The reason for Michael's call was to invite her to dinner at her favorite Italian restaurant, Vincent's Italian Cuisine. Thinking a quiet dinner in a public place might calm her nerves, she finally accepted, but on the condition it was, "just as friends and Dutch treat."
After an hour of scouring her books, Salena hopped in the shower, feeling foolish as she locked the bathroom door and double-checked the window. She lived in a safe neighborhood, by herself, and had never felt the need to be overly cautious… until now. According to legend, vampires—assuming they really do exist—cannot go out into daylight anyway, right? Then again, it was supposed to be just a legend, so if it's not, who knows what the rules really are.
An hour later, she headed out the door to meet Michael at the restaurant. She had told him she'd drive herself, thinking that letting him pick her up would feel too much like a date.
She had no idea, still, that every move she made was being watched and studied. Every inch of her body had been studied, as well, while she was in the shower; this made Devin grow hot and heavy with lust. He ached to touch all that he saw—soon.
Michael was already waiting for her when she arrived at Vincent's. Being a gentleman, he held the door open for her, and other ladies close behind, and then pulled her chair out for her too.
Devin watched his behavior with amusement; the man was trying awfully hard to impress Salena, while she didn't seem to care. He was back in human form and found a dark corner near their table, so that he could keep an eye on this mysterious vixen. Just as he sat down, a lustful blonde and a couple of her female companions, approached him. He gave the women a cold, dark glare that quickly sent them away. He only hungered for Salena; although that fact continued to puzzle him—maybe it was just because he always got what he wanted, except for the other night when he'd fled. He watched Salena and her date talk quietly through their meal and wondered why she didn't smile much when the man couldn't seem to stop. Devin wondered if she was thinking of him, of their encounter. He overheard the man ask her how she was enjoying her vacation, to which she simply said, "It's been eventful."
Devin was satisfied to see that the date, if that is what it truly was, didn't last too long. He slipped into line behind them when they were on the way out. Salena stopped suddenly and glanced over her left shoulder, but he dodged right and off to her date's side, before she could spot him. Nice to know she could feel his presence…
Salena felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck, and a chill ran down her spine. However, when she looked behind herself, no one was there. She was sure she was being watched, though. But, of course, she would be jumpy after the other night and her meeting with Heloise, so she tried to push it from her mind. There was a pleasant gentle breeze out tonight, and all the stars were lit up. She inhaled deeply, catching the sweet fragrance of the magnolia trees lining the street, but then something else—something musky. Again, she looked around in panic, but, again, she didn't see the man she'd thought she'd find. Not really wanting to cross his path again, especially if he was the killer being sought, she said a very quick good night to Michael and hurried to her car parked nearby. She also hurried because she was sure Michael was hoping for a good night kiss.
An hour later, Salena was climbing into bed. As she glanced at the clock, she was glad to be on vacation; she'd hate to be distracted at work by all of this. Eyes still open and searching the dark room, she ran through mental images of her house, as she thought of every lock and assured herself it had been checked. That wasn't enough, though, so she got back up and checked every one of them again.
While in the living room, she turned on the late news, and that wasn't a good idea. The coverage was about the still unsolved murders. Autopsies, so far, only showed that the female victims had died of exsanguination, but the ME wasn't sure how as the only wounds were the small—and strangely fading—bite marks. The newscaster joked that maybe it was by a vampire, which made his coworker about fall out of her chair and Salena too. Extremely wound up by her nerves now, she turned the TV off and sat on the floor to practice yoga stretches. After the relaxing moves, she decided to paint but only after putting down the drop cloth. Fool me once. Every stroke of the brush to complete the tranquil scene on the canvas helped soothe her frayed nerves and, eventually, she was ready to go back to bed. Thinking of pleasant things now, she inescapably drifted off to sleep.
Devin watched the steady rise and fall of her chest as she slept. She looked peaceful now as the moonlight streamed across her delicate features. He wondered what she was dreaming about and then wondered why he cared; he'd never cared before. This woman was only supposed to be his next meal, but there was a magnetic pull to her, and he had to find out why. He didn't really want to hurt her—he just wanted to be close to her, and he desperately wanted to taste her again. The last thought made him creep closer to her bed. He could smell the honeysuckle and lavender again, and he could also smell her pheromones calling out to him, like a siren to a ship—enticing him to come closer, to take a taste. So he did… He knelt beside her bed and kissed her bared shoulder, where her nightgown had slipped. She only stirred briefly, so he continued a trail across her collarbone to her slender neck. Nuzzling her sensitive area there caused her to wake, but he spoke to her in a hypnotic and sensual voice; he spoke in his old language—Romanian—"Shh, visaþi, relaxa" Shh, you're dreaming, relax.
She wasn't quite so sure she was dreaming, but she felt like she couldn't move, couldn't voice her objections. She was overwhelmed by the erotic feel of his lips on her neck and the masculine, musky fragrance filling her nostrils. She knew she was in danger, but lust overtook her senses as his hand began to roam over her nightgown, touching lightly at first, then firmly as it moved up her hip. The other was caressing strands of her hair as his mouth moved over the length of her neck, until it found its way to her mouth. When he claimed her lips, fear escaped bit by bit, and passion took hold. She wanted to push him away, really, but instead found herself now clutching his shoulder in one hand and his bicep in the other pulling him into herself. God, what is wrong with me? She scolded herself, but her body didn't listen. His firm tongue thrust in and out of her demanding mouth, teasing, taunting, and causing her body to wriggle. She matched his moves by sucking on his tongue gently, which brought out a low growl from him.
She couldn't help but notice how sharp his teeth felt when she grazed one with her tongue.
She felt his hand slide from her hip up to cup her breast, kneading the tissue and tormenting her puckered bud. He was expertly working her up into a heated frenzy, again. Again? She hesitated and looked at him in the moonlight, barely peeking through her window. Large, sexy, musky—yes—it was him, again, which meant she must be dreaming. There was no other explanation for him to show up here. Feeling like she could really let go now, she claimed his lips this time and pushed his hand off her breast in a path further down her body.
Devin knew he had her under his spell, and he let her guide his fingers to her satiny depths. She groaned with desire as he teased her mound with light touches before moving to the opening of her hot sheath. She dug her claws into his chest, urging him to plunder her moistness, but he answered her groans with a fervent whisper against her neck.
"Not too much tonight, my beauty, just a taste."
And with that, she felt a piercing sting that made her cry out.
Devin sipped from the puncture mark, lapping up the sweet—so sweet—taste of her essence. He wondered briefly if he could stop, and it wasn't because he was all that hungry, but rather because she tasted like nothing he'd had in, he tried to remember—but couldn't. There was something so uniquely warm, fulfilling, enticing and almost sinful about her taste, he thought he had died and gone to heaven. Then, as a glow filled his body, there was something recognizable about her wonderful flavor after all. Devin looked into Salena's hazy, lust filled, crystal blue eyes and immediately felt a pang in his chest. Her taste, her features, his obsession—it came back to him on a ti
dal wave of pain—Abigail. Distressed by the realization, and the only painful memory he possessed, he fled from her arms, her bed, and her home—out into the night.
The loud, heartrending bay of a mystified wolf didn't even faze Salena as she drifted off into a deep slumber.
Under the cover of darkness behind Salena's house, Devin's mind was racing trying to figure this out—the connection between her and Abigail, the only woman he'd ever cared about. No, that wasn't strong enough of a description—the only woman who had been able to remind him he had a beating heart once, because he could feel it beat again when he was in her captivating presence. When Abigail had been taken from him, before her love could turn him mortal again, he swore he'd never let himself feel anything for a woman ever again—he was a vampire, not a mortal, for a reason. He wasn't meant to love; being damned to walk the earth for eternity was better than the suffering he felt when Abigail had died. He would just take what he wanted but never give himself again.
How can this be? What kind of magic is this? He wished he knew what the Gypsy had told her. Is she a ghost? Is she a witch trying to torment him? He needed answers and he needed them today.
He was still outside her house watching and waiting, but shape-shifted into a black cat now, when the sun started to come up over the treetops. He heard her alarm clock beeping from inside the house—he'd get to see her again. While that excited him, it also made him anxious. He had to find out more; what was the connection? He had to get a look inside her house and learn more about her. He'd start by looking at the family tree and books she'd been examining. Is that why she was looking at them? Does she know something? Were they books of magic spells? His cat fangs were grinding from the tension he felt.
The alarm went off sending Salena bolting upright in bed. Feeling groggy from a restless sleep, she started to remember the lustful dream she'd had. Even this morning, it had her feeling aroused. She had dreamed about her mystery man from the phone booth. She remembered his long, drugging kisses with perfect clarity. She also remembered the feel of his warm, strong hands as they roamed all over her body, stoking flames of desire within her. She could still feel the ache between her creamy white thighs from his teasing touches there. But that is when the dream had ended. Just like in the phone booth, he'd worked her body up into frenzy and then abruptly left her. Was this guy the Kissing Bandit or what? It would figure that even her dreams would leave her feeling frustrated and unfulfilled.
A dull sting in her neck brought her back to the present, though, and with eyes wide open, she ran to the bathroom mirror. There it was—a telltale mark that said last night wasn't a dream. It couldn't have been—there was a bite mark very similar to the one that had been on her wrist, which had now completely faded away. She wondered if she was losing her mind and seeing things, or if somehow he'd found her and gotten into her home. Yet, there it was on her neck now, and as she fingered the slightly painful two puncture wounds, she knew she was definitely not imagining it. She felt a flood of panic wash over her body, but it quickly gave way to another feeling—curiosity perhaps? Why did this man come to her twice now and then leave her all of a sudden with both her life and virtue intact? She wondered, perhaps, if the latter bothered her more than it should. He had spent the time working her body into a molten pool of desire, twice now, but didn't follow through. Even now, when she should be calling the police and then running for her life, she was undeniably lascivious. She was lusting for this stranger, this man, this killer of women—except her. What in God's name is wrong with me? Am I crazy or just a masochist?
She fingered the bite mark again. What was the biting all about? Then her thoughts returned to her conversation with Heloise and to her great-great-great-great-great-whatever- grandmother, who had also been bitten by a mysterious man. She'd have to speak to Heloise again, very soon, before he returned to her. Would he return to her? She felt certain of it. This brought back the other concern—how'd he get into her house? Everything had been locked up tight, so was there no way to keep him out? And why didn't she try to fight him off either time? She answered her own question in one word, vampire.
What could she tell the police? That possibly a killer got into her locked up home, seduced her, and bit her before running away? Oh, and by the way, she thinks he's a vampire. That would go over really well, and she'd be the one locked up, in the nuthouse. Yes, she had to see Heloise after her trip to the market today.
After checking all of her locks, which were of course secure, she took a steamy shower and got ready for errands. While putting on her makeup, she grabbed her concealer to cover the bite mark, but, surprisingly, it wasn't as visible now. Was it fading? She glanced again at her flawless wrist where the other had been as of yesterday, and she recalled the comments made in Heloise's grandmother's diary. She decided seeing the Gypsy couldn't wait, so she put off shopping until afterward.
It was a dreary day, and when she stepped out the front door, she didn't even notice the black cat walk past her and around to the back of her house.
On the way to Heloise's, Salena called her and learned she would not be home for a visit today, so it would have to wait. Heloise told her not to worry; they would do another reading soon.
Feeling the need for the company of friends, though, Salena called up some girlfriends and invited them to dinner that evening. Then, needing to stock her refrigerator, she headed in the direction of the farmer's market.
Once inside the cover of her living room, where the curtains were closed, Devin shape-shifted back. He had to learn as much as he could about this woman before he visited her again, and would definitely be visiting her again, no matter who or what she is.
He looked around her pristine home, admiring her choice of knick knacks and decor, before going to the drawer where he'd seen her put the family tree back. He took it to her kitchen table and flattened it out. He found her name at the bottom, Salena Saunders. Saunders... Alarmed, he hastily ran his finger up Salena's bloodline. There it was—Abigail Saunders. "They are blood relatives," he whispered to the empty room. He stared at the parchment in absolute astonishment; his truelove's blood flows through Salena's body, and he can taste it. He can also, for the first time in almost three hundred years, see his destiny again. She didn't know it yet, but Salena is his soul mate, his savior. It would be because it was meant to be. Abigail had found a way back to him.
He walked through Salena's small and quaint house, taking in the scent of her with hungry nostrils. He smelled not only her perfume but also her essence—the pheromones that made her a woman, a desirable woman—and he couldn't get enough. The scent made his fangs ache and his pulsing manhood as well. He longed to hold her close, breathing in her fragrance to the fullest, before sinking his teeth in to taste her again. Those thoughts made him hungry beyond comprehension, and he needed to feed. But first, he needed to find her again. He needed to lay his eyes on his destiny, which has been brought before him once more.
He headed in the same direction he'd seen her go earlier. Shape-shifted into a black hawk, it shouldn't take him long to find her, he thought, and he was right.
Salena was strolling through the farmer's market, picking out some fresh veggies for a garden salad when she felt something against her leg. Looking down, she discovered a black cat rubbing up against her. "Go, scoot," she gave the animal a light pat on its hindquarters. She likes cats, but her allergies keep her from having one. The stray cat moved away, but, before she knew it, it was back and rubbing again, purring so loudly that she could feel the vibrations on her leg. I will have to brush the pants before I wash them. Shrugging her shoulders, she returned to shopping.
A rumble of thunder caught her attention, and, looking up to the sky, she saw thunderstorm clouds moving in rapidly. She paid the vendor and moved quickly on down the line, only pausing when a rain breeze carrying a musky scent—a familiar musky scent— blew past her. Looking around herself, she didn't see him—or at least whom she thought he was—lurking nearby. Brushing
it off, she and the attached cat stopped at a flower vendor. She was looking at a bouquet of painted daisies when the first raindrops fell. Just as she was digging for her wallet, the downpour began, and she ran away, abandoning both the flowers and the cat.
Safely inside a dry clothing shop, she watched the other market patrons making their mad dashes for cover as well, while the vendors were desperately trying to protect their wares. Since it appeared she would be in the store for a while, she decided to look at the clothes while there. She shifted the wet bag of vegetables in her arms, so they wouldn't rip through the damp paper. A kind sales clerk offered, though, to keep the bag behind the counter, so Salena could look at the clothing racks, and she gratefully accepted. She looked through the racks of new merchandise, filled with bright spring and summer colors, and picked out a couple of new blouses and skirts for work. The phrase her mother had used, "retail therapy," came to mind and made her smile. She wondered, with a heavy heart, what her parents would think about the events in her life right now. They were always strict about who they'd let her date when she was growing up, so she was pretty certain they would disapprove of a vampire in her life now; even if her grandmother had one first.
After paying for her clothes, she waited out the rain with several others.
Devin was still tingling from the close contact of rubbing up against her, even if he'd been a cat at the time. He was back in human form now and on the way to her house with the flowers she'd been admiring. He'd grabbed them when the vendor had closed everything up and ran for cover from the rain. Along the way, he noticed a young woman, probably in her late teens, standing alone on the sidewalk in front of a dilapidated store. Her white lacy top was drenched and transparent enough to show she wasn't wearing a bra. Rosy buds peeked through at him, and shifting her hips, she crooked her finger with a smile. Devin laughed silently to himself. It was always amusing when females thought they were the charmers when it came to him. He is the alpha—in this and every case. Nonetheless, he was hungry, so he played along. He approached her, smiling back, and looked her up and down, "Good afternoon. Trying to stay dry?"
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