A Vampire's Wicked Hunger: An Edgy Paranormal Urban Fantasy Romance featuring Sexy Vampires, Werewolves, Wicked Witches and Shapeshifters (Love on the Edge Book 4)

by Chloe Adler

  Chapter Nine

  Sitting in my dad's new living room the next afternoon, I waited patiently for the women to bustle back into the kitchen.

  “Why did you bring them to the club last night?”

  “They wanted to see where you worked. Something about meeting you on your own turf so you'd feel more comfortable,” he said. “Had I known it was a strip club, I never would have brought them.”

  I rearranged myself on their new white leather couch, crossing and then recrossing my legs.

  “And speaking of, Maria, I really wish you'd chosen to wear something a little more conservative tonight.” He glanced toward the kitchen.

  “Really, Dad? You want me to change who I am for your new girlfriend?”

  “That's not what I meant and you know it. It's respectful to meet others in their house in a way that will make them feel comfortable. Did your mother teach you nothing?”

  Shit. He was right, I wasn't even making an effort. “I'm sorry, Dad. Do you want me to change?”

  His features softened. “How about you button your jacket up?”

  I complied, fastening the tiny red seed buttons on my Victorian-era red velvet jacket. He was doing me a favor, trying to make sure that Margery liked me.

  Deenie entered, motioning to the dining room table. “Dinner's ready.”

  I cocked my head at my father. He gave a little shake of his head. I had assumed they were vampires too. Apparently I was wrong.

  “Thank you so much for accommodating my schedule.” I sat down next to my father. “I have to work later.”

  “And by work, do you mean taking off all your clothes for leering men?” asked Deenie.

  “Deenie, manners please,” snapped Margery.

  “But mom, you said—”

  “Deenie. Hold your tongue. Now.”

  “Yes, Mother.” She looked down at her plate.

  Margery smiled. “I know most vampires don't eat, but apparently you're not like most vampires, now are you, dear?” She winked at me. “I made pasta primavera, sautéed brussels sprouts and mashed potatoes.” She waved her hand across the food steaming at the center of the table. “Please, help yourself.”

  I sat on my hands for a beat. Were her backhanded compliments unconscious? Everyone waited, all eyes on me.

  “It smells delicious,” I said.

  Margery let out a sigh. “Thank you, I've only recently started cooking again.”

  “What did you do before? I take it you're not vampires?”

  “We're witches,” said Deenie proudly.

  Crap. That wasn't good.

  “We've always had a servant,” replied Margery. “And we'll get one here too, won't we darling?” She eyed my father.

  “Yes, sweetheart, of course we will.”

  “Why?” I genuinely wanted to know.

  “Mom doesn't like to cook,” said Deenie. “Plus she has more important matters to attend to.”

  “Why not cast a cooking spell?” I asked. “And cleaning spells?”

  Margery visibly stiffened. “Our magic isn't quite that strong. We're from a lesser line. I grew up with servants; it's what I'm used to.”

  “I see.” Why did I think she was lying? What reason would she have?

  My father helped himself to some of the pasta and I stared at him openly. I'd never known my father to eat food before.

  Margery tapped the side of her water glass and we all turned to look at her. “I have an announcement to make.”

  My eyes darted left and right. Dad did not seem perturbed in the slightest. Actually, his chest was puffed out a bit. I grabbed the sides of my chair as though I were on a roller-coaster ride.

  Margery lifted her left hand and wiggled it in front of her face, giggling like a teenager in heat. Was that a wedding band?

  “Oh, Mama,” Deenie squealed, practically knocking her chair over to stand and hug the woman. Well at least I wasn't the only one who didn't know.

  I looked at my dad, a smile spread wide across his face, fangs protruding. But why? Why would he do this?

  “Are you even divorced from Mom yet?” I couldn't help asking.

  “Of course he's divorced from your mother,” Margery scoffed. “We would not have legally been able to get married if he wasn't.”

  “Well,” I said stiffly, “congratulations.”

  “Thank you.” Margery beamed. “You can refer me to me as your wicked stepmother.” She cackled. The woman actually cackled.

  Dad laughed. “You're such a card.”

  Sometimes he couldn't hide his ripe old age of ninety-nine. I briefly wondered how old Margery was, younger than Dad or Mom, no doubt. But the less magic a witch possessed, the more quickly she aged. It was why Aurelia didn't look a day over forty, yet she was actually 187. The Holts were the strongest witch family in the world.

  I took a bite of the food, drowning myself in potatoes and pasta. Surprisingly, it was quite good. At least the woman could cook. Not that Dad had any use for that. “Delicious food, Margery,” I said.

  “Why thank you, Maria.”

  “My name is Burgundy.” It was out before I could stop it.

  Father tsked me. “Maria is the name we gave you.”

  “Burgundy is the name I've been using for the past twenty years. If you refer to me as Maria in public, no one will know who you're talking about.”

  “I like the name Burgundy.” Deenie blinked her sky-blue eyes at me.

  “Thanks, Deenie. So where are you two from? You don't look Nicaraguan.”

  “Maria, manners,” my father snapped.

  “No, no, Hervé,” said Margery. “It's a fair question.” She turned to me. “We're transplants from Spain.”

  “My father was Swedish,” said Deenie.

  I knew I should have asked how they ended up in Nicaragua, but I didn't really care and continued eating in silence. I gobbled up the meal far too fast.

  “Well, I'd love to stay longer,” I pushed my chair away from the table, “but I forgot that I promised someone a ride into work and I have to leave. Thank you for the lovely dinner.”

  My father stood up abruptly, following me to the foyer. “When did you become so rude?”

  “When you married another woman without telling your family first.”

  “Maria . . .” He reached for my hands. “It was unplanned. Margery's idea. As soon as the divorce from your mother was finalized she,” he glanced toward the dining room, “she couldn't wait.”

  Margery appeared in the foyer, smiling. “That's right, Burgundy. I couldn't wait to sink my claws into him. He is quite the catch.”

  My father laughed boisterously. “Such a jokester she is.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “He really shouldn't have married a divorce lawyer. If he tries to leave me, I'll take him for everything he's got, and we both know he's got a lot.”

  My father laughed again. “Yes, she tells me I can't afford to divorce her.”

  “It's true, Hervé.”

  He hadn't insisted on a prenup?

  “But why would I ever want to, darling?” He moved to her, his arms circling her waist. “What's your other favorite saying?”

  She preened. “Let's spend all the money so there's none left for the kids.”

  Both of them broke into peels of laughter. They didn't even notice me leave.

  Sitting in my car, I had to take several deep breaths. Was she for real? Couldn't be. I sincerely hoped that was an act. I couldn't figure her out. Either she was one sick puppy or she had a cutting sense of humor. Neither option endeared her to me. But she made my father happy and we had a very special father-daughter bond. I'd put up with her, for him.

  I looked at my phone, surprised to see several text messages from Elijah.

  Hey, Burgundy, can we meet up with you later? We can't stop thinking about the other night.

  That would take my mind off things. Sure, I pinged back. Where and when?

  You tell us, we're open.

  I starte
d my car and headed home. If my father and his new scary wife hadn't shown up at the V yesterday, I wouldn't have hesitated to tell them to meet me there, but it no longer felt safe. The sex rooms didn't have doors, and though I did not think my father or that witch would return there, I couldn't be sure.

  Pulling into my carport, I sat still for a few minutes, thinking. Why would he marry that woman? There must be something I was missing. I grabbed my phone and dialed.

  “Hola, mama.”

  “Maria. Como estas? Is everything bueno?”

  “I'm confused, Mom. Did you know that Dad remarried?”

  A little sob escaped and then a sniffle. Thousands of miles away, and she sounded like she was in my living room. “Si, chica, your brother told me.”

  “That's crazy, right? How long has he known this woman?”

  “For years, I think. I heard they were seeing each other while we were married.”

  I twisted a lock of hair between my fingers, shaking my head. I'd never thought of my dad as a cheater. An actual cheater. He had some double standards, culturally that was even understandable, but a cheater?

  “He said her firm handled your divorce. Are you sure she wasn't involved?” I didn't want to ask, but I had to.

  “Not that I saw, but maybe behind the scenes. I'll never know.”

  Jesus. “What did you settle for?” I hadn't wanted to pry, but with that woman sinking her claws into his fortune, I had to ask.

  “He didn't want the house or even partial custody of your brother, and he gave me a lot of money. Plus he's paying child support and alimony.”

  “So he just walked away from it all?”

  “Si.”

  Even if he had given her several million, he hadn't taken a hit, but it still didn't make sense.

  “Mama, do you think that woman could have put a spell on him?”

  “No, chica. Your papa was always mean spirited, you just never saw it.”

  She had always been jealous of our relationship, trying to cast doubt. Even now, she played the same games. “Why did you stay with him for eighty-four years then?”

  Her sigh through the phone line tugged at my heart strings. “I've told you before, chica, I had no skills to make it on my own.”

  “He would have paid alimony and child support, that's no excuse.”

  “I didn't want to break up our family.”

  “So you suffered in silence, for your children?” What a martyr. Though how would I have reacted in the same situation? Growing up, I'd had a tumultuous relationship with my mother. She'd always acted jealous of me, even once intoning that my father pitted us against each another, but I'd never believed her.

  “I have to go,” I said. “Are you doing okay? Is Juan?”

  “Si. We're better. Will you call me tomorrow?”

  “Si, Mama. I love you.” I hung up, more confused than I had been before calling.

  My head hung low as I walked up the steps and through the gate. A cold wind blew through the front yard, swaying the cedar tree and running through the bare limbs of the Japanese maple.

  As I walked in the house, I inhaled deeply, catching the scent of freshly baked bread. Ryder or Iphi must be over; they both loved to cook. Candles burned in the living room, casting shadows from my elaborate metal-and-tapestry boho shades. The sights and smells of home. My home. Maybe it was unconscious on their part, but the tone of the ambiance let me know that this was where I belonged. And that made it possible for me to discard all the earlier friction.

  “Burg!” squealed Iphi, bounding from the kitchen to throw her arms around me.

  “Iph.” I smiled at her. “Pleasant surprise.”

  “Chrys wanted me to show her how to bake bread.”

  “Nice. Is she here?”

  Iphi gestured toward the kitchen, where sounds of clanging emanated.

  I looked around. “Where's Rex?”

  “Jared and Alec took him on a walk.” She eyed me sideways. “Is something wrong?”

  “Yeah.” I twisted a strand of hair. “But I don't wanna talk about it. I'm gonna go take a shower.”

  I left Iphi gaping after me. She was a sweet girl, the sweetest of all three sisters. But finally being at home, all I wanted to do was relax.

  After turning the water as hot as I could handle, I shrugged out of my clothing and stood under the jet, soaking my skin. I squirted some shampoo into my hands, wet my mane and scrubbed.

  There was a knock on the bathroom door and then it opened a crack. “Need some help?” Jared's voice cut through the steam.

  “If you want,” I grumbled, my eyes and mouth clogged with water.

  He entered, closing the door behind him. I didn't look up. A few moments later the glass door to the shower squeaked as he stepped inside with me.

  “Turn around,” he ordered and I complied. An expert masseuse, he ran his long fingers through my thick locks, then scrubbed my scalp. The familiar tugs soothed my ragged nerves.

  I groaned, my head tilting backward and then from side to side so he could get at all of it. “You're so damn good at this. Forget chiropractic school and become a head masseuse.”

  “Tell me what's going on. Let me in.”

  I shook my head but he held it still.

  “I'll sic Rex on you if you don't.”

  “I'd like that.”

  “All right, I'm not going to push, but if you need me, I'm here.”

  “I know.”

  Jared finished washing and rinsing my hair and then helped me out of the shower and dried me off. I was torn between crawling into bed, pulling the covers over my head and blocking out the world or inviting Tiyah and Elijah over to play.

  “Do you have to work tonight?” Jared asked.

  Shit. “Yeah, I'm supposed to, but I'm beat.” More like beaten up. Everything that had happened today had just been too much, as if a great tide had risen out of nowhere and swept me out to sea. I was tired of keeping afloat. I needed to rest for a while.

  “Call in sick,” he suggested. “I don't think you've ever done that before.”

  I hadn't. In all the years I'd worked at the V. “I can't, J, it's Saturday night. What will Benedict do?”

  “Alec can cover for you and I'll text one of the on-call girls. I'll let Benedict know too.”

  An argument was budding on my tongue but my lids were growing heavy. Tamp down those emotions, Burg.

  “Rest.” He plucked my silk robe off the back of the door and wrapped it around me. With one arm around my shoulders, he escorted me to my room, laid me down in bed and pulled the covers over me.

  “I don't want to . . .” I was saying when sleep took over, dancing with me like a lost lover on a long-deserted stretch of beach.

  Chapter Ten

  A dream about swimming in a blackened lagoon with massive rocks jutting out at odd angles turned sexual when a warm tongue lapped between my legs. I pushed my crotch into the disembodied softness, reaching for the back of the ghost-head. My hands met actual hair and my eyes fluttered open. If it was one of my endless lovers waking me up this way, I was more than fine with it.

  Except it was Elijah's face that swam into view, propped on one elbow next to me in bed, watching.

  “Hi.” He smiled through heavy lids. “I hope you don't mind that Jared brought us home for you. We were worried when we didn't hear back.”

  Oops, I'd forgotten to return his text. Sure enough, Tiyah's dark hair was bobbing between my legs and the moans emanating from her mouth matched mine. “Yes,” I cried out, pushing myself into her. “Use your fingers. Open me up and fuck me with your fingers.” She did as she was told, inserting first one wet finger and then two, pumping them in and out of me, slowly curling them upward. “Elijah,” I croaked.

  He jumped to attention. “Yes, Mistress.”

  “Direct her. Own her,” I hissed through clenched teeth.

  Elijah moved toward his woman, telling her how to please me. “Lift up her ass and lick her there.”

 
Tiyah complied, groaning while she did it.

  “Fuck her with your finger and rub her clit,” he commanded.

  “Bureau, third drawer,” I called out and Elijah moved with lightning speed, returning moments later.

  He reached under Tiyah's long hair and grabbed it by the roots as I'd shown him, pulling her head up. The hungry look in her eyes told me he'd graduated to the next level. Topping her. He handed her something and whispered in her ear, then shoved her head back down, holding it there.

  Something cold and hard entered my pussy. My metal dildo. I bore down but she teased the entrance as he growled instructions too soft for me to hear. I had a lot of experience training Dominants but it was always difficult for me to let go in this position, to be a bottom. Still, the most well-rounded Dom or Domme had to be a switch at times. Until we've experienced what our subs do, we cannot fully appreciate the trust they put in us and how significant it is for us to keep them safe. And how delicious it is to completely let go and push past our own limits. I willed myself to lie back and let Elijah lead.

  “Good girl,” he cooed. “Don't make her come yet. Bring her to the edge.”

  Tiyah pushed the metal inside of me and I bucked up into it.

  “Lick her. Now,” Elijah commanded and pushed her head down so hard that her teeth grazed me.

  “Ouch,” I cried out. It didn't really hurt. I was telling on her.

  The sharp snap of a riding crop stinging her ass resounded through the room and she cried out, her nose and lips pressing into me.

  “Bad girl,” he said sternly. “Use your tongue on her, lightly.”

  Tiyah licked me while the sounds of a soft whipping filled my ears. “I'm punishing you for hurting her,” he said. “Do you like it?”

  “Mm-hmm,” she moaned between licks.

  “Your ass is so red,” he said as he continued slapping it.

  She spread me open with her hands and buried her face in my pussy, licking and moaning. The pleasure shot out from my clit through my extremities. No doubt I was dripping all over her face and the sheets as the sounds of her lapping filled the air.