A Vampire's Thirst: Flint Page 2

  “I know that, but what kind of man would I be if I allowed a lady to carry her own?” he quipped, giving her a smile.

  She patted his arm as the doors pinged open. “Aww, you’re going to do fine on your holiday if you talk to the lassies like that. Just fine.”

  “I’m going to be bored out of my head, that’s what I’ll be,” he muttered as they got in and dropped down to the garage.

  Nellie laughed and shook her head but otherwise remained quiet, for which he was grateful. He was not quite himself. Tense and uneasy with a good measure of “What the hell do I do without Victor or work?” ran through him over and over, causing him to feel ill at ease and, dare he admit, lonely without his friend?

  Their driver was pacing back and forth, obviously agitated when they arrived, but he wasn’t stupid enough to say anything, either about his tardiness or about the extra passenger. Instead he loaded Nellie’s suitcase as Flint opened the door and ushered Nellie inside before following her into the plush limo. As soon as they were settled, he engaged the screen between the driver’s section and them, making it clear he didn’t want to be disturbed. He was also grateful that Nellie seemed to be aware of his mood and remained quiet for most of the ride, refraining from her usual chatter. He gazed out of the window, although he barely noticed anything, lost in thought of what he’d do while in Scotland, and coming up with . . . not a lot. He sighed often, expecting to be bored and wishing that Victor hadn’t set this whole thing up. He would’ve preferred to stay at home and, well, he wasn’t sure what he would’ve done, but at least he wouldn’t have had to “play nice” with anyone.

  Their journey was just as he’d expected, slow to start but then they made up time lost and arrived in plenty of time for Victor’s private jet’s slot. Well, one of his planes. His boss had a fleet of the dang things with his corporation brand paint job making it look beautiful, sleek, and elegant, as they drove into the hanger where it waited for them. The luxury of flying private instead of commercial, thank goodness. Flint was certain he couldn’t have dealt with a horde of people, not in his mood. He was sure he would’ve made a scene of some sort and that wouldn’t have gone down well with anyone, including Victor or the damn Directive.

  He helped Nellie out of the limo and as she eyed the plane, it was obvious she wasn’t as enamored of it as he was as she looked over the sleek jet while they walked toward it. “Are you sure that small thing will make it all the way to the UK? It looks smaller than the last one I was on with Victor. It can’t possibly hold enough fuel to take us over the ocean to Scotland. Can it?”

  Flint smirked when the pilot stepped forward calm and professional with a slightly smug look on his face, perfectly presented with pressed pants, white shirt and hair that seemed to have more hairspray holding it in place than the last girl Flint had gone out with. He’d been doing a last check of the plan and heard her, obviously upset at her besmirching his aircraft. “I can assure you, it has more than the capability to take us there, Madam. Please don’t concern yourself, you’re in safe hands with myself, my crew and my craft.”

  Nellie’s eyebrows rose, her eyes fiery and cold at the same time. Flint inhaled sharply. He knew that look and he didn’t fancy being in the pilot’s shoes as she speared him with her gaze. “Excuse me? Madam? You didn’t just call me ‘Madam’? Did you?”

  Her voice was sharp and would’ve cut through steel. Flint crossed his arms and stepped back to watch the show he knew was coming. The pilot’s calm exterior vanished as his face flushed and his voice stuttered while he sought to cover his faux pas. “Excuse me. My apologies if I’ve offended you . . . Miss?”

  “Offended me? Indeed you have. You should never, not ever, call a woman ‘Madam.’ That title is reserved for women of ill repute where I come from, and as far as I’m aware this is not your plane. Is it? It belongs to Mister Strong . . . does it not? The man whose employ you are in and the man whose home I reside in. You may fly the dang thing, and you might be very skilled in that department, but you most definitely do not own it, Sir. To suggest otherwise is overstepping your bounds and that’s not something I’m happy with, not happy one whit!”

  Flint stepped forward when the pilot’s face paled to a shade of pasty white, he was scared the man was about to faint as Nellie’s power surrounded them, obviously affecting the human adversely. That would not be good. Heck, maybe it would. It would mean they’d lose their slot and be stuck on the ground, but that wouldn’t be fair to Nellie. She wanted to go to her homeland for a trip and this was the only way for her to get there. So, he placed a hand on her shoulder and interrupted.

  “I think he’s got the message, Nellie.” He gave her a squeeze, leaning down and whispering so quietly that human ears wouldn’t pick up his words, “He’s the pilot, if you scare him to death then he can’t fly the plane.”

  She turned her face up to him, her lips tugging up into a smirk. “Heck, I was just having a little fun with the whippersnapper, Flint. I don’t get out much nowadays.”

  “He’s not used to your kind of fun.” He shook his head, turning back to the man who was looking at them with a shocked face that was still white but had a little color returning to his cheeks. “This is Nellie, she’s Mister Strong’s housekeeper and a very close friend of his, she’ll be joining us today. I think we should get onboard and get underway, don’t you?”

  “Certainly,” he nodded. “I’m Arnes Atlasson and I’ll be your pilot today, please, get onboard and make yourselves comfortable. Anja will be my co-pilot and Addy will be your cabin crew. She’ll take care of you and ensure your needs are taken care of. If there’s anything you require, please just ask her. And if you prefer to be addressed as anything other than . . . Nellie, please just let us know. Again, my apologies for upsetting you, it was not my intention.”

  He held his hand out toward the steps leading up inside the cabin, a young woman standing at the opening watching the show, her eyes spinning between them and her Captain and back again. Mesmerized with what was going on before Nellie sniffed, her head spinning away as she threw over her shoulder as she stomped away, winking up at Flint. “Nellie is just fine, thank you.”

  Flint decided to put another fly in the guy’s ointment. “Can you make a change in the flight-plan? After dropping me in Edinburgh, please arrange to take Nellie to wherever she needs to go. She’ll give you the details shortly.”

  “What?” Arnes croaked. “It’s short notice to be changing . . .”

  Flint whirled around, spearing him with a glare. “Excuse me? Are you saying no?”

  Arnes’ head shook so fast his perfectly coiffed hair started to come undone, his hands sprang up in front of him and he quickly backtracked. “Absolutely not . . . I’ll do whatever’s required. I’ll get the flight-plan changed as soon as I can.”

  Nellie paused just before she entered the cabin, turning to frown down at him and he knew she wanted to argue but she wouldn’t. Not in front of Arnes, instead she cocked a brow then resumed her journey inside.

  Chapter 3

  Addy was gracious and went out of her way to accommodate them, her blonde hair swept back in a perfect bun and her uniform clinging to her stick-thin body as she led Nellie inside. “Here you go . . . Nellie, is it?”

  Nellie gave the young woman a smile, nodding. “Indeed it is.”

  “I’m Addy and I’ll be taking care of you today. If there’s anything you need just let me know. There’s drinks available and snacks, although we’re limited for food, Nellie. I wasn’t advised to prepare for . . .” Addy paused, her face flushing as she sought the right words but Nellie placed a hand on the young woman’s arm.

  “It’s not that long a flight,” Nellie said. “Show me what you have and I’m sure we’ll be all right.”

  “Certainly, this way.” Addy led Nellie away to the galley and Flint wandered to settle himself into one of the plush leather seats.

  Their driver rushed on with the luggage, loading it in the back of the cabin, in an o
verhead locker then left with a quick nod. Flint knew he was being rude but he couldn’t muster up enough emotion to care, all he wanted to do was close his eyes and ignore everyone and try and rid himself of the unsettling feelings rolling around inside him. He wasn’t sure what the hell was wrong with him but the fact was, at that precise moment, he didn’t give a shit about anyone else’s feelings, or if he offended them.

  Settling down into his seat he buckled up as Arnes came in, pulling up the steps and closing and checking the door before retreating to the cockpit, and soon after he heard the engines engage. Addy escorted Nellie back into the cabin. “We’ll be taking off soon so make yourself comfortable.” She looked down at him, her look appreciative as her eyes took in his muscular form and Armani suit. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Whisky on the rocks and make it a large one,” he replied, checking her out and dismissing her immediately. She was too thin for his liking. No padding over her bones and her breasts were tiny, as was her ass. Definitely not the kind of woman he was attracted to. He liked curves and wanted his women to look like women, not a damn stick insect. Her legs were long but again, they were so skinny and bony he wondered how they held her up and he couldn’t imagine them wrapped around him without wondering if he’d feel as if he were being poked by a skeleton. No. He definitely wasn’t interested in her and refused to make eye contact with her.

  Nellie sat in the chair opposite him, sighing as she relaxed into the soft leather. “This is definitely the way to travel. Isn’t it?”

  “I suppose,” he mumbled back as the Captain’s voice came over the internal speaker, advising they were about to taxi out to the runway and were on schedule for their take-off.

  “Are you all right, Flint?” she asked as Addy arrived with their drinks, Nellie obviously putting her order in earlier.

  “Here you go, Nellie.” She handed over a cup of tea then turned to him, leaning down and placing his whisky on the table in front of him. “Whisky for you, Sir.”

  “Flint, not Sir,” he snapped out. “Mister Strong is Sir . . . I’m Flint.”

  Addy smiled, her eyes sparkling and he realized his mistake. She raised an eyebrow and nodded. “Of course, Flint it is.”

  Her voice had changed too and he wished he’d kept his mouth shut. Wished he’d left it at the impersonal Sir, but he hated being referred to in that way, and it had just slipped out without him thinking. Now she thought he meant something by it. Damn. He ignored her. Snubbed her. Reaching forward to grab the ostentatious Baccarat crystal glass, swirling the amber liquid around and inhaling the heady aroma of the Macallan whisky. It was one that Victor drank regularly and therefore was stocked on all his aircrafts, thank goodness, because it happened to be one that Flint liked too. However, the Macallan was not his favorite, nor Victor’s. Glenmorangie Grand Vintage Malt was Flint’s and his best friend’s all-time beloved was another Glenmorangie . . . one that was their Pride whisky and cost ten thousand bucks a bottle, but damn it was fine. It was like amber gold as it ran down your throat and he and Victor had shared a few bottles between them, usually celebrating some deal or another, or more recently, his wedding.

  He looked up, catching Addy as she retreated to the rear of the cabin. “Do you have Glenmorangie on board? Grand Vintage Malt to be precise? If so, then I’ll have that . . . just bring me the bottle and an ice bucket with ice.” He wasn’t certain, but thought the odds were high it would be available, because again it was one that Victor drank regularly.

  Nellie tutted, hissing over. “Did I hear a please in there somewhere?”

  Flint side eyed her, scowling but adding a theatrical. “If you please, Addy.”

  Addy gave him a smile, broad and wide as she sashayed past them. “Of course, Flint. I’ll be right back.”

  “Oh for goodness sakes,” Nellie sighed. “That girl thinks you’re flirting with her.”

  “I’m not,” Flint said simply. “She’s not my type.”

  “This is going to be a long flight,” Nellie sighed.

  “Not for me.” He waggled his glass. “I plan on drinking a bottle of whisky then napping for the rest of the time.”

  “Why thank you, dear boy, for being such a wonderful traveling companion,” Nellie said sarcastically.

  “Hey, I was supposed to be alone, remember?” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m tired and didn’t want to come on this damn trip in the first place.”

  “You don’t say,” Nellie huffed out. “I hope you’re going to be a better guest at Mister Alexander’s than you are being here, boy, because you’re acting like a petulant child. I get it, Flint, I do. You and Victor have been together for so long that it must feel strange for you. He has Kimber but you are, not to put it bluntly, but you must feel out in the cold right now. It’ll take some getting used to but I’m sure things will improve and you’ll soon get used to things and I bet you’ll . . .”

  Flint’s hand shot up, stopping her when Addy returned, her body language screaming her interest in him. He didn’t look at her. “Just leave it on the table, thanks.”

  He could feel his obvious rebuke hit her. Her emotions wafting over him as she sat the tray she was holding on the table, removed the bottle and placed it before him. She also positioned the ice bucket before removing the tray and fleeing quickly. Flint could also sense Nellie’s reprimand on the tip of her tongue, but to his astonishment she remained silent as they started to roll out of the hanger and made their way onto the runway. Downing the remaining Macallan and even crunching the ice in the glass, he replenished the crystal with fresh ice and Glenmorangie before sitting back, closing his eyes and sipping the amber liquid.

  Flint held it in his mouth, savoring the taste and the multitude of aromas for long moments, before allowing it to run down his throat. He could taste the unique oakiness of the casks the liquid had been kept in, the intense vibrancy and elegance that had been put in to produce such a fine bottle of whisky and he savored the multitude of flavors as it slipped down inside him. “Perfection,” he murmured, his tongue darting out to lick along his full lips.

  “It’s whisky,” Nellie chuckled.

  “It’s a damn good whisky,” he retorted. “When you can’t eat, then drinking something such as this is . . . exquisite. Well, other than when Victor breaks out the really good stuff. The bottles that cost the damn earth.”

  “Men.” Nellie shook her head.

  “So, before I get stuck into this, where do you want dropped off?”

  “I’ll be fine, really.” Nellie shrugged. “I can catch a train in Edinburgh and visit some friends.”

  “The offer’s there. If you want to be taken down to England, just say so. It’s not a problem.”

  “Well”—Nellie tapped her chin—“That might be better, I suppose. I can visit there first then make my way back up to Scotland and hitch a ride home. Yes, that’ll work out better. If I can get dropped somewhere near Cornwall that would be very helpful.”

  “Just tell Addy . . . I’d rather not.” He shrugged. “For obvious reasons.”

  “Fine,” Nellie sighed, “I’ll let her know after we take off.”

  “Okay.” He leaned forward, replenishing his glass. “I hope you have a good holiday. You deserve one.”

  “I’ve not been back for a while so I’m looking forward to it.” Nellie cocked her head to the side. “I hope you relax and have some fun too.”

  “Fun? I’m not sure I know how to without Victor. It’s strange . . .” He stopped himself before he let slip how he was really feeling: strange, alone . . . abandoned.

  Fuck! Was that it? Did he feel that? How damn stupid was that? Victor was his best friend and he’d found the best thing in the universe: his Bloodmate. Yet here he was grousing like an old girlfriend and feeling like a shit for, well, feeling like a shit. Nellie’s knowing eyes were watching him closely, her head cocked to the side, and hell, she gave him a sad nod. Sad! She even reached over, dropping her cup onto the table and then giving his knee a gentle
squeeze.

  “It’ll be all right, Flint.” Her voice was soft, low, and full of comfort and that made his blood boil as she carried on. “I promise it will. It’s a big adjustment for everyone, but especially you.”

  “I’m fine,” he snapped back, purposefully moving his legs and crossing them, which brushed her hand from his knee. “I’m just not used to taking vacations. I’m used to having Victor riding my ass and working.”

  Nellie sat back, her eyes opening slightly before they closed to a mere slit. “Yeah, that’s right, that’s what’s wrong. You’re upset because you’re being forced to have a holiday. Sure. And I’m Miss Universe and on my way to pick up my boyfriend who’s a young stud and waiting to whisk me away for a week of sun, sea and sizzling sex.”

  Flint waved a hand in front of him, shaking his head as a chuckle rumbled up from his chest. “Woah! Enough, Nellie, how am I supposed to get that visual outta my head now that it’s in there?”

  She returned, quick as a whip. “At least I got you to lighten up a little. Now that I have, maybe you’ll not be such an arsehole for the rest of the flight and I might, just might, tell you about a sweet little club in Edinburgh. It’s off the beaten track and used by our kind, as in, not humans, so you’ll fit right in, and you might even have some fun.”

  Flint turned to look out the small round window, realizing they were high above the clouds at the same time as he knew he’d been an utter shit to Nellie, and everyone else, for the last few days. He was feeling off, certainly, but it was more than that and he didn’t know what the hell was wrong with him. One thing he did know . . . he owed her an apology. “You’re right. I’ve been an ass and rude, I’m sorry.”

  “Glad to hear it,” she snarked back, jerking her head to the bottle on the table. “Go get me a glass and pour me one of those, and while you’re at it you can grab me some nuts and whatever other snacks there are. I’m feeling peckish.”