Craved

Craved

Stephanie Nelson

Copyright 2010 by Stephanie Nelson

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserve. Without limiting the
rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication
may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into retrieval system,
or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic,
mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the
prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above
publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author
acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various
products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used
without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not
authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark
owners.

First and foremost I have to thank my husband
for the motivation he provided while I spent months writing this
book. Thank you for encouraging me to reach for the stars, even
when I thought they were too far away. A big thank you goes out to
H.P Mallory for inviting me to join her writers group where I
learned the ins and outs of the writing world! Thank you to the
members of the group for always offering helpful advice! I also
have to thank Misty Polish for acting as my critique partner! Thank
you to my beta readers, Lisa Sossaman, Candace Hardin Sessums, and
Christine Powell.

I had been seriously slacking on
cleaning my shop, so I decided tonight was as good as any time to
start. I was in the process of straightening a row of colorful
vials. I dusted in between all the potions and was now making sure
they were astutely lined up like well-behaved soldiers.

I didn’t need to look up to know that,
Aiden Blake, the most infuriating vampire I’d ever met, had just
stepped into my shop. I could feel his presence, as if a big
flashing arrow was pointing straight to him. I watched him through
the glass shelves and shifted my eyes when his gaze met mine. A
smile grew on his perfectly kissable lips.

I couldn't deny that he was gorgeous.
He was around six foot two with jet-black hair framing his face,
that he often worn a little long. His bright blue eyes seemed to
watch me with too much interest and his presence oozed with sex
appeal. He’d been overly interested in me since I met him, two
years ago. He wasn’t easy to ignore.

I straightened the last of the potions
and looked in his direction again; he was sniffing the lavender oil
and closing his eyes in pleasure. It just so happened I wore
lavender oil, so the gesture didn’t go unnoticed. Deciding I would
put an end to his games, I stood up and walked around the display
shelf.

“What do you want, Aiden?” I asked,
nonchalantly. He put the stopper back in the lavender bottle and
walked, with all the confidence in the world, to where I stood with
my arms crossed. It wasn’t easy pretending that seeing him again
was no big deal.

He had the body of a swimmer, thin but
muscular. He was dressed in his usual business attire, although it
didn’t slip my notice that the top two buttons on his shirt were
undone, as if to showcase his perfectly chiseled chest.

“I was in the neighborhood so I
thought I’d stop by,” he said, his sly smile giving him away. My
shop catered to many folks, but Aiden wasn’t my target customer. He
hadn’t come here to check out my potions or enchanted knick-knacks;
he’d come for me.

“I call bullshit. I’m about to close
shop; what do you want?” I asked again as I walked over to flip the
closed sign on the front door. I could feel his eyes watching my
backside but I decided not to tense up. I didn’t want him the
satisfaction of knowing he got to me.

“As clever as ever, Gwen,” he said,
with humor in his voice. “It would make me immensely happy if you
would accompany me to the Founders Gala this weekend.” Although I
rarely saw it, nervousness showed in his eyes. He had been pursuing
me for the past couple of years and I always came up with an excuse
as to why I couldn’t date him, but his perseverance was astounding.
Now it was my turn to grin, I knew he was uncomfortable at the
thought of being turned down yet again, but I assumed that was why
he kept coming around; he never met a female he couldn’t seduce. If
I were smart, I would say yes and we’d enjoy the evening, flirting
and dancing, and then he’d leave me alone. But I couldn’t bring
myself to get involved with anyone at the moment, even if that
someone was as mouth-watering as Aiden Blake.

“I appreciate your offer, really, but
I don’t think so,” I told him as politely as I could. The man had
his pride, after all, and I wasn’t going to be responsible for
trampling all over it.

“Am I too late? Has someone else
already asked you?” He inquired, revealing the tightness in his
jaw. He was trying really hard not to be offended.

“No, you’re the first,” I told him as
I deposited the till from the register into a moneybag. I risked
looking up at him and felt a warm blush color my cheeks. Boy was he
beautiful. My relationship with Micah had left me with trust
issues. I didn’t want to get my heart broken again. He walked over
to where I stood behind the counter and leaned on his forearms. His
aura sizzled all around me, like tendrils of pure male energy
poking and prodding my flesh.

“Stop it,” I protested. A soft chuckle
escaped his lips but I refused to return it; the man got off by
messing with me.

“A woman as beautiful as you should
have an equally beautiful man to accompany her to the Gala,” he
said. I had been totaling the store’s intake and was on my third
try of trying not to lose my count. I could feel his eyes on me so
I temporarily abandoned the money and gave him all of my attention,
hoping he’d leave sooner.

“You’re right, I’ll be sure to find
one,” I said with a smile. He grabbed his chest as if a stake had
gone straight through his heart and despite my annoyance, I
laughed. I rolled my eyes at his pathetic charades and walked
around the counter to grab his arm and escort him to the front
door. I held the door open and waited for him to get the hint, but
he hesitated to leave. My eyes roamed the store, as if I suddenly
had the urge to inventory everything to my memory. I was trying
desperately to conceal that being this close to him set every one
of my nerve endings on fire.

He leaned down slowly; his lips just
hovering above my forehead, and softly pressed his lips against my
skin. I momentarily closed my eyes at his touch but quickly
regained my composure and pushed him out the door. “Night, Aiden,”
I called over my shoulder as the door slammed shut. I could hear
his amused laughter as I walked back to the office.

****************

I lived only five miles from my shop,
Broomsticks, with my best friend and roommate, Fiona. Our apartment
wasn’t the nicest but very affordable and that’s all we cared
about. I pushed through the front door, which had a tendency to
jam, and almost fell over Aura, my cat and familiar.

“
Sorry, girl,” I said as I
leaned down to pet her. Aura wasn’t actually a cat. She was a
spirit that assumed the body of a beautiful black Persian in order
to serve as my assistant, also known as a witch’s
familiar.

She meowed and whipped her tail as if
to tell me she didn’t appreciate me almost toppling over her. Did I
mention she’s a grumpy spirit?

Our apartment looked like every other
crappy unit. I tried sprucing it up when I moved in several years
earlier, but the new items didn’t fool anyone. The kitchen was
painted a grayish-blue and our kitchen table sat against a small
window overlooking the street. White appliances gleamed in contrast
against the blue walls and a small, globe light hung from the
ceiling. Linoleum that was supposed to look like tile covered the
floors. I could have used magic to make the apartment immaculate
but I felt that was wrong. I wanted to earn my nice things, not
create them out of thin air.

I set my purse and a bag on the
kitchen table and made my way into the living room. Fiona was
reading a magazine while the vacuum and duster circled around her,
cleaning the room.

“Working hard I see,” I remarked with
a smile. Fiona definitely loved being a witch; she used magic for
everything, even something as simple as vacuuming and
dusting.

“I’m not messing up my manicure to
chase dust bunnies,” she replied. Fiona was the epitome of a diva.
Her nails were always done; her closet stocked with high-priced
fashions, and she would bite your head off if you touched her
granola bars. I had learned that one the hard way. We’d been
friends since we were teens though, so I was used to her high
maintenance attitude. She came from a wealthy family, although they
were not close, aside from providing her with money.

Our living room was painted in a sage
green and our sofas were a dark tan and purchased from a neighbor
woman who moved out. They weren’t very old, but they weren’t new
either. A large coffee table dominated the middle of the floor, and
on the far end of the room, a flat screen television hung on the
wall. The carpet was an off-white Berber that had a few stains,
probably unnoticed by most, but my eyes always seemed to find them.
The two windows in this room bathed the small space with a decent
amount of sunlight.