Russian Roulette (Helena Hawthorn Series #1)

Chapter 3b - Lucious

Lucious boarded Alexander's private jet as the sun rose above the horizon. At least the weather was on his side, hiding the heinous rays behind the stormy grey clouds.

A beautiful flight attendant swayed her hips in her skin-tight skirt while she led him to his seat. She handed him a smartphone and an envelope with his name on it.

He took the offered items and fell into the leather armchair where he tore off the envelope's side.

"Would you like to feed, Mr Ellwood?" she asked, pulling her ebony locks away from her neck.

His throat went dry, and the ache in his stomach informed him it was empty. I should have finished my beer.

The woman slid onto his lap, extending her neck as an offering. Her spicy perfume invaded his senses. Placing her palms on his shoulders, she drew close until she was a few inches away from his lips.

Using the pad of his thumb to stroke her jugular, he brought the pulsating vein near the surface, causing her to moan and dig her nails into his jacket. Uncomfortable in his seat, he shifted. A silver gleam next to his neck alerted him.

He pushed the girl off, sending her to the ground with a loud thud.

"You should have behaved, Mr Ellwood!" She lunged at him with a syringe in her left hand.

He grasped her wrists, pulling them both above her head.

"Bastard!" she shouted, not stopping her struggle as he jerked the sharp object out of her hand and tossed it away.

The pilot rushed out of the cockpit. "Is something wrong back here?"

Lucious barely contained his bark of laughter when he glanced at the panicked human peering from behind the separation curtain with his mouth agape.

The flight attendant seized Lucious' distraction as an opportunity and kicked him in the crown jewels.

Electrifying agony spread through his lower half as he folded in on himself. Black spots marred his vision while he struggled to retain his standing position. His nostrils flared. Past the pain between his legs, he concentrated on his spiking anger.

The girl scrambled on all fours towards the syringe.

"I guess"—Lucious took a handful of her dark hair and lifted her head to meet his eyes—"I will have that dinner you so kindly offered." He bit into her neck, not caring if he was hurting her.

She screamed and flailed in his arms as he sucked her life blood into him. A rumble escaped his throat. This human tasted of cigarette ash and dirt, ruining her sweetness.

Once he drained her, he tossed her lifeless husk to one side.

"Sir, ar-are you alright?" the pilot asked as he wiped his palms on his black trousers.

Lucious raised a brow at the question. Alexander had a knack for hiring odd employees, some more murderous than the others. "As well as I can be."

The pilot returned to the cockpit with quivering legs, providing Lucious with the peace and quiet he craved.

In the envelope, he found a card with Alexander's cursive handwriting. One sentence in black ink contrasted against the white paper: Look out for the flight attendant.

Lucious pinched the bridge of his nose. His friend sure had a bizarre sense of humour. Exhausted after the ordeal, he closed his eyes. He felt the connection that tugged at his gut. But, for some reason, the further he got from England, the more excited it grew.