I was not going to bear Maddock’s child. Not now or ever.
As I drank the mixture, I hoped God wouldn’t punish me for praying over a brew made by witches.
The rabies syringe was already loaded so I didn’t have to pretend to know what I was doing. I tucked it into my pants pocket, fluffed my hair, put on lipstick and studied myself in the mirror.
Not bad, considering.
I walked to the window, staring out at the lake. I was going to wait until I walked out there to summon Maddock. If he obeyed as he had in the past, it would only be a matter of minutes until he joined me.
Fear jelled in my stomach, then grabbed my heart and shook it for a few minutes. My pulse, normally slow, was sounding like a drum solo.
I walked out of Arthur’s Folly, past a silent Dan and Mike standing like bookends on either side of the door.
From the house the gazebo looked as if it was floating unattached in the lake, a lily pad constructed of cedar and green shingles. Hidden from sight of the house was a wide dock. I took the long walk slowly, my sneakers almost soundless on the boards.
In the middle of the gazebo were two couches. I sat on one of them, watching as night fell over Arthur’s Folly with a tender touch, the air turning hazy like gauze.
I closed my eyes, hearing the water slap against the deck. Night blooming jasmine perfumed the air. Soon, the flowers would die back for our version of winter only to be resurrected come spring.
Faint lights surrounding the gazebo snapped on, the click as loud as a death knell.
It was time.
I clasped my hands together, bowed my head, forcing myself to take a deep breath. Droplets of terror clung to my backbone then slid coldly down my skin.
I was as frightened as I’ve ever been and after the last few weeks, that was saying something.
Come to me. Niccolo, come to me.
“Of all the creatures I have ever known,” he said from someplace close, “you are the only one with the ability to summon me.”
I am Dirugu.
The comment was so loud it sounded like thunder yet it was only a thought. My thought although I had no conscious knowledge of planning to say it.
I opened my eyes to find him standing five feet in front of me.
His dark blue suit was impeccably tailored, his shirt a subdued pattern on crisp white, the conservative dark blue interspersed with a faint yellow stripe. He wore gold cufflinks and the stone winking in the middle of each was probably a diamond.
“Can you fly, Duke?”
“Come with me and discover for yourself, Marcie.”
He held out his hand. I ignored it. A moment later, he dropped it to his side.
“Any of my powers are dwarfed by yours, Marcie. I cannot be awake during daylight and the sun will kill me.”
Something arced between us, power versus power, need vying against need and a little fear besides. He was old and mildly deranged, strong and ruthless. I was new and semi-sane, gaining in power and more compassionate than was safe. Yet I was his equal in this moment and he knew it.
I was going to keep that advantage.
He looked over the gazebo and the lake, taking in Arthur’s Folly sitting impervious and aloof, the picture of a medieval fortress.
“You are…unexpected,” he said, turning back to look at me. “You have made strange allies.”
I hadn’t reasoned out exactly how I was going to do this. Sometimes, too much planning was bad, destroying the creativity of the moment. I took advantage of his comment to smile at him.
I’d not practiced, but I sent an image to him, a memory of us mussing up his silk sheets, his arms and legs intertwined with mine. I’d wanted to swallow him whole, become part of him, feeling acute bursts of pleasure in my endless climaxes.
He looked directly at me, the gazebo lights glittering off the warmth in his eyes.
“I would have done it differently if you’d given me a sign,” he said.
“You mean, not drug me?” I managed, somehow, to keep my smile in place.
“Would it be necessary now?”
I coyly looked away, then back at him as if I couldn’t bear to miss the sight of him for one second. Another instance of Maddock’s arrogance, to believe any female could lust for him to that degree.
Spanish Fly or Ecstasy and a halfway decent vibrator will get the same result. Good sex was more than penetration; it was laughter and connection, respect and friendship.
I smiled again, sending him a look from beneath my lashes. It wasn’t hunger rolling through my stomach. This was most definitely nausea, not so much for what I was about to do but how I had to act in order to do it.
He came to my side, brushed off the cushion with a handkerchief and sat.
I fingered the syringe in my pocket, masking my thoughts and clogging my mind by thinking of sex.
He whispered something in Italian to me. He could have been reciting the recipe for ravioli and I wouldn’t have known the difference. It still sounded sexy.
Maybe I should whisper the words I knew in Italian. Chef Boyardee, manicotti, ravioli, stromboli, fellatio? Was that even Italian?
When I was in my twenties and still unbearably naive - I was a testament to Nonnie’s protective impulses - I thought fellatio was some sort of Italian ice cream. My first lover had taught me how wrong I was, but I still didn’t know if it was Italian. Besides, mentioning fellatio to Maddock would give him the exact wrong idea.
Evidently, however, I was transmitting something because his eyes glittered. He leaned forward, his lips skimming over my cheek and down my throat.
The better to nibble you, my dear.
No, I definitely didn’t want Maddock’s lips anywhere near my carotid artery.
Pulling back, I placed my left palm on his cool cheek, smiling into his dark eyes.
“Niccolo,” I said.
“Forgive me,” he interjected before I could come up with sweet nothings to whisper.
The apology startled me, but not enough to forget my mission. I flipped off the safety cap of the syringe with my thumb.
“Forgive me, Marcie. I should not have compelled you.”
If he hadn’t would it have been rape? Or would I have willingly gone to bed with him? I had Doug as an example of what I would do if I was turned on - an on again, off again, relationship with a vampire was so dead end. If you’ll pardon the pun.
I lowered my eyelids. If I had a fan I would have fluttered it. I’d never before been the consummate Southern Belle but I had a damn good reason for playing vapid right now - my life.
I palmed the syringe in my right hand, wishing it wasn’t so big. But I’d planned to go through his clothes if I couldn’t access his bare skin. If I didn’t say, “Down, boy,” soon, I was faced with the prospect of being taken by Maddock in full view of Arthur’s Folly.
I could just imagine Dan’s reaction to that.
Maddock kissed me. I threw myself into his embrace, my left hand gripping his shoulder, the right plunging the syringe into the back of his neck.
He reared back, one hand clamped on his neck as the syringe clattered to the floor.
“What have you done, Marcie?”
An unearthly calm descended over me, as deep and impenetrable as night itself.
“Nothing you didn’t do to me, Niccolo. Shafted you. Abused you. Tricked you.”
“What have you given me?”
I smiled and lied. “A touch of what you gave me, Niccolo. I wanted to know how you felt to be the victim. Tell me, are you ready to be raped?”
He backhanded me then, the power of his blow knocking me from the couch and sending me skidding across the wood of the deck.
Standing, he came after me, no doubt intending to kick me into submission. One thing I hadn’t considered - the strength of a five hundred year old vampire. Compared to Maddock I was a limp piece of lettuce.
I raised my hands in an attempt to defend myself, then blinked as something beige and furry catapulted p
ast me, landing squarely on Maddock’s chest and knocking him down. I heard the growls before I registered what I was seeing.
Rising up on one elbow I watched as Mutt grabbed a mouthful of Maddock’s pants, hoping he connected with Niccolo’s flesh as well. I knew vampires could heal fast. Could they regenerate chunks of tissue? I’d almost pay to see Maddock’s lumpy derriere.
Maddock batted at the dog, but Mutt was too fast for him, retreating to avoid a swipe, ducking under his arm to bite at him again.
My knight in furry armor.
I stared at Mutt who now had his jaw firmly clamped on the vampire’s ankle.
How fast was Maddock’s metabolism? I didn’t want the rabies virus to affect Mutt.
Standing, I made my way to their side. Dog and man looked up as I stood there. I motioned Mutt away with a swipe of my hand. He shook his head but relinquished Maddock’s ankle anyway.
“It’s time for you to leave, Niccolo,” I said, envisioning him transforming into a bat and flying away.
“I do not become a bat,” he said, his eyes narrowing.
Mutt sat back on his haunches, growling, his gaze darting from Maddock to me.
“We haven’t finished this, Marcie.”
“No, we haven’t,” I said, watching him take several steps back from Mutt and me.
He brushed himself off, taking care not one speck of dust from the deck marred his sartorial purity. In the next second he vanished in a pop of sound.
One of these days I had to figure out how he did that. It wasn’t perception. I’d seen him leave.
I made my way to the bench and sat heavily.
Mutt jumped up beside me and I put my arm around his shoulders. The dog’s brown eyes twinkled at me. I looked away, then back, seeing the green glint.
Everything I’d experienced in the last weeks coalesced, became something making sense in a bizarre kind of way. No wonder Dan was so curious about Maddock. Vampires were anathema to his kind.
“So, how long have you been a shapeshifter, Dan?” I asked.
Mutt leaned forward, licked my cheek, making a high pitched sound. Anyone else would have identified it as a whine but I was getting smarter in my dealings with the paranormal.
I knew it was a gentle laugh.
Marcie’s adventures continue in The Reluctant Goddess, coming soon.
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The Fertile Vampire Page 25
