by Trisha Telep
“You’re good,” he said, his gaze fixed on the large abstract hanging on the far wall.
“You’re just saying that because I saved your afterlife.”
He grinned and then a serious expression lit up his face. “I mean it. You’re really good. You ought to take these to a gallery.”
“So sayeth the painkillers,” I said, but I couldn’t suppress the tiny thrill that went through me. A gallery? Me? Did he really think . . .
Maybe.
We talked so much that by the time his wound actually healed, I felt a little sad. Max Marchette had stopped being a vampire and started being real, and I actually liked him.
He was leaving tonight and, oddly enough, I didn’t want him to go.
I spent the last few hours before sunset watching him sleep. I couldn’t help myself. He wasn’t working his vamp mojo on me, yet I still though he was the hottest-looking guy I’d ever seen. He had a broad chest sprinkles with dark hair that whorled into a tiny funnel that bisected his six-pack and dipped below the edge of the sheet. He smelled like excitement and danger and something I couldn’t quite identify.
Something rich and sweet and decadent.
My stomach grumbled and I found myself thinking about how long it had been since I’d actually had sex.
I hadn’t even masturbated lately and so when Max Marchette finally opened his eyes just as the sun dipped below the horizon it was no wonder that I couldn’t resist the sudden lust that flare in the dark depths.
He didn’t say anything and I didn’t say anything. We just stared at each other. And then it happened.
He reached for me, pulling me onto the bed, pressing me down into the mattress. He kissed me, plunging his tongue inside to explore and savour until I gasped for breath. I felt his erection, hard and eager against my stomach, and I knew this was it. The moment I’d been waiting for since that very first kiss.
He nibbled a path down my neck and I tilted my head back. Pleasure rushed my brain and the anticipation built. He licked his way down the slope of my breast and found my nipple. I gasped, burying my hands in his hair, holding him close. My legs parted and I felt him hard and hot, pushing into me –
“Wait–” I gasped, but he silenced me with a quick, desperate kiss.
“You won’t catch anything from me,” he murmured against my lips. It was the oldest line when it came to sex, yet a valid one in this particular situation.
Because Max wasn’t a typical guy. He was a vampire.
The thought stirred even more than it spooked and I opened my legs wider. In one swift thrust, he plunged into me. Pleasure burst through me and the air lodged in my chest.
I stared up at him and his eyes blazed back at me. Hot. Bright. The tendons in his neck tightened. His jaw clenched. His mouth fell open and his fangs gleamed.
But I wasn’t afraid. I knew he wouldn’t bite me. Not without my consent. If he had wanted to, he would have done it long before now to speed up his healing.
No, this wasn’t about blood. It was about sex.
I wrapped my legs around him as he buried himself deep. And then he started to move. In and out. In. Out. Until my body tightened and I came with a loud moan. He followed, bucking and groaning, his muscles strung tight.
He collapsed beside me, pulling me up next to him, his arm around me. I nuzzled his neck and tried to catch my breath. My hand crept across his chest.
I lay there for several long moments. Finally, once my heartbeat had slowed and I could actually think, I opened my eyes. My gaze caught the ID card sitting on the nightstand and the enormity of what I’d done crashed down around me. I’d not only violated the SOB creed and saved a vampire, I’d slept with him, fallen for him.
I had. I realized this as I lay there my head in the crook of his shoulder, his heart beating a steady rhythm against my palm.
I was a failure. A traitor.
Oddly enough, this didn’t make me feel all that bad. Because Max Marchette, vampire or not, felt so right.
I wasn’t sure how I was going to tell my family or pay my bills or anything, and yet I knew deep inside it would all wok out somehow. Maybe with my painting. Maybe not. Either way, everything would be OK. I felt peaceful, calm, confident.
Mesmerized.
It’s that old vamp magic. That’s what I told myself, but I didn’t believe it. I’d seen the surprise in his eyes when he hadn’t been able to read my thoughts. I was different. He was different.
His hand stroked down my spine and a shiver went through me. My body started crying for more.
“This is definitely the end of my career as a SOB,” I murmured.
He rolled me over to tower above me and stare deep into my eyes. My heart gave a little kick. “One ending is just another beginning.”
I eyed him, a smile playing at my lips. “And this is the beginning of what?”
He grinned. “Us.” And then he kissed me again.
What’s at Stake
Alexis Morgan
“Has the accused been brought in yet?”
Josalyn Sloan prided herself on her stoic control. Her escort shook his head, but gave no indication that he thought her question was anything but professional curiosity. After all, why would he? As far as anyone knew, this was just one more case, one more judgement to confirm, one more execution to carry out.
She’d originally thought the assignment was someone’s poor idea of a joke. But, no, the request for her services had come straight from the prisoner himself. Standing at parade rest, she kept her hands firmly clasped behind her back. It was imperative that she maintain a calm façade when she walked into the interrogation room to face the most powerful vampire of his generation – Rafferty O’Day, her former friend and almost lover.
The door on the far side of the room opened as a uniformed guard stepped through and motioned her forwards. “The prisoner is ready for you, Chancellor. Please leave any weapons out here.”
Josalyn curled her lip in disdain. “You dare tell me how to do my job? Did you think I would stake him this quickly? Where’s the fun in that?”
Shoving her way past the startled guard, she held up her scanner. The dials immediately lit up and shrieked, setting off an ear-piercing alarm.
She spun back towards the guard. “Turn off whatever monitors you have running in there. If they come on again while I’m interviewing the prisoner, I will report the infraction to my superiors. I’m sure they will be only too glad to let me express my displeasure any way I choose.” Stepping closer to the guard, she used her superior height to her advantage and glared down into his frightened eyes. “The prisoner may be as guilty as hell, but he’s not without his rights unless I say so. Interfere with my investigation again and there will be a price paid in blood. Your blood. I’m sure the prisoner would like something fresher than that bagged stuff you’ve been feeding him.”
This time she included her escort in her promise. “And if he walks because of a miscarriage of justice, you two will be sitting in that cell.”
Then she smiled, showing her own fangs to emphasize her point, reminding the two human males that while she was not actually a vampire herself, she certainly wasn’t human either. Like all Chancellors, she was something between the two other species, and stronger than she looked.
The guard punched a code into the keypad by the door. Evidently he forgot that along with her superior strength, she could also hear far better than he allowed for. His mumbled, “pushy bitch!” came through loud and clear, despite the continued shrieking of her scanner.
She leaned in close again, dropping her voice to an angry whisper. “Oh, sweetie, you have no idea how pushy I can be. Better hope you never find out.” Then she walked through the door and slammed it behind her.
She took one last deep breath to ease the knot of nerves in her chest. Nothing was going to make this any easier, so she pushed the door open. She kept her eyes firmly on the door itself, not wanting to face Rafferty one second before she had to. Reminding herself
that she was no coward and delaying any further wouldn’t help, she entered the holding cell.
After checking her scanner one last time, she stepped towards the table. Rafferty didn’t look up, giving her eyes a few precious seconds to drink their fill. His hair was shaggier than she remembered, and the usual shine of his unique blend of chestnut and blonde was missing. Obviously, the North American Coalition didn’t waste money on prisoner hygiene.
But she wasn’t here to judge Rafferty’s appearance, only his guilt or innocence. Once she was convinced he’d been fairly tried and convicted, then she would decide how he would die. Some of her kindred loved to draw out the process, soaking up the fear and pain to savour long after their prisoner had breathed his last. She didn’t approve of either their attitudes or their techniques.
She was paid to execute, not torture, and then only after she completed her own investigation. If she disagreed with the court’s findings, she could overturn their decision. It was the only thing that made her job bearable.
Rafferty stirred, the chains that bound him to his chair rattling slightly as he straightened up and at long last met her gaze.
“Josalyn.”
“Rafferty,” She sat down across from him and pulled out her notes on the case.
“I apologize for not standing.”
His smile looked a bit strained as he tugged on his chains with no real show of strength. His wrists were already raw and bloody from previous attempts. She considered ordering the restraints removed. The Rafferty she had worked with wouldn’t hurt her, but judging by the fury burning in those ice-blue eyes, maybe he’d changed. His face was thinner, too, as if all the charm and easy smiles had been burned away.
She leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs at the ankles. “I’ve reviewed your case. Anything you want to tell me?”
He shrugged. If I said I was innocent, would you believe me?”
She’d wanted to, but the evidence had been pretty damning. “I’ll listen to your version of the facts. It’s as much as I can promise.”
“Then I won’t waste my breath, Joss. Send me back to my cell. I’m missing my evening nap.”
She ignored his use of his pet name for her. “If you didn’t want to talk to me, why request my services? A hundred other Chancellors would’ve jumped at the chance to handle your case.”
Josalyn sat in stony silence while she waited fro him to respond. The truth was he’d been offered a list of Chancellors to choose from, but hers was the only name he’d considered. If he were to die the final time, ending his long life, he wanted her face to be the last thing he saw.
She’d hate knowing that, especially when it was too late for either of them to do anything about it. Rather than tell her the simple truth, he settled for the easy lie.
“I knew you’d at least try to make it painless for me.”
Josalyn slammed the file down on the table as she leaned forwards to glare at him. “This is no game, Rafferty, I may not always like my job, but I am damn good at it. Painless or not, you’ll still be dead.”
He hoped not. He really did, but it was too early to predict how this was going to play out. His gut feeling was that his chances for survival had improved dramatically when Josalyn had sauntered through the door.
“Talk to me Rafferty.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I don’t want . . .”
When she didn’t go on, he prodded her a bit “. . . to be the one to shove a stake through my heart? Or to think me capable of murder? We both know I’m only here because the dead guy was human and not vampire.” He was baiting her and they both knew it.
“Stop it, Rafferty. You know as well as I do that I’m not paid to make moral judgements. My job as Chancellor is to review the testimony, verify the facts and then decide whether you received a fair trial.”
“All right, fine. Where do you want me to start?”
“At the beginning works for me.” She sounded as tired as he felt.
Where it really all started for him might not be what she had in mind, but it was his story.
“Remember the first time you sat down across a table from me?” He didn’t wait for her answer. “Well, I do. You were nervous. It was your first negotiation as an Arbitrator facing a room full of angry humans and vampires. I don’t even remember what we were feuding over.”
Josalyn shook her head in disgust. “The humans said your younglings were preying on theirs. The truth was that the humans ventured into vamp territory on a dare and some paid the price.”
Rafferty fought the urge to smile. The meeting had been as memorable for her as it had been for him. “As I said, the details escape me, but the image of you is sharp and clear. Despite being outnumbered, you took charge and didn’t stop until both sides conceded defeat.” She’d been so vibrant, so beautiful, but she wouldn’t want to hear that from him. Not yet.
“This stroll through the past is entertaining, but it’s not getting us anywhere.”
OK, so maybe he would tell her. “That meeting changed everything. I’d never met anyone quite like you. Before that, I hated mandatory time on the Coalition Council: being shut up for days and days with the stench of humans, arguing over the stupidest details. The day you came in as the new Arbitrator was the real beginning of this mess.”
Josalyn surged to her feet, her eyes blazing. “So the fact that you’ve been convicted of murder is now my fault? That’s your defence?”
“No, but meeting you was the catalyst.” He waited for her to sink back down into her seat. “I was the chief negotiator that first time only because they forced me. After that, I volunteered as often as I could without raising suspicions, but I wasn’t cautious enough. My interest in you must have become too obvious.”
Josalyn was always quick to understand the subtext of any conversation. “So, that’s why your mate-to-be hated me.”
“Yeah, well, Petra hated me more.” She hated him enough to arrange to have him executed, at least.
“Did she have reason to?”
He answered her real question. “I have to feed, Joss, even when she’s not around. That’s part of what we are and has no significance other than simple sustenance. Besides, Petra chose me because of my status, not out of any emotional attachment. When she grew increasingly unhappy about my prolonged absences on Coalition business, I happily offered to end our connection. After all, there are others among our kind who would meet her requirements in a mate just as well. She didn’t hesitate to accept my offer.”
Josalyn arched an eyebrow, clearly questioning the truth of that statement.
“What are you thinking, Joss?”
“I think you badly underestimated Petra’s feelings for you. If she hates you enough to destroy you, she must have loved you.”
Rafferty had considered that option and rejected it. “I doubt Petra is capable of loving anyone other than herself. No, I think she figured out that the real reason I set her free was to be with you. If I had formed an alliance with another female of our kind, she would’ve accepted my decision. After all, she’d dissolved a previous connection of her own to pursue one with me. I’m convinced she viewed my interest in you as an insult to her standing among our kind.”
He leaned back in his chair and waited for the explosion. It wasn’t long in coming.
“Rafferty, we never crossed the line, no matter what she thought. Not once. Not ever.” Josalyn lurched to her feet to pace the short distance across the room and back.
“That’s not quite true Joss.”
She froze mid-step and slowly turned to face him. “You mean the night you fed from me.”
The heat in his gaze reminded her of the truth, not that she’d really forgotten. Her hand itched to touch the twin scars he’d left, but she managed to control the urge. He knew where they were, even if no one else did. How could they? The small marks weren’t where anyone could see them except during a medical exam.
Her mind shifted back to that night. The vampires had been feuding amongst th
emselves, with allegiances changing from day to day, even hour to hour. As Rafferty had reminded her, feeding from each other was normal, even expected. But vampire politics were complicated, and someone in Rafferty’s position had to be careful whom he picked even as a temporary partner. Rather than risk his neutrality, he’d gone too long between feedings.
From the beginning, they had often taken long walks together, keeping to the public pathways. On much rarer occasions, Rafferty had walked her home after the night-long meetings, but always stopping at the end of the street to maintain the illusion their friendship was casual at best.
But that one night, it all changed. He’d been on the verge of collapse after the meeting. Her home was the closest, so she’d dragged him there and offered him her wrist or her neck. He’d refused because the evidence would be impossible to hide. With dawn but a short time away, she’d offered him another, much more intimate choice. She could still feel the sweet brush of his lips on her skin as he’d slowly lowered his mouth to the pulse point at the top of her thigh. One touch was all it had taken to have her craving his body on hers, in hers. They’d been strong enough to resist the overwhelming temptation, a fact she’d regretted more with each passing day.
“You were dying.”
“That was only an excuse, however true.” He started to stand up, obviously forgetting the chains. “I was out of my mind with the need to simply touch you. I’d already decided to break off my betrothal.”
“You never told me that.” Not that it would have mattered. She’d resigned her position, knowing she could no longer be neutral in any dispute that involved Rafferty.
