Vampire for Christmas

by Felicity Heaton

  The demon began to bubble and melt into a big pile of ooze.

  Rafe looked confused, but he was staring at her, not the demon.

  “I saw you stick your fingers in its eye,” she said and ran her hands down her chest and legs, squeezing some of the slime out of her clothes. “That was disgusting.”

  He smiled and shrugged.

  “It was the only weapon at my disposal, and it weakened it enough for you to kill it.”

  Shannon frowned. “What do you mean by that? That I couldn’t kill it without your help?”

  He shrugged easily again.

  “I could have killed it... although, your distracting it by letting it play with you like a ragdoll was appreciated.” She smiled and then it fell away when she caught a flashback of how violently the demon had tossed Rafe around. “You okay?”

  He touched his left temple again. “Superficial damage. Better it threw me around than you.”

  He walked over to her, into the light, and her shoulders sagged when she saw the bloody mess on the side of his head and neck, and the new cuts and scratches on his face.

  “You need to take more care of yourself.” She tentatively touched a gash just below his right eye and ended up with red slime on her fingers.

  Rafe stared down at her, his silence making the air around her feel heavy. She smiled, hoping to alleviate the sense that she should say something dramatic or do something incredibly romantic.

  She wasn’t going to kiss him when he was covered in slime.

  So she settled for dramatic.

  “Why don’t you come back to my place and get cleaned up?”

  ****

  Chapter 6

  Rafe’s head was killing him but he didn’t care. He stared at Shannon’s house as they approached it, still not quite able to believe that she was going to invite him in. Part of him expected her to stop on the other side of her door, beyond his reach, and tell him that she never wanted to see him again and everything she had said tonight had been a cruel joke.

  She had been quiet all the way back to her house. It had frayed the edges of his already tattered nerves. He had always prided himself on his strength, both physical and emotional, but he felt weak now, unsure of what was going to happen, and afraid that it wasn’t going to turn out as he hoped, with a happily forever after.

  He took a deep breath as they mounted the porch steps together.

  Shannon stopped and turned to face him, and he waited for her to push him away and tell him that she wasn’t going to let him in.

  “I think I owe you something,” she said and stepped towards him. His eyes widened when she tiptoed and pressed her lips softly against his. He stared ahead as everything sank in and then closed his eyes and kissed her.

  She didn’t protest when he placed his hands on her waist and then slid them around her back, drawing her close to him.

  The kiss was soft, slow, a gentle meeting and parting of lips that stirred hunger and desire inside him, chasing away his fear.

  He sighed when she moved back and smiled at her. “You removed the mistletoe.”

  A blush stained her cheeks. He cupped her left one, his fingertips resting against her jaw line, and brushed his thumb over her cheek, clearing away the green slime.

  Shannon touched his hand.

  “I said that I owed you.” She took his hand away from her face and turned towards the door.

  She slid her key into the lock, twisted it and pushed the door open. The lights were on inside, warm and inviting, and his breathing quickened with the rising sense of anticipation inside him.

  Shannon stepped inside.

  Rafe lost his ability to breathe at all.

  She turned towards him and smiled.

  “Come in, Rafe.”

  He wanted to pinch himself to make sure that he hadn’t imagined those words. He stared at her, everything slowly sinking in. Her smile held. With a heart full of trepidation, Rafe moved a step forwards and then watched his left foot as he cautiously edged it towards the threshold of her home. He didn’t breathe until it had crossed the line. Relief coursed through him at the sight of his foot on the other side of the doorway. He looked up at Shannon to see her still smiling at him, and then slowly stepped into her house.

  Rafe looked back at the open door and porch beyond, and then down at his feet. He wasn’t sure what to say to her, how he could sum up the incredible feeling of awe and gratitude that was close to overwhelming him. This gesture by her meant the world to him. It showed him how much she trusted him and he still couldn’t believe that she had welcomed him into her sanctuary.

  He glanced at her and then his feet, and then his gaze came back to her.

  “Thank you,” he said and stepped aside when she moved forwards to close the door.

  “You can shower first.” She removed her jacket and dropped it on the pale wooden floor, and then toed her black trainers off. “I’ll find you something to wear while your clothes are in the wash.”

  Rafe nodded, only half listening to her. The other half of him was engaged in memorising her home. He had seen it often from the outside but it had been difficult to get a true feel for it and what it looked like inside. The layout was similar to his home, with the wooden stairs directly in front of the door, and the living room to the left. The room to his right was still a dining room. Her taste in decor was certainly better than what the agency had given him. Pale colours adorned the walls and there were modern paintings and furniture. Had she chosen the colours and things in her home, or had the agency done it for her? Was this Shannon’s idea of a home, or the agency’s idea of Shannon?

  “Do you like it?” she said and he dragged his eyes back to her and nodded. She smiled mischievously. “It’s far less drab than your place.”

  He frowned at her and removed his coat. There were other, clean, coats on the pegs beside the door so he dropped it on the floor with hers. He untied his boots and tugged them off, leaving them with her trainers.

  Shannon mounted the first step on the stairs. “I’ll show you around.”

  Rafe followed her, still convinced that he had hit his head harder than he had thought and was unconscious and dreaming all of this. She stopped at the top of the stairs and pointed along a hall that led towards the back of the house.

  “The bathroom’s this way.” She motioned for him to follow.

  He did, still taking everything in. There were several large bedrooms, all with their doors open. Which one did she use? The agency had only bothered to put a bed in one room of his house, and he was glad of it. He kept the other bedroom doors closed so the house didn’t feel as big. Shannon’s house was at least the same size as his. Both of them felt too large for just one person to live in. Did she feel that way too?

  Shannon leaned into a room and turned a light on. He stopped beside her. The bathroom was standard white with a shower cubicle, basin on a vanity, and toilet.

  “There should be soap and things.” She didn’t sound sure. “Just toss your clothes on the vanity and I’ll add mine to them. I have a robe you can wear.”

  Rafe walked into the bathroom and she closed the door. If the robe she had gone to retrieve was at all feminine in style, he was going to have words. He looked around, stripped off his shirt, jeans and underwear, and left them on the vanity just as she had told him to. He stepped into the shower cubicle and turned the water on. He hissed out his breath at the freezing temperature and stepped back, giving it time to warm up. The water still sprayed onto his feet, numbing his toes. It wasn’t good to lose body heat. It took him a long time to warm up again. The downside to no longer being human. He didn’t have a beating heart to burn energy and warm his blood. The colder his environment was, the colder he was. He had touched Shannon tonight and she hadn’t seemed to mind about the difference in their body temperatures.

  He had kissed her.

  The memory of their first kiss rose up in his mind, sending it spiralling down paths that twirled ever outwards, multiplying to im
agine all the possible outcomes of kissing her again. It would be difficult to keep it as chaste if he kissed her now. At the time of their first kiss, it had been imperative that it had been nothing more than a light meeting of lips. His fangs had been out.

  If he had kissed her with the force of the passion burning inside him, he would have caught her tongue on them. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he tasted her blood.

  The thought of it stirred him and he stepped into the cold water to chase his desire away. The water started to warm, as though wanting to foil his attempt to keep his ardour under control, and he grabbed the shower gel from the chrome rack in the corner of the cubicle.

  Their second kiss had caught him off guard. He had been nervous about whether she would let him in, distracted by it enough that he didn’t want to risk kissing her as he had wanted to.

  If she gave him the chance now, he would kiss her with all the hunger and desire he felt for her.

  The bathroom door opened.

  Rafe paused. His senses fixed on her.

  She must have come to take his clothes and to bring him the bathrobe to wear.

  He waited for her to leave.

  She didn’t.

  She opened the frosted glass door of the cubicle.

  Rafe’s gaze instantly dropped to her bare body, taking in every luscious curve and the swell of her breasts. His eyebrows rose. His breath hitched in his throat.

  Why was she standing naked in front of him?

  Was he dreaming?

  He seriously considered pinching himself and then forced his eyes up to meet hers. Her cheeks coloured deeply, tinted rose pink. She stared at his chest and spoke to it rather than him.

  “I just want to get clean.”

  He didn’t believe that for a second. If she only wanted to get clean, she would have told him to shower second, or to hurry up. Getting clean was the excuse she was hiding behind. Not that he cared. He stepped aside, backing into the jet of warm water, and made room for her. She hesitated still. Her gaze rose a little higher, almost reaching his jaw, and then dropped back to his chest.

  And then it dropped down for a split second and darted away to her left.

  Her cheeks blazed.

  Rafe smirked.

  She might have an excuse for being here, but her body betrayed her. He listened to the rapid beat of her heart and the rush of her blood that carried heat to the surface of her skin and filled the air with the scent of her arousal. She wanted this to be more than a shower.

  But he was going to play the gentleman.

  If his body got the message that was.

  His groin throbbed and he kept his gaze firmly on her face and told himself to get a grip. She had said she just wanted a shower, and that was what he would give her. When she wanted more from him, she would only have to say the word.

  But she would say it.

  He wasn’t one to overstep boundaries laid out by women, and he didn’t want to mess anything up with Shannon. As excruciating as the thought of showering with her but not touching her was, he would bear it and would abide by her rules.

  Rafe kept still as she took the shower gel from his hand, squeezed some onto her palm, and then tiptoed and rubbed it into his dark hair. The feeling of her little fingers working the soap into his scalp, nails catching occasionally, and the gentleness with which she cleaned around the cuts along the side of his head, was divine. She leaned closer to him when she tried to reach the back of his head and her breasts pressed against his bare chest. They both froze.

  Her heart hammered against his chest.

  He moved back an inch, so their bodies no longer brushed, and she took to cleaning his shoulders instead. It was torture. He couldn’t take the feel of her hands on him, smoothing soapsuds over his skin, when he wanted to touch her too. This wasn’t just showering. She had to see that.

  Rafe hesitated and then placed his hands on the arc of her waist. She didn’t scream, shout, pull away or slap him. He took it as a good sign and slid his hands up towards her breasts. He detoured when he reached them, sweeping the bare curve of them, and she shivered. Her nipples tautened, dusky peaks tempting him to swirl his tongue around them, or at least brush his thumbs over them. Minx.

  Instead, he took the shower gel from her and pulled the band out of her fair hair. She turned her back to him and he ran his fingers through her wet hair, untangling the strands. She sighed when he started to wash her hair, gently cleaning the golden lengths, and tilted her head back. Rafe ran his eyes down her back to her bottom and his cock twitched. He tried to focus on just washing her hair but it was impossible. He was a man after all. When faced with such temptation, with the bare form of the woman he wanted most in the world, no man would be able to resist.

  She gasped when he stepped close to her, nestling his erection against the crack of her buttocks, and then arched into him. Rafe groaned and rolled his eyes closed. He grabbed her hip with one hand and dropped the shower gel from the other. He held her firm and ground against her backside. She sighed and wriggled. The Devil he wanted to be inside her.

  He reined himself in instead and moved backwards, bringing her under the spray of water and rinsing her hair out for her. His cock ached and throbbed, demanding attention, but he kept his focus on the simple task of washing her.

  Any excuse to touch every inch of her.

  She turned around, crouched, and picked up the shower gel. Rafe kept still again as she washed him, her hands stroking over his shoulders, his chest, and down the taut line of his abdomen. She took her time there, teasing each muscle and running her fingers along the lines between them. Her pupils were wide when she looked up into his eyes, her green irises drowned out by their dark depths. She was enjoying this.

  He was to, and that was why he didn’t want to make a wrong move. She could set the pace this time, building the foundation of their tentative relationship. If it all went to plan, he would have all the time in the world to be wicked with her and take the lead. All he needed was a little patience.

  It almost slipped through his grasp when she handed him the bottle of shower gel and gave him a coy smile. Rafe squeezed some out onto his palm, lathered it, and then fought for control as he washed her. The feel of her slippery supple body beneath his fingers was heavenly. He paid close attention to her breasts, his gaze studying her face as she bit her lip and sighed, and then eased his hands down towards the apex of her thighs. She gasped then, her lips parting with it, and her soft pink tongue traced the line of them. Rafe groaned. An urge to tackle that tongue with his own, to kiss her breathless until she was begging him for more, bolted through him. He slid his fingers into her warm folds and her hand shot out towards the wall and pressed against it, as though she needed its support. She tiptoed, moaned and shivered.

  Damn he wanted her.

  He gave her pert nub a single swirl with his finger and removed his hand. She shivered again and opened her eyes, staring into his. It wasn’t a shiver of pleasure this time. The water was still warm but it was turning colder in the room. As much as she wanted this to continue here, he couldn’t let it happen. She would freeze.

  Rafe turned the shower off, opened the cubicle door, and held it for her. She smiled shyly and stepped out. He followed her and she handed him a white towel. Instead of drying himself, he dried her with it. She did the same, using her towel to dry him. He groaned and bit his tongue when she ran the towel over his still erect cock. Her smile turned wicked for a moment and then her expression shifted to concern. She sighed, bunched the towel up in her hand, with a section of it over her index and forefinger, and tiptoed towards him. She dabbed the side of his head with the towel, her green gaze on it, and he held her waist to steady her when she wobbled.

  “Do they hurt?” she whispered, her eyes not leaving the cuts.

  “No.” They didn’t bother him at all, not when she was so close to him, showing him such affection. She pressed a little harder and he winced.

  Shannon smiled. “You’re a t
errible liar.”

  He gave her his best grin and her cheeks coloured.

  When she had finished drying the cuts on the side of his head, she carefully tended to the ones on his face and neck. He watched her the whole time, absorbing how different she was now that she had overcome whatever barrier she had placed between them in her heart. She set back on her heels and he let go of her waist. The towel was pink with blood.

  “Sorry.” He took it from her and she took his and started drying her hair.

  “It’s not a problem. I can wash it.”

  The blood probably wouldn’t come out even if she washed it at a high temperature. It was the reason he had bought such dark towels.

  “Will they heal?” she said and he dragged his gaze away from her body. She nodded towards him and he presumed she meant the cuts on his head. He tentatively touched them and they stung.

  “Given time.” He wasn’t sure how much time. Normally when he sustained bad injuries he went out the next night to replenish his body with blood, and that helped him heal. This time, he had come to see Shannon instead, and he didn’t feel like leaving her to track down some prey. Not for a few days at least. He might heal in that time.

  “Do you need—?” She didn’t have to finish that question for him to understand it.

  His gaze flickered to her neck and then back to her eyes. “I will be fine.”

  She smiled. “You really are a terrible liar.”

  He was lying because he didn’t think she had a store of bagged blood in her refrigerator and he wasn’t about to bite her. His eyes slid down to her bare throat and the marks on the right side of it. His fingers shook as he reached out and slowly ran them over the scars. Shannon didn’t smack his hand away this time.

  Rafe stared at the marks, his hunger rising inside him and his fangs extending. He knew the moment his eyes had switched to their true state, the one he so often tried to hide from her. The bathroom sharpened and brightened, the light hurting him, and Shannon’s pulse doubled. He wished they were his marks. If they were, they would have been done far more gently. He would never hurt her. His beautiful Shannon.