Dark Wine at Midnight (A Hill Vampire Novel Book 1)

by Jenna Barwin

  Henry reached for her hand, bringing her fingers to his lips. She smelled of fresh apple. He softly kissed her folded fingers, and then said, “You won’t be seeing him, so there’s nothing further to discuss.”

  “Actually, there is.” She looked away, her eyes carrying a certain shyness. “Are you dating anyone else?”

  He liked the sound of her question—much better than talking about Zeke.

  “I have dated others since Erin, but no one has held my interest—until now,” he said, and kissed her fingers again.

  “Really? You don’t have a new girlfriend lined up?”

  “Perhaps I’m looking at her.”

  A rosy color flooded her cheeks. He took her reaction as a good sign. Before he could say anything else, Candy nudged at their linked fingers. “I think someone is impatient,” he said to the horse, releasing Cerissa’s hand.

  Cerissa took out the last apple quarter and offered it to Candy in the flat of her hand.

  Rolf is wrong—Cerissa will be mine. She looked so beautiful under the starlight. If she knew what I did to Zeke’s maker, would she still want to be my mate? No, it was better not to think of the past. It only led to sins he’d fought so hard to forget.

  * * *

  Cerissa stroked Candy’s forehead one more time while the horse snuffled the plastic bowl to make sure everything was gone. Satisfied, Candy seemed content to munch on grass, and Cerissa snapped the lid on the bowl. She stepped over to the picnic blanket Henry had spread out, took off her boots, and lolled back.

  Henry’s eyes followed her while she stretched. The way he looked at her—so intense, yet not threatening.

  Is that what real desire looks like?

  Whatever it was, she liked it.

  “Wine?” he asked, joining her on the blanket. He uncorked the bottle and poured her a glass. She reached into her saddlebag and pulled out the same warming sack she’d brought to the winery. Instead of a glass jar, inside was a shiny blue pouch, like those used for children’s juice drinks.

  She accepted the glass of wine he held out to her and offered him the blue pouch. He rolled the pouch in his hand and sniffed it. His eyes asked the question.

  “The corner is serrated; just tear it off. You can pour the blood into your own wineglass. Some pouches come with a drinking straw or a spout on top. If you have a preference—”

  “I cannot imagine drinking it from a child’s straw.”

  She smiled. He was always so proper and dignified. Next time she’d give him one with a straw, just to be silly. After pouring the blood into a wineglass, he sniffed the glass before tasting his drink. She watched his fangs extend. She hadn’t noticed his fangs when he tried the first samples. Had he hidden them from her before? He seemed relaxed now and willing to let her see who he was.

  He took another sip. “This is excellent, but it’s different from the others.”

  “I’m trying a ratio between normal blood and the second strongest sample,” she replied, retrieving her sandwich from the same bag and unwrapping it. “Something less overpowering, but still satisfying.”

  “Indeed. You have hit the mark with this one. Still, you may want to produce the stronger one, as its effect might be useful.”

  “So the stronger one might be like Viagra for vampires?”

  “Something like that. This one doesn’t have as strong an effect, so you are safe, for now.”

  She smiled, but lowered her eyes to avoid his intense gaze. He looked so good, stretched out on the picnic blanket, propped up on his elbow, savoring his beverage of choice. She swallowed the last bite of her sandwich and stuffed the trash into the saddlebag.

  The scent of his cologne drifted her way on the light evening breeze, exciting a pleasant stir in her middle. Except for the horses, they were all alone, not another soul in sight. Would he be dessert? She palmed a breath mint she’d hidden in her pocket and discreetly slipped it into her mouth.

  He poured her more wine and set the bottle aside, leaving nothing between them but her glass. He lifted his own glass, saluted her with it, and drained the last of the blood. “Thank you for bringing it.” He set his glass aside and added the empty blue pouch to the saddlebag. “I’m impressed by the quality and freshness. Did you harvest the blood this afternoon?”

  “I packaged it yesterday, so it’s at least a day old.” She took a sip of wine, and almost choked. Breath mints and Cabernet were not a good mix.

  He reached for her wineglass. “May I?”

  She handed it to him, and he took a small drink, but he swallowed it instead of spitting it out as he had at the winery. Now it was her turn to raise her eyebrows.

  “A small amount causes no harm,” he said. “The alcohol mixes with the blood I drank. It is somewhat like feeding on a human who has been drinking.”

  “If you fed on someone who was drunk, would you get drunk?”

  “It would have an effect.”

  He handed the wineglass back to her. She took another sip, ignoring the strange taste of wine and mint, and set the glass aside. Rolling onto her back, she stretched out on the blanket and looked up at the stars. Cicadas filled the silence with their high-pitched buzzing.

  What would he do next? She took a deep breath. The real question is—what do I want him to do?

  * * *

  Henry watched her. Slowly, he moved closer. The warm musk wafting off her and the sound of her rapidly beating heart weakened his resolve to take things slowly. She turned toward him and smiled her golden smile. He took it as an invitation, and kissed her.

  Her warm lips opened, her soft tongue tentatively seeking his. He reached for the first button of her shirt without breaking from their kiss. Her breathing quickened when his hand moved to the next button, followed by the next, until her shirt was completely undone. He slid his hand underneath the open shirt, moving the fabric aside until he’d revealed her bra, and eased back to look at her.

  “You are so beautiful,” he said, his heart speeding up.

  He leaned back in to slowly trail light kisses along one side of her neck, stopping to untie the scarf she wore. It was like unwrapping a beautiful gift, to see her jugular naked in the moonlight. She relaxed against him with each kiss he laid along her now bare neck.

  Caressing her neck, he allowed his fingers to move down her throat to her breast, focusing on the soft skin beneath his fingertips. He watched for the slightest indication she wasn’t enjoying it, for any sign she wanted him to stop. When he saw none, he moved his hand over the lacy fabric of her bra until his hand enfolded her roundness. He had no need for Viagra—her soft breast beneath his hand was enough to make him grow hard. He moved his hand to the other breast, learning by touch the territory along the way.

  His fingers brushed across something smooth and plastic between her bra cups. He paused to explore it, discovering she was wearing a bra with a front clasp, which sent another pulse of excitement through him. To have chosen the bra for its ease of entry—she must want him to touch her.

  “May I?” he whispered close to her ear, fingering the clasp.

  Her fingers replaced his, and she popped open the clasp. He nipped at her earlobe and ran his hand under one cup, his palm passing over her nipple. He felt her shiver, the soft bump growing firm with his touch.

  He rose to kiss her lips, allowing himself the pleasure of touching her breast and massaging her nipple while his tongue explored her mouth. After a few moments, he slid his hand to the other breast. He gave the second nipple as much attention as the first, gently pinching and rolling the hard tip between his fingers.

  His skin became alive with a rushing, excited sensation traveling the length of his body, and an aching desire to explore more of her. He ran his hand across the firm muscles and soft skin of her stomach, until his fingertips reached the top of her jeans. Following the edge of the rough fabric, he found the button, only to feel her slightly stiffen when he touched it.

  Not yet. He wrapped his arms around her and rolled onto
his back suddenly, taking her with him, so she was on top of him. He helped her to sit up, straddling him, her bottom now firmly pressed against his hardness.

  He moved the bra and shirt away so he could look at her breasts.

  Exquisite. Dark brown nipples on soft, rounded mounds, her nipples in tight buds—all he wanted to do was wrap his lips around them. He rose up on his elbows, ready to kiss those beautiful breasts, and she blushed a deep shade of cinnamon brown. He froze.

  “I’m sorry, Cerissa. I—”

  She pressed two fingers against his lips. “It’s all right. I, ah, I liked what you were doing. I just felt, well, exposed, the way you were looking at me.”

  She removed her fingers from his lips.

  “Perhaps we should stop for now,” he said, “before I get carried away.”

  She neither agreed nor disagreed, but she did roll off to lie down next to him, her head on his shoulder. She wrapped one leg around his and remained silent except for the sound of her soft breath.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking.” Her body tensed up again. “What is it?” He stroked her hair. “Please tell me.”

  She remained silent for a few more moments. “I’m afraid,” she whispered.

  “Of me?”

  “No, no, not you. Never you.”

  “Then what?”

  Another pause. He waited for her.

  “I’m afraid of what I’m feeling.”

  He suppressed his desire to reassure her. Over the decades he’d learned to keep his mouth shut when someone uttered a heartfelt truth.

  But when she remained silent, he held her closer and said, “Tell me more.”

  “I—I have something to confess.”

  He waited.

  “When I told you about the Alatus Lux, well, my Lux supervisor suggested I bed you to buy your silence.”

  This is just a ploy to her? A wave of betrayal engulfed him, a dizzying feeling of falling, like being in a plane that was spinning out of control toward the ground, his eyes narrowing, his thoughts coming in a rapid rush of words.

  Her and her damn aura—how dare she deceive me—and after I kept her secret from my community—

  “But I didn’t,” she said, sitting up suddenly and clutching her shirt closed, her eyes meeting his. “I told him I wouldn’t. It wasn’t fair to you, not after you promised to trust me. So I didn’t set out to seduce you, I just opted to stay close, so you wouldn’t change your mind about keeping my secret. But then I found myself looking forward to seeing you, and thinking about you when we were apart, and being so happy when I was in your presence again.”

  She looked away. “I started feeling, ah, guilty when you kissed me, but also looking forward to being kissed by you again.”

  So she hadn’t betrayed him. Then what was scaring her? He pushed himself out of his mental muck and reached for her, inviting her back into his arms. She lay back down and nestled her head on his shoulder again.

  “Everything has always been easy for me,” she continued. “Taking human form and learning to be one. It’s what our people do. Up until now, the hardest thing I’ve done is to use technology from this era in my experiments. Humans are so behind us in science. That’s what led to my cloning project.”

  “Why do your feelings frighten you?”

  Her grip on him tightened. “It’s one thing to grow up learning how people act in public. I can mimic their public behavior. But what they do in private, how do I know when the time is right, or if…” she said, and hesitated. “Or if I’m any good at it?”

  He kissed the top of her head.

  “I’m not supposed to remind you I’m different,” she said. Her fingertips kept brushing against his chest, the light touch making him hard again. “What are you thinking?”

  “I think I should take this slower. I’m feeling…” Should he tell her? He didn’t want to rush her, to have her run away. “I, I want to make love to you. Whether it’s here or we go back to my house, I want you.”

  “And I want you too.” Her voice was so soft that he wasn’t sure she’d spoken. It was only her hot exhale against his neck that reassured him he hadn’t imagined it.

  He took a deep breath. “But we will wait. I want you to be sure you are ready for a relationship with me.”

  She sat up, her blouse falling open again, her eyes focused on him. “I already know I want to be with you. I don’t know how I do, but I know.”

  “If you still feel the same way after the dance, just say yes, and I will take you back to my house.”

  She smiled that golden smile. “You have a deal.”

  * * *

  Cerissa refastened her bra, not bothering to button her shirt for now, and lay back down to snuggle closer to Henry, a sense of calm blanketing her. Being honest with him was the right decision. He still accepted her. She kissed his shoulder and wrapped her arm across his chest, squeezing tightly.

  The sound of rapid hoofbeats broke the silence. A galloping horse was headed their way. Could it be another shooter? She clutched her blouse closed and looked around for the source—they were out in the open, so she had no way to protect Henry here. Should she flash them to someplace safe? He shot to his feet and grabbed her arm, pulling her up with him. Off balance, she couldn’t tap her watch.

  The chief of police rode up, reining her horse to a stop.

  “Cerissa Patel,” Tig said, swinging off her horse. “I have a letter for you from the mayor. You have one week to prove your project is real or your diplomatic privileges will be withdrawn.” Tig held out an envelope.

  “This could have waited until we returned,” Henry said, his voice low and angry.

  “Sorry, mayor’s orders. He wanted me to deliver it now.”

  “How dare he?” Henry said.

  Cerissa accepted the letter and slit the seal with her finger. She walked the letter over to one of the hanging camp lanterns. She’d made the mistake of seeing something a mortal couldn’t before. No reason to make the same mistake again just because her hands were shaking. She felt Henry’s hand on her shoulder as he read along with her.

  There was more to the letter than Tig’s short explanation. She had to prove to the mayor her project was genuine if she wanted to attend the dance. And if she didn’t provide sufficient proof within one week, they’d revoke her diplomatic privileges and send her back to New York.

  Tig held up a second letter. “This one is for Henry.”

  He reached for the letter and ripped it open impatiently. Cerissa read the single sentence along with him: “Your request to take Dr. Patel to the dance is provisionally granted subject to Dr. Patel proving her project is legitimate.”

  Chapter 42

  Tig watched Henry and Cerissa read the second letter. Why did she feel sympathy for them? The envoy seemed like a good match for Henry. Cerissa brought out his protectiveness, something she hadn’t seen with other women Henry had dated. And Cerissa was smart—Henry needed someone who would challenge him, who wouldn’t be intimidated by his sharp mind.

  Cerissa looked up from the letter. “Why?”

  “Political pressure,” Tig replied, feeling irritated with the mayor for using her as a messenger. She might as well put the blame squarely in his court. “There’s a rumor on the Hill you’re spying for Leopold. Bring the mayor proof your project is real, and you may attend the dance.”

  Cerissa’s eyes widened with disbelief. “The dance is only two nights away. How am I supposed to satisfy him by then? I gave him our prospectus. Why isn’t that enough proof? It satisfied the Securities and Exchange Commission.”

  “Anyone can create pretty paper. He wants more solid evidence.”

  * * *

  Cerissa helped Henry ready the horses, and she rode beside him back to the corral. In the silence, anger seemed to roll off him.

  “I’ll fix this,” she told him. “Trust me, I’ll find a way.”

  “I do trust you. It’s the mayor I don’t trust.”

  At the corral, Henr
y walked her to her car. “Do you want me to go with you?” he asked.

  “Thanks, but I’ve got a lot of work to do.” She glanced at the dashboard clock—almost eleven. “If I need help, I’ll text you.”

  Once on the road, she phoned Gaea and explained what had happened and why she wouldn’t be home tonight.

  “I’m sorry,” Gaea said. “I told Winston not to do it.”

  “Thanks, Gaea, I appreciate your support, but I need to do something fast to turn this around. Ah, could I use your living room to give a presentation to the community tomorrow night? Until I explain the project, no one is going to invest.”

  “Winston didn’t want any meetings just yet…” Gaea said, and then she gave one of her little sniffs, the kind that meant her mind was made up. “But I think he needs a lesson. He still hasn’t learned to listen to me.”

  Gaea paused again. Cerissa could almost see Gaea tapping at her chin in thought.

  “I have an idea,” Gaea said. “Would you like me to invite some of my friends? I’m sure you have enough to do tonight without worrying about the guest list. I’ll take care of the invitations.”

  “Oh, thank you, Gaea. Yes, that would help immensely,” Cerissa said. “May Henry invite some of his friends?”

  “I think we can manage to accommodate them. I’ll have Dylan start moving furniture out of the living room.”

  By the time the call ended, she was parked at Leopold’s apartment in Mordida. She texted Henry about the meeting at Gaea’s house. He wrote back right away. He wouldn’t attend since Leopold didn’t want him as an investor, but he knew everyone on the Hill and promised to coordinate invitations with Gaea.

  Now, she had to do her part: provide proof the project was real. But how?

  * * *

  Henry left the corral shortly after Cerissa and drove straight to the town hall. Winston was where he expected to find him, sitting behind his office desk.