“Uhm, where do I do that?” Siona looked around in panic.
“We’ll retire to your home, your family is being asked to join us there,” Valad reassured her. “Please, come this way and we’ll take you.”
Siona lifted the skirt of her maxi dress again and started toward the edge of the stage. When she got to the edge, she realized that there was no railing to help her down the steep steps.
Valad came behind her and gently took her elbow, “Here, let me.” He assisted her down the steps with a gentlemanly air that Siona was pretty sure had been dead for over a century. It would’ve been nice had her stomach not been roiling over saying goodbye to her family and heading towards her death.
CHAPTER FOUR
A day later, Siona thought if death and dismemberment really was their endgame, then the vampires wasted a lot of time and resources. Thus far, Siona had been treated like a princess in their care and she was currently sitting in the lap of luxury, otherwise known as a three-person soaking tub. As the lavender scented bubbles floated around her, Siona reflected that they had even been nice to her family. In the end, it meant that either Kayla was right, and Siona was not going to be killed, or that these were two particularly twisted vampires.
Meeting her family had been surreal. Siona had driven back to her house in the backseat of a sleek Aston Martin. A popular country station had played low in the car speakers and Valad and Michael had spoken in such low tones the noise had only sounded like the light whisper of the wind. When they had arrived at Siona’s home, they escorted her in and casually guarded the house. Valad and Michael had moved in tandem, slowly circling the old farmhouse, checking windows and doors while one of them was always in sight of Siona.
Her parents hadn’t noticed the protective display. Siona’s mom had hugged her and cried, asking her alternately, why she had volunteered and then telling Siona that they were proud of the woman she had become. Siona herself was torn between never wanting to leave her parents’ house and a burning desire to just get the leaving process over and done with. After twenty minutes, Michael signaled the end of their goodbyes.
“Mr. and Mrs. Radku; it’s time,” he had begun with a patient smile, “we’ll take good care of Siona, we promise.”
Siona’s father just stared back at Michael, his mouth working silently as he gathered the words everyone was afraid to ask. “When will we see her again?”
“That is undecided at this point. It’s why I want you to know that she is in good hands.” Again, the patient smile was in place, annoying the humans in the room.
Now, Siona’s father was angry, “How can I trust you? You want me to give my daughter to two Vampires who come in and take a girl once every ten years? That is pretty hard when as far as the town’s aware, she’s never heard from again. What is it that I’m trusting in? Tell me what I’m missing.”
Though her dad only came up to Michael’s nose, the man had ended his impassioned speech with a finger thrust into the vampire’s chest. Seeming to realize his mistake, Siona rushed forward to place herself between her dad and Michael.
“Dad, I’ll be fine. Really. This is an adventure, an opportunity even, and we need to look at it that way. I promise, I will let you know how I’m doing.” Michael made a strangled sound from behind her and Siona turned to glare when she saw that Valad had a hand tight around the back of the vampire’s neck.
With a warm smile, Valad had reassured the group, “Siona is right. When she’s able and she has a few stories to tell, she may contact you all. The choice, as always, is hers.”
Sitting in the tub, Siona was still fuming over that statement. What, in any of this, had been her choice? She hadn’t chosen one thing since volunteering. The amount of time with her family had been Michael’s choice. Dinner, when they had arrived at the stone manor in the middle of the forest, had been Valad’s choice because, as it turned out, vampires ate food too. Her room assignment, while a decorated mixture of beautiful pinks and purples in a shabby chic style, had been the housekeeper, Mrs. Kettle’s choice. Finally, even the bath was a suggestion of Michael’s before a scheduled “check-up.”
Siona rolled her eyes, thinking he had probably meant “check-in,” and missed the vernacular phrase by about a hundred years or so. Grabbing a bath poof from a little cart beside the tub filled with various bath salts and lotions, Siona glanced at the clock sitting on the ivory marble of the bathroom’s vanity. She had about fifteen minutes to get ready for her appointment with the cold one.
Siona silently referred to Michael as ‘the cold one’ because unlike Valad’s flirtatious warmth, Michael was utterly polite and indifferent with her. If the man didn’t look like her fantasy of an alpha male, Siona could have written him off entirely. But something in her wanted to break through all that ice around his demeanor.
Stepping out of the tub onto the fluffy lilac purple rug that matched the towels and fresh flowers sprinkled throughout the bathroom, Siona had to shake her head. Until they killed her, apparently this was her life. Luxury was everywhere. Siona skipped the selection of lotions and creams on the bathroom counter; the cold one had insisted she come with no makeup, lotion, or perfume on. Given that the man held his breath everytime she came near, Siona actually assumed this meeting was to discuss her smell.
At five o’clock on the dot, a knock sounded at the door and Mrs. Kettle’s pale head popped around the opening. “All ready, dear?”
Siona smiled and turned into the walk-in closet, “Almost. I just need a minute to locate a scarf.”
Thus far, living in the vampire manor was equal parts frustrating and delicious. The quality of the food, linens and service was absolute luxury...the fact that Siona hadn’t been trusted to unpack her old clothing or walk around said manor of her own volition was frustrating.
“Oh Siona, you’ll never find one in there. I’ve hung them in this closet over here with your outerwear.”
The woman was obviously a vampire, being pale of both hair and skin, but she had been turned around middle age and was comfortingly plump, unlike the athletically toned Valad and Michael. Mrs. Kettle looked exactly the way one might expect from her name: big of bosom and butt along with natural warmth that soothed the soul.
Siona tried not to be annoyed that the woman not only knew where Siona’s scarves were but had pulled out the exact scarf Siona had wanted, a pretty painted silk scarf Kayla had bought her for her twenty-first birthday.
“Thank you, Mrs. Kettle,” Siona said, reaching out for the thin material.
“You know my dear, I’m only trying to do my job.” Siona paused in wrapping the pretty fabric around her throat and started to say something before Mrs. Kettle interrupted her again, “No, no. I know it can be hard to get used to someone waiting on you but it’s my job to do so and I’ve enjoyed it for quite some time now. I promise, you’ll get used to it.”
Siona smiled tightly and fought the urge to argue that fame and fortune had never been high on her list of wishes. She honestly didn’t mind putting her own underwear away, much less her scarves, dresses and coats.
The two women spoke very little on the way to Michael’s suite of rooms. They were headed into an area of the manor Siona had yet to see. The hallway looked older with whitewashed board and batten along the walls below the raw cut stone of the original part of the house. It felt more like Siona was walking in an old English manor at that moment, rather than in the middle of upper New York State
The hallway dead-ended at an oversized barn door that looked thick enough to withstand an earthquake. Using an iron knocker made out of an intricate Celtic knot pattern, Mrs. Kettle announced their presence.
At the sound of a return knock from the other side, Mrs. Kettle turned to Siona, “Alright, dear, this is where I leave you. I need to put the finishing touches on dinner before Valad comes into the kitchen and sticks his finger in everything. I hope you’re in the mood for salmon.”
Siona was surprised to be left so short of their goal, “Oh,
yes that sounds great...But, uh, I just wait here?”
“Yes, Michael will be out shortly, whenever he’s ready. Sometimes he just needs an extra minute. The man has been OCD for far longer than it was a recognizable disorder.” Mrs. Kettle waved off Siona’s arched eyebrows and hustled back down the long hallway in her pretty coral button-down and keds.
Siona pondered how Mrs. Kettle managed to stay so neat looking while simultaneously cleaning a ten-bedroom manor house all by herself. After a few minutes spent considering multiple identical outfits and magic as solutions to the Mrs. Kettle proficiency, Michael finally opened the heavy door on a groan of wood. Dressed in jeans and a grey t-shirt with a lab coat thrown over top, Michael didn’t look the least bit ashamed to have left her on the other side of the door for ten minutes.
“Sorry to have kept you waiting Siona, I just wanted to re-clean a few instruments.”
Siona glanced away and gave Michael a little side eye, “That’s ok, whatever you needed to do is fine with me.”
Michael stepped aside and motioned for her to walk into the room, “Please, come in.”
Siona looked around the space. It was larger than she had expected, cavernous even. Against one wall was a large, lit fireplace along with an old iron chandelier that appeared to have been retrofitted with electric candles; everything else filling the stonewalled space looked like it had come out of a futuristic science fiction movie. All of the furniture was white and modern: a sleek medical lab that looked utterly out of place in the more rustic looking accommodations.
Michael placed a hand on Siona’s lower back and she felt warmth run through her body at the intimate contact.
“This way, Siona,” Michael encouraged as they headed toward a paper-covered medical table. Patting the crinkly white paper, Michael gestured for her to sit.
“Are you serious?” Siona asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Did your schedule not indicate that this was a check-up?”
“Well, yeah, it did, but I assumed you meant ‘check-in’. Like ‘hey how are you doing?’ or ‘how are you adjusting to life as a pampered pet?’”
Now it was Michael’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “No it was more like a ‘let’s see how healthy you ‘check-up.’ Thus, the need for you to come to the lab.”
Siona crossed her arms, “Why do you need me to get a check-up? Couldn’t you have asked for my medical records or something? Are you worried I’m contaminated in some way?”
Michael directed her attention to a large stack of manila folders on top of his desk. “This is not my first time at the rodeo. I have your records along with the last two generations of your family tree. You have a very healthy family Siona, that’s unusual.”
“Uh thanks, I think,” Siona said, confused. “So why do you need to do an examination on me if you have all the records?”
“Well, even if I trusted your doctor, the last time you’ve been to the doctor was three years ago for a broken arm. I believe nowadays check-ups are supposed to occur annually?”
Siona rubbed the arm that had been broken; it was a misguided and alcohol induced dare to climb the monkey bars that had been the cause of that particular ailment. “Well, yes, they should happen yearly. But as you’ve said, I come from good stock.”
Michael walked directly in front of Siona, “One of the reasons we need a young woman is to help me further my medical knowledge.”
Siona stiffened. “Do you mean I’m here so you can experiment on me?” Visions of needles and pain flashed through Siona’s mind.
“No, no.” Michael rushed to calm her, rubbing his hands up and down Siona’s upper arms. “I just want to keep statistics on you as a live human. All I ask is that you live your life. That’s it.”
They were the first genuine words Siona thought she had heard come out of Michael’s mouth. That, coupled with the caress his hands were still performing on her arms made her relent slightly. “It’s just going to be a normal check-up?”
“We won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with, but I’ll need to do some blood work as well.”
Well that wasn’t abnormal. A sweep of the tray next to the table showed that there were, in fact, three tubes present for blood.
Siona tugged on the yellow floral print sundress she’d thrown on after her bath trying to decide. Fisting her hands Siona decided to be brave. “Ok then, I’ll do the check-up.”
Siona caught relief float across Michael’s eyes. “Let’s get started then,” suddenly Michael placed his hands on Siona’s waist.
Before she could even make a sound, he was lifting her up as if she weighed nothing more than a feather. Then all of a sudden, Siona found herself on top of the medical table. Her heart beat fast in her chest at the second intimate contact in a single meeting. It was definitely a little sexy that he could do that so easily.
What followed was a general round of tests; lights were shone in her eyes, ears and throat. Her kneecaps were tapped and then Siona was laid back so Michael could feel along her stomach for, well, Siona had never been quite sure what doctors were supposed to be feeling when they did that, but Michael performed the action with clinical efficiency. Siona tried not to be sad that he hadn’t lingered. His fingers had only hesitated once as Michael had brushed the lace of her thong under the sundress. There was no way Michael could have known he’d brushed the intimate garment but the feel of his hands that low on her abdomen shifted something inside Siona and suddenly she wished Michael was interested in her as more than a test subject.
Standing up, Michael reached for the metal tray with the instruments needed for blood work. “Are you ok with needles?”
Siona wondered if anyone was really ok with needles but answered, “Yeah, I’m good with them.”
Michael prepped her for giving blood, tying her arm off and tapping her elbow to find a vein all the while seeming to hold his breath. Siona couldn’t take it anymore.
“Do I really smell that bad?” she asked, annoyed.
Michael froze and concentrated on the liquid filling the vial as if it was the most important thing in the world. “I don’t know what you mean; you smell just fine.”
“Really?” Siona said sarcastically.
Michael started filling the final vial. “You smell like a human woman.”
Siona watched Michael avoid the issue while watching the plastic tube turn red before she threw out her challenge. “Then I dare you to breathe.”
“I am breathing,” Michael said as he capped the final vial and untied the plastic strip around her arm.
“No you’re not. Your chest has barely moved since I walked in here and not at all since you got close enough to draw blood.”
Michael watched her closely as she narrowed her eyes at him. This was his downfall --challenges; competitive by nature he had always felt a need to win, to be right. Looking Siona directly in the eye, he breathed in deep and her scent hit him like a ton of bricks.
Michael had forgotten about the blood, the small drop still lingering in the delicate crease of her elbow. It intensified her already tempting smell. Siona was like a bouquet of the rarest flowers, fresh and delicate, she smelled like happiness and creativity. It had been a tempting aroma from the moment she had stormed the stage to save her friend. It had been disappointing at first to choose the girl who was engaged. Michael and Valad would have given her up immediately; their work wasn’t worth ruining the girl’s happiness. Not after how long they’d been searching. They would have given her money and moved on to another city, to another potential girl in a year or so. Then Siona had appeared and immediately Michael and Valad knew they had a good potential candidate.
That day Michael had to stop breathing to save himself from taking her blood then and there. In the two days since choosing Siona, Michael had tempered himself against her normal scent. But now, with her blood amplifying the effect, Michael was hit with new layers of complexity. He could smell not only fertility but desire. Siona desired him.
Even w
ith the willpower his age gave him, Michael couldn’t resist the call of her blood. Moving forward faster than Siona could track, Michael threaded his fingers in her heavy fall of dark hair. He listened to Siona’s heartbeat quicken, smelled the desire spike and Michael was lost to her. His lips hit hers and Michael could feel Siona melt against him. The taste of her was delicious; her lips were full and sweet as wine. Without realizing it, Michael had half laid on top of Siona on the table, the full body contact causing Siona to press against him as his tongue moved down from her lips to the edge of her jaw. Michael’s hand moved lower to Siona’s hip as he thrust gently into the soft center of her.
More! Something in him screamed. Michael wanted more. When Siona let out a very feminine sigh of pleasure, Michael knew he had to end things before they went any further. Tonight would be soon enough and it wouldn’t be right to go further without Valad.
Michael lightened his kisses to a butterfly’s touch as he worked his way back to Siona’s lips. He finished with a few soft pecks as his hand trailed back up her body in a soothing motion rather than the hard press of desire he really felt. When he backed up off Siona’s body and her eyes fluttered open, they were hazy with confusion and need. Michael watched as Siona blinked them once and then twice, before rolling them in frustration.
Siona sighed, “So I guess that means I’m not a sex slave either, then?”
CHAPTER FIVE
Siona was sitting in a beautifully uncomfortable chair staring into an empty fireplace. Her fingers worried at the delicate nape of the velvet brocade. Shifting against the straight back of the couch, Siona sent evil thoughts to Michael. The damn vampire had turned her on and left her high and dry. Well, not dry – very, very wet actually – Siona thought, clenching and unclenching her crossed legs. Even hours later, her body was still searching for a release.
In an attempt to distract herself from sexual displeasure, Siona began to turn over the mystery that was the reason she was in the vampires’ lair. It was obvious at this point that they didn’t seem to be at all interested in eating her for dinner or breakfast, or lunch, for that matter.
The Vampire's Shared Bride Page 3
