Not His Vampire: Vampire Romance (Not This Series Book 3)

by Annie Nicholas

  Not his Vampire

  By

  Annie Nicholas

  Chapter One

  The dragon’s castle loomed ahead. Rumor was people who trespassed on his land went missing. No one ever found proof so it could all be urban legend, or so Trixie Russell told herself over and over as she coaxed her animal control truck up the steep incline.

  Apparently, the castle had a rodent problem. Brave rats to want to live with dragons. Trixie wiped her sweaty palms on her work jumpsuit so the steering wheel would stop slipping in her grip. Her cell phone went off and she jumped. It was her sister, Ruby.

  “Hello,” she answered via Bluetooth.

  “Where are you? You were supposed to be home thirty minutes ago. I was worried.” Ruby treated her as if she still wore diapers. They lived together in a part of town where women shouldn’t walk around alone. Even at the crack ass of dawn, like now.

  “I have to run one more errand.” She hoped the dragon was a morning person.

  “Where?” Ruby yawned. “I want to know how much longer I have to stay awake.”

  “Go to bed. I’ll be fine.” Her sister worked the night shift too, waiting at an all-night diner. Ruby was always exhausted.

  “Patricia Bella Russell, where are you?”

  Trixie could lie. She should lie. There would be less yelling and Ruby wouldn’t worry. “I’m just retrieving some kennels a customer borrowed.” But she sucked at lying. Ruby would know immediately and there would be more than just yelling. So, she stretched the truth. Win-win, Ruby could relax, maybe fall asleep while she waited on Trixie, and she would wait—well, shit. Trixie got nothing out of the deal because she’d feel guilty either way. “It shouldn’t be more than an hour.”

  Ruby grumbled something under her breath about Trixie’s boss. She silently agreed. “Fine. I’ll put on a pot of coffee. Call me if you’ll be longer.”

  “Sure thing, sissy.” Trixie hung up and counted her blessings. If Ruby knew where she was headed, she’d be so pissed off neither of them would get any sleep today. Ruby wasn’t the most responsible person, except when it came to Trixie. She wished Ruby could adjust her priorities. Make them a little less about Trixie and a little more toward herself.

  When Trixie’s boss had threatened to fire her over some missing cat kennels, she had promised to have them back in city hands by tonight. She knew where they were, but if she told boss-man then she’d definitely lose her job.

  The dragon had them.

  Trixie had an invitation to the castle…of sorts. The black dragon of New Port, harbinger of smoke and darkness, had adopted all of her best friend’s cats, so her friend had lent him all the kennels to transport the animals to the castle without Trixie’s consent or knowledge.

  Yeah, that’s what friends were for, right?

  The transmission of her truck ground as she shifted into a lower gear and crept the last half mile to the top of the mountain. Stone gargoyles watched her progress with focused interest. They decorated the castle wall and tied her stomach in knots. A forest filled with shadows surrounded the area and was so dense she couldn’t distinguish the tree trunks from each other. Her gaze kept drifting to New Port, her home, which sat at the base of the mountain. She wanted to be below with all the other humans.

  She liked that New Port had dragons and was proud of the honor, but she’d never desired meeting one.

  She parked her animal control vehicle in front of the castle’s massive wooden doors and stepped outside. The cool air played with her hair, whipping the pink strands around her face.

  Hands buried in her one-piece overalls, she stared at the old building. Its age made her bones ache and her whole neighborhood could have fit inside. The gargoyles’ gazes followed her even when she strolled a few feet to the left then back again.

  That wasn’t creepy. Nope, not at all.

  A wooden chest sat on the ground by the door. Curiosity got the better of her and she peeked inside. Clothes. Men’s and women’s. Not very nice ones, either. She didn’t understand, but then again, she wasn’t a dragon.

  She drew closer to the entrance and one of the gargoyles turned, watching a bird fly overhead.

  She screamed. The sound left her breathless as she scrambled away from the castle, tripping over every conceivable rock between her and her vehicle. Fuck this. Her boss could have her job and come here himself.

  The bird’s shadow circled her, blocking out the sun. Every muscle in her body turned to stone as she stared above.

  The dragon circled slowly until it landed next to her. White scales covered her sleek body and long white feathers grew from her wings and tail. She swung her long, graceful neck in her direction. “Aren’t you Betty’s friend? The human one at her soulmating. I can’t forget the hair.”

  Trixie tried to answer but even her jaw was frozen.

  The dragon sniffed the air. “You don’t have to be afraid. I’m Angie. The nice dragon.” She winked. “I don’t eat people, only pop tarts.”

  Trixie didn’t know dragons came in the nice variety. Or that they made pop tarts that big.

  Angie changed shape until a petite naked woman with a dark, pixie haircut stood in the dragon’s place. Trixie couldn’t pull off short hair properly. Her face was too narrow and her eyes too big. Angie moved toward the trunk by the door and pulled out some clothes.

  The gargoyle gave a high-pitched whistle of appreciation.

  Angie’s face turned shades of pink to rival Trixie’s hair. The dragon scowled at the castle wall where the gargoyle had returned to stone. “Which one was it?”

  Trixie kept her gaze pinned to the castle, trying not to stare at the naked dragon-woman. Shifters. Until a few weeks ago, she hadn’t known any. Now they paraded through her life. Most of the time without clothes on. She should be used to it by now, but Trixie wasn’t as liberated as her sister.

  Scanning the wall, she pointed to a trio on the right corner of the tower. “I thought it was that one.” She shrugged. “But they all kind of look alike from this distance.”

  “Eoin says their turning to stone is a defense mechanism. They infest a castle, mimicking the existing stone work so we can’t tell which ones are the troublemakers.” Angie yanked the wooden doors open and stomped inside. “They’re as bad as the rats.”

  The gargoyle in question waggled his fingers at Trixie in a friendly wave.

  “I think there’s only one of them.” Was this conversation real or was she having an acid flashback?

  “That’s how it starts. One moves in then the rest of his family follows.” Angie’s voice echoed from deep inside the building.

  Not wanting to lose her, Trixie hurried into the foyer, pushing thoughts of gargoyles to the back of her mind. She was here for the kennels, then she could return to her normal human life. Work her job, collect her paycheck, and hang out with her sister and their friends. Life was good. Normal was better. She was happy being human.

  Especially after witnessing what poor Betty had gone through finding her soulmate. Trixie would hate for some stranger to march into her life and turn everything inside out.

  Wings, changing shape, raging hormones? It sounded like puberty on steroids. No thanks. She liked men who didn’t pound on their chests.

  Inside the castle, Trixie tried to close the door and almost dislocated her shoulder. “Motherfucker.” She rubbed her sore joint. Little Angie had swung them open so easily. “I don’t think I’m strong enough to close the doors,” she shouted. Her voice echoed back and sent a shiver down her spine.

  This was how horror movies began. She hesitated to take a step forward.
Was she really going to be that girl? The one who went looking for the monster in the dark?

  She shook her head. Angie wasn’t a monster. She was a dragon—a self-proclaimed nice dragon.

  “Angie?” she sighed. She had hoped the kennels would be stacked by the front entrance so she could just load them and go. A girl could dream, couldn’t she?

  One careful step at a time, she left the safety of the sunlight. Hands held out in front of her, she felt her way forward, hoping to encounter a light switch and a map. For all her bravado, she couldn’t afford to lose her job. The hours were shitty but it paid better than any other job she was qualified for and she didn’t qualify for much. She and Ruby needed a roof over their heads and food in the fridge. Electricity was optional some months.

  Trixie’s fingers trailed over cold stone until they hit a gap in the wall. She stumbled forward and caught herself on what felt like a banister. Stairs. Great balls of fire, she’d almost gone head over heels down a flight of stone stairs. That would have killed her for sure.

  A faint sound caught her attention. It sounded like singing. “Angie?” Her whispered question was barely audible.

  “Hello?” someone whispered back. The voice seductive and very male.

  “I’m looking for Angie.” She descended slowly in her blinded state.

  “Why? She’s such a bore.”

  Trixie paused at the bottom of the long and deep stair well. A high stone archway stood above her head. She could see faintly because a light flickered far ahead. It illuminated just enough for her to perceive she was in a large room. Heavy darkness surrounded the bubble of light. This was where a smart person would turn around, and she was a very smart person. She twisted, one foot on the step, ready to run.

  “Do not go.” He sounded so disappointed. “I’m so lonely. Eoin is too occupied with his new mate to talk to me anymore.”

  “I’ll let him know.”

  “Are you a thief?”

  “No, why?”

  “You keep whispering. Are we going to exchange secrets?” Though he whispered, she could still hear him.

  He was right. Why the hell was she whispering?

  Okay, time for a reality check. She wasn’t starring in her own horror movie—she was in a dragon’s castle. That housed a gargoyle, but he hadn’t been evil. He had only made Angie blush with a whistle. It was actually kind of funny. What the hell, when in Rome… “Do you happen to know where the cat kennels are stored?”

  “Yes.”

  She took a step toward the light. “Where?”

  “It’s a secret.”

  She gave her ponytail one sharp yank, then glanced up the staircase.

  “Come on, little mouse. A few minutes of conversation in exchange for information.”

  She squared her shoulders and cracked her knuckles. Little mouse, her ass. She’d grown up in the worst part of New Port and still fucking lived there. Murder, drugs, and theft were her playgrounds. She and Ruby got through it together. A little dinged with a few rough scrapes, but all limbs intact. Still walking, still talking. Some weirdo in a castle basement did scare the crap out of her, but she wasn’t going to let him know it. The best way to become a victim was to act like one.

  Damn it, she should have left as soon as she’d heard her voice echo.

  Stupid her.

  Chapter Two

  Trixie crossed the empty alcove, her footsteps echoing against the stone floor. The room reminded her of a dungeon that she’d seen in a few movies, and those movies could have used a few pointers from this place. The light guided her into a long hallway. It flickered through a door at the end.

  Stopping at the threshold, she noted the rusty iron bars that must have been the door. Oh. So, it was a dungeon. Okay, dipshit, you walked all the way here of your own free will. No one to blame for this mess but herself.

  The door was ajar. A good sign, right? She peeked inside.

  Someone sat on the floor by the lit candle stand. A candelabra? People still used those? Well, she guessed the dragons did. She just assumed the place had electricity. Might be that was why she couldn’t find a light switch. And…she was rambling in her own head.

  There was a man. Ink black hair streamed from his bent head, pooling on the floor around his hips. He rested his arm on his knee covered in thread bare clothes. Lifting his face, he ran his midnight gaze over her from head to toe and back again. He rose to his feet in a smooth move that spoke of a very masculine strength. He held out his hand. “Viktor Petrov at your service.” His distinct Russian accent was clear enough for her to understand him easily.

  “I’m Trixie.” It felt impossibly right to place her palm against his and allow him to kiss the back of her hand. She found herself the sole focus of Viktor’s perceptive near-black eyes, the eyes of a man who was used to stripping away souls, unearthing the most deeply buried truths.

  “A pleasure to meet you, Trixie. Please, come join me.” He gestured to the dirty floor as if it were a posh love seat.

  “Umm, I’m good.” She stood there, still stunned at the sight of this gorgeous man a couple of inches from her. Her inner vixen purred.

  God, when had she developed an inner vixen? But this guy could make nuns break their vows.

  “As you wish.” His lips formed a perfect seductive smile. “I am happy you did not run.” He ran his fingers through her hair, catching a few knots in the process. “Lovely shade of pink. Neon, is it?”

  “You know your hair dyes.” That was the exact name of her color.

  “It is my duty to know such things. I am an artist.” He came closer. Though Viktor was beautiful, what saved him from crossing the line into a more delicate prettiness was the stubborn hardness of his jawline, the unflinching expression in his stare.

  Then she noticed a metal collar around his neck.

  Cotton candy hair. Viktor bet she tasted just as sweet. His fangs ached as well as other parts of his body. He had been alone in this dungeon too long, to the point of looking forward to Eoin’s short visits.

  “Are you a present?” Viktor scanned her beige one-piece jumpsuit. A zipper ran up the center and there were various stains on the material.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” She quirked her head, possibly insulted. He was not sure. His mind still rang with the echoes from endless nights of bloodlust and, to be honest, human women… Well, women in general, confused him when he was sober. They said no when they meant yes and yes when they meant no. Then changed the rules and said no when they meant no. Or was it purple?

  Wait, what was he thinking about?

  He scratched his chin.

  Dinner cleared her throat. “What did you mean by a present? I’m not a delivery person, if that’s what you meant.”

  Honesty would probably send her running, but lying was too difficult of a concept for him to grasp yet. His mind was a honeycomb of instincts and his brain was oozing out of the holes his hunger had caused. “Sometimes Eoin hires professionals to feed me, but they tend to dress more—” He couldn’t think of the word.

  “Professional,” she offered. Her eyes were wide, not with fear, but with wonder.

  Viktor smirked. “You are good.” The innocence was believable and adorable. She was a very good actress. He would have to get her business card. She struck all his bells with just the right tone, and after hundreds of years, his bells were so cracked he was shocked by his reaction. “I wanted to say more seductive, but this outfit…” He rubbed the thick material between his fingers. “It works for me. Modern working girl, not afraid to get dirty.” He leaned in and inhaled. Under the usual city smells, he scented strawberries, coffee, and canines.

  They jerked away from each other simultaneously.

  “I’m not who you think I am.” She edged toward the door and out of his range. “You said you knew the location of the cat kennels.”

  He opened his mouth but nothing came out. He scratched his head and marched back to where he had been sitting. “You were serious? Y
ou are looking for what again?” She smelled strongly of canine. Not wolf. Their scents were close but someone with an acute nose could tell the difference easily. It was like the variance between grapefruit and oranges. One was tart, and the other sweet and tasty.

  “Cat kennels.” She spoke slower as if he had cognitive trouble, which in some way he did—had. He was better. She used her hands to make a box shape. “Small cages in which to carry small animals.”

  “Eoin did not send you?” Maybe he was not as recovered as he had thought. “Are you real, Trixie?”

  She dropped her hands. “What the hell is going on here? Of course, I’m real. How long have you been down here?”

  “A few days? Maybe weeks. It is difficult to remember.” Viktor grinned and closed the distance between them. That familiar smell could only mean one thing. “Are you a weredog?” He and Eoin had had a running argument of their existence. He believed if the wolf variety existed so should the other. With all the other were-animals in the world, why not dog? Yet the dragon kept pointing out the obvious. Where were the dog packs if they existed? Viktor believed they were too evolved to require packs, or too rare.

  “No,” she dragged out her answer. “Why would you think that?”

  “Your smell. Why do you smell so much of dog?”

  She winced. “It’s my job. I’m an animal control officer so I deal with lots of dogs.”

  He sighed. One day he would prove the dragon wrong, but today was not the one.

  Trixie gave a small laugh. “You look so disappointed. Do weredogs even exist?”

  The sound of her amusement was pure sunshine. “Yes, but I have yet to find one.” He winked. “Come into the light. I want to see you better.”

  She glanced at the open cell door.

  “I will not hurt you. The thought of being alone again is threat enough to guard you against harm.” He held out his hand and noticed the dirt under his nails, the threadbare material of his clothes. Prince Charming, he did not resemble.

  Ignoring his hand, she circled him. Her gaze focused on his collar.