Vampires in America: The Vignettes, Volume 1

by D. B. Reynolds

  Thierry growled furiously and jumped back to his feet, his eyes glowing with power, a sickly yellow that Sophia had always found rather repulsive. Her own power rose with a golden amber glow that lit the dirt yard before her.

  “You will yield, Thierry,” she said softly. “Or you will die.”

  Thierry bared his teeth in a laugh. “You were a good fuck, Sophia, but you’ll never be my Master.”

  Sophia felt Colin stiffen next to her, but knew he was too disciplined to rise to such pitiful bait.

  “The die is cast, Thierry. I own you and all of these.” She waved her hand at the assembled vamps. “Even the two you created yourself,” she added thoughtfully, finding the two vampires hidden at the very back of the pack. They were young and female, and she was certain Lucien had possessed no knowledge of their existence. Which meant Thierry had been conspiring against his own Sire even before Lucien had died.

  “What shall it be, Thierry?”

  She didn’t need to wait for his answer. She felt his power rising, felt him drawing on the vampires at his back. She shook her head sorrowfully, but stepped further away from Colin and gathered her own power. It came easily to her bidding, a heady rush of heat and exhilaration that made her want to laugh with the sheer joy of it. It was dangerous this rush, addictive. It made her feel all-powerful, invincible. And she was neither of those things.

  But she was more than enough to crush this French worm of a vampire who dared defy her.

  With a wave of her hand, she broke the bond between Thierry and his vampire followers, stealing the breath from their lungs and the blood from their brains long enough to drop them all into unconsciousness. Thierry spun around to stare wildly as he felt his power base disappear. His two baby vamps were all that was left to him, cowering against the wall next to the open door.

  He reached out, clearly intending to draw what little power they had, but Sophia stopped him, saying, “Would you kill your own children to serve your ambition, Thierry?”

  He spun back to her with a snarl, lashing out with his power, a lightning fast whip of energy that she barely managed to stop before it ripped across her face. She sucked in a breath, reminded that Thierry was very possibly the most dangerous challenge she would face in her battle to control the territory.

  Tightening her shields, Sophia raised her hands, letting her power flow up and over her arms, trailing down to her fingers until every one of them sparkled with amber fire. Whispering a curse her grandmother had taught her as a child, she flicked her fingers at Thierry one at a time, taking pleasure in his shrieks of rage as each flick of a finger sent a powerful ball of energy to batter him, slamming into him from all sides, striking his head, his heart, even his legs as he struggled to stay on his feet.

  “Bitch!” he screamed, frantically trying to meet each separate attack, instead of building a shield for himself and hiding behind it. Lucien had never valued the skills of personal combat. He’d had little of his own and taught his children even less. And it showed.

  Sophia tightened her own shields, lest Thierry rally what little tactical sense he possessed. And she gave thanks to Colin for insisting she drill with him daily on the use of her power. He might not have vampiric abilities of his own, but he knew and understood far more about up close and personal combat than anyone she’d ever met. And when he’d discovered what she’d be confronting as she consolidated her hold on the territory, he’d insisted she learn how to defend herself. And more importantly, how to defeat her enemies.

  “Yield, Thierry,” she said softly. “I don’t want to kill you.”

  “As if you could. You’re nothing but Lucien’s favorite whore, playing at being lord. I’m his true heir, not you.”

  Sophia shook her head. “Final chance. Surrender or die.”

  He literally spit his answer at her, then reached out a hand and sucked his two baby vamps dry, gathering power to himself with a triumphant shout. Sophia watched the two females collapse, her fury growing with every second.

  “Enough,” she said finally, her voice filling the clearing and thundering over the trees. “You have been tested and found wanting, Thierry Lavoie. I find you guilty of treason against your rightful lord. Your punishment is death.”

  Sophia strode the three steps that separated them, letting her power ride in a wave before her, driving him to the ground and holding him there, crushing him beneath its weight until he could only groan his agony. “Sophia,” he rasped, as if pleading for mercy at the last moment. But the time for forgiveness was long past. She reached down and fisted her fingers in his long hair, forcing his head back, stretching his neck at an impossible angle.

  “Go to hell, Thierry,” she whispered, then raked the nails of her other hand across his throat, slicing through skin and cartilage, ripping open both jugular veins and carotid arteries as blood poured from him until there was nothing left. Sophia released him then, watching dispassionately as his body collapsed to the dirt, sending a wisp of her power to stop the last, feeble beating of his heart. Within moments, Thierry Lavoie was nothing more than another pile of dust on the bloody mud of his passing.

  Sophia stepped back, eyeing her bloodied hands distastefully, examining her coat with dismay when she saw the dark stains marring its lovely, golden color. Up on the deck, the vampires who’d once supported Thierry were waking to their new reality. “Anyone else care to die tonight?” she called.

  Not one of them rose above a bended knee or even raised their gaze to look upon her. Some even went so far as to prostrate themselves face down on the wooden planks.

  Sophia searched their hearts and minds one at a time. It was time consuming. It was exhausting. But it was better than insisting on a blood oath from each of them. And none of them was a master vampire. They’d followed Thierry, and now Thierry was gone.

  Her shoulders slumped finally and Colin stepped to her side, offering her a wet towel. “Are we finished here?” he asked quietly.

  “Finished,” she agreed, wiping the worst of the blood from her hands. “Let’s go home.”

  * * * *

  Sophia woke slowly, curling into the solid male heat at her side, burrowing her face into his broad chest and purring with pleasure. Her tongue snaked out to lick at the smooth skin of his pectoral, finding a flat male nipple. She teased it into hardness before closing her teeth on it. Colin grunted in reaction, his strong arms surrounding her, pulling her closer, his arousal a hard length against her belly.

  She kissed her way up over his chest to his neck, moving slowly, languidly, nipping at his skin with her blunt teeth only, then licking away the small hurt, until she reached the firm swell of his jugular. She could smell the sweet nectar of his blood, could hear the rush of it in his veins, the rapid beat of his heart as he responded to her body rubbing against his, to her mouth on his skin.

  Without warning, she struck, sinking her fangs into his neck, relishing the slight resistance of his vein, and then the warm flow of blood down her throat. Beneath her, Colin stiffened than growled, his hands gripping her hips as she straddled him, as her thighs tightened around him.

  “Dammit, Sophie,” he gasped, his hips beginning to pump instinctively, pushing his cock between her thighs as he sought entrance to her body.

  Sophia took a final pull of his delicious blood, then retracted her fangs and sat up, lifting herself enough to settle over his cock, sinking down as it slid deep inside her. Colin was staring up at her furiously, his jaw gritted, his eyes narrow slits of angry blue as he fought the aphrodisiac coursing through his bloodstream directly to this cock.

  “Not to worry, meu amor,” she purred, riding him lazily at first, then increasing her pace until she could feel his control about to snap. She leaned forward and licked away a few drops of blood from his neck, then straightened with a smug grin and said,

  “I’m just getting started.”

  THE END

  VAMPIRE VIGNETTE #7

  ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS …

  Malibu,
California Christmas Eve

  Cynthia Leighton wandered over to the sliding door. She couldn’t see much beyond thick glass tonight. The night was overcast, with just a sliver of moon that struggled to make it through the dense clouds. Dark and gloomy, just like her mood. She placed her fingers against the cold glass, feeling the tiny vibrations as waves hit the cliff down below. She thought about going outside and drowning her sorrows in the brisk ocean air, but she was afraid the air was well beyond brisk this evening. And there was no point in adding shivering cold to her misery.

  She sighed, turning away from the window and crossing back to the fireplace, where she slumped down onto the big overstuffed chair which was strategically placed right in front of the fire. Normally, this was her favorite spot on a cold night like tonight. There was a soft woolen throw from Ireland draped over the back of the chair, ready to fight off any sudden chills, and her books and magazines were on a table right beside her. And there were the makings for coffee or hot chocolate behind the wet bar, if she wanted something to warm her from the inside while she waited for Raphael to finish whatever business was keeping him away.

  But not even these familiar comforts could console her tonight. She stared into the fire, watching a rainbow of reflected lights dance across the glass smoke screen from the tree on the other side of the room. She couldn't believe she'd actually dragged a tree up here for the holiday. Okay, so Robbie had been the one doing the actual dragging up the stairs, but she’d schlepped herself to the tree lot and spent way too much time selecting the perfect tree. And she’d been the one who’d loaded it into her new Range Rover and driven it back here. Sure, Robbie had helped with the heavy lifting part, but she’d decorated the damn thing, and now it sat there, twinkling away, taunting her with what she couldn’t have.

  The first Christmas tree she’d ever bought and here she sat all alone on Christmas Eve.

  Because of the weather. How stupid was that? Raphael was a damn vampire lord, powerful enough to rattle buildings with his anger, but even he got snowed in. Apparently, earth-shaking power wasn’t much good in a snow storm, especially when the Rocky Mountains were between you and where you wanted to go. He’d been taking a lot of trips to Colorado and Arizona lately, big secret vampire business. Why couldn’t this trip have been to Arizona? No one got snowed into Arizona. Well, almost no one. Not the parts where Raphael was going anyway. But no, there he was stuck in Telluride of all places. She wouldn’t mind being stuck in Telluride, if she was stuck there with him. It was a lovely little town. Being snowed in there with Raphael would be downright romantic.

  But, no. This was supposed to be a quick in and out trip. One night and he’d be back. Right. She sighed and buried herself in the big chair, pulling the blanket up to her chin as she stared at the fire. She’d bought presents and everything, and now it was becoming a dreary replay of every Christmas she’d ever had as a child, with piles of presents and no one to open them with her.

  Shit.

  She closed her eyes, letting the warmth of the fire soak into her body. What she wanted, what she needed, was the sound of eight little reindeer on the roof, delivering her vampire lover to her. Put a big bow on him and drop him right down the chimney. Okay, so not down the chimney; he’d get singed, but they could drop him on the balcony. Close enough. She grinned at the idea of Raphael dropping out of a tiny sleigh. But the grin didn’t last. She wanted the real thing. She wanted her Raphael here. Now.

  She heard voices downstairs, lots of voices. Maybe the guards were bringing some people over from the blood house for their own holiday party. Why not? Just because she was miserable didn’t mean everyone else . . . She frowned at the sound of footsteps in the hall outside her sitting room. That wasn’t anyone from the blood house; they weren’t permitted in this part of the house. Something else was going on.

  She stood up, sliding her feet into a pair of UGG boots. The blanket fell to the floor and she bent to pick it up. A change in the air alerted her, the flames dancing in alarm as she turned around and saw …

  “Raphael!”

  He held out his arms as she ran to him, catching her as she wrapped her arms around his neck. His face was cold as she raised her mouth for a kiss, as their lips met for the first time in days. The kiss was fierce, a hungry reunion of lovers too long apart, their tongues clashing as they fought to get more of each other. They pulled apart briefly, then joined again, but softer this time, sensuous and full of desire.

  “I missed you, my Cyn.” Raphael’s voice was a rumble of sound, made even deeper by the emotion he let no one but her see.

  “I missed you. When did you get back? How did you get back? I’ve been checking the Internet obsessively. Everything is still buried in snow!”

  “Vampires are not subject to the same restrictions as humans. We drove until we reached an open airport, and then flew the rest of the way.”

  “But the roads—”

  “Are less of an obstacle to my vampires. We avoided the main highways where traffic was shut down. And it didn’t hurt that we anticipated this storm and started before the worst of it hit. We weren’t able to get out of the airport in time, but we made excellent headway before the storm closed in. After that …” He shrugged.

  “Why didn’t you call me?” Cyn hugged him, feeling the chill of his clothes, his body, and thinking about the risks he’d taken to get here.

  “No cell signal. The mountains, I suppose, or the weather. Maybe both.”

  “Take off your coat,” she said, slipping her fingers over the buttons and opening the front, then sliding it off his shoulders. “You’re cold. Sit by the fire, and I’ll bring you some vodka.” She hurried away before he could see the emotion she knew was written on her face. He could have died out there in the cold and the snow, and all because he wanted to get home. To her.

  She hung up his coat, then went over to the wet bar in one corner. There was a small refrigerator/freezer, with a bottle of vodka always on ice. She poured a hefty shot of the viscous liquid in a crystal tumbler, and carried it over to where Raphael had settled into her big chair.

  She held out the glass. Raphael took it from her, but set it on the side table and tugged her down to his lap. “It wasn’t that bad, my Cyn,” he said, wrapping his arms around her.

  Cyn didn’t know why she bothered to try to keep her feelings a secret. He always knew what she was feeling.

  “We were never in any real danger. Our biggest risk was not finding a safe place to spend the daylight hours, but there were plenty of inns and motels with empty beds because of the weather. They were more than happy for our business.”

  She kicked off her boots and curled up onto his lap, then reached for the glass of vodka and handed it to him. Raphael held the vodka in one hand as he curled his other arm around her shoulders, pulling her in for another long kiss. God, she’d missed him. Was it possible to miss one person so completely? Apparently it was.

  Raphael broke their kiss, his tongue swooping over her lips in a last caress, as if savoring the taste of her. “I would risk far more than snow storms to reach your side, my Cyn.”

  Cyn ran her fingers over his face, through his thick, black hair. “I was feeling very sorry for myself,” she admitted. “All alone with my tree and my presents.”

  “You were hardly alone,” he said too reasonably.

  “Vain vampire,” she chided him. “Stop fishing for compliments. You know what I mean. I didn’t want just anybody, I wanted you.”

  “I understand,” he said solemnly, then winked at her.

  Cyn grinned back at him. “You going to hold on to that vodka until it’s warm, or you gonna drink it?”

  He took a quick sip, then frowned and held up the frosted glass. “It’s missing something.”

  Cyn felt a tug low in her belly as his eyes met hers. She lifted her hand to his face, sliding her fingers along his jaw and trailing a finger over his lips before sliding it into his warm mouth. His gaze grew heated as his fangs emerged from
his gums. Cyn stroked her finger down each of his fangs, caressing the slick, hard surfaces, coming dangerously close to the sharp points. Raphael growled, and Cyn licked her lips in anticipation, Raphael’s gaze following her tongue avidly. She scraped the pad of one finger teasingly over the point of his fang, laughing when Raphael grabbed her hand and bit down.

  She sucked in a breath at the brief pain, but the pain soon turned to lust as Raphael lifted her pricked finger and dipped it into the cold vodka. A red ribbon of her blood twisted through the thickened liquid, sluggish and silky before the cold closed the small wound.

  Cyn’s heart was pounding as Raphael raised his striking black eyes and captured her gaze. Without looking away, he raised the glass and took a long sip, his eyelids drooping with hunger as he tasted her blood along with the vodka. He drank deeply, then set the glass aside without looking.

  “I thought about you,” he murmured, as he began unbuttoning her sweater, his fingers surprisingly deft for all their size and strength. “All those cold nights on the road.” The room’s air felt cool on her naked skin as he slipped one button after another, until he bared her breasts, clad in a black lace bra. It had festive red bows where the straps met the cups and Raphael flicked one playfully, smiling to himself.

  “It’s my Christmas bra,” she whispered, fighting the urge to take his hands and press them against her breasts. “Red bows.”

  Raphael’s smile widened as he finally cupped her breasts in those wonderful, big hands of his. “Are you my present then?”

  “If you want me to be,” she said, then hurried to add, “There are lots of others under—”

  Her words were cut off as he kissed her, one hand around the nape her neck, the other pressing against her lower back, as he ravaged her mouth, crushing her lips beneath his, his tongue tangling with hers until her tongue scraped over his fang and her blood began to flow.