by Anara Bella
He was pretty damned worried himself, but hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.
“You’re back!” Larke launched herself at him and squeezed him so tight his eyes about popped out of his head.
He hugged her back. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“This whole scheme of Dad’s terrified me. But you’re here so he must have been right.”
“Not exactly.”
“What do you mean?”
“I refused to test Father’s theory.”
She pulled back and looked him in the eyes. “What was Dad’s reaction to that?”
“Fine. Basically, I told him I’m not willing to gamble my life on what could just be a coincidence. If it happens a third time, then I’ll think about it.”
She sighed. “I hoped you were going to say you’d figured out another way.”
“Afraid not.”
“Well, we’re going to find out real soon.”
Rafe’s head whipped up. “You had another vision already?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“When do I go on the hunt?”
“Tonight.”
“Damn it. I have a date tonight.”
“You’ll have to cancel it.”
After everything he’d gone through to get Selena to agree to a date, he couldn’t believe his cursed bad luck.
His sister continued. “On the bright side, at least you’ll get to eat this time. At your favorite restaurant even.”
His gaze shot to hers. It couldn’t be. It simply wasn’t possible.
But it was. Because both siblings, one with certainty and the other with disbelief, said the restaurant’s name in unison.
“Stelladora’s.”
Chapter Seven
Selena hated the full moon.
It hadn’t always been that way. As a child, she’d loved it, often going to great lengths to see it. Well, to her child’s mind they’d felt like great lengths. Like sneaking out of bed when her parents had closed up for the night. Seeing how far she could get before a floorboard creaked, or some other sound seemed loud enough to wake them, sending her scurrying back to bed for fear of being caught.
One time, when the balmy summer night had beckoned, she’d actually managed to sneak all the way outside and had basked in the full moon’s glow for what seemed like hours. It was funny to think on it now, but getting outside had felt like such a huge accomplishment. Certainly it had been an adventure.
She couldn’t remember any more what the real fascination had been. Maybe it was the stories she’d read about the man on the moon. Maybe it was the way it lit everything with an opalescent light that made even the simplest things look mysterious and enchanting at the same time. Or maybe it was just an excuse to do something daring.
Whatever it was, once she’d discovered what looked like the face of a man etched on that gloriously luminescent surface, she’d spent hours gazing upon it. Even talking and sharing secrets with it like an old friend.
Back then, she’d preferred the moon to the sun for a number of reasons. For one thing, you couldn’t stare at the sun without eventually going blind, but you could stare at the moon for hours on end and nothing bad happened to you.
Add to that the fact she’d always burned so easily. The whole summer she’d work hard to try to get some color, but her pale skin had never tanned well. She was more likely to look like an overcooked lobster long before she’d ever get that healthy glow everyone else seemed to gain so effortlessly.
Maybe it was prophetic. It was certainly ironic. Here she was, all these years later, unable to go out in the sun without literally burning up. And the only luminary in the sky she could enjoy was the moon.
Despite all that, she still hated the full moon. Not because of how it looked, but because of what it represented for her now.
Feeding time.
You’d have thought she’d be used to it after all these years of months, each with its own full moon. But no, she would never get used to it. She hated feeding time. There was nothing good about it. It was nothing more than a reminder of what she was.
Unfortunately, there was no way to avoid it, and heaven knew she’d tried. If she didn’t feed during the full moon, she became very ill—short-tempered, weak, nauseous and mean.
She supposed it was much the same as a human. If they didn’t eat, the same thing happened to them and if it went on long enough, it eventually led to their death.
Not commonly known though, was that a vampire not feeding also led to its death. It wasn’t, however, a very practical way to kill one. Which was no doubt the reason it never seemed to make its way into folklore as an effective method of termination. You heard about stakes through the heart, fire, sunlight and beheading. Those were much more practical and immediate ways for ridding yourself of a pesky vampire.
But a little known fact was that if a vampire ever wanted to commit suicide, not feeding would be a way to accomplish the deed. Not a particularly viable one though. Especially since most of them were death-dealing feeding machines. The need to survive was as strong, if not stronger, in a vampire than in a human, and the urge to feed was so powerful it never became an issue.
Except for Selena.
An issue was exactly what it had become for her. One she almost hadn’t survived.
If not for Anne, she didn’t know what she would have done. She tried not to believe she would have become the murderous monster other vampires were, but she didn’t know for certain. She was just grateful she’d never had to find out.
To be truthful, she wasn’t even sure the monthly feeding thing applied to other vampires, or if it was limited to her. It wouldn’t be the first thing that made her different from other vampires.
Selena pushed away from the window, not wanting to look at that fully illuminated portend of despised needs anymore. She didn’t want to think about what its current phase meant either, but she had no choice.
She headed into the kitchen and opened the fridge. There, nestled inside their nondescript little packets, was something Anne had invented just for her. Surprisingly small for something that had such a huge impact on her life, they looked strange in their sterile, hermetically-sealed packaging. Like something from a sci-fi movie. Certainly not something that belonged in the fridge of a mythic creature.
She reached in and took out a packet, it’s cold, clammy feel somehow appropriate for what it substituted and symbolized—something she hated needing and relying on so desperately.
Its creation was a godsend though. Being both a chemist, and her best friend, Anne had been in the perfect position to help Selena when they’d realized she’d been turned into a vampire. Anne knew that blood—any kind of blood, but especially human blood—was guaranteed to make Selena pass out. Not a very auspicious foundation for a thriving vampire.
Although they hadn’t known at the time, Anne had only had a month to try to come up with some kind of substitute for Selena. At first, she’d worked on it in her spare time, but as it became obvious Selena was getting weaker and weaker, she’d taken all her vacation time off work and spent every waking moment she could on the self-imposed task. And she’d succeeded.
Barely.
Because once they’d passed the full moon, they’d known the time was very short. Anne had come up with one concoction after another for Selena to try. None of them had worked. And Selena almost hadn’t made it.
But Anne had come through for her, and Selena owed her everything, right down to a life that was worth living because she didn’t have to kill other living things in order to survive.
She reached into the fridge again and pulled out a bottle of vegetable cocktail, poured some into a blender along with the priceless, life-giving contents of the packet and buzzed it until it was well mixed.
There was something distinctly humorous about using a rich, blood-red, tomato-based juice for this monthly ritual. The symbolism appealed to Selena. As well as the fact that it hid the taste better than any fruit juice she’d tried
.
She poured the mixture into a tall glass, in an effort to make it look more appealing, and raised it high towards the moon in salute. “To Anne. May she live the long, rich and rewarding life she deserves.”
Selena took a couple of deep breaths to fortify herself, then plugged her nose and downed the foul-tasting cocktail as fast as she could, trying not to gag when it hit the back of her tongue. The cold, bitter brew slid down her throat, almost choking her, leaving in its wake a horrendous aftertaste that utterly defied description.
She slammed the glass down just as her taste buds reared up and shuddered their disapproval of her choice of beverage. The powerful reaction almost shook her teeth loose with its sheer violence.
Once the shudders stopped, she took another deep breath and held it for as long as she could before slowly releasing it.
There. It was done. She was free for another month, until the next full moon loomed overhead.
Free of phase one, at least. She headed for the bedroom and set her teeth, preparing for the onslaught of physical reactions that always coursed through her body afterwards. What she fondly referred to as phase two—the aftereffects.
The aftereffects weren’t truly terrible. At least, not as terrible as drinking blood would be. Nor were they horrifying, like taking a life would be. They were tolerable because the reactions weren’t inflicted on anyone else. They were limited to her. She could endure the sweats, debilitating nausea, often violent shaking. The only positive was that they ended in a rush of adrenalin that made her feel unbelievably vital and alive.
She often wondered if drinking actual blood would minimize some of the unpleasant aftereffects, such as the nausea and shaking, but she wasn’t willing to try it to find out. Nor was she going to ask another vampire to find out. She went out of her way to avoid them.
It was quite possible the nasty aftereffects were because she only fed once a month when she absolutely had to, rather than all throughout the month like most vampires did. Or maybe it was because it was a chemical compound rather than the real deal. She’d never know for sure. And she was fine with that, as long as it meant she could survive without killing.
Now that the deed was done, she heaved a great sigh of relief. She didn’t know why she always felt relieved since the not-fun aftereffects were yet to come, but she always did. Once they had passed, the only other thing she had to worry about was phase three—the next twenty-four hours or so. She supposed it went hand-in-hand with feeding, no doubt because of the fresh surge of energy and life that permeated every cell of her being.
Besides the actual feeding and subsequent aftereffects, this was the hardest thing for her to endure.
The overwhelming, all-encompassing, mind-consuming urge for sex.
Lots and lots of sex.
It was all she could think about while awake, all she dreamt of while she slept. And it was exhausting.
Mostly because she’d been fighting that urge, not allowing herself to give in to it because she didn’t trust herself, her judgment or men since Ambrose.
In fact, in the name of caution she always stayed in her apartment during this period of super-heightened sexual urges. It was the one way she could be sure she wouldn’t be tempted to pick up any convenient guy in close proximity for a night or two of wild sex. But Rafe had caught her off-guard with his sexy voice and seductive manner, and the other night she hadn’t been thinking with enough clarity to remember Friday was the full moon.
If she had, she would have turned down his dinner invitation. Not that he would have taken an answer of no easily, if at all, but she might at least have been able to put him off for a couple of days.
Unfortunately, she’d been off kilter and pretty much not thinking. It didn’t help that he’d just kissed her senseless either.
Now here she was, tonight of all nights, going out with Rafe. The one man she was having an agonizing time resisting anyway.
A fleeting and traitorously tempting thought crossed her mind. For once it might be fun to be exhausted from copious hours of sex with Rafe rather than from fighting her overwhelming sexual urges.
Chapter Eight
Stelladora’s was packed, but still managed to feel intimate, with cozy booths and lush plants that gave the illusion of privacy. Soft background music muffled the sounds of the other diners, adding to the romantic ambience.
And Selena looked incredible.
She wore a slinky little barely-there red dress that showed off every delectable inch of her perfect body. Lush, pert breasts above a beautifully curved waist, ending in a full, firm behind his hands itched to hold.
The four-inch heels made her already long, shapely legs look never-ending, and when he’d seated her at the table, he caught a crotch-twitching glimpse of the lacy top of her stockings. She wore the kind that stayed up all on their own, sans garter.
Picturing her with nothing on but those stockings and fuck-me stilettos had given him an instant hard-on that made sitting a challenge, and very, very uncomfortable.
He couldn’t get over how everything about her was his fantasy come to life, and it was almost enough to make him forget Larke’s vision and what it meant with regards to Selena.
Almost.
“Is something wrong?”
He pulled his mind away from pondering the strange coincidence of Selena that might not be a coincidence at all. Time to settle his attention back on the beautiful woman across from him. “No, why do you ask?”
“You keep looking at me kind of funny.”
He’d better watch himself. He thought he was hiding his suspicions well, but obviously he’d been studying her too closely.
Relaxing his muscles, he gave her what he hoped was his most charming smile. “I’m sitting across from the most beautiful woman in the room. Of course, I’m looking at you.”
Selena scoffed. “You’re so full of crap, but thanks anyway.”
He chuckled and shook his head at her unexpected comment. Any other woman would have been preening, or at least taken the comment as her due. But not Selena.
One day he was going to have to teach her just how beautiful she was. And when that day came, he’d delight in showing her every last thing he found beautiful about her. For now, he’d let the comment go and try to focus on the time-honored ritual of eating food. He could fantasize about feasting on the woman later in his lonesome bed, because he was positive he’d be sleeping alone tonight. “So, what are you in the mood for?”
Her head snapped up from studying the menu, and she blushed as if she’d been thinking of something naughty. It was a ridiculous notion, of course, but just thinking about the possibilities of what might be flitting through her lovely mind was enough to set his semi-erect penis to throbbing.
This was going to be a very long meal.
Whatever she’d been contemplating, he couldn’t deny her mind seemed elsewhere. Her tongue traced her bottom lip, and she looked as if she’d just consumed something delicious. When she still hadn’t answered him, he indicated the menu. “You know. Food. Drink. Dessert.”
She blinked and laughed nervously. “Oh, that.” Glancing back at the menu, she said, “I’m still trying to decide. Everything looks so tempting—” she glanced back up and took in every inch of him she could see across the table “—I want to eat everything in sight.”
Rafe offered up a silent prayer she was talking about something other than food.
Like maybe him.
Selena held his gaze a moment longer before she blushed again and looked back at the menu.
What on earth was going on? Was she flirting with him? It seemed so unlike her, at least it was new to him. Up until now he’d pretty much done all the flirting and she’d always quite neatly sidestepped all his advances or pushed him away. Well, except for that dance the other night and that had been fleeting at best. But this was a side of her he’d never seen before. And damned if he didn’t like it. Maybe too much.
He didn’t quite understand where all t
he blushes fit into things though. She was dressed like a temptress, flirting like a seductress and blushing like a virgin. A very unusual combination. Captivating. Intriguing.
And sexy as hell.
Their waiter came, took their drink order and returned with the basket of breadsticks Selena had requested. As soon as he left, she grabbed one and started nibbling on it. Lovingly, and with devoted precision, she savored it in a way that could only be called sensual.
Rafe watched with enthralled fascination as she put the end of the cigar-shaped breadstick in her mouth, sucking off the baked-on coarse salt, ending the ritual by daintily nipping off the end with her sharp little teeth.
He flinched. Watching her, he could all too easily picture something else in her mouth, something that was screaming for mercy in his pants right now. The erotic image had him so turned inside out he broke out in a cold sweat.
If she was teasing him, he’d make sure she paid. Trouble was that thought simply tortured him further as he went over the various pleasurable things he could do that would have her begging for mercy. He couldn’t stop the wicked grin he knew flashed across his face.
Selena stopped chewing on her breadstick and her eyes opened wide in query. “What?”
He tried to look innocent, but knew he’d failed when her pupils dilated and she blushed yet again. He scrounged for something innocuous to say, came up with nothing and settled on the truth. “I was thinking of how cute you look when you’re chewing on something.”
She burst out laughing so loud several of the other diners looked their way. “Now I know you’re full of it.”
“I knew you wouldn’t understand. It feeds into men’s fantasies.”
She froze, then swallowed. “Fantasies?” Her voice literally squeaked.
“Oh yeah.”
She searched his face and he could almost see her brain working. “I don’t get it.”
“You have this very sexy habit of always having something-or-other in your mouth. Up to now, it’s been a swizzle stick. But tonight, seeing your lips wrapped around that rather phallic-looking breadstick is putting some pretty wild thoughts in my head.”
