by Bangs, Nina
She lay sprawled across the crimson bedspread of her decadent four-poster bed, which fit right in with the rest of her authentic-looking castle chamber. The room was all massive dark wood, rich fabrics, and jewel-tone colors. It screamed erotic. A far cry from stumbling through the Minnesota underbrush looking for werewolves.
But she was after something much different here. A few days ago she’d gotten an anonymous e-mail claiming that the whole park was a sexual playground, not the G-rated, role-playing, fun-for-all place it advertised. She was here to dig up the truth, and if she was really lucky, she’d find kinky sex around every corner. Kinky sex in unexpected places sold like crazy.
Only one possible dark cloud lurked on her horizon. The last time she’d done a story in Texas, she’d stirred up real trouble for herself. She’d written an article on a group of vampire wannabes in San Antonio. Vampires? How twisted was that?
She’d paid a mole to infiltrate the group and feed her info. He’d made her think they’d welcome the publicity. Most gatherings of the strange-and-unusual were all about getting attention. Uh, why else would anyone claim he was a vampire?
Anyway, once the public read her stuff, the curious descended on the weird group. All the publicity scared the vamps off, and they left town toting their coffins behind them. How was she to know they wanted to keep everything hush hush?
Kristin frowned. Now came the bad part. For months afterward, this crazy guy named Veris—maybe that wasn’t even his real name—had made her life hell. He’d found all kinds of creative ways to put a hurting on her career, and he’d made sure she knew it was payback for the San Antonio thing. None of her investigative skills helped her ID him. Once he stopped, she swore she’d never do another Texas story. But here she was. This was too good to pass up.
Kristin opened her Live the Fantasy brochure and tried to decide where she’d start. They had fantasies going on in the castle right now. It would make sense to take in one of those first. Pretty convenient to have a theme park attraction and hotel all rolled into one. Now or tomorrow night? She was pretty tired after her flight. Maybe she’d wait until—
A knock interrupted her train of thought. Kristin frowned. She wasn’t expecting anyone. Climbing from the comfort of her bed, she went to the door and opened it.
Oh. My. God. The man leaning against the doorjamb with arms crossed over his chest was . . . was . . . Okay, need oxygen to keep brain working. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out. Basic description—a little over six feet tall, dark shaggy hair, dark do-me eyes, shirtless, worn jeans riding low on hips, shirtless, scuffed biker boots, and shirtless.
“Hey, sweetcheeks. I’m Taurin, the castle handyman. Right now I’m Air-conditioning Man, here to save you from a hot night.” Pregnant pause. “Unless a hot night excites you.”
“Air-conditioning? It’s fine.” Now for the not-so-basic description: broad, bare chest, powerful pecs, impressive abs, and would he notice if she pulled off her top? Yeah, he would. But the sweat wending a meandering path between her breasts was getting on her nerves. Maybe her air-conditioning wasn’t so fine.
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” He strode past her to the thermostat and stood staring at it. A loud clanking noise came from the air vents and the air shut down. “See. I got here just in time.”
“You betcha.” Woo-hoo, would you look at that butt—round, tight, and totally drool-worthy. She’d need a bib by the time he fixed the air-conditioning.
“Lucky for you I have my tool belt loaded.” His voice lowered to a husky murmur. “I have a tool for every need. Long, strong, and able to get into tight places.”
“Uh-huh.” Was it physically possible for her tongue to get tangled in her vocal cords? Must be, because she sure was having trouble talking. She dropped her gaze. Yep, there was his tool belt. And his screwdriver had this big, firm, strong-looking handle that was so . . . so . . . symbolic.
He pulled the cover off the thermostat and did some fiddling with the innards. “Here for a vacation?”
“Sort of.” Now that she’d gotten over her initial shock, she started to wonder about a hotel employee showing up shirtless. Unless . . . unless the castle was totally into sexual excess. Then a hot handyman would make lots of sense. The thought, admittedly out there, cheered her. “I’m a freelance writer, and I thought I’d do a story”—read exposé—“about the park.”
He continued tinkering with the thermostat. Hmm, the noise had been in the vents, so she didn’t see why he was fooling with the thermostat. But what did she know about air conditioners?
“You should start with a Castle of Dark Dreams fantasy.” He glanced at his watch while she glanced at the play of smooth muscle across his back. “I’m almost done here, and then I can quit for the night. How about we go down to the great hall together, and I’ll introduce you to the park’s fantasy world? Call it a welcome gift.”
Kristin considered his “gift.” Why not experience her first fantasy with him? If she was looking for the sexual underbelly of this park, he was as good a place to start as any. Darkly sensual and wickedly tempting, he would make a perfect guide to all the sinfully delicious secrets of Live the Fantasy.
In fact, if she worked things right, she might be able to keep him for the whole week. Whoa, rein in stampeding lust. She’d have lots of fun researching this article, but it was still all about the job. Besides, he’d only offered to guide her through one fantasy, not strip off her clothes and then make wild, planet-exploding love with her.
She sighed. Okay, so that was her fantasy. She’d lived most of her life in small-town North Dakota where absolutely nothing unusual ever happened. Can we say boring with a big, bold capital B?
Mom and Dad were great people, but they were convinced that once she reached the age when her hormonal tide was at flood stage, she’d slip from their grasp and be swept away by waves of sexual depravity. Her parents had kept her on such a tight leash she still had a collar mark around her neck, metaphorically speaking of course.
So when she finally escaped to college and afterward to the big, bad city, Kristin probably overcompensated a little by searching out stories that didn’t reek of ordinary small-town America. And anything that promised kinky sex had her instant attention.
“Sounds like an offer I can’t turn down.” She slipped her sandals on. No matter what might happen during the fantasy, Kristin’s cup of vicarious sensuality was full. “Let’s go.”
He guided her out the door and closed it behind him. “Why don’t you go down to the great hall, and I’ll meet you there. I have to drop my tool belt in my room and put on a shirt.”
“Sure.” She wanted to know about that shirt, but decided not to ask. He might actually have a good reason for not wearing one. Kristin liked her take on his shirtless state better—namely that the castle was dedicated to sex, so she’d be meeting shirtless, hot bods around every decadent corner. Ignoring the elevator, she headed for the winding stone stairs.
Taurin watched from narrowed eyes as she disappeared down the stairs. She’d been a surprise. He’d never seen Kristin Hughes. In San Antonio, she’d sent someone else in to do her dirty work, and he’d pictured a dried-up, vicious hag, because . . . Fine, so a dried-up, vicious hag would be easier to hate.
Not that he hated her less just because she had long black hair, big blue eyes, and pouty lips that would drive a man crazy if she chose to put them on any part of his body. And just because she had great breasts, an excellent ass, and long, long legs didn’t affect his feelings for her in the least. He’d bet she was dried up and vicious on the inside.
He took the elevator down to the floor below the great hall. The dungeon was there, along with all the vampires’ rooms. No windows, so it was the only part of the castle that sunlight couldn’t reach. Taurin slipped on a black T-shirt and was on his way up to the great hall when he met Eric.
/> At one time he’d thought Eric was responsible for his brother’s death, but then he’d found out that Dacian wasn’t dead at all. Now he was glad to have Eric on his side. “She’s upstairs waiting for me. I’m doing a fantasy with her. How about if I take your part this time?”
Eric raised one sardonic brow. “You want to be Eric the Evil?”
Taurin knew his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “No, I want to be Taurin the Hot, able to fulfill a certain nosy freelance writer’s sexual fantasies so she won’t have time to notice that some of us have fangs or alternate forms.”
“No problem. But don’t use my plaid. I’m the only Highland vampire in the house.”
“Your plaid’s safe. I’m going traditional. Long black cape and . . . Well, guess that’s it. A long black cape. Nothing else.” Taurin tried to ratchet down his anticipatory rush. He shouldn’t be looking forward to this so much, because that gave her an importance she didn’t deserve.
“Taking it over the top, aren’t you? Be careful.” Eric looked a little uneasy. “Holgarth may be a lawyer as well as a wizard, but we don’t need him wearing his attorney’s hat to defend you on an indecent exposure charge.”
“The woman wants a sensational story, so I’ll give her what she wants.” Taurin put on his mock-shock expression. “Indecent exposure? Hey, anything I expose isn’t just decent, it’s damn good.”
Call him cynical, but down through the centuries he’d learned that most women were all about externals. Show a female a great body, and she was all over it. Emotions were just so much excess baggage. Granted, he’d pretty much stuck with female night feeders since he became vampire, but he’d bet human females had the same take on sex. “And if she comes unglued, we can make sure she doesn’t remember a thing.”
Eric still looked unconvinced. “So let’s say you give her what she wants and then don’t wipe her memory before she leaves the castle. What’s going to happen when her story hits the street?”
Taurin shrugged. “I’m going to be her source for all things sexual, so if I say she made everything up, who’s going to believe her? I’ll make sure she doesn’t leave with any proof, and I can point to the stories she’s done on vampires and werewolves to show that she’s into sensationalism.” The payoff would be huge. “Holgarth might even be able to sue her ass.” Uh-oh, shouldn’t have mentioned any body parts, because no matter how much he hated Kristin Hughes, she had a behind that lent itself to vibrant visuals.
Eric laughed. “Go for it. I’ll walk up with you and take a look at her.”
Once in the great hall, Taurin spotted Kristin talking with Holgarth. Not unexpected. Holgarth took his duty of greeting and irritating new guests seriously. Taurin hurried to reach her before the wizard drove her from the castle. He didn’t want that to happen.
Logically, that would be a good thing to happen. But logic had nothing to do with his feelings for Kristin. He wanted her to stay because . . . he wanted the personal joy of knowing he’d deprived her of the biggest story of her life. Namely, that the castle was run by a vampire, a former demon of sensual desire, and an immortal warrior.
And as a sidebar, he’d have the added pleasure of watching her rub shoulders with all kinds of nontraditional beings and not have a clue. The thought of how he intended to keep her distracted from the truth lurking right under her inquisitive nose triggered the slide of his fangs.
He frowned. At least he thought that’s what triggered it. Sure, her green top dipped low enough to expose the smooth skin of her throat. But come on now, this was the throat of the hated Kristin Hughes, the woman who single-handedly chased him and eleven of his night-feeder friends out of San Antonio. No matter how bright and shiny her wrapping paper looked, inside the package beat a cold, cold heart.
“Nice,” Eric murmured just before they joined Holgarth.
“Didn’t notice.” Taurin winced. Stupid lie. Not that he had anything against lying when the situation called for it, but denying the obvious would only make Eric suspicious. And the other vampire could make his life hell if he thought Taurin had any sexual interest in Kristin. Which he didn’t. At all.
Eric cast him a considering look before turning his smile on Kristin. “Welcome to the Castle of Dark Dreams, Kristin. I’m Eric McNair. You’ll meet my brothers, Brynn and Conall, during your fantasy. We all try to make sure everyone has a great experience while they’re here. Taurin was just telling me about you. Has Holgarth filled you in on how the fantasies work?”
“Sort of.” The crease between her spectacular blue eyes told Taurin that Holgarth had been busy spreading his own brand of goodness and light.
They needed a full-time damage-control team to follow the wizard around. As a meeter and greeter, Holgarth was really scary. Time to refocus her on who was important in this castle. Him. “I’ll help you pick out your costume, and then I’ll turn you over to someone else who’ll get you ready for your personal fantasy.”
She looked confused. “But I thought you’d stay with me.”
Taurin hoped his smile wasn’t as feral as it felt. “Start the fantasy without me. I’ll catch up.”
Holgarth harrumphed loudly to show his displeasure that someone had shifted attention away from his pompous self. He adjusted his tall conical hat, smoothed his fingers over his long pointed gray beard, and then dramatically swirled his gold-trimmed blue robe around himself. “I was telling Ms. Hughes that she’s unlikely to find anything worth writing about here. We’re all ordinary down-home folks trying to entertain the masses.”
Eric turned away as he tried to stifle his bark of laughter.
Holgarth frowned at the strangled sounds Eric was making. “Of course, I’ve managed to rise above the ordinary. So if you ever feel the need for a truly Pulitzer-worthy story, I’ll try to make time in my busy schedule to accommodate you.”
“Uh, thanks. I guess.” Kristin cast Taurin a frantic glance.
Before Holgarth could lay any lies on her, Taurin grabbed Kristin’s hand and dragged her off to the costume room. “Tell me what you’d like to be. All our fantasies take place in a medieval setting. We have virgin bride costumes, slave girl costumes, queen’s handmaiden costumes, sacrificial—”
“Vampire slayer costume.”
“What?”
“I did research on the Castle of Dark Dreams, and I know that Eric the Evil takes the form of a vampire. So I want to be a slayer.” She glanced around. “No offense, but all the women’s costumes here whimper, ‘I am doormat, see me grovel.’” She flipped through the costumes. “Sexist, sexist, sexist. The PC police need an anonymous call. Isn’t there a queen’s costume here somewhere?”
“We already have a queen.” It was hard talking through gritted teeth. Crap and double crap. He’d been pulling for the slave girl costume. “And medieval times were sexist. No Buffys hanging on corners. We don’t have any costumes—”
“I’ll wear this.” Kristin pulled a costume from the rack. “And I’ll need a wooden stake.” She looked thoughtful. “Guess you don’t have a cross or some holy water.”
No way was he putting a pointed object in her evil little hands. “Sorry, all out of religious symbols. Ditto for wooden stakes.” What the hell was that costume all about? “You’re going to wear a pair of baggy pants, an oversized shirt, and a long brown robe?” Not very sexy for someone who was looking for sex, hoping for sex, and dying to write a sensational story about sex. Yeah, so he was bitter.
“Mmm.” She headed for one of the dressing cubicles. “I’m disguised as a boy because women were forbidden to be vampire slayers in medieval times.”
Taurin tried to sound doubtful. Frustrated teeth-grinding wouldn’t get him anywhere. “Not your usual fantasy. Besides, Conall always destroys the vampire.”
“Not this time.” Kristin’s sensual mouth was set in a stubborn line. “Conall can get there in time
to exclaim over the wonder of a mere woman taking out the undead.”
He watched her disappear behind the cubicle’s curtain before yanking his costume off the rack. Then with a muttered curse, he stepped into a cubicle.
Why the hell was he so mad? She could wear a sack for all he cared. He’d be naked enough for both of them. Stripping off his clothes, he pulled the cape around him. Then he paused.
No, he wouldn’t let her make him completely crazy. Eric was right. What if someone other than Kristin got a glance at what wasn’t under his cape? Picking up his jeans, he pulled out his cell phone and called Eric. When Eric answered, Taurin didn’t give him time to talk.
“Don’t ask questions. I need a swimsuit. Any swimsuit. And make it fast.” As he whispered into the phone, Taurin looked out to make sure Kristin was still busy changing.
“Decided to hedge your bets?” Eric sounded amused. “Why not just keep your underwear on?”
Taurin let the silence pile up behind Eric’s question. He could feel Eric processing the silence and then his expected hoot of laughter.
Taurin hoped Eric could feel the frost collecting on the other end of the line. “Hot handymen don’t need underwear.” He shut Eric off in mid-guffaw.
He listened to the sounds of Kristin sliding the curtain back from her cubicle. She paused outside his curtain.
“You ready yet?”
“No.” He could hear her rooting through some of the props. “Go on out. Holgarth will get you started on the fantasy. I’ll be along in a few minutes.”
“Okay.” There was an ominous clanking noise before she opened the door and left.
When Eric suddenly appeared in front of him, Taurin barely flinched. Preternatural speed was one of the perks of being a vampire. He’d never appreciated it more than he did now. “Let’s have it.” He held out his hand.
Eric gave him a small piece of metallic blue material sporting gold suns, moons, and stars. “Holgarth’s. The best I could do on short notice.”
