Venom & Vampires: A Limited Edition Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Collection

by Casey Lane

  He shook his head briefly, murmuring enigmatically, “I think it’s your eyes, but it could be that mouth.”

  “That’s an apology?” I asked in suspicious confusion.

  He laughed softly while smoothing his silky hair behind his ear. “No, this is my apology. Please forgive me for not telling you this earlier tonight on the elevator.” My smile faltered into a suspicious frown at those words, since the elevator had nothing to do with the apology I expected. “For an older sister, you have an outstanding ass.” Rod moved his head back and nodded at my gaping expression--it was the fish out of water look again, but I couldn’t help it. “Upside down heart-shaped, your ass is so womanly soft and squeezable.” His gleaming eyes on mine, Rod quietly kissed his fingers. Somehow, the gesture came off seductively foreign, instead of gross like the local bar pervert. “It’s not gym hard, but an old-fashioned ass a man can grab onto with both his hands,” Rod’s smile was slow, “and my favorite kind to sink into every night.”

  My mouth snapped shut with an audible click.

  Well, Christ Almighty, I wasn’t sure if the man had complimented me, compared my ass to Charmin, described the women he nightly screwed, boldly suggested anal sex, or all of the above. It didn’t matter because none of what he said was acceptable.

  “You know what? I may have a fat ass, but you’re a complete ass.”

  “No, no.” Laughing quietly, Rod held his hands up in mock despair and called out to my retreating back, “Say it isn’t so, Mary-Acadia!”

  “It IS so! And quit calling me Mary.”

  Resolutely, I kept my back, and my mushy, old ass, to the room. I didn’t look at him again, but joined Deb at the stove. She asked if Rod was bothering me, but I brushed off the question.

  Deb was normally a sweet, bland woman, not a fighter. I always thought she missed being described as pretty due to the general lack of animation in her personality rather than any unattractiveness of her regular features.

  At the moment, Deb’s hazel eyes were blazing with angry emotion over my shoulder, as she muttered, “That man struts around and is so conceited. He thinks he can have any woman.”

  I found myself in the ridiculous position of wanting to defend the man I’d just called a complete ass and tried to sucker punch a few minutes before that. It was a fact Rod could have most women, no thinking was necessary. Taking into consideration his fame, fortune, and fabulous looks, I’d found Rod to be surprisingly down to earth, funny, and while confident, not the least conceited.

  “Come on, Deb, you hardly know Rod.”

  She jerked her eyes to mine. “Neither do you. Don’t be naive, Acadia. He’s very handsome, but what could a young man like that really want with a woman your age?”

  “An older sister with a fat tushie?” At her confused frown, I sighed heavily. Not only at her lack of humor, but I was also bummed my friend didn’t rush to reassure me that my butt wasn’t fat. “Deb, you said it--what could Rod possibly want from me? So don’t worry because it isn’t necessary. Now, forget Rod. Where is everybody?”

  Earlier, I’d left instructions that nobody should stay alone in their houses anymore. Deb’s mouth was still tight, but she answered that Sean was staying in the bunkhouse tonight with the brothers, and that Bobby was staying at Salty’s house. Otherwise, everyone else had doubled up in bedrooms upstairs.

  I told her briefly about Gary’s wife Karen and our exciting ride home. Hearing we killed a couple of infected crazies only a few miles away frightened Deb enough to get her mind completely off Rod, and then I introduced her to Gary.

  After one look at Gary’s sad face, Deb immediately took him under her wing. A grief-stricken man was no threat to her, but brought out her nurturing instincts. The kettle whistled and she made him a cup of herbal tea. After a few sips, she wrapped a comforting arm around Gary and coaxed the exhausted man to the small guest room in her apartment above the kitchen.

  I could instruct Uncle Coop where to sleep until I was blue in the face; he’d do what he damn well pleased, so I was relieved when he came into the kitchen and announced he wasn’t going back to his house.

  “King House is secure for tonight, unless zombies can climb fences and pick locks.” He muttered a distracted good night to me and made a peremptory motion for Rod to come with him, not waiting for a response before disappearing through the basement door.

  Listening to the quick clomping of his descending feet on the wooden stairs, I was curious what my uncle was up to when Rod shook his head and murmured, “It’s the only explanation.”

  I must have missed some of what Rod said. “What’s the only explanation?”

  “Never mind.” Rod’s hand lifted to brush a loose strand of hair off my face, but I grabbed his wrist and held it away. Our faces were inches apart again and I could see the dark stubble outlining his lips and count the yellow-gold flecks in his eyes.

  When Rod frowned, his straight brows slanted downward where they met between his eyes and then slanted upwards on the opposite end, creating a V. I had to admit it was fierce, if a woman was into satanically sexy looks on a man when he frowned like Rod was doing now.

  “You won’t be leaving the house again alone for any reason tonight, right?”

  “Tempting as it is to run off by myself like the half-cocked idiot you obviously take me for, I’ll try to hold myself back.” I flung his suspended hand away but still held his gaze, which was now openly amused. Apparently, I was a nonstop source of entertainment for Rod.

  “I’m happy we understand one another.”

  I snorted.

  His smile widened. “Acadia King, I think you’re incredibly cute when you’re bitchy.”

  Nobody ever called me cute. I am not a cute woman. “I still think you’re a complete ass.”

  I’ve never seen a man grin so wide at being insulted. Rod was whistling as he followed my uncle down the basement stairs.

  Alone in the large kitchen, I was unsettled, but had the helpless urge to laugh--both emotions I was getting frustratingly used to the more I was in Rod’s presence. Rex sat up and cocked a floppy ear, reminding me that I wasn’t totally alone.

  “Good question, puppy. I think your lard ass mother’s become a challenge to a jaded player used to women falling at his feet.” Rex ambled over for a good scruffing. “He can’t be satisfied with once. Oh no, he wants seconds because he knows I don’t.” I briskly rubbed Rex’s black and white ears while his tongue lolled out in bliss. “Yes, my canine companion, except for you and Law, all men are contrary boneheads. Okay, Salty’s an exception. What? Uncle Coop you ask? No, I’m sorry to report Uncle’s a bit of a bonehead sometimes, too.” I kissed Rex on my favorite black spot located between his pale blue eyes. “No more questions. I’m taking a quick shower to wash off this lovely odor of terror and then we’ve got work to do.”

  Rex followed me while I showered and changed into leggings and a comfy sweatshirt. After that refresher, I came back to the deserted kitchen and fixed a coffee, grabbed a fistful of peanut butter cookies, and a new dog bone for Rex. Onto my tray of goodies, I added my gun, the neat piles of paper that included the lists of supplies purchased, supplies we ordered, and the names of people waiting approval to be asked to join us on the farm.

  At the desk in the library, I turned on the lamp and got to work. Rex’s warm body across my bare feet was better than any slippers while he gnawed contentedly on his bone. I carefully composed the mass email to the people Sean, Coop, and I had agreed we wanted to ask to be part of our community on the farm. We figured this would be a good way to reach many of them that we hadn’t already called. I paired the email with a mass text urging them to check their emails. Smiling slightly, I left Coop and Sean’s cell phones for the call back numbers.

  As I worked, it was just me, the pooch, and the deep quiet that settled over King House in the hours before dawn—a time I’ve come to know well through all my sleepless nights these past two years.

  I updated the shopping lists
for the coming morning supply run. I organized schedules and work teams for Thursday and Friday based off implementing our first phase of defenses.

  When that was done, I got down to the real work of doing the best I could to adapt the pre-made lists from my belly up file to our new reality. Sitting safely at my desk, even after everything that had happened tonight, it was surreal to think the reason I was analyzing the normal problems and challenges attached to any large group of people coexisting together was because of a freaking zombie virus.

  I worked on those details until my eyes blurred and wouldn’t focus. I closed them for a moment to clear my vision.

  Moaning out loud, I jerked awake from a dream. My left cheek was resting on the papers on the desk; an attractive string of drool falling from my open mouth. You would think I’d have a zombie nightmare, but instead, I had experienced the most deliciously erotic dream.

  I was still quivering and whispered, “Whoa, Nellie!”

  Sitting up, I pushed my tangled black hair away from my face with unsteady hands. When I dropped my hands, I blinked in disbelief. The man starring in my western-themed sex dream was lounging in the chair across from my desk. He was dressed in new jeans and an untucked black shirt. He smelled fresh as a daisy and was better looking than any three men combined had a right to be.

  I groaned. “Are you Satan?”

  “Not last time I checked.” Rod frowned a little and raised a helpful finger to indicate my chin. “Why were you moaning and making those little breathy sounds just now?”

  Cheeks hot, I quickly swiped the back of my hand across my mouth and chin while muttering, “Of course you’re Satan. How else could you be so happy and handsome all the time?”

  Rod nodded approval that I’d gotten all the drool and then cocked his head as a smile played across his lips. “You think I’m handsome?”

  I rolled my eyes, but he continued thoughtfully, “You know, those sounds were a lot like the sweet little moans you made in the elevator when I was...”

  “What time is it, anyway?” I interrupted loudly, turning my head as I felt the heat rise to boiling in my cheeks.

  I hadn’t bothered closing the heavy drapes in the circular seating area of the rook tower in the front of the library. It wasn’t light outside yet. I kept my eyes fixed over on those black windows like my life depended on it--anything to avoid looking at the big man I had just been riding harder in my dream than the Pony Express rode across Apache territory.

  “It’s time to tell you that it was decided last night I should be your bodyguard.”

  I laid my head back down on the desk and groaned louder.

  “Hey, don’t blame me, it was decided by unanimous vote when we were out on the supply run.” Rod drawled musingly, “I suppose it does make a certain sense, Mary-Acadia. This is your property we’re defending, and from what Liz and Jane told me about the farm, I imagine you’ll need to be all over the place giving orders. You shouldn’t ever be alone.” He shrugged and added modestly, “It’s certainly true I’m the strongest, toughest, fastest man around.”

  Lulled by the cadence of Rod’s deep, honeyed voice and my lingering delirium from the sex dream, I was almost able to forget the condescending import of his words. Almost.

  I muttered against the papers where my head rested, “Based on the three minutes I remember from the elevator, you’re the fastest man, all right.”

  “Based on the two and a half minutes I remember so fondly, you were faster.” My head shot up and he sighed loudly at my glare. “Acadia, I love that you’re such a competitive woman, but have some pity for a guy--I’m dog tired.” Rod rubbed a hand over his face and then eyed me a moment longer. “Okay, you bossy piece, have it your way.” He half rose from his chair to extend his hand across the desk. “Let’s go. I can see we won’t get anything more accomplished today until we go to your bedroom and settle the matter with an encore.”

  Determined not to laugh, I regarded his wiggling fingers like they were poisonous snakes. Hitting the keyboard, I glanced at the clock on the computer. 6:45 AM.

  “You’ve known me for what… nine hours, Rod Ramaldi? Out of those nine hours, we’ve probably spent a total of two hours in the same vicinity together.” I crossed my arms. “Please tell me, what have I done in that time to give you such a low opinion of my intelligence?”

  Rod’s dancing eyes widened. “Low opinion?” He grinned and leaned forward to brace his arms on the desk. “Why, I think you’re as brilliant as your silver eyes, Mary-Acadia.”

  I didn’t look at the muscular arms that moments ago had been tightly wrapped around my naked body, urging me on while I performed fancy pony sex tricks.

  “Do you?” I replied coolly, not backing away from his looming presence. “Then you’ll understand why I don’t need your help as a bodyguard, or any other kind of help to do with your body. Sean is my business partner.” I waved a drool-soaked paper in his grinning face while I mocked his drawl, “It only makes sense that my cousin be with me at all times--just like I have printed here on the team schedules.” I tossed the paper down and leaned forward. “Not someone who is leaving tomorrow. Or did your unanimous voters forget that little detail?”

  “No, ma’am, they did not.” Rod’s eyes lowered to my mouth and his voice was husky. “In fact, they unanimously voted I should stay on the farm and not leave.”

  My breath caught at those words, but a rattling of dishes at the library door had me sitting back abruptly in my chair. Deb popped her head in. She frowned unhappily at seeing Rod, but composed her face quickly and came over to place a steaming cup of coffee at my elbow.

  She kept her eyes on me and smiled brightly. “I thought you might appreciate a cup before everyone gets up,” She added stiffly, “or before your uncle and Rod drink the whole pot.”

  “Hey, thanks, I really do appreciate the coffee.” I appreciated her timely interruption even more and toasted her with the little silver cream urn. “Is Coop up already, too?”

  “Up?” Deb repeated. She tilted her head at Rod. “Didn’t he tell you? Those two didn’t go to bed. They woke up Sean, Bobby, and Salty and have been out disguising the 180th Street turnoff and bulldozing troughs in the fields along Highway 52.” She leaned over and dabbed at a drop of coffee on the saucer with a napkin. “Coop and Salty left a few minutes ago to buy more guns.”

  “What?” My gaze snapped to Rod. Taking in his shrug and wide smile at my shock, my brain stuttered a second again at the beautiful perfection of his damn teeth, but then I exclaimed, “That’s fantastic! I can’t wait to see what you’ve done.”

  “I’m interested in seeing our handiwork in the daytime, since we worked primarily by headlights.” He flexed his large hands, lips curving slyly. “You might want to reconsider my bodyguard offer. Poor Sean’s got terrible blisters.”

  I shook my head, looking away to not smile in return at his relentlessness.

  Deb snapped, “Sean works hard using his brain every day. He doesn’t get paid obscene amounts of money to run around throwing a little ball.”

  Rod’s smile didn’t falter. “Yeah, I feel bad for Sean, as well.”

  I was a little worried at how beet red Deb’s face was when she turned to me, but she spoke evenly, “Kate Martin called. She and Bruce will be here early this morning with two of their sons. The twins are out of state, so it will take longer for them to get here.”

  “That’s great news.” All of the Martins knew their asses from the end of a gun, so Coop would approve.

  I gulped some coffee and stood up, eager to escape. I almost dropped the cup when I saw Rod’s eyes drift down my body and pause at the crotch of my tight leggings, as if the man could somehow detect that my panties were soaked from my scorching dream on the high plains.

  “Breakfast is in fifteen minutes.”

  Startled at Deb’s voice, I slammed down the coffee. As I practically ran from the room, she called after me, “Are we all going over to work on the road after that?”
<
br />   I didn’t stop, but called back, “Not everyone. There’s a work schedule on the desk.”

  As I left the library, I forced my mind to focus on all the jobs ahead of us today. There were several different plans in the works at the same time, but our top priority was to make it nearly impossible for anyone to get onto King Farm land from the west off Hwy 52, whether on foot or in a vehicle. I said nearly impossible because no defense plan was ever completely invincible, but if crazies or uninfected people did get onto my land, we would do our best to make them wish they hadn’t.

  If you picture a rectangle five vertical miles by nine horizontal miles, that is the approximate shape of the 4,800 acres of King Farm. 180th Street ran roughly across the middle of the rectangle.

  The western border of the farm is the five vertical miles of land running north and south along Hwy 52. Of the traffic coming to the farm or quarry, almost one hundred percent came from that direction. In our collective opinion, it’s the most vulnerable access point to the property.

  The priority plan was to remove access to 180th Street from outsiders and to obliterate any indicators that turnoffs to this road ever existed. The plan also included deep, continuous trenches be dug up and down the plowed fields at wide-spaced intervals. The soil and rocks dug from the deep trenches would be used to create tall berms to hinder any forward progress of trespassing bad guys--dead or alive. If they made it past the first trench and berm, the undisturbed field in between the trenches would be strung out with large coils of a triple concertina fence, a razor-sharp barbed wire.

  Our goal this morning was to get at least the first trench dug along the five mile western border in the fields along Hwy 52. Over the next few days, we’d continue to dig the trench around the perimeter of the entire property, but that roughly twenty-eight miles of trench would take much more time than we had today.

  I was jubilant the men had started on the project over the last couple of hours, since it never crossed my mind to begin before daylight. Out in the main hall, I impulsively thumbed a quick thank you text to Uncle Coop for that brilliant move. My phone showed I had about twenty new text messages. I scrolled quickly. Most were from vendors commenting in approval on our move to cancel the Fall Festival.