by Celia Kyle
Right, he’d asked her something.
“I’m uh,” she licked her lips, a hint of unease turning into spasms of near-panic. “I’m here to interview for a position as a blood donor?”
“Are you?” He tilted his head to the side. “Are you really?”
Aubrey said vamps didn’t like timidity. It was no fun drinking from a fearful donor. It ruined the taste. Her only saving grace was that she wasn’t dealing with a vamp. It wasn’t like this guy would ask for a sample. Daylight still reigned, which mean tall, dark, and smarmy was human.
Zoe cleared her throat. “Yes, I am. Aubrey Turner,” his eyes flickered with… something when she said Aubrey’s name, “gave me the club’s card.”
She held out the bent piece of cardstock she still clutched like a shield to show him.
He just hummed in response, those ice-like eyes on her. She wouldn’t tremble and she wouldn’t let her stark fear show. For some reason, she was more afraid of this guy than the concept of being bitten by a vamp. Fight or flight kicked in and told her to fly like the devil chased her.
“Did she?” he murmured and circled her, heading left, his stare like a physical caress. No, like an invasion. When he stood in front of her once more, Zoe took another step back. “You are rather pretty.”
She ignored his comment. “I know I’m early, but I have class tonight— “
“You are aware that vampires keep evening hours?” Condescension dripped from every word and Zoe bit her tongue.
“Yes, but I take classes at night on Tuesday and Thursday. I had hoped arriving early wouldn’t cause too much of an imposition and that perhaps I could interview early.”
“Hmmm…” The way he hummed, the drawn out sound, sent a tremble down her spine. And not one of those good trembles, either.
“I can come back another time.” Zoe stepped back once, then twice, then…
A vise-like grasp halted her retreat, an iron-like fist wrapped around her bicep. “I didn’t say you could go yet, pretty.”
Oh God. Vamps were picky about their dinner, but not the human guys they employed? Seriously? She needed the cash, but not at the cost of spending her time scared of the other employees.
“Sir, please— “
“Cason!” A rough voice came from somewhere behind her, the tone demanding. It sounded like the guy expected to be obeyed.
The man holding her—Cason?—didn’t let her go, but his hold did ease. He lifted his head and stared past Zoe, attention probably on the newcomer.
Hopefully this one didn’t have the same creep factor as Cason. Then again, did she really want the job anymore? She wasn’t sure.
Arik’s bloodchild would be the death of him, the stake through his heart or letting of his undeath’s blood. He had not missed the human woman’s arrival, nor had he missed Cason’s imperceptible approach. The vampire was silent in his arrival, towering over the female.
He’d chosen to wait, to watch, to see how Cason would behave. His bloodchild had always been difficult, but Cason had sworn he’d changed. He would be capable of following Arik’s rules now.
And Arik had allowed him to enter the club a mere fortnight ago. Well, Cason lasted longer than he’d anticipated.
He knew Cason’s grip on the woman was tight but not damaging. He wouldn’t have interfered unless the vampire lost control, but then the air conditioner turned on. The vile things were necessary to keep the club cool, but they punished his enhanced hearing. He missed the days before all of this technology.
The frigid air didn’t only cool the club, it also brought with it a scent—one so tantalizing and fresh that his fangs burst forward without notice. He’d lost control of them, the sharp points piercing his lower lip with their sudden appearance. That hadn’t happened since he was a boy of merely one hundred.
That reaction was joined by a hardening of his cock, dick firming and lengthening in his slacks. He craved that aroma, the pure source of the fragrance. He wanted to swallow and savor drop after drop of that glorious blood, to fuck her as he drank from her neck.
Never. Never had he reacted like this to a woman before. He’d been attracted to his food in the past. Perhaps used the body of more than one female. But this consuming need was strange. She scented of human foods he remembered from before he was turned. Strawberries. Chocolate. Cinnamon.
Delicious.
And touched by Cason. Her scent changed, another wave of air flowing over him.
Fear. Fear of the man in front of her. Unacceptable.
“Cason!” he barked the male’s name again, striding through the club toward the couple.
Arik followed up his shout with a mental order. Release her.
Cason’s eyes flashed red, bloodlust sliding through him, and Arik bared his extended fangs. Now.
You always take away the best food, father. Cason did as demanded, letting go of the human’s arm and the woman stumbled back, nearly falling. He rushed forward, using his speed to race across the distance to catch her.
This stranger filled his arms, her warmth a contrast to his ever-present touch of coolness. Her curves brushed his body, hip caressing his cloth-covered cock, and he nearly moaned aloud with the sensation at the pure pleasure that came from the accidental touch. She was lush and curvaceous, rounded and beautiful in her purity.
Yes, that was what he scented in her—innate purity. Fresh. Clean. He wanted to wallow in it, take it into himself and cleanse away his past sins.
As if her blood could wipe away the stains of hundreds of years.
She is a prospective donor. Not food. Humans were not cattle.
“That will be all, Cason.” Arik left no room for argument and closed his mind to the other vampire, earning him a fierce glare. He was not sure what to do with his bloodchild. His instability and anger grew with each passing day, and soon he would have to make a choice for the good of all.
Cason gave Arik one last glare and then strode away, heading toward one of the doors that led to the back of the club—the private rooms.
Arik hated to release the human, but he had to. He couldn’t justify holding her any longer. He set her away from him, putting distance between their bodies. If she truly wished to be a donor, he would waste no time tying her to him with an exclusive contract. He did not want any fangs other than his entering that pale neck or slim wrist. Ever.
He would not think about this sudden need to keep her hidden away, to hold her captive as his and his alone.
“Hello,” he murmured and held out his hand. “I’m Arik Lange. You’re here to interview as a donor?”
Large, chocolate brown eyes met his, blinking slowly, and her mouth fell open slightly. She drew in a sharp breath, her breasts stretching the fabric across her chest. Her lush mounds strained the top, the valley between them calling to Arik. He would love to drink from her there, taste and savor the blood from her breasts. He’d lick and sample while he fucked this sweet, sweet girl. Woman, but those innocent eyes told him she was young in many ways.
And he was so very old. But not too old for her.
“Miss…” He wanted to know her name. Badly.
She cleared her throat and shook her head. “Sorry,” she rasped and coughed again. “Sorry.” She grasped his hand, her slender fingers gripping his in a firm clasp. Firm, not soft and delicate. A woman who could take a real man—a real vampire. “Zoe Spencer. I got the club’s card from my roommate, Aubrey Turner.”
Arik smiled. He would have to send Aubrey a gift. He had not sampled the beautiful paralegal, but more than one of the vampires in Claret had—gleefully.
“Yes, I know Miss Turner.” When she did not withdraw her hand, Arik relished the continued touch, the feel of her warm skin on his. He felt her pulse, the rapid flutter of her heartbeat through her fingertips. His Zoe was frightened, but not running. “You’re her roommate?”
Zoe nodded. “Yeah, the four of us sort of all moved in together and…” Zoe shrugged. “None of us has ever left.”
Humans were confusing. He’d believed humans preferred forming pairs or living alone. Yet four females together… “Are the four of you in a relationship together?”
If that was the case, Arik wondered how quickly he could kill the others without raising suspicion. He did not want another touching Zoe.
She snorted, the little wrinkle of her nose too seductive. “Uh, no. We’re all, er, passengers on the meat train?” He frowned. Meat train? Thankfully, he did not have to ask her to explain. “You know, we’re all girls who like boys.”
He would not have to rid the world of the roommates then. “Excellent.” Very excellent indeed. “What has Aubrey told you of Claret?”
Zoe released a nervous laugh. “That vampires pay ten times more than the plasma donation centers?” Her skin paled to nearly white and then flushed a bright red, her life’s blood so near the surface… near his mouth. “Sorry, that was… uh…” She snatched her hand back and he nearly snarled at the loss. “Can we start over? Or better yet, I should leave. Yes, I should leave.” She nodded. “I should leave, right?”
Arik did not want her to leave. Ever.
“Calm, Miss Spencer.”
“Zoe,” her correction was immediate and he grinned, careful to hide his fangs. “I mean, if you want to call me Zoe, you can. Or Miss Spencer. Or Person Who Should Leave.” She groaned and his cock throbbed. He needed to be inside her, possess her fully and wholly. “I’m sorry. Just…” she waved at the room. “Being here is a little weird and then that guy and…” she sighed, dark brown eyes meeting his. “Is working with vamps weird? Or scary? Level with me, human to human, here.”
His sweet naïve Zoe. She did not know who she spoke to.
Instead of addressing her mistake, he pushed her for information. “Tell me why it is important that Claret pays more than a plasma donation center.”
More groaning. He should tell her to remain silent or he would embarrass himself in his slacks, but he enjoyed listening to her too much. Then, as he heard her story, he did not like listening to her at all. And humans condemned vampires. A supervisor—boss—was supposed to shield an employee as they performed their tasks, not assault them.
By the time she finished, he was prepared to rip the heart out of the male who’d sent the delectable Zoe into a panic. Arik would find the male… and then lose him. Permanently.
“So,” she shrugged. “That’s that. I’m a cliché sob story and I’m sorry to have wasted your time. Please let the owner know that I’m sorry and this shouldn’t be held against Aubrey’s firm.”
Arik tilted his head. “Why would hiring you be a detriment to the club’s agreement with Aubrey’s firm?”
“Huh?” She had that wide-eyed doe look again. Innocent.
“I would like to hire you as a donor for the club. New hire paperwork and other waivers can be signed when you arrive tomorrow evening. Ladies typically wear dresses and skirts as well as,” Arik couldn’t help but let his gaze wander to her neck, the slender, untouched column of her throat. “Neck-baring blouses.”
“I, uh, I’m hired?”
She wasn’t. Not really. She would be his personal, exclusive donor, but he would have to approach her slowly, carefully. Too fast and she would run. And there was nothing he liked more than a good chase. Unfortunately, current times did not allow for hunting and ravishing. Pity.
“Yes,” he nodded. “Return tomorrow evening after seven but no later than eleven. Donors don’t have set schedules, but those arriving after eleven are turned away.”
And if a single vamp’s gaze drifted over Zoe… there would be a membership opening at Claret.
“Oh.” She jerked back, eyes wide with surprise. “Oh. Right. Dress and flash the girls. Okay. I can do that.” He did not know what “flash the girls” meant, but he would find out. She reached out for his hand, cradling one of his between hers. “Thank you so much. Really. I just… I don’t know… Thank you.”
A voluntary touch from a female—a human female. Something he hadn’t experienced in… quite some time.
“You’re welcome, Zoe.” He liked the way her name felt on his lips.
A pulse of anger throbbed in the back of his mind and Arik knew he’d left Cason alone for too long. His bloodchild was furious with him and now Arik must soothe his feelings.
“Let me walk you out.”
“Oh! Of course. Yeah. I’m sure you’ve got others coming in and,” she waved her hand, flustered once more. Adorable. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She didn’t let him walk her to the door, and instead, raced through the maze of tables, leaving him alone in the center of the club floor. The outer door swung open, the afternoon rays piercing the darkness, but Arik stood his ground. He had nothing to fear from the sun any longer. Not in… at least three hundred years. He was strong enough to withstand its deadly effects. Perhaps that is why she thought he was human? And what did she think of Cason?
It was nothing more than a gentle breeze, a quick ruffle of the air, but it was enough for Arik. In a whip fast movement, he stretched out his arm, fingers curled in a claw, and grasped Cason by the throat. The younger vampire slammed to a halt and would have fallen if Arik’s grip hadn’t been so tight.
“Attacking from behind, Cason?” Arik shook his head and tsked. “I taught you better.”
Cason simply bared his fangs, the younger vamp’s frustration and anger beating at Arik’s mind like an unending drum.
Cason struggled in Arik’s grip, tugging and pulling against his hold, but Arik held him securely. Cason wouldn’t escape unless Arik allowed it. He did not.
Arik bent his elbow, drawing the still struggling vampire closer. He squeezed the other man’s throat, tightening the grip ever so lightly, but enough to make breathing difficult. “Listen to my words, Cason son of Arik,” he spoke softly, deadly serious. “You are not to lay a hand or fang on Zoe Spencer. No one is.”
“I… saw… her…” Cason rasped, ice blue eyes darkening.
“If you tell me you saw her first, I will pluck out your eyes.” Arik shook Cason. “Hear me. Do not touch her. Do not drink from her. She is mine.”
Arik shoved his bloodchild and turned away, returning to the back rooms. He would not think about what his words meant—to Zoe or to him.
Because with those three words, he’d painted a bloody, delicious, tempting target on Zoe Spencer’s back.
Everyone would want a taste.
And he’d have to destroy anyone who dared ask.
3
First day on the job and Zoe was already late. Already. Her hair was a mess, she smelled like fry oil, cigarette smoke, and beer, and she definitely wasn’t wearing a dress or any type of neck-baring sexiness.
She should just go home. She wasn’t a blood whore, uh, donor. She was Zoe Spencer, waitress times two. Now she had daily shifts at Nibbles from eleven to seven when she didn’t have to go to school at night. Then there was her evening waitressing gig at Glass from eight to two in the morning. That left her with… very few hours for sleep or school work. But if she pushed, between the tips from her waitressing and selling a little plasma, she’d make rent.
Hopefully.
But back to her not being a regularly scheduled donor. It wasn’t happening.
Okay, maybe it’d happen, but it’d be a “one night only” sort of performance. She’d already told Arik she’d show, and even if she was never coming back, she’d dropped Aubrey’s name to get the job. She didn’t want to flake out and have her behavior reflect on her roommate.
She jumped into her car, sliding behind the wheel and quickly starting the vehicle before whipping out her cell phone. No, she didn’t drive while on the phone. Yes, she did keep her conversation to a bare minimum.
Zoe called the loft, bouncing her knee while she waited for someone to answer. She didn’t care who as long as they could get her a dress and meet her at Claret.
It rang once, twice, and then finally a perky Gwen answered. “Gwen’s porno palace, wha
t’s your pleasure?”
Arik Lange.
Zoe mentally groaned and pushed the sexy man’s name out of her head. If she thought about Arik, she’d think about keeping the job at Claret just to see him, and if she kept the job… blood donor.
“Gwen, it’s Zoe. Get a dress out of my closet and meet me at Claret. Now.”
“Zoe?”
“Gwen. Closet. Dress. Claret. Emergency.”
“Snippy much?”
Zoe gritted her teeth. “Gwen.”
“Fine,” her roommate grumbled. “Fifteen minutes.”
Zoe glanced at the clock. That’d put her friend there at ten fifty-five, which gave her five minutes to strip and change in the parking lot before the doors closed to her.
“Thanks.” She ended the call and tossed her phone aside, putting the car into gear and tearing off into the night, relieved she had the clothing covered. She just had to get there.
Except, when she got there, she discovered the deities of the world hated her. Pick one, any one, and it decided today was gonna be Hate Zoe day.
Gwen got to Claret all right. She even had one of Zoe’s dresses. Unfortunately, she was wearing the dress and the one she’d chosen was a teeny, tiny black dress her roommates bought during one of their “let’s make over Zoe” periods.
She launched herself out of her car and snatched her friend’s hand, tugging her back to the vehicle.
“Z, what— “
She ignored Gwen and shoved her into the passenger seat before she started unbuttoning her shirt. “Dress. Gimme.”
“What?”
“Gwen, I wanted you to bring me a dress, not wear it. I can’t go in unless I’m wearing a dress or skirt with preferably, a low neckline.” She waved her hand at her roommate. “So, strip.”
“I’m not— “
“So help me, Gwen Carlisle, I will call up your mother and—” And there were countless things Zoe could reveal to steady and staid Mrs. Carlisle.
