Vampire Mate: BBW Paranormal Romance

by Natalie Kristen

  Glenn tensed, his fangs extending instinctively.

  It was the scent of a female, but the scent didn't come from the sobbing witch, who was tugging her skirt down and scrambling away in the opposite direction. Glenn didn't go after her. There was something else in the alley right now. Something even more dangerous than that rogue werewolf.

  A buxom beauty stepped out soundlessly from behind the snarling werewolf almost as if she had been standing and waiting there all along.

  Glenn froze in shock. It was—her.

  He stared at her fair, beautiful face, and dragged his eyes down her sexy, curvy figure. Her green eyes were shining as she moved towards the wolf.

  Her bob of blond hair framed her pretty face perfectly. Carelessly tucking her hair behind her ear, she sashayed towards the werewolf, her tight leather mini skirt riding up her creamy thighs as she moved. The heels of her boots clicked softly as she prowled towards her target.

  Glenn gave his head a quick, hard shake. It couldn't be her. The last time he saw her, she had been working the night shift behind the counter of a convenience store. The only words she had spoken to him that night were: “And here's your change, sir. Have a good night.”

  He had caught her name on her name tag: Charlene Cole. And then the group of merrymakers behind him had dumped their mountain of chips and beer on the counter, and jostled forward, pushing him out of the way. He had stepped out of the store to wait for her, but then his phone had beeped, and it was one urgent meeting after another. And then he heard the terrible news from the Enforcers—a rogue werewolf had attacked two human females in a dark alleyway just after midnight. One of them had been taken to the hospital in time, while the other, her sister, was likely killed in the attack. Likely, they said, since they never found her body.

  That was more than a year ago. The surviving sister, Charlotte Cole, was now a full-fledged Enforcer, and the PAC Alpha, Lucas Rieve's mate. And her sister, Charlene, the one presumed to be dead—was right now standing before his very eyes.

  She was Charlene Cole. There was no doubt. Her face, her brilliant eyes, her presence, the heat and hunger that she sparked in him with just a coy smile. No female had made him feel this way, pulled him and haunted him with just one look.

  She was the same, beautiful woman that he had seen just once and remembered forever. Yet—she was somehow changed. Her smile, once sweet and soft, had a hard, predatory edge to it. When he first saw her, she was dressed modestly in the convenience store uniform with hardly any makeup on her face. Now she was dressed to kill. Her lips and nails were painted dark red, her eyes heavily lined and smoky, and the top buttons of her black silk blouse were undone to show off her maddening, braless curves. She licked her lips as she approached the growling werewolf, her prey. And the faint red swirls at the corner of her eyes hinted at what she now was.

  The werewolf was large and muscular, a frightening looking beast to a defenseless female. But clearly Charlene was no defenseless female. As she sauntered forward, the beast growled low and backed away slowly. “Come,” she cooed, curling a finger. “Come here, you bad, bad doggie.”

  Glenn started forward, and two pairs of eyes, one feral, one female, flicked to him. Wolf and woman glowered at him, and he heard two distinct growls.

  “This doesn't concern you, vampire,” the woman snarled, baring her fangs at him.

  She was—no longer human. There was no doubt. He knew, but he refused to believe, what she had become.

  She was not a vampire. Of that he was certain. He would be able to sense another vampire, and he would know if she had been newly turned from her scent. She didn't mist into the alley. She had teleported here, and stepped out of the air behind the rogue.

  She was...a demoness.

  Her fangs were serrated, not smooth.

  She was a blood demoness.

  No. No. His mind whirled, trying to deny what was before him.

  “Charlene.”

  Whatever she was, whatever she had become, she was still Charlene.

  She jerked, her nostrils flaring and her eyes widening a fraction.

  When their gazes clashed, Glenn saw her stifle a gasp as her green eyes burned with her erupting emotions and memories. There was the unmistakable spark of recognition and pain in her eyes as she took a small step back.

  “You,” she whispered. I...remember you.

  “Glenn. Glenn Constantine. I've been hoping to see you again,” he said softly.

  She shook her head, her fingers curling into claws at her side. “Please go, Glenn,” she said in a hard voice and spun round just as the werewolf launched itself from a corner.

  Glenn lunged towards her, but Charlene was faster. She was supernaturally fast for a young demoness. She dived out of the way of both wolf and vampire and managed to kick the rogue's legs out from under him. As the wolf fell, she dug her claws into his throat and held him down. With the werewolf's spilled blood, she drew a circle around them and stood up, her boot on the wolf's head.

  Glenn ran to the circle, but something repelled him from the circle. A red mist rose from the spilled blood on the ground, erecting some sort of barrier between them. He could still see them through the half sphere of blood red mist, but he couldn't breach the circle and reach them.

  The wolf had shifted back to human form and was groaning and convulsing at Charlene's feet. She glanced down pitilessly at him and spat, “You were going to rape that woman, weren't you?”

  The man gurgled his response, as she crouched down and yanked his head back. She crinkled her nose in disgust as she glared at his torn throat. “Even your blood stinks, but—” She shrugged. “Waste not, want not.”

  “No, Charlene, no!” Glenn shouted, trying to push through the blood mist. But this demon force field was powered by blood, and there was only one type of demon that could draw such deadly, unfathomable power from blood alone.

  He watched her with wide, pained eyes as she lowered her lips to the man's throat.

  As she drank his blood, the blood mist darkened, becoming denser and angrier, whipping into a storm of blood right in the alley. Glenn shouted her name, and charged right into the cyclone of blood and raw demon power but he couldn't see her. The blood rain pummeled him, shoving him to the ground, and when he stood up again, the storm had died down completely, leaving him alone in the middle of a circle of blood. He glanced down. There was not a single drop of blood on him.

  Charlene was gone. And she had taken her prey with her.

  Charlene, that sweet, shy human woman he had seen one magical moment a year ago, was now a blood demoness.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Charlene kept her fangs in the werewolf's throat, holding him down and taking his blood until his thrashing weakened and his eyes rolled back in his head. She withdrew her fangs and sneered. He wasn't the first big, bullying brute to pass out with pain and blood loss.

  She had taken two others. One was a human, or rather, a poor excuse for a human. She had teleported into a quiet neighborhood and had heard pleas and screams coming from a kitchen window. By the light of a flickering naked bulb, she saw a man holding a crying woman by her hair and smashing her head against their kitchen wall. In a trace, Charlene had teleported into the kitchen and knocked the wife-beating brute back. He had reeked of beer and piss. While the woman scrabbled back, half crazed with fear, Charlene had sunk her fangs into the man's neck and teleported back to Kron's lair. But Kron hadn't been happy. He had rolled his eyes and snapped, “Not a human, stupid. A beast. But he'll do for tonight.”

  The second was a wererat, who had been holding a female shifter at knife point. The rat hadn't put up much of a struggle and she had teleported him back to Kron with relative ease.

  The werewolf tonight was her biggest haul so far.

  Charlene dropped the unconscious man in front of Kron's enormous fireplace and straightened up. The demon lord would sense her presence and make his appearance soon. In the meantime, she would rest. A little.

 
She slumped onto the large sofa and closed her eyes. Swords, flags and decapitated animal heads adorned the walls of Kron's castle. Yup, Kron had a thing for medieval architecture it seemed. He had designed his residence to resemble a castle, complete with battlements and gargoyles perched on top of the carved stone pillars. He lived in a rich, remote neighborhood at the edge of New Moon City that was home to many eccentric billionaires with bizarre tastes. The houses in Infernal Springs were of all shapes, sizes and designs. Some were ordinary mansions, others were grander than palaces for royals, and yet others were good old-fashioned castles.

  Kron had a towering arched fireplace that was more of a furnace really, in his living room. The fire raged and spat at all hours, roaring and burning endlessly. Charlene could make out shapeless faces and grasping hands in those red flames. Sometimes she saw figures struggling to leap out from the fireplace, like they were trying to escape, before they were dragged back into the flames. Thin wails and screams could often be heard from the roaring flames.

  Charlene made sure she sat at the corner of the sofa, farthest away from that eerie fireplace. It gave her the shudders and bad memories.

  She had spent one day in the Abyss, and she never wanted to go back again. She had spent one full day drowning in black blood and burning in sulfuric fires before Kron fished her out of the Abyss. He had brought her straight to his castle, given her some new clothes and promptly sent her out to hunt for him. Blood, he'd told her, bring me fresh, living blood.

  He had driven her out to the city on the very first night. As a newly Made blood demoness, her hunger for blood was gnawing, tormenting, and her body was wrecked with pain and convulsions as she struggled with her blood lust. But Kron wouldn't provide her with any blood.

  Kron had told her casually as she wept tears of blood, shivering and gasping in agony, “You'll have to learn to hunt for your own food and power source. More blood means more power. You'll be able to teleport once you've had your first drink of blood. You'll feel much better, soon.”

  Charlene had forced herself to listen to the droning voices on the car radio and glare at the clocks and advertisements on the plasma screens on their way into the city to take her mind off her excruciating hunger and pain. What she saw and heard made her realize in shock and sadness that time and tide waited for no man and certainly no demon.

  It had taken one demon day in the Abyss for her to be Made into a blood demoness. But a little more than one year had passed in New Moon City. It was just yesterday to her, but it was more than a year ago that she had been attacked by the rogue werewolf in that alley.

  Fresh, living blood, Kron had told her.

  He didn't say if the blood should come from good, upright citizens, or the scum of the city. Even on that first harrowing night, when she had been thrown into the deep end of the city and left to kill or be killed, she had retained enough of her conscience and her senses to choose her victims.

  Charlene had forced her hunger down and tried to be very careful and discerning on her hunt. She evaded the Enforcers that patrolled the streets, and kept her eyes and ears peeled for criminal, violent activity. If she had to get blood, she might as well make sure that the blood that she got deserved to be spilled.

  It was a kind of vigilantism, she supposed.

  But it was the best she could do in the circumstances.

  Charlene leaned her head back, her nails digging into the armrest of the sofa as her thoughts flashed to that tall, handsome vampire she saw tonight. She had seen him before, once.

  I've been hoping to see you again.

  He remembered her.

  And she certainly remembered him. How could she forget?

  He had walked into the convenience store one night and bought a current affairs magazine. It had been a busy night at the store, but she had noticed and remembered him. He wasn't a male any woman would forget in a hurry. Tall, broad-shouldered, well-dressed, elegant, polite, and he had the face of an angel, a dark angel with deep, black eyes and midnight-black hair that fell across his forehead. He had held her gaze with those quiet, hypnotic eyes and in that instant, there was only him. She simply forgot everything else. She forgot to even breathe, but somehow she had managed to fumble for his change. He had lightly brushed his fingers against hers when she handed him his change. And just that one touch had been electrifying.

  It was as if she had been asleep her whole life before, functioning and working but not really awake and alive. Suddenly, everything flashed brighter, clearer, sharper. Strange, intense feelings surged through her, and she had to press her hand to her chest to try to stop her heart from hammering like crazy. When she gasped and blinked, he had already exited the store, and there was a crowd of impatient, hooting customers clamoring for her attention. But she had glimpsed him leaning against a lamppost across the street, watching her, and...wanting her.

  Charlene had shaken her head at that thought. A dish like him, wanting...a dishcloth like her?

  No way.

  He was elegantly and expensively dressed, sophisticated, well-built and too handsome for her own good. He was without a doubt successful, powerful and influential. Whereas she was just a checkout girl, working double, triple shifts in a convenient store, running herself ragged and trying to bring up her younger sister as best she could. She ate whatever cheap junk food she could, comfort food, food to get her through another day, and her figure—well, what figure? She wore loose fitting clothes from a discount store most of the time. She cut her own hair to save money, scrounged for secondhand shoes and bought no makeup. No man would give her a second glance. Big Joe who was in charge of the store supplies was the only man she came into contact with. Joe was sweet, shy and didn't talk much. He had once asked her out for coffee, and that was that. He never looked at her the way Glenn Constantine stared at her.

  Charlene's insides had twisted into knots when she turned to peek out the store window.

  Glenn Constantine was a dream.

  She—was the fallout of a dream.

  There was no way he could want someone like her.

  Yet, his eyes couldn't lie, couldn't hide the fierce want, hope and pain burning in those dark depths.

  She had looked into his eyes again tonight, and seen that very same look.

  It was the same look, but he was looking at a very different girl.

  “I'm not the same girl anymore, Glenn,” she whispered. You should stay away from me.

  Charlene stood up and straightened her mini skirt. She gave a small laugh. She had never worn a leather mini skirt in all her human life, especially not one that barely reached halfway down her fleshy thighs. If Charlotte could see her now...

  “Well now, you certainly took your time,” Kron's nasal voice cut through the room. He was in his human form, wearing his top hat, monocle and three-piece suit. Just last night he had taken to amusing himself by experimenting with different voices and speech patterns. “Which do you like best, my squeaky voice, the nasal one, or this deep, bass baritone?” he'd asked Charlene.

  She had smiled tightly. I'd like it best if I don't hear your voice at all. But she had tactfully and politely picked the nasal voice.

  Charlene stepped back wordlessly to allow Kron to circle the groaning man. He was regaining consciousness, and Charlene rather pitied him. It would have been better for him to remain unconscious.

  Kron poked the man in the ribs with his cane.

  “Hmm, much better. You learn fast,” the demon lord beamed. “There's more of the beast in this one than the rat you brought me. Good job, Charlene. All right, send him down.”

  Charlene nodded and stepped forward. The man fixed round, unseeing eyes on her and shrank back with a curse. Kron sat on the sofa and inspected his nails. “Get on with it,” he said impatiently. “I haven't got all night.”

  Charlene gripped the man's arm, ignoring his shouts and dragged him to the middle of a thick red carpet at the corner of the living room. Throwing him onto the carpet, she walked over to the st
atue of a naked androgynous two-headed figure and put her hand on the top of one head. With a grating sound, she twisted the head all the way back. The floor vibrated and before the man could scream, the panel beneath the carpet had rotated to reveal a yawning chasm. The man was tipped into the chasm, and the echo of his scream rose through the floorboards as the carpet swung back into place.

  “Join me for supper downstairs?” Kron offered, rising to his feet with a smile.

  “I've just eaten,” Charlene answered. “But thank you.”

  Kron shrugged. His demons hunted for him, and he expected them to hunt for themselves.

  “Wait here, Charlene. I'll be sending something up. Deliver it back to the city on your way home, will you?” he said casually as he sauntered to a side door. “Oh, and be here tomorrow night at eight o'clock sharp. There's someone I'd like you to meet.”

  Meet? Or eat?

  Charlene gave the tiniest arch of her brow and nodded.

  “Good.” Kron smiled, baring his elongated, jagged fangs, and tapped his cane on the floor. His human facade faded and Charlene saw his demon form emerge just as he opened the side door and descended the long flight of stairs to his dungeon. The door creaked shut after him.

  Charlene stood rigidly beside the carpet and waited.

  Kron would be sending up the remains of yesterday's dinner soon. She had made the mistake of assuming that the remains would be a harmless, motionless pile of bones on the first night. She had paid for her mistake, with her blood.

  The remains had clawed and tore at her, breaking a few of her bones and had almost ripped out her heart. The human, who had been a violent, volatile brute to begin with, was hardly recognizable. What little humanity he had in him had been completely drained, together with most of his blood. He was covered with his own blood as well as black demon blood. He made wordless, savage noises, and his eyes looked feral, not human. He scratched, and tore at her with his nails and teeth, setting on her like a wild animal. It was only when she finally managed to latch onto his neck with her fangs and forced him to bleed into her mouth that her blood power had grown and the man had weakened. And she had teleported back to the city with him, and dropped him at the front steps of a psychiatric hospital.