all artists are noble or love the art but the money, just as not all warriors are dedicated to their calling.”

  “Fair enough,” he muttered, studying the piece again. “What did you feel when you made it?”

  He was bright. Few asked that outright and instead tried to show how smart they were by assuming my feelings as the artist would be the same as what they understood on the other end. It rarely matched up.

  “Hope,” I answered, much to his shock. I nodded. “This piece came about after one of my new apprentices bumped into a shelf and broke everything on it. He was devastated and terrified of my reaction. So I made all the broken pieces into this new piece.”

  He chuckled. “So you’re one of the good guys.”

  I shrugged, not rising to the bait. “I find good and bad to be relative most days. The curve has changed over the years, so I stopped caring how I was graded on the scale.”

  Alastair came back and saved us both from the conversation. His mate was fine, a nice man, but I wasn’t one for small talk or interacting much. He filled me in with what he’d done, basically making my agent think he was the one who wanted out, tired of me not seeing things his way, while also adding that Abe would forget any and all information on me I didn’t want to get out.

  “So what did you come to town for?” I asked, guessing it wasn’t about Zibon and his family or he would have contacted me for help already.

  “This will take a while,” he muttered, looking as tired as his mate.

  “Fine, I can clear my morning,” I offered when I felt the worry coming off of him. “You may stay with me, but you need to warn your young mate of my rules.”

  “Of course.”

  “Let me say goodnight to the gallery owner and handle what I need to.” I walked off, not wanting to see another person think me a weirdo or an eccentric artist. It annoyed me. I’d survived over two thousand years on the planet because I was different.

  How could people think that was a negative then? Should I have strived to be normal and dead?

  I finished business and led my guests out to my car, asking my regular driver to stop for food since I was starving. Zibon seemed to relax when we went through a drive through. It made me realize he was uncomfortable with people from or having money after dealing with his shit family. Made sense. Fear and trauma would do that to a person, but it made me wonder how Alastair had gotten around it since he was loaded.

  Then again, there were very few ancients that weren’t.

  We arrived at my house and private studio, which was a converted warehouse. It was all the rage, but more than that, it kept me away from others, as being near me wasn’t all that safe. Plus, I wasn’t a fan of people most every day.

  I thanked the driver and sighed when I saw the latest gifts at my door. “I need to move.” I noted that the last one had destroyed the others there like I wouldn’t take note of that.

  “Stalker?” Alastair asked, checking it out.

  “Several,” I grumbled. “I was oblivious to it for a while, but one got bad last year and came afte
r me with a gun. It’s taken a bit to put the pieces together, but it wasn’t just the agent trying to pimp me out.” I pushed in the code to get in and opened the door for my guests. “Apparently my esteemed coven leader has been plotting and laying the groundwork for me and mine to be pulled into his embrace like lost lambs.”

  “You were ordered to come into your estate?” he asked.

  “Not yet, but others have. It’s coming. Boston is closing ranks.”

  “Not just Boston.”

  “Oh dear,” I sighed, getting it was other covens. “Idiots. Closing ranks and coming into the estate is for an attack, not an answer for anything else. They become nests then.”

  “Some have already,” he warned me as I locked up.

  “They always do. Poor little lambs,” I grumbled, realizing we were coming to the cycle in history where the enemy made a “never before seen” move that ancients had seen before and those who were in power this time would forget. Or stick their heads in the sand to protect their power instead of the people they should.

  Most of them at least.

  I showed them the guest room, apologizing for not freshening it up or having more ready for them. They waved it off, and given they had food and drinks and an attached bathroom, they were fine. It wasn’t until I reached my room that I realized they’d also had bags they must have gotten from somewhere after we’d left the gallery or while I had been talking to the owner.

  I missed most of that sort of thing, so I wasn’t shocked. I gobbled my food and headed to bed, annoyed that Alastair showing up meant I wasn’t bringing anyone to my bed, which was one of the only reasons I went to any of my shows. Okay, the biggest reason. I never touched any of my people, and I didn’t date, so it was my only chance for sex.

  Sleep came fast but wasn’t as long as I’d like. I heard the intruder before he even reached my room. The door opened, and I focused on the glass I always kept in my room for such emergencies. I sat up and launched the glass into the person, raising an eyebrow when I saw the red eyes.