My Boss Likes Blood

3. Done Throwing A Tantrum?

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"Where's your car?" He asks.

Now how the hell am I supposed to tell him that he hurt my little feelings so I took a cab ride with the only friend I have in this city? And also that I am a horrible driver? I will never hear the end of it.

He already thinks I am useless, except for when it comes to his meal. If he learns that I can't drive, what does that make me? Double useless.

"Hello?" He waves his hand in my face and I have half a thought to bite his finger off. Sorry, invasive thoughts. "Earth to Judy."

"I took a cab," I say.

"Why?" He looks at me as if he genuinely wants to know when I know he doesn't. And even if he does, it's so that he can study me.

Logan Miles may not know me too well. But I know Logan Miles like the back of my hand.

"I am tired." I lie. Well, not exactly lying. I am tired. Exhausted. Who wouldn't be after spending a day running around in high heels and having blood drained out of them?

"Are you saying the workload is too much for you, Ms. Hudgens?" The slyness in his voice makes me want to smack him. Sorry, invasive thoughts again.

"I am just saying that I am merely human, Sir." I give him a saccharine smile as I say it. "Not everyone is born with paranormal stamina."

He throws his head back guffawing and it takes me a moment to realize that the man has sent his mind down the gutter with those two words of mine.

He looks around, making sure there is nobody around, and wraps his arms around my waist, picking me up so that I am nose to nose with him, the grocery bags still dangling from my hands.

"I would like to see how much you can keep up with my paranormal stamina today, Judy." His voice is husky and I feel the heat rise up my neck. How can a person turn me on so much when I am this mad at him?

I take a deep breath because I know myself too well - I am going to squawk like a duck and give him the satisfaction of the effect he has on me if I don't wade through this carefully. I clear my throat before saying, "I seriously have zero stamina today, Logan. I just want to go home and have dinner and sleep."

"But I don't want you to do that." He tips his head to the side. Does he think that he somehow looks irresistible or something when he does that? Because all I see is an i***t.

His eyes darken for a moment but they are back to his normal, amused ones in no time.

Nah bro, I am not getting into this right now.

He lets out a growl.

Someone tell this dude that he is half vampire, not half wolf. Jeez.

He lowers me back down to the ground, letting go before I touch the ground. I feel a jolt of pain go up my left heel to my leg.

Asshole.

"You drive." He tosses me his car keys. It hits my chest and falls to the ground.

I raise a brow at him. I have both my hands occupied, you fool.

You know what? I don't have to entertain this.

I turn on my heels, taking a quick step away from him only to trip and fall on my knees.

Ouch.

Both to my knees and my self-respect.

I hear a chuckle and that just worsens it all ten-fold.

I drop my bags and sit down on the ground, not caring anymore.

I am just too sad to function at this point.

"Don't be so dramatic." He says as he walks over to me.

I ignore him and bring my feet forward to take off my heels and, would you look at that, my favorite heel is broken. My favorite heels which I got on sale and have been with me for the past year without one chip on it.

"Today is not my day," I mumble to myself as I take them off, tossing them into one of my grocery bags.

"Done throwing a tantrum?" I look up at him, and he is standing over me with a smirk on his face.

Ugh.

I hate him.

"You love me."

I freeze. "What?"

"You said it out loud." He smirks. "That you hate me."

I groan.

"Because..." I grunt as I get back on my feet. Point to note, not once did this asshole try to help me. "...It's the truth."

He takes another step forward and now we have our chests squished together. Hello? Ever heard of personal space?

And yet I don't take a step back. Just how pathetic can I get?

"You and I know very well that it isn't." He says. And I hate his confidence.

"I wish you could read my mind like Edward Cullen, Logan. You would love the colorful words I call you on a daily basis." Maybe not the best thing you could tell your boss, even if he is also your s*x friend, but as you can already see, I am not having the best of my days today and I just need to have my last word in today.

Just give me that for today.

"I would love to know what goes in that pretty mind of yours." He whispers, his lips descending to mine.

Before I can make up my mind whether to let him kiss me or pull back because I am mad at him, he has captured my lips in his. And as always, as soon as those intoxicating heated skin touch mine, my mind glows blank. Everything is hazy as he once again lifts me up by my waist and I wrap my arms around his neck, grabbing a tuft of his silky brown hair and pulling his face away from me, and trailing a path down his neck.

"We need to get to your apartment, love." His voice is barely above a whisper and even though he says those words, his hands are digging into my thighs, hooking them around his hips. I might hate the effect he has on me, but I sure as hell love the effect I have on him.

I am vaguely aware that we are in the basement of a supermarket and there might be cameras around. And that brings me back to my senses. I unhook my legs and pull away from him, and he lowers me to the ground. This time, fully to the ground. Thank god.

I am breathless as I try to step away from him but his arms are still secure around me, his eye aflame and boring into mine.

"Let's go." His voice is deep and scratchy.

So much for my resolve to not sleep with him today.

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Logan is a dead sleeper, contrary to the vampire myths we have come to live with. Well, he is half-human, after all, so he inherited some of human characteristics too.

He did get the best of both species if you ask me.

He is inhumanly hot, strong, fast, and smart BUT he does not have any of the disadvantages that vampires have. Hell, he does not even really need blood to survive. He just likes to drain the life out of me. Asshole.

I check my phone. It's two in the morning. And my stomach grumbles. I have not had anything filling after yesterday's breakfast and my plan of getting take-outs was ruined by my boss' plan of f*****g me to oblivion. A little blunt perhaps, but it is exactly what he does. Every. Single. Time.

I drag my feet to the kitchen, where my grocery bags sit forgotten on the counter tops. Hopefully, my milk is not spoiled.

I turn on the lights and take in the place.

I see small changes here and there. I sigh. I know what that means.

I grab the handle of the refrigerator door and pull it open, not surprised to see that the whole thing has been stacked with all kinds of food, and prepped meals in multiple tupperware.

I would not have gone shopping if I knew he would be coming over.

"Why did you..." I jump and turn around, coming face to face with Logan's caramel orbs. "... when your fridge is this full?"

"It's not me." I say. "It's Harvey. He must have come over during the day."

"Harvey?" His voice is clipped.

"My godfather." I narrow my eyes at him. Why the hell did he sound like I was seeing someone behind his back?

"Oh." That is all he says. "Does he come over often?" He asks as he moves towards the fridge, pulling out a Tupperware containing some rich-looking pasta. It has a note on it which he plucks out.

"'Microwave for three minutes. And honey, please finish the whole thing in one sitting. You are losing an awful lot of weight.'" I do not like the way he reads the note and I hate how creepy he made the 'honey' sound.

"He is awfully concerned about you." It sounds like a jab. And for the nth time in the last twenty-four hours, I want to smack this guy in the face.

"He is my father figure, though he acts more like a mother hen," I say, gesturing to the food in my fridge. "Besides, it is none of your concern. And if anything, you should be thankful to him because he is the one feeding your snack."

"You are saying I am the reason you are 'losing an awful lot of weight'?" He mocks my godfather's words and I am not happy about it.

First of all, I am tired. Second of all, I have work in a couple of hours. And third of all, I am starving. None of this contributes to rational thinking on my part. And when my mind loses its rationality, I say things. And they aren't pretty.

"Well, you don't see any other parasite attached to my carotid, now do you?"

Bad choice of words. I know it immediately because I am pinned to the kitchen wall, with his frame towering over me and his eyes flaring.

"Parasite huh? I will show you what this parasite can do."

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