The Bride of Casa Dracula

by Marta Acosta

  “That will be fine,” Ian said.

  As she went to get our drinks, I slumped back against the chair. “Why, why, why.”

  “Because we are vampires.”

  “Go ahead, then. Have a glass of Sandra or Bob.”

  “My taste for human blood has been somewhat spoiled by something finer,” he said lightly.

  We sat silently until the waitress came back and poured the otter blood in wineglasses for us. She topped them with a salty Italian mineral water, added dashes of Worcestershire sauce and Tabasco, and a squeeze of lime. I tasted mine. It was pleasantly briny and the citrus set off the depth of the otter. “Very nice. Thank you.”

  The blood went zinging into my system, reviving me. I looked up to see Ian watching me. Other things started zinging in my body. I listened to the music, a romantic old Van Morrison song. “Cornelia told me that you taught her to like all kinds of music.”

  “She gives me too much credit. She’s always loved music.”

  Like a tumbler in a lock clicking into place, I realized something. “You’re Mercedes’s investor.” He nodded. “Why didn’t she say anything to me?”

  “Mercedes thought it was a good idea to keep friendship and money separate, and I agreed.”

  “Oh, so I wouldn’t feel compelled to be nice to you on her behalf.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched upward. “No, she didn’t want you to feel guilty on her behalf the next time you and I had some conflict. She seemed to think it was bound to happen.”

  “Mercedes is one smart galleta.”

  “Without a doubt.”

  “When are we going to argue next?”

  “Soon, I imagine,” he said.

  “You’re probably right.” I realized we’d both shifted in our seats to mirror each other’s positions. I remembered seeing him for the first time and how he’d made me think sex, sex, sex.

  I said, “It seems like a long time since we first met. I was so clueless about your kind, stuck out there at the ranch with Winnie hating me and Edna treating me like some two-bit skank.”

  “You were holding your own, Young Lady.”

  “I thought you were flirting with me just because I was there.”

  “Not so. I’d gone there especially to meet you. Cornelia insisted on coming along, complicating matters as she does. From all reports, I expected you to be a rather obvious fortune-hunter.”

  “The Council still tries to buy me with money.”

  “When it’s affection that you value. I would have had better luck with you if I’d offered you a kitten,” he said and smiled. “I thought you’d be impressed with me, because-”

  “Because you’re an impressive man. Women want you and men want to be you.”

  “You’re mocking me now,” he said.

  “A little. But it’s still true.” We sat quietly and finally I put my hand on his, and that simple contact made the warmth rush through me. I trembled with the sensation. “You feel that, too, don’t you? Something different than with others.”

  “It’s always been different with you, Milagro. Every time you’re near…” He stopped speaking and I looked into his dark brown eyes and I felt us breathing in time with each other.

  In a matter of moments, he had paid and we were out the door, in the alley. My thoughts were a filthy mess of selfish justifications. I thought of Nancy’s trifecta, and I thought of my true love for Oswald, and I thought of having one last night of wanton sluttery, and I thought that sex with Ian would stop my recurring fantasies of him. But more than anything, I thought, I want him, I want him, and all my morals and ethics were nothing compared to the way my blood recognized and desired his, moving in me like the ocean to the pull of the moon.

  Ian shoved me against the rough stone wall and kissed me, his mouth tasting the way I remembered, but more delicious in its familiarity. His leg parted my thighs as his lips went to my neck.

  My hands were running down his back, pulling him to me. His scent aroused me, too, and the feel of the muscles under his clothes. We made our way, grabbing and kissing, to a modern house on a hillside street.

  As soon as we were inside, I began yanking off his jacket and his shirt. We undressed as we moved to the master bedroom. I shrugged out of my coat, and he pulled off my dress, leaving me only in panties, bra, and heels. He went to the fireplace, lighting a match under the kindling, and in seconds flames flickered yellow and blue.

  It was as if my every capillary came alive and the entire surface of my skin was erogenous. My blood rushed up to meet his touch, and I had to feel all of him. I rushed to unbuckle his belt and pull down his slacks while he was trying to take off his shoes and socks. We would have fallen over, but he held me around the waist and soon we were naked, clutching each other.

  I spread my fingers out on his chest and his muscular shoulders, thinking him beautiful, loving the look of him.

  He pushed me back and lifted me atop the dresser. I wrapped my legs around his waist, and I began nipping his skin. His smooth self-control was gone, and he shuddered as I stroked him.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw the gleam of the gold penknife. I grabbed it and pulled away far enough from Ian to open it. “Ian.”

  “Yes,” he said, and I did something I’d never done before. I didn’t hesitate, but quickly drew the blade across his shoulder, deep enough to break the skin. I pressed my mouth to the blood that welled there. Pleasure, exquisite and crimson, engulfed me in the seconds before the skin smoothed over the wound. I cut him again on his chest, this time using my tongue to pry the cut open for additional seconds of pleasure.

  My body opened to him instinctively and my blood called out so insistently that I handed Ian the knife and said, “Hurry.”

  He scored an arc on the upper curve of my breast, but instead of pain, it was an amazing release. His body shook as he drank my blood and we moved against each other. Handing the knife back and forth. Once holding our palms together against the blade, then smearing the blended blood on each other.

  We licked and bit each other like animals. No, like vampires.

  When we were done, I kept my legs and arms around him and he carried me over to the bed, where we collapsed panting.

  “You’re intoxicating,” I said and used the tip of the knife to prick his neck. I sucked at the thick drop of blood and moaned.

  “You’re the only one I’ve ever let take my blood.”

  I knew it wasn’t true, but I wasn’t going to bring up his parents’ abuse now.

  “My own girl,” he said, using his endearment for me.

  “Do you call Ilena that?”

  “Only you,” he said, and I wanted to believe it.

  We spent the night in a mad tumble across every surface of the room, and all through the hours we savored each other’s blood. I felt liberated from caution and able to use my strength without fear of hurting him.

  I wanted the night to last forever, but dawn came as we were in the shower, exhausted but sliding our soapy hands over each other, still kissing and biting.

  When we came out of the bathroom, wrapped in towels, the sight of the bedsheets flecked with drying blood did not bother me.

  I leaned against Ian and said, “I’ll have to go soon.”

  “Why?”

  “This was my last hurrah. I’ve got to get home.”

  He stepped away from me suddenly. “Aren’t you staying?”

  “I’ve already stayed too long. Now we both move on. You to Ilena, and me to my marriage.”

  He looked astounded, then angry. “How long do I have to wait for you to get over your childish infatuation with Grant?”

  “I love Oswald.”

  “If you love him, why are you here with me?”

  “I don’t know…” I said and I didn’t. “Because every time you’re around, you make my life more confused. Things with Oswald were fabulous until you gave me your blood.”

  “If I hadn’t, you would have died.”

  “If I
hadn’t been with you, I wouldn’t have been hurt.”

  “You asked me to accompany you that night,” he said. “You continue to act as if all of this is merely accidental, that we are merely accidental.”

  “It is, and we are. I didn’t intend this. I don’t want to want you.”

  Ian stared at me a moment and then he said, “Get out. Get out of my life.” He turned and left the room.

  I don’t know where he went, but he wasn’t in the living room when I collected my clothes and dressed.

  I’d been wrong: I had been able to hurt Ian.

  I had acted without regard for Oswald, but now I felt a wracking guilt for treating Ian as if he was disposable. And that misplaced emotion left me wondering exactly what kind of heartless, twisted bitch I’d become.

  I walked outside and didn’t recognize the neighborhood. I teetered on my heels down the hill and toward the water. I found my hotel, got my things together, and headed north. It was time to straighten out my relationship and my life.

  I knew one thing for certain now: I knew I was capable of doing the things that would make me a proper vampire bride for Oswald.

  twenty

  seriously on the rocks with a twist

  O swald was in the study and there were neat piles of folders on his desk, and coffee mugs here and there.

  “I’m home, honey,” I said, hoping that my voice didn’t sound too flagrantly whorish. I went to kiss him, suddenly paranoid that he would smell Ian on me. Which was impossible. I’d showered again at the hotel, and the only thing on my clothes was the faint stench of mothballs from the ride.

  “Hi, Mil,” he said, looking confused. “What are you doing here?”

  I dropped onto the sofa. “I live here and I’m going to stay here. I didn’t see your grandmother’s car out there.”

  “She’s staying with Winnie and Sam this week.”

  “She never seems to be home anymore,” I said, both bothered that Edna was gone again and relieved that I wouldn’t have to hide anything from her sharp eyes. I pulled a business card out of my pocket and picked up the phone. I punched in a long series of numbers.

  “Who are you calling?”

  I smiled at him, and when the woman on the other end of the line answered, “Hello,” I said, “Mrs. Smith, this is Milagro De Los Santos. I’d like to speak to Mr. Nixon.”

  Oswald had abruptly stood up and was mouthing “Stop! Stop!”

  I turned away from him and said, “Yes, well tell Mr. Nixon that I’ve changed my mind about all of our agreements. The Council is stuck with me and I’m stuck with them, and I strongly recommend that they get over themselves.”

  Oswald was now standing in front of me, trying to grab the phone from my hand. I hunched over it and covered the mouthpiece, saying, “She put me on hold. What is it?”

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “I’m declaring my independence,” I said.

  Mrs. Smith got back on the line and said, “Mr. Nixon will be coming to meet with you and Dr. Grant in two days.”

  “Fine,” I told her. “I’ll give him a tour of the countryside. If he’s not afraid of heights, I’ll take him to a winery that has a funicular. Everyone loves a funicular. Adios.”

  I hung up and said to Oswald, “Nixon’s coming to visit in two days.”

  He ran his hands through his hair and said, “I can’t believe you just did that.”

  “Believe it, because it’s done. I’m starving. Do you want some lunch?”

  He didn’t want lunch. He wanted to argue with me. He was shouting that I should call back and apologize, while I made a pot of coffee and whipped up an omelet. “But I’m not sorry. I should have done this from the beginning.”

  “What is wrong with you? Why are you throwing all our work away?”

  “You’ve been going along with the Council for my sake, and I’ve been going along with them for your sake, and neither of us is happy. The fact is that even if I do everything they want, they’ll never fully accept me, and I’m done with trying to alter who I am for others. I’m done with selling out.”

  “Ensuring your security is not selling out.”

  “Then why do I feel so compromised, Oswald?”

  I ate while he glared at me, and then I took the scraps out to the cats. Oswald followed me outside and watched me looking for them.

  “Where are the cats?”

  “Under the house. Unless your wolf ate them.”

  “Ha ha and ha,” I said, even though it was possible. I left the food out for them. “Has Pal been around?”

  “Not since you left. Don’t you want to ask me how I’ve been?”

  I looked at the man in front of me. Even tired and rumpled, he was fabulous. “Besides being angry with me, how are you?”

  “The deal with Vidalia is going through. She’s going to cover things so we can take a real honeymoon for a month. Anywhere you want to go.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  I threw my arms around him and kissed him, wishing I didn’t feel so tainted. “Thank you, Oswald. You are wonderful and good and I love you.”

  He pushed me back so he could look at me, and I saw that he was still upset with me. “When I come back, we’re expanding the business. Since you’re declaring your independence, I’m going to declare mine, too. I’d like to work as much as I need to, without getting grief from you.”

  Be careful what you wish for…“All right, but can we do something-make a fresh start? Let’s not have any more surprises. Let’s not try to change each other, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Oswald, I went to Bar None yesterday.”

  He looked uncomfortable. “I was going to tell you about it.”

  “It’s fine, but you’ve got to realize that I’m more creeped out by the family secrets than by-well, I’m still creeped out by a bar with people on the menu, but you’ve got to stop trying to protect me. It just puts me in the position of looking stupid.”

  “It’s difficult not to keep secrets after a lifetime of hiding who you are.”

  “Oswald, there’s nothing you could do or say that would make me love you less,” I said. “Now when am I going to meet Vidalia?”

  “Soon. You’ll like her even though she’s serious. She’s got killer recommendations and incredible empathy for those who want to transform themselves.”

  For some reason I thought of Don Pedro’s dream of me as a pretty bat and I smiled. “I think the desire to transform oneself is universal. Ask Vidalia when she can make it to dinner.”

  He brushed my hair back from my face. “I’m going to run to the clinic for a few consults. I can reschedule them if you like.”

  “Do what you have to do.”

  “I’ll be home later. Love you.”

  “Me, too.”

  I did love him. He was a kind man, a good man, a man who deserved someone better than me.

  We’d get married and I’d adjust to his career drive and he’d adjust to my more meandering writing efforts. We’d be happy here with Edna in the cottage and Sam and Winnie visiting. His parents and I would establish a truce, and I’d find another literary agent and prove to Oswald that writing was a legitimate vocation. If Pal came back, I’d adopt him officially, get a license and shots for him, and have him neutered.

  I would be faithful to Oswald for as long as I lived. I would be worthy of his love.

  After Oswald left, I still felt amped up. I went through my mail and found the shipment from the Womyn’s Sexual Health Collective. I left the fuzzy pink handcuffs on Oswald’s desk in his study and hid the other items for our wedding night.

  Then I changed into my jeans and drove to the nursery. Joseph was busy helping a few customers, so I explored the row of annuals and waited. When he came out, he said, “So, peaches, where’ve you been?”

  “Went to the City to finish a few projects. How’s business?”

  “I could still use some help. Any chance you’d be intere
sted in a few hours for the next week?”

  “We’ve got a guest coming, but if you don’t mind me working around that, I can help out.”

  He didn’t, and I started my duties by arranging a display of plants to tantalize customers. I enjoyed arranging the plants as an example of ways to use foliage for texture and color and how flowers could be used to accent structure.

  While I worked I wondered if I should have thrown myself at Oswald’s feet, confessed, and begged for forgiveness. Something was wrong with me, however, and though I knew that I had done something wrong, wrong, wrong, I didn’t regret my night with Ian. I told myself that Oswald would benefit from my indiscretion when I gave him what he most wanted, my blood.

  When I finished the displays, I went into the small office at one side of the retail shop and made a mock-up of the descriptive placards that could be used to help customers. I’d turned on the radio and was listening to salsa when Joseph came into the office.

  “I just closed up,” he said. “What have you got there?”

  “It’s a sample of a sign that you can use for lesser known varieties. I’ll add in growing requirements and suggestions so people will know how to use them in their garden. The right plant for the right place and all that. People buy more if they have information and a photo of the mature plant.”

  “Good idea,” he said. He watched me as I stapled the label to a stake and then put the stake in a one-gallon tricolor abelia. “I wish I knew how to dance.”

  “Interesting non sequitur,” I said. “Everyone can dance.”

  “I mean partner dance. I want to take the princess out when she comes back, but I don’t know how to dance to this.”

  I put down the plant and said, “I’ll teach you and I won’t even charge for it.”

  I cranked up the volume and we went to the shop, where there was a clear area in front of the counter. I taught him to dance the way that Mercedes had taught me. First we listened to the music until Joseph was able to hear the two-measure phrases and clap on the beat, and then I guided him in the basic moves. He stepped on my feet a few times, but otherwise he moved well for a big guy. “You’re not half bad,” I said.