Bryce’s voice was wistful. “Before you, I got into the habit of stripping off and coming out here on rainy days. I’d imagine the drops and gusts knocking my skin were kisses. Or delicate fingers giving me the love I craved.” He turned to face me and rejoined our embrace. “Sounds pretty pitiful, huh?”
I cupped his cheek, rubbing away the dripping liquid. Not sure if the tears were from the sky or his eyes. “No, I think it’s sweet.”
His handsome face reformed into a smile as he drew me in close. We didn’t talk. I just clung to him. Soaked, satisfied, and safe.
Opening my eyes, I looked back to see Dagger peeking his head out from between the terrace’s glass doors. “I hate to interrupt…” He circled his palm at us. “… whatever you’re up to, but that guy’s here to see you, Bryce. The governor candidate. Gerald has him waiting at the reception.”
“Excellent. He’s here right on time.”
“Want me to tell him you’re now conducting all meetings with your cock out, or you want this?” Dagger held up a fluffy cotton robe.
Bryce put it on, and we went back inside to the living room’s warmth and calm. I changed into yoga pants and a loose sweaterI found in the laundry room, and cuddled up with Hunter on the couch as Bryce, who’d quickly slipped into a business casual outfit with a sports coat, poured tea into a cup and sipped. “I’ve heard good things about Jasper Goodman. I really hope he’s got the metal to stand up to that sack of shit, Winterborn, in the special election.”
Gerald soon came through with this Mr. Goodman. And oh my. This guy looked more like a fashion model than an aspiring politician.
The first thing I noticed, apart from his obvious good looks, was that the storm seemed to have hardly affected this hunk. His floppy blond bangs and fitted suit seemed all but dry. In fact, as he passed me on the way to Bryce, I saw not even a speck had touched his tousled locks or high cheekbones, nor the faint stubble of his square jaw. The same went for the slacks that were pressed tight against his wiry physique. Bone dry.
But how? It was bucketing outside and the car park didn’t back right up to the main entrance. Even with an umbrella, you’d have thought at least some rain would have made contact.
Bryce’s hands were bare, so he didn’t offer a handshake. “Mr. Goodman, glad to finally meet you. Seb here’ll shake your hand for me,” he said smiling and brushing the drips from his hair.
The intriguing Mr. Goodman returned the smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all. And call me Jasper, please.”
“Likewise. And call me Bryce. You want some water, Jasper? Tea?”
“Tea would be great, thanks. Anything herbal.” He had a crisp voice, well-enunciated, and the most captivating eyes too. When he’d passed me, they’d looked oaky brown, but now, when he took Bryce’s invitation to sit across from Hunter and I, they’d changed to grass green.
He gave me a kind smile. “You must be, Serenity. Mr. Hard—Bryce’s lovely human partner.”
“Yes, that’s me…” I paused a second and looked down at my palms. They’d jetted fire and devoured my kidnappers. My veins had spilled lava to save my life. Was I still even human?
Jasper thanked Gerald for his steeped tea. He took a couple of sips, clinking the cup on its saucer. “Ginger. Perfect for a day like today.”
Bryce sat in an armchair near the terrace, keeping a sensible distance as he sipped his own drink. “So, Jasper, how goes the fine fight so far?”
He sucked air hard through his teeth. “Challenging. Extremely challenging. But I’m just getting started, and I’m seeing this through to the end.”
Bryce leaned forward. “I’ll do everything I can to help.”
Jasper nodded. “I can’t express how grateful I am for your support. Alexander Winterborn seems to have a money faucet on full flow. I’m guessing I can thank his sponsor, the esteemed overseer, for that.”
“More than likely. Forget them for the moment though, because I have a few resources of my own. First of all, I’ll clear all Midas’s prime-time advertising slots until the election and get young Seb here to work on some more campaigning ideas. Anything we can do to bring voter eyes to you.”
“That is unbelievably generous of you, sir. Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome. Seb, you ready to—”
Bryce’s phone pinged. He dipped a hand into his sports coat, swiped and tapped. He smirked at the message. “Actually, Seb, how would you like to have Monique’s anchor position?”
Pushing his glasses back toward bulging eyes, Seb gulped. “Uh, for real? Won’t she be mad?”
Bryce shook his head and gestured to his still open phone as he read out part of the message in a mock bitchy tone. “Nope. Cause she’s just resigned to, ‘Work for someone who appreciates my full potential, and actually do some good for New Nebraska.’”
“Then hell yes. And I’m glad she’s gone. The office is going to be much warmer without all that ice.”
“Amen,” I added. She’d been headed for a sacking anyway, working Bryce’s last raw nerve in the past few weeks. His only concern had been about the stink she would raise if he fired her; it was so much better that she’d resigned. “I’ll of course help Seb with Jasper’s campaign designs and so on. Anything to stop that horrible Winterborn getting into power.”
Still on his phone, Bryce talked and typed. “I’m sending a message to a campaign consultant I know out in the United States. She’s human, of course. But comes from a family of paranormal rights advocates. Her dad fought against the Agreement from the beginning. She’ll be our secret weapon.”
