Min's Vampire

by Stella Blaze

  But honor or not, being so close to the ocean, and with his brother again, was pulling him apart inside. He’d always been able to tell his brother all his problems. And now he was standing right in front of him and couldn’t tell him anything.

  It sucked!

  “I’ve got to go,” Gabriel said, handing his half full bottle of beer to Micah, then hastily making his way toward the dock.

  “But you haven’t finished your beer!” Micah groused. Gabriel waved him off without looking back. But then Micah said something that stopped him in his tracks. “And you haven’t told me why there’s female vampire scent all over you.”

  ~*~

  Gabriel stopped with his hands gripping the cool metal of the rail. He was gritting his teeth and seriously contemplating lying to his brother. After all, maybe he was just bluffing. Gabriel hadn’t been with Delia in almost a week.

  “I mean, really! I’m the best tracker in the family, probably on the continent, and you didn’t think I’d smell that?”

  Shit…

  “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

  “I haven’t been avoiding you. I’ve been busy—”

  “Busy boning a vampire?” Micah’s eyes flashed, the beast in him looking out through his eyes for an instant.

  Gabriel shook his head. “I ran into a couple a few nights ago. We fought and—”

  “Bullshit! My gift—besides being beautiful and athletic as hell—is my nose. And I smell horny vampire… a female, horny vampire.”

  “Micah.”

  “So fess up, bro.” His eyes were back to normal—back to just being Micah again. “You know you can trust me with your secrets.”

  And Gabriel knew he could, he really could. “But some secrets are deadly.” If either of the families found out about him and Delia, there would be war, and they might both lose their heads.

  Micah wriggled his eyebrows. “Danger’s my middle name.”

  Gabriel laughed, and it made his chest hurt in a really good way. “I thought your middle name was Linus?”

  “You know what I meant.” Micah’s voice was turning into a husky growl.

  “And I can’t remember… were you named after Mom’s great uncle, or after the Peanuts character?”

  “So are you going to tell me about your undead lady love before or after I kick your ass?”

  They looked each other in the eye for a long beat, both no longer joking around. “What do you want to know?”

  ~*~

  “I’m not eating that.” Lucy felt sick to her stomach just thinking about it. And to her horror, it had smelled and looked really good. But she had asked what it was, which usually didn’t matter. Gabriel wasn’t one for eating gross food. There was always some kind of meat in what he ordered for their office dinners, and usually the savory sauces and the sources of the food spanned a multitude of cultures.

  But when Gabriel had said “Lamb Curry,” Lucy had envisioned Mary’s Little Lamb, and then the adorable lamb that she had held during a Christmas pageant when she was nine years old. She’d wanted her father to buy it for her, the fleece was so soft, and it had licked sugar cubes out of her hand.

  But Adam Hart would not abide a farm animal in his house or on his property. Pets of any kind had been one of the few things he had denied Lucy and her brother.

  And that’s all she could think about as Gabriel set out two high-end disposable plates on the coffee table he had brought in when it turned out they spent most of their dinner meetings lounging on the big black leather couch. She’d felt pretty good that he’d added furniture to his office just for her. But she would not be touching the baby lamb he was now spooning out over the white rice that formed a base on the bottom of each plate.

  It really did smell good, and she’d skipped lunch, opting to spend her break having her nails done at a local, though excellent, nail salon. They now gleamed with an incredible crimson orange, and shimmered with tiny gold hearts. She’d missed getting manicures, and that sense of whimsy she’d had about her nails. But right at that moment, Lucy was missing lunch most of all. Maybe she should just call out for a pizza, maybe some of that divine manicotti they’d devoured the night before?

  But then Gabriel pulled out from the take out bag something wrapped up in aluminum foil, and as he unwrapped it, steam rose into the air and the rich scent of garlic bread engulfed her senses.

  “This is called naan bread,” Gabriel said as he pulled a piece of the delicious smelling flat bread from the pack. Holding it in his hand he ladled the lamb/rice mixture onto the bread in big spoonfuls, wrapped it up fajita style then brought it up to his lips and took a huge bite.

  The look of utter bliss that took over Gabriel’s face would usually have creeped Lucy out. But she was starving. It didn’t help either, the look on his face as he chewed up his lamb/rice fajita and swallowed—sighing rapturously before shooting Lucy with a maniacal smile then taking another big bite.

  Lucy’s stomach actually growled.

  “Come on Lucy… you’re hungry, or at least your stomach’s hungry—and I know you really want to.” Gabriel was practically laughing as he spoke, his deep brown eyes electrified with mischievous taunting.

  Lucy groaned in defeat as she sat down on the couch and grabbed herself a piece of naan bread, then shoveled as much of Mary’s Little Lamb onto it as she could, rolled it up and took a big old honking bite.

  It was good. No, it was incredible. Spicy and rich, the meat had this juicy, tender quality, the sauce was to die for, and the rice and flat bread added a wonderful texture to the whole thing. She took another bite before she’d even swallowed her first.

  “See?” Gabriel said with a smug expression on his handsome face.

  “I hate you,” Lucy mumbled through a mouthful of absolute bliss.

  After wolfing down every last bit of the lamb curry, they settled back into the couch and put their feet up on the new—doubtlessly expensive—coffee table. Lucy spotted the little red step stool sitting under the last photo she’d been examining whilst waiting for Gabriel.

  Strangely enough, the length of time she spent waiting for Gabriel each day had drastically started to dwindle. Today she’d only been perched barefoot on the stool for a few moments, the total wait time since she’d set foot in the office was just under five minutes now. A far cry from the first week’s usual half hour.

  “So,” Lucy said, lazily raising her arm up to point at the photo in question. “What is that?”

  Gabriel looked to where she was pointing, got an unreadable look on his face for a moment, smiling guiltily. He even started to blush.

  “That’s… well, you see…” Gabriel squirmed in his seat then turned his entire body around so he could face Lucy completely. “My brother and I have this… tradition.”

  Lucy couldn’t help it, she was smiling. She could tell this was going to be one hell of a good story. All the stories that involved Gabriel’s brother, Micah, were hysterical.

  “We bet on things.”

  Silence.

  “Like?” Lucy prompted him.

  “Well… sometimes it’s just sporting events: horse racing, college football games, that Ultimate Cage Fighter show.”

  “Okay,”

  “That’s usually just a money bet. But sometimes we actually bet on who can…” He stopped and stared at Lucy, and she could see in his eyes that he was editing what he was about to tell her. He did that a lot, especially when they’d discussed his family, but never when they’d talked about the photos and his friends, or his brother. But he was doing it right now.

  “You know, who can run faster—sometimes we spar, like fighting.”

  Lucy looked back over her shoulder at the photo of the two of them on the boat. “You fight your brother, the giant?” She chuckled. “I’m sure that goes well.”

  Gabriel let his head loll back on the couch, and Lucy found herself looking very slowly down the length of him. He always took his jacket off when they ate, and his silk dres
s shirt that night was ivory. As he leaned back it melded to his body most enticingly.

  “I win… sometimes. But on that occasion,”—he nodded his head toward the photo in question—“I lost big time.”

  “So the picture is because… you lost the bet,” Lucy said. “And I imagine its placement in your office is significant?”

  “Very.” Gabriel rolled off the couch and over to the photo, plucking it from the wall and returning to the couch, plopping down on it in a very non-Gabriel way. His every move was usually so careful and graceful. “There’s a third part to the bet, though.”

  “Mmmm…” Lucy was getting excited, looking at the strange piece of art being displayed in the photo. This story was shaping up nicely.

  The artful design was actually kind of funny looking. It seemed like a coat of arms. Except… well, besides the crossed swords and the detailed outline of the shield itself, what was displayed in the center of the design made Lucy giggle for a good thirty seconds before she got a hold of herself.

  “Is that—are they…doing what I think they’re doing?”

  “Yes,” Gabriel said, turning his head away as he scratched the back of his ear. “That’s two… wolves…”

  “Screwing,” Lucy shrieked with laughter.

  “I was going to say mating.”

  “And I was going to say two werewolves screwing doggy style!” She fell over on her side on the couch, melting into peals of laughter and holding the framed photo to her chest and tried to catch her breath.

  “They’re wolves,” Gabriel said, looking like a kid getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

  Lucy practically barked out a snide laugh at Gabriel’s protest. “I’ve seen wolves,” she said, holding her stomach as she raised the photo up to her face to get a better look. “Wolves don’t have human torsos, especially muscular He-Man chests. And look!” She pointed at the photo. Gabriel tried to grab it from her, but she scooted away as she fingered the point of interest on the picture.

  “This right here. The… wolf on top has definite clawed hands! He’s got one… well, wrapped around the other wolf’s… torso, and the other is holding on to his shoulder… for, um… leverage?”

  Gabriel sighed unhappily. “Well, I was drunk when I—” and then he just stopped, leaning back on the couch and crossing his arms over his chest.

  Lucy gave him a curious glance, and then she held the photograph out away from her, taking the entire image in from a distance, then bringing it back trombone-style and noticed something interesting about the texture of the “canvas” the werewolf mating coat of arms was stenciled on.

  “Is that a freckle?”

  Gabriel groaned and threw his brawny arm up over his face. “I said I was drunk, for the bet and the… the—”

  “Tattoo!” Lucy howled joyously. “This is a tattoo, isn’t it? That’s the third part of the bet.” Lucy reached over and pulled Gabriel’s arm from obscuring his face. He looked to her pleadingly.

  “A framed photograph, prominently displayed in your office, of a lewd tattoo on your—” She stopped and turned to shoot Gabriel with a wrinkle of her eyebrows. “Gabriel… where exactly on you is this tattoo?” She shook the photograph in her hand for emphasis.

  “You don’t want to know.” He looked into her eyes and she felt a little shudder, like how she felt when she fantasized about stealing Brad Pitt form Angelina.

  She shook that feeling out of her mind. It was preposterous. She hated this guy…well, she didn’t exactly hate him, not anymore, but he was still a condescending pain in her ass.

  “Yeah, I do want to know.”

  He smiled ruefully to himself, and as he shook his head he leaned away from Lucy and pointed down behind him to the back of his slacks. It took a second, but then Lucy realized he was pointing to his butt, and she suddenly realized with a squeak, and then more riotous laughter, that she was holding a photograph of a tattoo on Gabriel’s ass.

  “It’s not funny.” His face was sobering up as he leaned his head back. “And leave it to Micah to get me into the tattoo parlor and snap a picture of it while I was still… inebriated.”

  “You must’ve been wasted,” Lucy said, handing the picture back to him, using her thumb and forefinger like it was something yucky. “But I’ve got to give you credit for actually sticking to the terms of that drunken bet.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I just can’t wait to meet your brother!”

  Chapter 10

  THE WEEK before the engagement party passed far too quickly for Gabriel. His confidence in Lucy had grown considerably, yet he still felt anxious about her meeting his family. Would they fall for their act? Could he convince them he was in love with the girl? He wasn’t worried about Lucy’s performance: she was showing herself to be an incredible actress. And the story she’d concocted about the way they’d met had been genius.

  It went like this:

  They’d literally run into each other in the entrance of the Szechuan Garden. He had knocked her down, accidentally, and she had thought he was a complete jerk. He’d helped her up, and was unsuccessfully trying to apologize when she’d kicked him in the shin and took off down the street, absently leaving behind her takeout order.

  He’d scooped up the bag and rushed after her. “Like a creepy stalker,” Lucy had said. “He followed me to my car and invited me to join him in the park to split the bag of takeout food I’d left behind. What an arrogant pig!”

  But somehow Gabriel had convinced her he was harmless, and by the time they’d gorged on the contents of the bag, which strangely had two fortune cookies in it (a romantic touch that made Gabriel want to gag,) they began to talk, and so was the beginning of their courtship.

  He had to admire how she’d effortlessly organized some tidbits about him into an actual romantic scenario. Obviously the imagination of the average American high school senior was alive and well. Must’ve been the glut of cable television, practically how-to programs for those who wanted to rule the world through treachery.

  Either way, it was impressive, yet deceptively simple and easy to remember. And even though Lucy was unabashedly greedy, Gabriel was finding her rather easy to like. He still couldn’t believe he’d told her about the tattoo. He had never told anyone that story, even though he displayed the photograph in his office. But somehow, he just seemed to want to tell Lucy things.

  Actually, he hadn’t even told the whole truth of the tattoo to Delia… and she’d seen the real thing, not just a picture.

  What did that mean? The question left him sitting alone in his office, in the dim light of evening, wondering what the hell was he really doing? Was he just confused by trying to act the part of Lucy’s fiancé? Or was there something he didn’t understand, something right there in front of him, so obvious it should be as big as a billboard, but somehow he just couldn’t see it?

  And if what he was feeling wasn’t just an after effect of an act, if it was something real and tangible… well then what?

  Had it changed the way he felt about Delia?

  No. As he leaned into the leather couch in his office he knew for a fact that it hadn’t changed the way he felt about Delia. But somehow he just knew that the way he was feeling toward Lucy was so far different than what he felt for Delia that he should be ashamed. He should feel guilt ridden and wretched. Except thinking about Lucy didn’t make him feel anything but good.

  No, not just good. He felt like he was overheating when he thought about Lucy. He felt like every molecule in his body was vibrating fast enough that he could just explode. And then there was how his mind felt around her. His usually cool, confident thought processes snagged and tripped clumsily around her… and he really didn’t seem to mind.

  What the hell was happening to him?

  He looked at his watch and saw the time. It was only an hour before the engagement party. He needed to shower and change into his tuxedo. Laurel had it hanging on the back of his office door with a little note tacked to the
clingy plastic sleeve.

  Congratulations Boss. Lucy’s great!

  He smiled as he plucked the note from the dry-cleaning bag. Lucy really was great. But did that mean anything?

  He grabbed the tux and started for the gym locker-room. He needed to get ready. And, deep down, he wanted to look good for Lucy.

  ~*~

  After close to four weeks of preparation Lucy was appalled that she was actually nervous the night of the engagement party. Especially since there was no reason to be nervous… well, no real reason anyway.

  Between her fashion sense and Elaina’s elegant advice, she was sure her clothes were beyond reproach. And since she’d been dieting for the last month, and back on her exercise routine—now that the shoulder injury from her horrid days at McDonald’s was just a memory—she’d lost the extra ten pounds she’d been carrying around. Even without the aid of her dermatologist her skin was back to its usual lustrous, blemish-free self.

  Red is so my color, Lucy thought as she gazed appreciatively at herself in the full-length mirror she’d installed in her room. The dress she’d picked for the engagement party was a very deep, dark red silk, cut to show some cleavage—but not that much— and formfitting enough to show off her newly regained figure. The hem came a little over the knee with a slit up the thigh. She loved the dress with its perfect little silk straps and a skirt that felt daring and elegant at the same time.

  The dress was truly romantic. It would be something she would wear herself, if one day she was actually going to tie the knot.

  That thought made her a little sad. Wasn’t this real? Did it not count? And if it did count, did it count against the years of happiness she would have waiting for her on the other side of this little arrangement?

  Shit! she thought, pulling her hair up in a lovely twist on the top of her head. Her hair was also back to its old manageable self. If anything, it looked a little better than it had.