Blood Rites

By: Amity Cross

“Please excuse me, Lorelei,” Sebastian said, inclining his head. “I have business I must attend to. Are you fine to walk to the gallery?”

I nodded, disappointment bristling.

“Please watch where you are going,” he said, his voice full of amusement. He brushed his hand against mine again. “Precious cargo.”

Oh, and he was smooth, too. I shook my head like it’d clear the daze I was in.

“Yes. It’s only… I mean…” I sucked in a deep breath. “I’ll be fine, thank you.”

He smiled once more before stepping around me and off the footpath. He slid into the back of a black town car and his buff friend got into the driver’s side. Blinking, I watched them pull out into traffic, wondering what the hell had just happened. Nothing that exciting ever happened to plain old rich bitch, Lorelei Lansford.

Turning, I walked down the street in a daze. The way his fingers brushed against my skin...that tingling feeling. That was an actual thing? I thought it only happened in romance novels. Maybe I should’ve asked him for his number. No, that was much to forward. Maybe he wasn’t interested.

Oh god, Lorelei, I thought. Get a grip!

I pushed open the door to the gallery and breathed in the earthy smell of wood. That could only mean one thing and my skin began to hum. The new paintings had been delivered and crates were being cracked open in preparation for hanging. Now that was an aphrodisiac.

“Bex,” I called out, waltzing into the office. What a bloody day and it wasn’t even lunchtime!

“The new collection is here,” came her chirpy reply and she clapped her hands together in glee.

Rebecca Hemsworth, Bex for short, was not only my best friend, she was one of the gallery curators. Me, being the other. Together we were light and dark. I was willowy with chestnut coloring and she was tall and striking with her blonde hair and freckled nose. Yin and Yang and all of that. Match made in bloody heaven.

Her father owned the gallery through one of his companies and she’d asked to work here, spinning that she needed 'real world experience'. In reality, art got her off as much as it did me. Space Gallery was her baby and together we had built it into one of the hottest upcoming spaces in London.

“Are you okay?” she asked, swirling around on her office chair.

I leaned against the desk and sighed. “Yeah, I’m okay. Brunch with my mother.”

Bex laughed and turned back to the computer. “Same old, huh?”

“Same old,” I replied with a groan. Well, Mother was only part of it, the other was the mystery guy I’d smacked into on the way over here. Sebastian. Whoever he was.

As my lady bits began to tingle at the thought of his touch, I began to wonder if I would ever see him again.

In a city this size he could be almost anyone. Sighing, I decided to let it go before I could even develop a crush on the poor guy. Love was something that had always eluded me. Art on the other hand, that was screaming for my attention.

I ventured out the back to take a peek inside the crates, eager to get to work.



I stared out the window of my office, watching busses and cars fly by on the street below.

There were a lot of things I should doing, financial acquisitions, reports, making sure those dickheads in Exeter were handling that shipment of military grade rocket launchers with care. There were always a million things that needed my attention, but today I could only think about one thing.

That vixen I ran into on the street two days ago.

“Lorelei Lansford,” Hawkes declared, dumping a folder on the desk in front of me.

I leaned forward in my chair and pulled the folder toward me. It’d only taken two days to compile and I was itching to see what was inside.

It wasn’t the first time I’d asked my bodyguard slash business associate to snoop on a woman I was thinking about fucking. Well, more than just fucking, playing with. There were the one-night stands, the quick bangs at a party, the blowjobs in a bathroom someplace… Those women I could just kick out and never see again. The ones I played with stuck around a lot longer. They might see things…and they might complain when I wanted to get rough. Trouble wasn’t something I needed in my line of work.

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