The Grand High Master, however, sees her potential and offers her the position of Jared’s co-commander to help train the newest squad in time for the impending attack on his home. Sam has to demonstrate to Jared and the squad of chauvinists why it is incredibly foolish to underestimate a willful, temperamental, borderline-homicidal Sventé female
I looked up at him and smirked. I’d like to slice off your salami and shove it up your sexist arse.
His smile became a mischievous grin as he arched a brow. So you’ve been thinking about my salami?
I had my ass kicked. I had my ass kicked by a Sventé vampire. I had my ass kicked by a woman. The guys would never let me live this down. Neither would my brother or Antonio. Neither would she if she had stayed.
Jared raised his arms, palms out. “Now, Sam, hang on a minute.”
“Fletcher!” I called out. Looking like a bag of nerves, he peeked through the door. “Yes?” “Shut that door and lock it.” “Right, luv,” he said nervously.
As soon as I heard the telling click I began to run my whip through my fingers, enjoying the feel of the energy buzzing against my skin.
“Sam, don’t do this.” “Why Commander Michaels? You fucked me over. You don’t want equality in this business relationship. I’m giving you what you want – just not the way around that you were hoping for.”
I cracked the whip at him, catching his bottom lip.
“God, I loved this woman: this very crazy, borderline-homicidal – on second thought, scrap the borderline – woman.”
It was getting so easy to sense her. I can’t explain how I do it. It’s like there’s a part of me that’s dormant until her husky voice or intoxicating scent is near and then that part of me wakes up and completely takes over. At that point all I can think about, all I want to think about, is her.
“Fletch?” I called out while I gathered my notes together. His adorable face popped through the door seconds later.
“Yes, luv?” “I’m off to get some NSTs. You want me to pick you up anything?”
Fletcher squinted. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” “Yes or no, Fletch?”
“Honey flavoured ones please, luv. Oh and could you get me some snacks as well?”
“No,” he insisted but in a gentle voice. “You are not cold-hearted. Harsh at times, yes – but only if you believe it is necessary. Foul-mouthed on occasion, yes – but we don’t mind that so much. Capable of brutal honesty, oh yes – but sometimes the absolute truth is what people need to hear. You are not cold, Sam. Do not ever think that about yourself. Consider that an order.”