Spanish Caresses

by M. R. Kelly

  Charlie isn’t much interested in vacationing in Spain or in seeing a flamenco concert while she’s there. But she has let her best friend talk her into both, and when her eyes meet those of the darkly handsome guitarist onstage, she is instantly mesmerized.

  A member of a secret blood-drinking race, Nikolas occupies his time killing daemons and playing guitar. He has given up on finding his soul mate after centuries of searching, and suddenly one night out of the blue, there she sit, spellbound as she watches him play.

  Now all he has to do is convince her that she belongs to him and protect her from a pissed-off shapeshifting daemon Charlie never knew existed.

  Reader Advisory: This story has graphic sexual language and scenes—no closed bedroom doors—or other rooms—here!

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Spanish Caresses

  Copyright © 2017 M.R. Kelly

  ISBN: 978-1-4874-1109-1

  Cover art by Angela Waters

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by eXtasy Books Inc or

  Devine Destinies, an imprint of eXtasy Books Inc

  Look for us online at:

  www.eXtasybooks.com or www.devinedestinies.com

  Spanish Caresses

  By

  M.R. Kelly

  Acknowledgments

  Special thanks to my editor, Sherri Good and my daughter, Tamara Evanko for the long nights of reading and rereading my manuscript.

  John, the love of my life. Thanks for having the patience of a saint and for helping me visualize my dream.

  Chapter One

  The tour bus pulled into the small village of Figueres just outside Barcelona, Spain. The grind of the bus gears shifted and the massive people carrier meandered between the closely packed homes. Ivy crept up the side of walls to end over brightly colored doors. Charlie Adams sat back against the seat, wondering again, why she had allowed her partner in crime, Tami, to pester her into signing up for this tour. Charlie already knew the answer to that question, she supposed. Tami had a thing for Spain and anything Spanish, the language... men... and really everything. The flamenco group they were seeing tonight, called Spanish Guitar, was a favorite of Tami’s and playing at a small club in the heart of the town. That was how Charlie now found herself sitting on a tour bus in the middle of an old world Spanish village. She gazed out the dust-smeared windows of the bus at the changing scenery of everyday life in a small village as they rolled from one neighborhood to another.

  Although the ride to Figueres from the ship had taken less than an hour, Charlie couldn’t believe how quickly the shadows of early evening had blanketed the village. Glancing again at her watch, she hoped the performance wouldn’t be long because she wanted to make it back to the port in time to do some last-minute Christmas shopping. She looked across at a beaming Tami, who didn’t seem to have the same concerns.

  Always a bit hyperactive, Tami leaned over her, excitement in every breath she took as she swung her head back and forth, trying to take in as much of the scenery as possible. “Charlie... we’re... finally heeeerre,” her friend screeched, flopping back onto her seat as the bus maneuvered into a large parking lot with only a few open spaces reserved for tour buses. “Come on, let’s go!” she squealed and grabbed her friend’s arm.

  Charlie looked at the people now packed into the narrow aisle of the bus and, knowing how difficult it would be to exit right away, said, “Hey, you want to get trampled? By all means... I’ll catch up with the pulpy remains later.” Charlie laughed as they watched and waited until there were very few people in the aisle. Patiently tapping her on the thigh, Charlie knew her friend would squirm until they got off the bus. Suppressing a sigh, Tami leaned back against the seat, softly counting as each person exited.

  “The musicians are going nowhere, Tami,” Charlie reminded her friend. “We’ve paid for the show, so relax, babe. We’ve got plenty of time.”

  The night before, Tami had seen the poster in a bar on the mezzanine deck of the ship announcing the group’s performance and had gone over the top declaring her love for the guitarist. Charlie had to admit he was handsome in a dark, mysterious way. Not really her type, though. Personally, she had a thing for blond-haired, blue-eyed men. But Tami had insisted on their going to the performance. A bit on the superstitious side, she believed it was destiny that they were visiting the village at the same time as the group’s next performance. She had insisted it was meant to be. Now she was determined to get an autograph and a touch and feel with the lead singer. It was a typical case of groupie worship, and she had dragged Charlie along for the ride and... of course moral support, she had argued.

  Tami Evans had been her roommate for the past five years. They had met in college while taking a class on human sexuality and become fast friends after giggling over a set of ben wa balls. Tami, a tall auburn-haired girl with freckles sprinkled over skin the color of coffee and cream, was a hopeless romantic. Always trying to fix Charlie up, Tami had declared on many occasions bad mojo was the reason for Charlie’s lack of romantic attachment.

  After three months of pleading, Charlie had finally given in and let Tami fix her up, just for some peace and quiet. The result was disastrous. The male was a muscled personal trainer with a brain the size of a pea. The night ended after a ten-minute groping session, and she had to use force by slapping him to get his attention and explaining why there was no way in Hell she would ever consider sleeping with him.

  Tami grabbed her arm and pulled Charlie into the aisle, pushing against her back she forced her forward. They descended in front of a whitewashed stone building, the tour guide stood in front of the bus holding up a blue-and-gold flag with the emblem of the cruise line. He explained they were to keep the flag within their sights so they wouldn’t get lost and marched the group through Figueres, stopping occasionally to highlight buildings of historical significance. Eventually, their small group came to the Cortijo Flamenco, a small out-of-the-way theater that had once been a church. The facade had a combined Moorish and Spanish style with mosaic tiles covering twin panels lining the sides of the entrance.. After giving the somber door attendant their tickets, the group was ushered into a nondescript semicircular room with tables lining the small balcony that overlooked a small stage. Long, heavy, lush crimson curtains hung from ornate rods were closed, but the sounds of the band tuning up drifted up to the balcony.

  Charlie leaned slightly over the upper tier of the balcony, taking in the floor below as a different sort of patron began filtering in to sit at white-linen-draped tables adorned with expensive-looking china. The room below, from what she could see, was a throwback to an older Castilian Spanish era, with walls lined with iron sconces lit with tiny flames throwing shadows across the wallpaper that reflected the color of the stage curtains. That sort of luxury was reserved for a very elite crowd.

  Tami pulled out
the seat beside Charlie as the server placed fluted glasses of sangria on the table before them.

  “Saluda,” she whispered and moved on to the other tables. Charlie had barely acknowledged the server, her interest focused on the people below. Something was off about that crowd. She could feel it, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was.

  Maybe it was the fact that not one of the people below was curious enough to look up at the tourists above. Charlie looked at Tami, but before she could nudge her, she saw Tami was already engrossed in conversation with a fellow groupie at the next table. The women had pulled out a small tablet, and Charlie could just imagine they were probably searching for more information about the group. Charlie had to admit, she was just a little bit curious and excited now that she was here. Sighing, she just hoped the group lived up to her friend’s expectations.

  It took just minutes for the server to seat everyone before the lights dimmed and the curtain opened, revealing a solitary man sitting in the center of the stage. Head bent over the soft curves of the guitar, his fingers began to strum the strings gently.

  And my God! What a man! She could tell the guitarist was tall even from where she sat. His black shirt clung to his ripped abs, and the darkness embraced him like a lover’s caress. A single beam of light shone down, highlighting his silky straight black hair, capturing the gleam of the blue highlights in its brilliance.

  He held the instrument as a man holds a woman, close and wrapped in loving arms. His gaze never leaving the strings, he played the notes softly as a low thrumming hum rose to resonate through the room, lingering briefly before dropping like silvery beads. The pain and longing in every note pulled from the strings wrenched her heartstrings until Charlie felt she would collapse under the weight of the beautifully haunting notes.

  Oh... my God! Leaning her elbow on the table, Charlie rested her chin on her hand as the final notes ended abruptly and the guitarist’s ebony head snapped up. Steel-gray eyes scanned the room, his head swiveled, and he looked from one person to another, watching for someone or something. After scanning the crowd on the lower level, he swung his head up to the balcony and trapped her with his gaze. “You are unbelievable!”

  Charlie could feel the power that coiled within the guitarist as his gaze riveted her to the spot. Lifting one hand, he slipped his fingers under the shoulder strap of the guitar, allowing it to slide down his arm. Charlie felt her body quicken, as a whisper of his fingers seemed to loosen the spaghetti straps of her sundress, sliding them down her arms. The thundering applause of the audience soon drowned out the thudding of her heart, and Charlie exhaled softly through pursed lips.

  Leaning forward in his chair, his voice velvet edged and strong, the man announced the flamenco dancers. The underlying sensual tone of his words captivated her as his silver eyes held hers. The dancers flounced onto the stage and picked up the rhythm with their clapping hands, accompanied by drums and guitar. The dancers were like exotic flowers, their flamboyantly colored silk dresses wrapped with rows of black lace woven within the dark red ruffles of the skirts. The men wore shirts of the same fabric with ruffled balloon sleeves. The rhythmic drumming of the dancers’ heels caused Charlie’s head to reel as the strange and disquieting beat brought disturbing visions of sultry nights and racing hearts. A throbbing centered in her stomach and worked its way down her body.

  Who was this man? How could he and his music affect her so deeply? Finally able to break the spell he’d woven, Charlie glanced at Tami and the others, who all appeared just as enthralled.

  Lowering her gaze, her heart raced, refusing to believe the man before her was real.

  Nor could she believe her reaction to the artist and the music. No person or music had ever made her feel this emotional, this sexually aroused. Charlie looked at her untouched angria, noticing that all around her, other glasses were now empty. Charlie lifted her glass to her lips.

  “No!” a voice commanded in her ear.

  Tensing, she swiveled around, searching for the person who had just shouted at her. There was no one beside her.

  Chapter Two

  Charlie drew back, her mind and body numbed, as the guitarist from the stage moved with lightning fast speed. One minute he was on the stage and the next beside her. Suddenly she felt herself being spun around. “You are not to drink this!” he growled, looking pointedly at the glass in her hand. “This is not for you... never for one such as you.”

  Before she could respond, he had pulled her from the chair, knocked the glass from her grasp, and dragged her hard against his muscular frame. With a screech, Charlie reached for Tami, but she was still seated at the table clapping at a performance that had stopped minutes ago, paying no attention to the drama occurring at their table.

  “Why the hell not?” What’s wrong with the drink? Is it poisoned?” Charlie asked, a faint thread of hysteria in her voice as her gaze drifted around the room, taking in the others in her group as they too clapped at a now nonexistent performance.

  “I will explain later,” he muttered in her ear. Grabbing her hand, he dragged her behind him toward a door at the back of the room. “First, you must come with me if you wish to live. The others cannot discover what you are.”

  Angry and disconcerted, Charlie pulled against him. Stopping in the middle of the room, she crossed her arms as the man attempted to usher her through the doorway. “What do you mean what I am? And what’s happening in that room to my friend and the others? You have a lot of explaining to do, mister, if you expect me to just follow you!” Charlie knew she was screeching, but this stranger had just spirited her away from her group.

  “What you are is a simpatico, and you drew me with your scent. Only one such as you can read the thoughts of one such as those beyond that door... those like me. You are a special treat to my people. Your kind are the only women we can mate. The problem is your blood is also an aphrodisiac. It drives their hunger,” the man explained, moving to place his body in front of the door. “Your blood would be sweet to them, making it impossible to fight the hunger. If I had left you back there, they would have taken you away and drained you... killed you, and I could not allow it... will not allow that to happen... ever! You are mine!”

  Some of Charlie’s anger evaporated, leaving only confusion.

  “Look, I understand you think you’re helping me... or protecting me or whatever from something or someone, but really who would want to harm me? No one out there even knows me except my friend. And from what you’ve just told me we’re in danger. Plus, there are a lot of people in that room.” She pointed to the closed door. “Although I may be a stranger, no one is going to just up and kidnap me or drain me or whatever you think is going to happen.”

  Charlie drew away from what she suddenly realized must be a crazy person, albeit a handsome, crazy person. A crazy person was still a crazy person.

  “If you must witness this to believe, I will show you.” Leaning around her, the man opened the door just enough for Charlie to get a view of the tables on the balcony.

  What she saw had her trembling as icy fear seized her heart. Charlie’s scream was stifled when the man covered her mouth with his hand. All the members of the tour were leaning back in their chairs as elegantly dressed men and women she recognized as those from the floor below bent over individuals in the group, their mouths attached to the tourists’ throats. The sounds of slurping and sucking made her feel nauseous and faint.

  The door closed and the stranger released her and leaned against it. Charlie couldn’t believe what she had just seen. It was like a nightmare from which she could not awaken.

  Placing his hand in hers, the stranger pulled her away from the door into his arms, holding her close.

  “I knew you were different when I felt you in my head.” He added in a lower, huskier tone, “No one has had the ability to speak to me in such a way in over two hundred years. I knew then I could not allow them to drink from you. You are mine, little on
e, you belong to me, Nikolas Sartini, and I will never let anyone harm you.”

  “Wait a damn minute.” Charlie’s pulse began to beat erratically at the threatening tone in his deep voice. “You do realize that you cannot own people, don’t you? And do not call me little. I am a woman, not a child.” Charlie moved out of his arms, placing more space between them. By no means was she little either. At a size fourteen, she was anything but. If this person thought of her as little, what size female was he accustomed to? Shaking off the terror of the whole situation was hard, but Charlie needed to get a grip if she was going to get out this mess.

  “Okay, you now have my attention. Please explain slowly what is happening out there? Who are you? What is going to happen to my friends? Are those things going to kill them?” she asked nervously, afraid of the answers. Again wondering how she had gotten herself into this mess.

  Oh yes, she remembered... Tami. Who at this moment was being devoured by a what? A vampire! That was the stuff of fiction, fairy tales, fiction. Vampires did not exist. Could not exist. Warning bells rang through her head as she glanced cautiously back at the man on the other side of the room.

  “No. Your friend is not being injured, nor are the others,” Nikolas answered. “My people will feed, then erase their memories, replacing them with pleasant ones and your group will be sent back to your cruise ship with the impression they had a wonderful time. No one will be aware of what happened here tonight.”

  Charlie swallowed hard, lifted her chin, and boldly met his gaze.

  “And what about me? I know what happened. Will you erase my memory?”

  The stranger began speaking in a tongue that was not Spanish, his voice a velvet murmur. After a couple of minutes, Charlie looked into his eyes. The change was dramatic as his silver gaze became almost translucent, clinging to hers, analyzing her reaction.