by Jackie Ivie
“Come. Here,” he repeated, using exactly the same tone, but spacing the words out threateningly.
“Mitchell. I have something to tell you.”
“I’m warning you,” he answered.
“There are things you need to know!”
“Get your ass over here, lady.”
“I beg your pardon!”
She sounded shocked. Offended. Mitch almost laughed.
“You want it prettied up? Sorry. You got the wrong guy. And you definitely got the wrong time.”
“I have to tell you what I am!”
“You’re a succubus. A fantasy. A damn demon. I don’t know and I don’t care. And I’m way past asking again. Got it?”
The shadow of a smile crossed her mouth. There was something weird about it again. This time, he saw what it was. Two small spikes were just peeking from beneath her upper lip, about where her canines should be. Were those...fangs? His mind registered the question. His body didn’t care. Her lips were plump. Lush. Reddened. He watched them move as she answered. The little spikes were white against the backdrop of red.
“I’m not any of those.”
“Like I give a shit.”
Mitch launched forward, grabbed her shoulders, and pulled her onto the bed with him. They dropped. He wasn’t graceful. The mattress jumped and then started shuddering. It matched Mitch’s reaction. He’d looped his arms about her, bringing her close. Closer. The boning of her corset dug into his ribcage. He tightened his arms more, ratcheting up the visceral quality of this embrace. She gasped. The slight sound was swallowed by his groan as he snagged her lips, his mouth open and grasping, his tongue plundering. The kiss was heady. Addictive. The edge of her veil scratched the top of his nose. Her breath grazed his cheek. The slightest impression of pain occurred in his mouth.
Had she opened...a cut?
He wondered it for a fraction of a second and then he didn’t care about that, either. Liquid ecstasy erupted in his mouth, before it gushed through his veins. The sensation smacked into his chest cavity and grabbed his heart.
And then it squeezed.
She writhed against him. He rocked with it. Back. Forth. The mattress swayed side-to-side in accompaniment. Her hat slid off somehow, taking the veil with it. Mitch didn’t miss it. Waves of her hair fell next, tickling his throat. Shoulders. Upper arms. He didn’t much note that, either. His hands were flying up her side, instinctively sliding hoops off hooks, freeing her upper body, and those perfect breasts. He shoved the front of her corset aside, and lifted her, the move breaking the kiss.
“No! Wait! I have to tell you! I am a vamp—!”
Her rushed words turned into a garbled cry. Mitch might have reacted, but that would’ve unlatched him. He had one of her nipples in his mouth. And he was suckling. Her words changed to all sorts of soft sighs as he moved to the nub atop the other breast. And then she looped her arms about his head and was helping. Holding him in position.
“Oh, yes. Yes. Oh...Mitchell! Right there! Ah!”
Her cry galvanized him. He grabbed at the yards of fabric she wore, moving handfuls of the skirt and petticoat up, and out of his way. Material bunched about her hips as he quested for, and finally found the backs of her knees. She wore stockings again. These felt like they’d been crafted in lace. Mitch moved his touch higher, found the ruffled edges of her stockings where they gripped her thighs. And they were adorned with large bows at the backs.
Oh!
How he loved her legs in these stockings!
“Oh, baby. Oh, Addie. Oh, sweetness.”
He slid his fingers onto silky skin. The muscles quivered beneath his touch. His hands went higher. He gripped the backs of her thighs, directly beneath her butt...
He really loved his newfound power, too!
Mitch opened her legs, lifted her above him, and shimmied down, diving beneath the mound of brocade. He found her core with his tongue. Licked it. She gave a squeal. Jerked as if to escape. Mitch tightened his grip and held her into place. And now he wasn’t just licking. He was sucking. And laving. And then vibrating. And he had to use every ounce of strength at his disposal to keep her in place as she started gyrating and screaming. She had an eerie scream. The sound sent shivers and lifted hairs along his neck. She was loud, too. So loud, if the adjacent condo hadn’t been vacant, Mitch would probably be getting a visit from emergency personnel over it.
Something fell in his room with a boom. The bedstead beneath them broke. The mattress dropped. Mitch spun, getting her on her back before anything else happened. The skirt was voluminous, and it was history. Mitch grabbed the sides of her waistband and ripped outward, shredding material.
His heart stopped. His breathing stalled. Oh. She had such beautiful legs. And they were so perfectly displayed in white lacy stockings! Mitch didn’t hesitate. He lifted her hips and plunged into her cavern, shoving her upward with the move. Heavenly pressure gripped him. Sucked him in. Enlarged to fit him. Held tightly to him as he withdrew. Mitch shoved back in. Pulled out. Thrust again. She was panting. Making little cries as she neared another release. The sound enervated. Excited. And when she achieved it, his glance went to her face. She had her head back, her mouth wide to launch another scream.
And she had fangs.
Real.
Fangs!
The sight should have stopped him. It didn’t. He was in another realm. Beyond thought. His entire being immersed in feeling. Experiencing. Enjoying. Each thrust into her carried too much pleasure. Every withdrawal held solid exhilaration. He was on fire. And she was fuel. His pumping motions increased. Harder. Faster. His release neared. Enlarging to accompany his thrusts. Mitch ran his right hand along her belly. His fingers grazed her navel before sliding between her breasts. He moved to encircle her neck. Cradled the long, elegant line of her throat. Leaned forward...
And bit her.
And that’s when the universe burst.
Shards of light took him for a ride, and didn’t let him fall. Mountains of bliss slammed into him. Waves of ecstasy filled an ocean of wonder that swelled about him, alternating stealing his breath, and then helping him find it. Mitch was sobbing. His face covered in moisture. And he didn’t even care.
CHAPTER TEN
That had been as amazing as it was foolish. Tremors ran her frame in waves. They carried the memory of incredible pleasure, as well as a reminder of frailness. A sensation of chill. Dizziness more than once kept her on her back. Unmoving. Nigel’s suggestion of kidnapping was out of the question. She might have a difficult time reaching her home. And she needed to start soon. The clock at his bedside beamed a time of 4:10 a.m. Daylight was coming. Her time was almost gone. She shouldn’t have let her mate take so much fluid. She could have pierced his skin and partaken, too. She knew why she hadn’t. She been afraid of going too far...changing him into an undead.
He’d have been forced into it. And she still didn’t want that.
Oh!
He was such an amazing lover!
Adelaide wasn’t a complete beginner. She’d had encounters in her real life...rare. And few. And nothing like the sensations she felt with Mitch. Her body was still suffering non-rhythmic twinges over the level of satiation. She was so lucky! Her mate was gorgeous. Tall. Deep-voiced. He had a large, masculine frame. A head-full of long dark hair. Lush lashes. Incredibly intense, light-shaded green eyes. Addie stopped her mental listing. There was too much. The man had been overly endowed with physical attributes. It seemed unfair of nature to gift him with incredible sensual skills as well.
Adelaide pulled in a breath, tensed her frame, and rolled toward him.
It was dark in his bedchamber, but that didn’t hamper sight. As a vampire, she could easily see. He had the bedding tossed onto them. It covered him to mid-belly, hiding all manner of interesting bulges at his groin. The coverlet didn’t reach her knees. No wonder she felt chilled. She lifted a hand that visibly trembled and brushed a strand of hair from his forehead. And then he spoke, freezing
her hand in place.
“You’re still here?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“I have to leave soon, though. Very soon.”
“Not until...we have a talk.”
“All right,” she replied.
“And this is how it’s going to go. I’ll be asking you some questions. You’re going to answer them truthfully. Think you can handle that?”
He spoke in a monotone. Impersonally. Almost offensively. He didn’t open his eyes. Addie lowered her hand back to her side. Pulled her lower lip into her mouth. Sucked on it for a moment. Released it in order to answer.
“Of course.”
“What’s your name?” he asked next.
That was mystifying. Addie frowned as she regarded him.
“Well?” he added.
“I told you already.”
“Yeah. Adelaide. What’s your last name?”
He’d emphasized her name. Otherwise his tone stayed at the same monotone. It was disconcerting. Addie felt a sliver of something unpleasant race through her lower belly. “Baxter,” she finally replied.
“You got a middle name?”
“Moira.”
He grunted. “Named after your great-grandparents, were you?”
“No. Why?”
“Old-fashioned name. Usually has a reason.”
Addie smiled. He was accurate with his statement, but wrong on why her name was old-fashioned.
“So I’m stating the obvious to see if I can get a reaction. It’s an interrogation technique. And I don’t know why I’m telling you that.”
“I do.”
“Really?”
“It’s because...” She took a deep breath for courage. “We are...mates.” The last word was whispered.
He blew out a sigh. It pursed his lips. Narrowed his cheeks. Her heart warmed at the sight. He didn’t open his eyes.
“Uh. That’s a negative. I don’t have friends. I don’t have buddies. And I sure as hell don’t have mates. Get it?”
“No.”
“You got a date of birth, Miss Baxter? Or...should I call you Missus?”
Addie gasped. Any hint of a smile disappeared. He didn’t really think she’d be in his bed, sharing unbelievable passion, if she had a spouse? Did he?
“Well? Are you single or not?”
“Single.”
“And now you’ll give me your date of birth?”
“January twentieth. Eighteen, ninety—.”
“Whoa.” He stopped her with the word and by lifting his far hand, palm turned toward her. “I want the truth. Remember?”
‘That is the truth.”
He inhaled deeply. It enlarged his chest. He was so impressive. Addie couldn’t halt the sigh she gave. She knew he heard it. She watched him jerk slightly.
“Let’s just move on, okay? You’re twenty-two. Yes?”
“Yes.”
He made a fist with his hand and pumped it into the air before dropping his arm back to his side. Adelaide watched it and then frowned.
“What does that mean?” she asked.
“You don’t know what a fist-pump means? It’s a universal sign, lady. For being right.”
Lady?
Her eyes narrowed at how he seemed to sneer the title. “About what?” she asked in a tight voice.
“I accurately pegged your age. You want to tell me your occupation now?”
“I didn’t have one.”
“You’re a pretty fair pick-pocket.”
“That is not an occupation.”
“True. And thank you for confessing to it. Makes my job a lot easier.”
“I had to survive somehow!”
“Whatever.”
“Open your eyes, Mitchell,” Addie replied.
He licked his lips. Smacked them together. Sent all kinds of reaction racing through her, and then killed it with his words.
“That’s a negative, too, sweetheart.”
The word wasn’t lover-like. It wasn’t meant to be. “You’re telling me no?” she asked.
“You got it.”
“But...why?”
“Because I can’t do my job if I look at you.”
“Your...job?”
“Well. Yeah. I’m a cop. You are a bad guy. Uh – girl. You steal. That’s small potatoes but it will do for a start.”
“A start?”
He sighed again. “Fine. You want the big picture? You got it. You’re under arrest, Miss Adelaide Moira Baxter. Anything you have to say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney—”
“Oh. Stop that.”
Surprise flared through her. It was tinged with anger. They were galvanizing emotions that made movement a simple affair. She sat so quickly the bed shimmied beneath them.
“I have to finish listing your Miranda Rights,” he informed her. “It’s the law.”
“Mitchell.”
Adelaide put a throb of emotion in her voice. It sent a layer of shivers across his exposed skin. She watched it happen. And then she watched him swallow.
“Let’s get one thing straight right now. You are not a succubus. They paralyze their victims to seduce them. That didn’t happen. So. I haven’t figured out what you are, but you are not a succubus.”
“I never said I was.”
“Good.”
“I am something much better.”
“You going to confess, are you?”
“To what? You already know I pick pockets.”
“That was just the beginning, lady. Now that I have you in custody we can get you booked for your real crime.”
“Oh? And what is it?’
“Murder. First degree.”
“I never murdered anyone!”
“You are under arrest for a murder in Orlando, Florida. 2015. Houston, Texas, in 2012. Syracuse, New York. 2005. New Orleans, Louisiana, 1999—.”
“Those weren’t murders! They were removals! And they were sanctioned. All those men – and one woman – they were horrid creatures! Undeserving of this life. Murderers. Rapists. Pedophiles. Drug pushers. The world is better off without them!”
He smacked his hand to his forehead. Open-handed. It blocked his upper face and eyes. The move looked painful, too.
“Ouch,” he finally muttered.
Addie glanced toward the clock. 4:30. Time was flying. She was going to need to grab up her clothing and leave. Soon. Very soon.
“It is a vigilante group! Holy shit. Don’t say another word, Miss Baxter.”
“Why not? Don’t you want to use them against me?”
“I’m gonna need to get this confession on tape.”
“That’s a negative, sweetheart,” she told him. She used his wording, only she wasn’t maintaining a monotone.
“So now you decide to clam up? A bit late, isn’t it?”
“You can’t record me, Mitchell.”
“No one is going to believe this otherwise.”
“You can’t film me and you can’t record me.”
“Let me get my new phone. I’m pretty sure I left it on the nightstand...”
He was fishing about on the furniture piece on the far side of the bed without looking. His eyes were scrunched shut. He had an angry looking red mark from smacking himself. He was truly endearing.
And completely maddening.
“It won’t work, Mitchell. And I have to go. The sun will be up soon.”
“Sunlight? What the hell does that have to do with anything?”
“I thought you were a good detective.”
“I am.”
“Then you really should have figured out that I’m a vampire by now.”
“A what?”
His voice rose sharply on the word. That was amusing.
“You heard me.”
“Oh, no way. No. Fricking. Way. Vampires do not exist!”
“Yes, we do! We always have.”
“No. No. It isn’t possible, and—. Hang on a minute. I
had sex with...a vampire? Oh. Hell, no.”
“It wasn’t sex! What happened was so much more! Love, want, and need were just words to me. Don’t you see? Now I know what they mean!”
“Come on. We just met. Had some fantastic—okay...if it wasn’t sex, it was damn close. And you are not real. This is nuts. That’s it. I’m going insane.”
“You are my mate, Mitchell Hartnett.”
“What?”
The word was a high-pitched shriek.
“You heard me.”
“Why me? Huh? Tell me that, why don’t you?”
“Fie! I don’t even know. All I know is...I made love with you. And it was more wonderful than I imagined.” Her tone had warmed.
“Addie—”
She interrupted him, her voice hard. Curt. “But, then you turned into an ass. Why did you have to be a copper, anyway?”
Addie jumped to her feet. Gathered her clothing in her arms. She didn’t have time to dress but the night would hide her well enough.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
He finally had his eyes open. He was sitting in the center of his bed. The hit had definitely left a handprint-shaped bruise on his forehead. But it started fading almost instantly. And he was surrounded by what looked like a glow. If she was slightly less emotional, she’d have heard her world breaking apart. The only way this worked was to grab the instantaneous shards of pain as if they were part of her clothing bundle, and grip them tightly to her belly. Addie snatched up her hat. Jammed it onto her head.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” she snarled in his direction.
“You can’t leave! You’re under arrest! Look. I’m a black belt in three martial arts. Please don’t force me to use them!”
“Stow it where the sun doesn’t shine, Detective.”
He launched toward her. He was fast. If he became vampiric, he was going to be impossible to see with a move like that. But, Addie was faster. She dodged his grasp and slammed through his window, destroying the blinds, and shattering glass.
The sound matched her heart.
Every beat sent pain. Each breath was a chore. Tears obliterated the path. The tops of trees grabbed at her more than once as she lost her way. Dawn was lightening the sky when the entrance to her mine came into sight. She flew into a dark, cool tunnel just as the sun came up. She was spent, though. It was a chore to reach the Victorian-inspired parlor that held her sofa. That’s where she’d left the bag that designated her resting place. She dropped her clothing bundle and grabbed for her bag. Hugged the folds of aging material to her. Rocked in place.
