I Reject You, Mate.

8. Kissing Sin

The gentle hum of machines is the only sound in the office as I work. He's watching me. I can't tell how I know this, seeing as I have not looked in his direction for the past hour. I just feel it.

He hasn't said a word to me since we returned from the Cafeteria, after making me feel so uncomfortable by flirting very openly with Ray, just to get under my skin.

It did, but I played it cool, pretending to be busy on my cellphone.

It hadn't entirely been faked. I'd been looking Elijah Coleman up. Regardless of how much I would like to pretend that this morning didn't happen, it did, and I can't get it out of my head.

The separation of the the races wasn't just to protect the humans from us. It was also to protect us from their inquisitive nature. They craved knowledge, and it didn't matter what lengths they had to go to obtain it. If Elijah somehow got his hands on Wolfblood, it means there is a wolf in need of saving.

Or a dead one.

Either way, it means I am not safe in this realm.

I found little. He's a multimillionaire business owner into Pharmaceuticals. I'd already put that together myself. There is not much else on him, except the fact that he has two foster daughters. Eliana and Vivian, and I can't seem to find anything on them either. If I even hope to find anything on him, I'd need to get to the streets.

A knock on the door jars me from my thoughts and my gaze snaps to the door as it comes open.

A brunette walks in and I hold my breath as I recognize the female. She is El. The fiancée who fainted.

I look away quickly, but not before our eyes meet and she stops abruptly. "You..." Her tiny voice trails off, and her gaze shifts to Mr. Winchester who is strolling across to meet her. "Why is she here, Sinclair?"

At this point, I really shouldn't go by Ginevra anymore. The Other Woman seems like the perfect fit for me.

"You weren't supposed to be out of bed yet, El," Sinclair mutters, and for some reason, my entire being zeroes in on his fingers as they curve around her slender neck and tug gently, so that her head rests on his chest.

She lets out a shaky breath, arms encircling his torso. "I missed you. Father wouldn't let me leave, but I had to see you."

She buries her head in his chest, so she can't see that Mr. Winchester's gaze is locked fiercely on mine. Those sapphire eyes search mine rather intimately, and I don't know what to make of the warmth I feel inside.

Something snaps and I feel a sharp sting in my palm. I peer down to find the ball pen I had been holding broken.

Goddess. What is all of this? Is this my life? Watching men that should be mine in the arms of other women?

I let the shards fall from my hands and wipe the blood from my already healed skin before he can get a whiff of it and get it into his head that it affects me.

"We need to send out invitations again," his fiancée says, pulling back to stare at him and he breaks eye contact. "Father says a month might be too long to wait to have the wedding, but everything has to be perfect. Is the timing fine with you, Sinclair?"

His eyes brighten, and the corner of his lips rise into a small smile as he responds with no small amount of corniness, "Whatever you want, my love."

Fucking gigolo.

"I do not want women in your office. I want you to have a male assistant. Let her off," El whispers, unaware of how keen my hearing is.

Expression blank, I fix my gaze on the computer, eyes unseeing as I scroll through spreadsheet after spreadsheet, information passing me by as I wait for his response.

He chuckles, leaning in to nuzzle her neck and a jolt of jealousy runs through me, making me grit my teeth. "I believe we have other things to worry about, none of which concern my worthless assistant."

Worthless.

A sharp sigh escapes her, and I can smell her arousal, peaking with every second that passes and she reaches up to fist his hair, moaning as he flicks his tongue over her neck.

I can hear every moment. Feel it in my very bones and soul. The lapping of his tongue over her human neck where it doesn't belong, the tight grip of his hands around her average sized rump, her sharp, shallow breaths...

Panting, she draws back from Mr. Winchester and I feel her gaze on me as she says, "Find somewhere else to be."

**********

"I...need a boyfriend."

Ray starts, brows rising with incredulity. "Well, look who's got a sudden lightbulb moment. Something happen?" She pauses and starts to smile sheepishly. "He's starting to get to you. Ain't that rich?"

Find somewhere else to be.

That was yesterday, and I can never forget the way I felt in that moment. Like s**t. They hadn't even waited for me to leave, hadn't waited for me to get my Acceptance Letter from Mr. Winchester.

I'd had to move around them to grab it from his desk, and it had taken all of my will power to not smash something.

"Word of advice?" Ray asks as she fixes my hair. "Get in his billion-dollar bed."

I snort.

"Seriously, girl. You two hit it, you get a taste of the man and his wallet. If he ghosts you, hey, no commitment, no drama! It's a double win-win situation for you!"

"I'm not having s*x with Sinclair Winchester."

"You really should. He's got it bad for you, I'm tellin' ya. I ain't ever seen the boss act this way with anyone. He even strolled into the freakin' Cafeteria, and that's unheard of! And get this—bam! You're gettin' into an Ivy League school! Do you have any idea how insane those tuition fees are? I could save up for a century and still be swimmin' in debt!"

"He's getting married--"

"Then jump on that D-train before he ties the knot!"

I wince as the stalk of the brush drags on my scalp. Ray mutters an apology before patting my head dryly. "This chance is so golden, people would pay with their souls to grab it! What's the holdup? You allergic to success or something?"

I can't tell her why. She'll flee from me if I show her what lurks underneath my flawless skin. She will find out eventually, if we stay friends for long enough. That I won't get older, and my skin won't thaw.

If I give in, I will want. I will need. I will crave. It'll override my senses. I have yet to get a taste of him, but I already crave him. s*x with him will reduce me to cinders.

I need an outlet. A distraction. A man who can make me forget about Sinclair Winchester, howbeit for a brief moment. I need a boyfriend. I need to fall in love again. I can't let Ezra think and decide for me. I can't be with Mr. Winchester and become one of the many.

I want to be his only. Someone's only.

"I'm not interested is all. There is nothing more to it."

Ray harrumphs, stepping away from me. "I'd believe you, if I didn't spend lunch with you two. There's something cookin' between you two. The tension was so thick, I swear I could've cut 'em with a butter knife."

Ignoring her, I rise to my feet, turning left and right in front of the mirror. "You sure this isn't a bit too much for school?"

She reaches for me, tugging on my blouse and adjusting my tux pants."It isn't. Everything looks good on you. You could totally be one of those models on the magazines. You fine as hell."

That has me laughing.

She gives me a few minutes of prep talk on how to snag the attention of the rich, hot men I'll meet today at school, and I listen attentively. Ray seems to know everything on how human men work. If I hope to get a man soon, I'd need every single detail she could offer.

She shoves a lunch bag into my hands before pushing me out the door.

There's a sleek, black sedan sitting leisurely outside our house. I do not recognize it, but I know Ray's going to raise hell for whoever thought it wise to place their car on our porch.

I start to walk past when the miserable sound of a honk blaring hits me. My jaw clenches and I turn around, glaring at the car.

The door opens and I groan. "Do you seriously have nothing better to do than stalk me?"

Clad in a white shirt and grey tux pants, Sinclair Winchester leans against his car, black hair gleaming in the soft light of the morning sun. His eyes glow like the surface of a pool reflecting the image of the moon. He isn't smirking. His lips are drawn in a thin line. His hair seems tousled, and his tie is hanging off his neck roughly. He folds muscular arms against his chest and inclines his head toward the car. "Get in. I'll take you."

"No, I'm taking the bus."

There is something dark and sharp in the way he regards me. There's that tightness in his arms again as he pushes off his car. It is in the way he walks towards me. Quick, violent strides, yet, not a single sound can be heard except his harsh breaths. Something's wrong.

"What--"

He grabs my arm. "Believe it or not, Ms. Sullivan, now is not the time."

"Let go!" I yell, yanking my hand from his grip. "What is wrong with you?"

He leans in, nostrils flaring. The intensity in those eyes make my heart race. "Look around. What do you see?" he whispers softly.

I look away, not sure what I'm supposed to look out for. There are a few passerby on the streets watching us weirdly. A couple of guys ogling his car. A few women taking pictures of us as they walk past. A car several houses down with hard looking men, holding a pair of binoculars that are pointed in our direction...

That catches my attention. There's at least two men in that vehicle, and from here, with my sharp sight, I note the comms in their ears, as well as the suits they wear. Much like Elijah's men from yesterday.

Fear clutches at my heart. "I'm being...followed?"

"Get in the car, Gin," is all he says as he strolls tightly to the other side of the car and pulls the door open.

Hating how helpless I feel, I get in the car, jerking when he slams the door shut. He settles beside me and shuts his door hard enough to make the whole car shake.

"Ray is in there."

"She'll be fine. My men are on standby."

"Why is he having me followed? I stayed, like you told me to."

He doesn't respond. He clutches the steer wheel tightly, and his veins look like they're ready to pop. His arms tremble terribly.

He's angry. Why is he angry? Should I ask? Why does it matter to me more than the fact that Elijah Coleman deems me important enough to send men after me?

"Sin?" I whisper without much thought. His emotions affect me. I feel his rage. It is churning, deep, a bottomless chasm. There is pain. Excruciating. It has me clutching my mid riff as it rises from my very core, spreading through out my body like a cancerous disease. Tears spring to my eyes and I have no idea why I wish to bawl.

What might one have experienced to have them feel this much pain?

He looks up, and the blue in his eyes are gone, replaced with unrelenting darkness, made more menacing by the black veins that stretch out to his skin.

"Ginevra," he whispers like a benediction. A prayer. An answer. When he reaches for me, I don't object, or fight it.

His fingers are warm against the back of my neck as he pulls me into him with a gentility that scares me. He leans in until our noses touch, and he lets out a shaky breath.

My eyes shutter and I take in his breath. My stomach dips in anticipation. My thoughts are long gone. Thoughts on why it is dangerous to get this close to him. Thoughts on why I should push him off me. Thoughts on why our lips shouldn't be this close, and why my fingers shouldn't be rising to his chest.

It isn't fair that I feel this way. That I have no control over the urge to take the hurt away.

The tip of his nose rubs against mine and his fingers delve into my hair, grabbing tightly, but not enough to hurt me.

He kisses me.

Kissing is too mild a word for what he does to my lips. My mouth. He claims it. f***s it with his tongue. Gently. Roughly. He sucks my tongue. Nips on my bottom lips. Flicks his tongue over the roof of my mouth. Entwines mine with his in a dance that embodies hunger and thirst. He spends his time claiming every corner of it. I shiver. I writhe. He groans, thrusting deeper into my mouth like he is unable to get enough of me.

It is a kiss unlike anything I have had in my entire life. He tastes like something forbidden. It makes me want to be his dirty little slut. It makes me want to explore the full lengths of nasty with him.

The glow every woman has when he touches them, I understand it now. I despise it. Him. He should be mine. Mine only.

Time is lost on me. It has to be, because I find myself in his lap, straddling him, pulling at his hair and grinding hard against the delicious things between his leg that throbs for me.

I lose my mind for a second. My breasts swell for his touch and my core aches, pounds, needs. He grabs my ass and squeezes, grunting again as he moves me against him. My spine arches.

"f**k, Gin," he growls, lips leaving mine, and I moan when I feel his lips on my neck.

He's going to bite me. I can feel it. I want him to. I need him to.

He suddenly lifts me off him and dumps me on the passenger's seat beside him. "f**k. I'm sorry," he says.

I am incapable of thinking for the first few seconds. Slowly, my mind returns and I hold myself, hating the heat crawling over my skin. Hating that I was one touch away from climaxing. He'd only kissed me, and I'd lost myself completely.

"Gin--"

"Drive," I tell him coolly, before turning to the side to hide the tear that slides down my cheek.

.