It was with no surprise, then, that the first person she clapped eyes upon was Jean Morel, the ruffian and despoiler of virgins. The only surprise was how her heart sang at the sight of him.
She took in the rest of the room in a glance—the stateroom of his boat, she’d wager. Her dress was draped over one chair, and on the nightstand beside her was the brooch watch that she always wore. She retrieved it out of habit, but a glance revealed that the face had cracked and the hands were frozen. It had broken in their encounter.
Hattie set it down and met Jean’s gaze again.
“I kept my promise,” she said evenly, pushing into a sitting position against the drift of pillows. “I survived.”
An indolent, self-congratulatory smile spread across the man’s face, and he said in a tone of deep condescension and indulgence, “Indeed, you did, my dear.”
“What you did—” She shuddered at the memory, not only the pain but the deep pleasure that went far beyond anything she had entertained in her wildest flights of fancy.
“I took you,” he finished for her. “I claimed you.”
“You cut me,” she said, her hands straying under the blanket, down to her thigh where his teeth had pierced her flesh and her blood had spilled out onto the floor, into his mouth. She looked at him, and she realized that he wasn’t a man, after all, at least not a man as she had a sense of the word. He was beautiful beyond any man she’d ever met because he wasn’t a man, not truly.
He stood and crossed over to her, and the power than surrounded him was almost palpable. Hattie raised a hand involuntarily, reaching for it.
Jean caught her hand in his, and she bit her lip against the strength of the reaction that crackled through her nerves. He bent over so close that his breath tickled her cheek, and she caught her breath—caught her impulse to turn into his mouth and take it with her own, despite everything.
“And you loved it,” he murmured.
Then she did kiss him, because Hattie was a woman quite accustomed to doing what she pleased, and what she pleased at that moment was to kiss Jean Morel.
A delicious, shivering heat unfurled inside her center, spilling down to the place between her legs, all the places his mouth had been, the cold, clinical words tumbling into her mind with erotic meanings they had never carried before as she thought of all the places he had touched and all the places she wanted him to touch again. His lips moved against her with expert skill, his tongue stroking into her mouth as it had done below, and she realized that it was not his mouth that she wanted there anymore.
He was the one to finally break away, straightening to stand over her once again.
“Well, now,” she said, taking a breath to steady herself. “You might as well tell me what you are. And what you did, because I am certain that I’m not quite the same person that I was when I entered your boat.”
“Are you not?” Jean asked. His hand still held hers, and now he was running his fingers across the backs of her knuckles.
“No, and you are not what you seem,” she replied steadily.
“It’s both easier these days, when you have a name for what I am, and so much more difficult,” he mused. “It is a word both familiar to you and so burdened with misconceptions.”
“If you don’t say the word, you will have no chance to correct them,” Hattie said, but even as she spoke, she realized what he meant. “Oh, no,” she said. “That’s quite impossible.”
His smug smile widened. “I assure you that it is.”
“But you’re alive,” she protested, turning his wrist so that she could feel his pulse under her questing fingers.
“I am, indeed,” he said. “Keen observational skills befitting a girl attending a prestigious university.”
She looked at him narrowly. “Fine. Then it doesn’t mean everything I might suppose, but you do drink blood.”
“And need it to survive, my dear,” he drawled. “And you, my fortunate one, shall now be able to supply it whenever I have need.”
A part of Hattie was taken aback at that bald statement, the conventional part who had been raised to be a proper lady, but another part, the analytical part that had never been a lady at all, took that statement and slotted it into place with everything else.
“Because I didn’t die.” She looked at him, and she realized that if he wasn’t human, then she must not be, either, not when his teeth had left no mark on her. “So what am I now?”
“Mine, forever,” Jean said succinctly.
“And why should I want that?” she asked him boldly.
He chuckled. “My dear, you were a proper young lady from a proper family, destined for a proper life, no matter how hard you tried to run from it.”
“Before you,” she said.
“Yes,” he agreed.
“And are you equally mine?” she shot back.
At that, he laughed outright. “Equally? There is nothing equal between a vampire and his consort. But I shall give you my faithfulness and everything you desire, within reason.” He appeared to think for a moment. “And most likely beyond it, for as long as you shall live—which, with any luck, will be a very, very long time.”
Hattie thought about his offer, and she thought about the life that she had left behind on the shore and the innumerable limitations that she could never overcome, no matter what her level of scholarship or brilliance. She thought of the wonderful, terrible night they had shared that had left no mark upon her skin, and she thought of all the things they had not yet done.
She tipped back her head as she looked up at him and braced herself as she sought leverage to use against him.
“Luck?” she repeated. “I do feel lucky today. I’m all in.”
Then she pulled with all her weight, tugging the smug, smirking bastard down onto the blankets beside her.
The End
About the Author
V. M. Black writes in the world of Aethereal Bonds. This novelette told the backstory of one of the vampire couples featured in her modern-set Cora’s Choice serial, which begins with the free book Life Blood. Visit her website for details and to join her newsletter.
www.aetherealbonds.com
Falling for the Firefighter
by Shelli Stevens
When her cousin sets the kitchen on fire, Kim comes face to face with a man from her past. Despite the sparks that fly, she’s afraid to fall for the firefighter who might leave her burned.
Chapter One
“You seriously set the house on fire?”
From where he was pulling out the cabinets to check for smoldering, Lucas gave a cursory glance to the blond woman entering the kitchen.
This must be the cousin the homeowner had mentioned earlier. The cousin, she’d said, who was going to kill her when she realized what had happened.
The blonde’s back was to him as the two women continued their conversation.
“Crap, I was frying bacon, and then that guy I met at the club last night called. Oh god, I swear I was only gone for a few minutes...”
Lucas barely restrained a small sigh, which he noted coincided with the blonde’s sigh, as he went back to his job. In the years he’d worked as a firefighter he’d soon realized cooking fires were usually the number one calls they went out on.
“Ah jeez, Deanna. You can’t leave food unattended on the stove. I’ve called you on that more than once.”
The cousin’s voice traveled closer and he spotted her out of his peripheral as she arrived beside him.
“These are ruined,” she said softly, touching the cabinets, which had once likely been a robin’s egg blue. “We just painted them.”
He realized she was directing that last comment to him and glanced over to give her a sympathetic smile. He was turning back to his task when he froze. Recognition slammed through him.
Instead of a smoke-stained kitchen, he was back in The Blue Lounge on a crowded dance floor. That night she’d been in a slinky top and tight jeans, hair down and face made up. It had
taken a second to recognize her with the ponytail, bare face and the medical scrubs she wore now.
They’d shared only a couple hours together, before her boyfriend had shown up and gotten a little aggressive with her. Lucas had stepped in and damn near got his ass kicked for the fact. Unfortunately another man—the club’s owner—had been on the receiving end of the knife the douchebag had pulled.
Then Blondie, or Kim as she’d told him, had split without so much as a thank you or a number. Which really irked him, because getting women’s numbers was like a given for him.
“How’s the damage?” She cast him a quick glance.
Covered head to toe in his turnout gear and helmet, there wasn’t a chance she would recognize him. That was if she even remembered him.
“It looks minimal. Could’ve been worse.”
She shook her head and folded her arms across an impressive chest. “Should never have happened in the first place.”
He nodded at her scrubs. “You a nurse?”
“Dental hygienist.”
Did not see that coming. Then again it would explain that perfect smile, which was the first thing he’d noticed about her that night.
Damn, but he’d been so into her. And she’d been awfully flirty for someone who had a boyfriend. Not that it in any way excused the guy’s controlling response.
“Not a fan of the dentist?”
Her light tone jolted through him.
“Excuse me?”
“Your face just had that sucking-on-a-lemon look.”
“Nah, dentists are fine.”
He hadn’t realized he was scowling.
She slid a gaze over him and he didn’t miss the interest in her eyes.
Irritation slid through him and he resolutely turned back to the cupboards, keeping his focus on checking for smoldering.
She seemed to get the message that he was here to work, because she turned and headed back to the other side of the kitchen to talk to the cousin again.
Good. The last thing he needed was getting distracted on the job, especially by some cute blonde who got herself into trouble, and then didn’t stick around to clean up the mess.
***
Why was she getting weak knees over the firefighter in her kitchen?
Kim fixed her ponytail and left the room, scowling fiercely. A random guy was the last thing that should be on her mind right now. Especially when said guy was only here because her house had nearly burned down.
Dammit Deanna. Her stomach clenched and she swallowed hard. Her cousin was notorious for getting into trouble. She’d known that before their grandparents had given them the house to live in several years ago.
“I’m really sorry.”
At her cousin’s hesitant apology, Kim shook her head. “I know you are.” She bit her lip so she didn’t add but I’m getting so tired of this kind of thing to the sentence.
Hearing male chatter from the other room, she slid a glance back to the kitchen where the firefighters were still roaming about.
“Hey, at least we have hot firemen here, right?” Deanna’s tone perked up.
“I wasn’t looking at them.” Okay maybe she was a little. The one who’d been working on the cabinets beside the stove.
She’d been talking to herself, but when he’d glanced over she’d caught her breath at the compassion in those dark eyes. A frisson of awareness had slid through her and for a moment the fire in the kitchen slipped to the back of her mind.
Her mouth had gone dry, her pulse had quickened, and she’d struggled with the notion that she knew him from somewhere. But then he’d only had his face showing with all the gear, and even parts of that had been in shadow.
The firefighters left the kitchen and made their way toward the front door. One stopped to talk to Deanna. The one Kim had been chatting with slid a glance her way and their gazes met. Her heart tripped, and his gaze flickered with irritation, before he looked away. A moment later he was out the door.
She knew him from somewhere. She did. But from where? Butterflies danced in her belly as she walked to the window to watch them packing up their truck in the pouring rain.
How often did they come out to calls like this? Where some person just royally screwed up and damn near burnt their house down.
“Thanks again,” Deanna called out to the last firefighter as he made his way outside.
The heavy click of the door left them both alone with just the silence and lingering smell of smoke in the air.
“Thank god for insurance, right?” Deanna offered an overly bright smile and looked like she was going to say more, but her phone rang. “One sec, I need to grab that.”
Kim loved her cousin dearly, but the girl was a little scatterbrained. Or a lot.
As she watched, the fire truck pulled away from the curb and left the street. There was a flash of a curtain dropping back into place from the house across the way. Yes, they’d definitely given the neighbors something to gossip about.
She shook her head and went back into the kitchen to check out the damage again.
Chapter Two
This had to be the most random thing she’d ever done.
Kim pulled into the fire station parking lot and took a deep breath, clenching and unclenching her hands from the steering wheel.
She glanced at the passenger seat and that plastic-wrapped plate that held a couple dozen oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. Taped to the plastic was a thank you card.
If anything she was going to blame her decision to bring the fire department cookies on the fact that she’d had to bake some for the party at work anyway. So with the leftover dough, why wouldn’t she drop some off at the station with a thank you note? These guys probably didn’t get thanked enough.
It had nothing, absolutely nothing, to do with the firefighter who’d been fondling her cupboards and made her stomach flip like a gymnast.
Nothing at all.
Okay, she couldn’t completely lie to herself. She did kind of hope he was working. It had been almost a week since the fire, and she really didn’t know his schedule, or if she’d recognize him if she saw him anyway.
But something inside her had itched to make contact. To find him. To figure out if she really did know him from somewhere. Which was a little stalkerish, but she wasn’t about to worry about such trivial things.
She grabbed the cookies and slid from her car, walking with her head held high to the front door of the building. When she stepped inside, an older gentleman behind a desk glanced up at her.
“Hello there. How can I help you?”
He looked like a volunteer at the station. Or at least definitely not the person they’d send out on a call. Her gaze slid past him toward a hallway that must’ve led back into the building.
“Hi. I’m not sure how to do this, I’ve never been in one of these places—well maybe in pre-school—but I wanted to drop off cookies for the firefighters.”
The older gentleman’s eyes lit up, knowing and amused.
“They were at my house last week,” she rushed to explain, “When my roommate set the kitchen on fire. And it was just a horrible rainy day to be out in and they were so nice to us, I just wanted to bring in a little thank you gift.”
Damn, but her face kept getting hotter. Was she as red as she felt? Her fair skin meant she usually was.
“Well that’s very nice of you, young lady. I’m Walter, and why don’t you come with me and I’ll give you a station tour, and you can thank the group yourself. Can’t say it’ll be any of the guys who came to your house, but they’ll all appreciate it.”
Her heart quickened and she gave a little nod as she followed him down the hallway. She heard laughter and male voices and what sounded like a female one laced in.
Walter really did give her the tour, pointing out all the different rooms and areas, and what they were used for. Her mind was only half attentive, though, as she listened to the voices of the firefighters growing closer.
“They’re probably coo
king dinner. Getting ready to eat soon.” Walter smiled at her.
From what she could pick up from the bits of conversation she heard, the guys were joking about cooking. A strong male voice made a comment about handling the meat and gave a low laugh.
The voice. The laugh. A frisson of recognition slid through her. She shook her head. She’d heard it before. She wasn’t wrong about this hunch.
“Right back here is the kitchen where they seem to be, by the sounds of it.”
Kim followed him into the kitchen where a group of men and a lone woman were prepping food and chatting. Dimly she heard Walter call out a greeting and introduce her, but Kim was already searching out the source of the familiar voice. She found him with a frying pan in his hand and his gaze trained on her.
Her mouth went dry and her heart thumped into double time. Oh crap, it was him. Not only was he the firefighter she’d been checking out at her house, but he was that guy. The sexy, flirtatious man she’d had a connection with at The Blue Lounge two months ago.
She hadn’t recognized him when he was in her house all decked out in his gear. But now in normal clothes, the dark pants and T-shirt with the firefighter logo on it, it was all clicking into place. The shaved blond head, the broad shoulders, and those brown eyes that had hints green when the light hit him right.
Maybe she wouldn’t have recognized him if she hadn’t heard his laugh a moment ago. But when she’d heard it, that memory had opened up like a flower. Seeing him now and the way he watched her with narrowed eyes, she had no doubt this was Lucas from the club.
A tiny part of her hoped he wouldn’t recognize her. But when his mouth tightened and his gaze flashed with irritation, her stomach sank. She knew that look. It was the same one he’d given her before she’d fled The Blue Lounge and left him dodging punches from Dave. God, he must think she was a total bitch.
Her hands tightened around the plate of cookies and she had the sudden urge to flee. As if sensing her flight response, he set the pan down and approached.
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