Taming the Vampire: Over 25 All New Paranormal Alpha Male Tales of Contemporary, Military, Shifters, Billionaires, Werewolves, Magic, Fae, Witches, Dragons, Demons & More

by Mandy M. Roth

  "Yes," she whispered as he began sliding his fingers up and down her crease, pressing a little deeper with each pass. She pressed herself back against the couch cushions and let her legs fall open wider. He grunted his approval and began to move more quickly, his agile fingertips skimming her clit, up and down, closer to her entrance, pressing, sliding.

  When he thrust two fingers in deep, her back arched as dream Phin simultaneously plunged his cock into her again and again.

  "Oh my god," she moaned, "I'm going to come."

  "Yes," he muttered, dream Phin's hips now moving in the same long strokes as real Phin did with his fingers. Fucking her, owning her, making her crazy.

  Her vision blurred, but the cries of ecstasy from the woman before her mixed with her own as she rocked her hips, unable to stop herself.

  This was actually happening. She was having her first non-solo orgasm in years.

  Her brain went blessedly offline as the dam broke and the climax took her, sending her hurling into bliss. Her whole body stiffened as she came, jerking and arching against his clever fingers. His gaze was locked on hers, but the feelings it was eliciting were too intense, and she slammed her eyes closed as the shudders continued to pulse through her.

  When had she last felt this way? It had been so long...if ever. Her blood felt hot, her skin, alive, her mind awake and refreshed. Satisfaction spread through every limb, warming her from the inside out.

  As the world finally stopped spinning, she let her eyes drift open and blinked.

  Phin was watching her intently, still fully clothed, still looking every bit as dapper and controlled in his perfectly tailored suit as the second they'd met. The only indication of what had happened was the fire blazing in his molten gaze and the tension in his jaw.

  He slipped his hand slowly back down her thigh and eyed her with a curious stare.

  "Would you like to come home with me, Stephanie?"

  She shook her head reflexively, sitting up straighter as she tried to catch her breath.

  Go home with him? She didn't even know where he lived. Or what he did for a living. Hell, she'd only known his name for less than an hour.

  But you've dreamt of him for weeks.

  Semantics, her inner voice reminded her. Clearly, she'd tapped into some sort of latent clairvoyance or something. The second she got home, she'd start researching it to find out how to use it. But that still left her with Phin a foot away, waiting expectantly for her answer.

  He still could be a serial killer. Hell, he could just be a jerk. In any case, some ill-advised public fondling hardly made a good foundation for romance. She’d already gone far outside her comfort zone. She needed to let that sit for a while before doing anything else reckless.

  "I-" She stopped short, swallowing hard to relieve her bone-dry throat as panic settled over her. "I can't. I don't know why I did that. I never-"

  Never what? What could she say here that a thousand women hadn't said before? Either he knew this wasn't the norm for her or he didn't know and didn't care. She didn't need to justify herself. What she needed to do was get the hell out of this place. Whatever web it had woven over her, she needed to break free from it before she did something she would truly regret.

  She tugged at the hem of her skirt, hands trembling, and then shoved herself to her feet.

  "That shouldn't have happened, and I apologize for misleading you."

  "No need to apologize. I'm hard pressed to think of a time I've enjoyed myself more."

  Her cheeks flamed as she racked her brain for some witty, worldly reply that wouldn't leave her looking like a stuttering fool. Before she could manage it, he was speaking again in that smooth, gorgeous accent.

  "Let me walk you out," he murmured, standing beside her.

  "No!" She cleared her throat, and looked away, unnerved by his closeness. "I mean, no, thank you."

  Lord, he was huge, towering over her. His mere presence like a candle to a moth, and she resisted the urge to lean in.

  "I know my way out. I'll be fine."

  He regarded her for a long moment before nodding. "All right, then. Drive safely."

  She snatched up her purse and headed for the exit on shaky legs, conscious of his gaze on her the whole way. It took everything she had not to break into a run. Not because she couldn't wait to get away from him. On the contrary.

  She had to get out fast, before she walked back over and begged him to take her home and make her feel like that all over again.

  In bed that night, she would dream of Phin.

  Chapter 4

  "One more, love," Phin said, gesturing to the bartender with a grin that he was certain didn't make it to his eyes.

  His mind was ticking, warp speed, still trying to process what had been the strangest, most electrifying experience in his recent memory.

  Steph had walked into the club, and he had made her come.

  Hard.

  And now? Well, now it was all he could think about. God, she was sexy. A rush of blood drained to his cock, making him impossibly harder.

  "Fuck all," he muttered through gritted teeth.

  When he'd wiped her memory, he'd been meticulous...or so he'd thought. He'd taken his time, drawing out each one and snipping them away clean. But for some reason he couldn't yet explain, she hadn't let them go. Not completely. There was no question she knew him. Stranger still, though, it seemed like they were connected somehow.

  He thought back to the way her muscular legs had clamped over his forearm, her tight channel gripping him as she found her pleasure. Her murmured "yesss" as his mind conjured up a fantasy of her tied up on his bed as he fucked her. A vision in his mind that she'd seemed to share, and see as clearly as he had. But that made no sense. He'd done more than his fair share of mesmerizing people in the past. Never had that ever resulted in the person being able to see things in his thoughts. The very thought was both revolting and terrifying.

  He downed the shot of tequila in front of him and slid the tiny glass on top of the already teetering pyramid in front of him. A quick, mental count had him at eighteen.

  Before this, his sleep had been tortured at best since he’d last seen her. It would take far more than that to drink Steph off his mind after tonight. That much he was sure of.

  He motioned for another and then turned as a familiar scent washed over him.

  "Well, looks like someone is getting pretty serious tonight," Irena's teasing tone sounded behind him. She lowered herself into the stool next to him.

  "Nope. If I was serious, I'd just have her leave the bottle," he quipped, forcing a smile. He should probably tell her Steph had come to the club. He'd planned on it. But now that she was here in front of him, the words seemed to stick in his craw.

  What if she told Ezekiel and the crotchety bastard resorted to his old ways? It had only been weeks ago that he'd been ready to mow any human down for the slightest of infractions. Sure, Phin knew the Master had softened, but not that much. And the thought of Stephanie being hurt irritated him now more than ever.

  Jesus, if this was what having a conscience felt like, he wanted no part of it.

  He stayed quiet, hoping his apparent satisfaction with his own company translated to Irena but she didn't seem to notice. She ordered herself a drink and settled in.

  "So what's the plan? You going to stick in town or you heading back to Europe?"

  He contemplated his glass for a long moment and then tossed back the next shot. "I have no idea, honestly."

  Ever since they'd gotten back from Montana and had worked through the problems in the nightwalker community, he'd had the strange desire to stay awhile. A desire he hadn't felt in decades. Maybe longer. He loved to travel, and typically grew bored in any one place before the seasons had a chance to change. Roots had never interested him, but now, neither did the thought of moving on.

  He'd seen the United States coast to coast, and had touched on every habitable continent dozens of times. Once you'd seen a dozen sugar-san
d beaches and rainforests, you'd kind of seen them all.

  "I've been...bored of late," he admitted.

  Irena cocked her head and narrowed her eyes. "Really? That's fascinating. Because I actually wanted to talk to you about something that might excite you.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “A possible position within the Protectorate."

  He turned to face her head on and barked out a laugh. "Me? A part of the governing body of our species? Surely you jest." But he only had to look into those sherry-colored eyes to know she was dead serious.

  "We need someone with your knowledge to lead us in the area of science. We feel there is more to be done...more choices for some of our kind who struggle morally with some of our basest urges. In our talks with the younger, free-thinking crowd since Ezekiel reestablished his leadership, we're finding that they want their voices to be heard and want to explore other options."

  Ah. What had been hippies were now hipsters, and their kind wasn't immune. The idea of continuing his research and taking guidance from a panel as far as where his research should be focused wasn't all that unappealing. But having what seemed to be a real job complete with responsibilities and expectations sure as hell was.

  "So I would have to stay here, in the Cape to take this position?" he asked leaning back on his seat.

  "You would have to be here for large portions of time. We would want to create a state of the art facility here, on U.S. soil. You'd still be able to travel, but yes, this would be your home base."

  Home.

  He barely managed to suppress a flinch.

  Home to him was a fallacy. The place where you could kick back and be yourself. Sleep through the night because you knew you were precisely where you belonged. Where you could be totally vulnerable and know you were safe.

  He'd had a home once, and in it, he'd gotten the piss beat out of him on a daily basis. At the meaty hands of his stonemason father, he'd taken more blows than a politician on half-priced hooker day. Even now, the remembered dread of walking into the house even one minute late settled over him, making his blood run cold. It wasn’t until he’d become a nightwalker that he’d slept soundly. His only regret was that his father had died before he’d been able to repay him for some of the misery he’d caused their family.

  Home, indeed.

  "I'm going to have to pass, Irena. But thank you for the offer, and thank Ezekiel for considering me," he said, waving the bartender over for another drink.

  Irena offered him an understanding smile and reached out to pat his hand. "If you change your mind, don't hesitate to tell me. We have a few more weeks before we have to nail things down, and you're our first choice."

  With that, she stood and strode away. He watched her go, feeling like more of a shit now than before. Prior to their little quorum that she'd cobbled together in order to take Ezekiel down, they'd had a reserved, if polite, respect for one another. But in the past weeks, they'd become friends. If there was some potential problem on the horizon due to her decision to keep Stephanie alive and mind-wiping her as opposed to seeing her dead, he owed her the kindness of telling her about it before said problem arose.

  He didn't have many to speak of, but he was fairly certain that was what friends did.

  And what about Steph? Isn't she your friend of sorts?

  He thought back to their time together in Montana and couldn't help the grin that tugged at his lips.

  "Let me in. I want to see her," she demanded, all snapping green eyes and huffy attitude.

  He shrugged and stood in front of the door, arms crossed over his chest. "And I want a harem of blondes to service me poolside while I drink something fruity with an umbrella in it," he shot back. "But instead, we're both stuck in this hovel plunked in the midst of a one-horse town in the cold waiting for Zara to recover. Moral of the story? We can't always get what we want, little one."

  "Don't call me that," she hissed, and craned her head around him to try to see through the cracked open door. "You said I could see her today."

  "And you will. Right after she's eaten."

  She shot him a death stare and wheeled around, ripping through the house like a miniature tornado.

  All right, so friends might have been a stretch. But he couldn't deny that life had been far less boring with her around. It was so odd, but the almost instinctive fear that so many humans had of his kind even when they didn't consciously know what he was seemed non-existent in her. Something about that had intrigued him. And only did more so when she found out what they were and still went toe-to-toe.

  "She looks terrible," Stephanie said flatly.

  She'd walked into the tiny study where he'd been catching up on the world news, and he looked up from the computer monitor to meet her gaze.

  "Her body is going through some major changes," he said, rising from the desk chair and gesturing for her to join him on the small leather couch. "It will take awhile for her to adjust."

  She eyed him suspiciously, and her movements were slow and measured, but to her credit, she came and sat without argument.

  "Why does she seem like she's getting worse instead of better?" she demanded, her stubborn little chin going even firmer with the question.

  "Trust me when I tell you, she's healthier than any human already. And once she drinks--"

  The tiny gasp that escaped her pretty lips made him realize he might have said too much. In theory, the abstract idea of nightwalkers was one thing. The thought of literally having to drink blood to survive was something else entirely.

  "She won't ever have to kill anyone, Steph. It doesn't have to be that way."

  He forced himself out of the memory, marveling that, even then he'd been trying to calm her down. Make her feel comfortable. He'd known he was going to wipe her memory afterward, but for some reason, he didn't want her to fear for Zara. And moreover, he didn't want her to fear him.

  Shit.

  He downed his last drink, pushed his bar stool back and stood. "Put these on my tab," he called to the barmaid before heading for the door.

  Like it or not, he had some sort of strange connection to this human, and for the time being, he wasn't going to fight it. He needed to find a way to spend some more time with her. Find out what she knew, what she truly remembered and hopefully?

  Get a chance to finish what they'd started in that room tonight so he could go about the task of forgetting all about her before she burrowed into him too deep.

  Chapter 5

  Steph stared up at the whorls in the white ceiling paint, doing her damnedest to not see Phin's face in those, too. God, since last night, it seemed like that face was everywhere. In her dreams, in her head and tattooed on the back of her eyelids. She couldn't stop thinking about him. About the way he'd touched her. And, worse, the way she'd responded.

  She covered her face with a pillow and groaned.

  It wasn't that she was embarrassed by her behavior. Surprised, for sure. It had been so long since she'd felt that type of pull toward a man, and certainly never that strong. To have it happen with a stranger and in public was even more shocking. But she was nobody's prude and she felt that sexuality was something that women had every right to embrace and explore, same as a man. Knowing all that didn't make her face burn less whenever she thought of Phin and last night, though.

  She'd gone there to get answers and instead had left with more questions than ever. Who was Phineas Fenton? How had she conjured his face before she'd ever met him? And most importantly, how was she going to deal with the fact that she wanted to see him again?

  Bad.

  With another groan of frustration, she tossed the pillow aside and picked up her cell phone. She'd avoided coming right out and asking Zara about some of the things that had gone on in Montana and telling her about her strange, disjointed memories because she hadn't wanted to worry her friend. Now, though, she was starting to get a little worried herself. Maybe Zara could shed some light on all of this and the unsettling feeling
that a giant piece of some greater puzzle was missing would finally be laid to rest.

  She punched a thumb over Zara's name and waited as the phone rang. It took five rings and Steph was just about to disconnect when Zara answered.

  "Hey there, how's it going?" Zara asked, sounding happy and relaxed.

  That was good. Steph hated to interrupt her romantic weekend with Gabriel, and at least she hadn't caught them in the midst of anything.

  "Hey yourself," she said, wishing she'd taken a few minutes prior to calling to jot down some notes about what to say. It was an odd topic to broach and there was a fine line between asking Zara for information and making her friend think that she needed to call the men in white coats. She had to tread lightly.

  "I was actually calling because I wanted to run something by you," she started, making sure to keep her tone light and easy.

  "Shoot."

  Steph settled back against her headboard and clutched the phone tighter. "Did we have any guests when you, me and Gabriel were at the cabin in Montana?"

  Zara's end of the line was silent for a long moment before she responded. "Guests? I'm not sure what you mean..."

  Steph tapped her index fingernail against the side of the phone, working up the courage to say the words. "Like, did anyone else come out to the house? Maybe a doctor or a friend of Gabriel's?"

  Zara was quiet again, and Steph imagined she was probably trying to think if anyone else had stopped in.

  "You know, I wasn't really in my right mind for most of the time," she said, finally. "The fever had me in and out, and to be honest, sometimes even you being there felt like a dream. I guess someone else could've stopped by. Gabriel's not here at the moment, he went to pick up Thai for dinner, but I can ask him when he gets back if you want?"