It's A Vampire Thing

by Dakota Cassidy

  "Claire..." his tone held a gentle warning. She covered her eyes with her hands, shaking her head.

  Slowly, hesitantly, and against every lick of good sense she'd ever had, she turned to find none other than Zachariah Kowalski sitting in her favorite overstuffed chair. Still very much alive, and grinning wickedly at her, dimples deeply grooving his lean cheeks, bracketing those yummy lips. She grabbed the sheet and dragged it over her, draping it around her nakedness.

  He stood and crossed the room, his tremendous body dwarfing her gauze-canopied bed. She scooted away, but he settled in next to her and grabbed her by the waist, dragging her close to him. She squeaked at the warmth that flooded her veins from his touch. Claire's mind frantically raced to thoughts of dialing 911 and maybe finding a weapon or two. She searched her memory, trying to remember if she had anything in her nightstand drawer to fight him off with. She got the distinct impression a pair of earrings probably wouldn't work in her favor as a tool of mass destruction.

  Oh, she could hear herself calling 911, 'Help me, I've just boinked a dead guy and now I'm thinking that boinking him again might be within the realm of possibility. So could you send a patrol car over here right away?'

  Jesus, his hands felt good, as did her nipples and the throb between her thighs. Oh, Hell's bells, this was not good. She couldn't think straight with the strong male scent of him in her nostrils, and the thought of his hands on her body.

  Okay, major brain fart in progress here.

  "Sit still, Claire," he broke into her thoughts, his blue gaze holding her immobile. Nuzzling her neck, his gentle hands fitted her closely to him. Her nipples beaded in agreement.

  Oh no, there will be no more schtupping until I know what the hell is going on here.

  "I'll tell you, if you'll just let me," he smiled agreeably at her, blue eyes twinkling.

  "Wait a second, how do you know what I'm thinking?"

  "It's all part of the explanation, Claire, and if you'll shut your pretty mouth, I'll be happy to tell you. Now sit in my lap nicely, I won't hurt you." He pulled her onto his lap, settling her bottom directly over his silk-trousered cock. She tried, without much success, to wiggle away. She also tried to remember where the hell the phone was, but couldn't seem to string two thoughts together. His arm snaked around her waist, holding her firmly. "Stop that! It's hard enough to see you naked, must you squirm?" Claire quit fighting and sat perfectly still. Nobody ever wanted to see her naked.

  "Good girl, now where do I begin?"

  Claire snorted, and finally found her voice. It was shaky but she found it.

  "Here, let me help ya, big guy. How about last night, when you arrived at the morgue DEAD? Colder than a slab of ice and stiffer than day-old hair spray. Sounds like as good a place as any."

  Zachariah absently stroked her as he chuckled. His wide chest vibrated against her back, and she found herself leaning back into the warm expanse, oddly content.

  Wait one damn second, her brain screamed. What the hell is this about content?

  She couldn't answer the question logically, because her body had other ideas, even as her ears attempted to focus intently on his words.

  "To begin with, call me Zach, honey. Zachariah seems like a lot of syllables, doesn't it? Now, last night I was out looking for ... well never mind what I was looking for. I'm narcoleptic. Being a coroner, you should be familiar with the condition."

  Claire nodded, thoughts racing. It still didn't explain his DOA status. His hands wandered to her thighs as he spoke, stroking them softly through the sheet. Her nipples tightened in response, and as his fingers drifted to the apex of her thighs, she found her legs widening to span the width of his lap.

  "Anyway, as you know, narcoleptics tend to fall asleep just about anywhere, and that's what happened to me. I fell asleep on a park bench, and the police mistook me for dead. So that brought me to you and the morgue."

  She twisted to look at him with a frown. Okay, she was LOOKING at HIM. How did you look at a dead guy, unless he was toe-up on your examining table? She struggled to put her thoughts into words.

  "Look Zachiar ... Zach, that doesn't explain why you had no pulse, no heartbeat. Nothing buddy, nada. I took your stats. I know dead when I see dead, and YOU were dead, as a doornail."

  Cupping her breasts, he planted a lingering kiss on her cheek. "You're right; I was dead, technically anyway."

  Claire attempted to focus on his words, but the heated circles he made around her sheet-covered nipples made it almost impossible to give a crap. She felt his cock stir in his thin trousers, pressing with delightful friction against her bottom, just calling her name. Of its own accord, one of her arms wrapped around the back of his neck. She ran her nails through his thick hair, sighing as he ran gentle fingertips along the underside of her arm. The sheet fell to her waist, bringing with it the cool air tightening her nipples as heat pooled once again between her thighs. She bit her bottom lip, unsure how to deal with the wild desire he evoked in her.

  Her brain said, are you freaking kidding me? But her body said, woo hoo, Claire's going to get laid!

  His hands drove her to madness and the mental visual of his thick cock brought tears to her eyes.

  For goodness sake, she had sex maybe once a year--not including leap year--and it wasn't anything to write home about. Claire Treemont did not get excited about anyone's stiff cock and she had no intention of starting now!

  "But those fools didn't have my cock, Claire. Nor can they bring you the pleasure I brought you."

  Claire moaned as he worked those magic fingers between her thighs, grazing the saturated folds. Her voice was husky and foreign to her ears when she said, "You're pretty damn sure of yourself, aren't you, big guy?" Too sure of himself.

  He chuckled that sinfully hot-chocolate laugh that sent ripples of pleasure to her nether regions.

  "I am sure, Claire and you will be too, if you'll just let me show you." He spread her thighs with the palms of his hands and shifted her forward as he unzipped his pants, then pulled out his cock. Its engorged length brushed along her spine; she shuddered when she thought just how far up her back that hot length went.

  Um, hello, her mind screamed. You're about to schtupp a guy you've known for all of twenty minutes. Hell, most of the time you knew him, he was DEAD.

  Claire groaned--but damn, the things he did to her body...

  Body and mind fought a private battle, and her mind, albeit stuffed with cotton, won. Nuh, uh. This was not going to happen again.

  Her heart tightened painfully in her chest again as her body screamed WHY NOT?

  "Stop," she whispered, moving his hands from her breast. "Please stop. I don't know what the hell is going on, but we are NOT having any kind of physical contact until I have a whole lot more in the info department."

  Go, Claire. A coherent thought at last! Her brain applauded her.

  "What do you want to know, Claire?" Zach stroked her back and she found herself leaning into his big hand. Her spine stiffened.

  No, no, no.

  What was the question? What had she asked?

  Well ... well ... well, she didn't know right now. She only knew that he was not using that pistol of passion again 'till he gave her something more solid than, 'I have narcolepsy, let's screw'.

  "Do you remember why I was in the morgue?" Her head shot up. Dead, he was dead. Claire's eyes searched his big baby blues. Man, he had fabulous lashes, thick and wavy. No mascara in the world offered that kind of guarantee.

  "Claire baby, focus, okay?" Focus ... right. Dead, cold, stiff ... dead, very definitely dead.

  "Yes, that's right Claire, you thought I was dead, but I wasn't really dead, honey. How could I have been dead if I was able to make love to you?"

  Oh shit.

  She twisted away from his hands, though it was the hardest thing she'd ever had to do in her life.

  Zach paused, then stared straight into her eyes. "Claire, honey ... I'm a vampire."

  Oh shit.


  * * * *

  Claire toweled off her hair, trying to gather her muddled thoughts. Maybe Zach could gather them for her. She'd scooted off his lap so fast her head had spun, and raced for the bathroom, firmly locking the door behind her. A vampire...

  "I heard that." Zach the vampire called with a throaty chuckle from behind the bathroom door.

  Her nipples tightened in tune with his laughter. Oh hell. She paced the small space and gnawed her lower lip.

  He'd escaped the nut house, yeah, that had to be it. But that didn't explain his very dead state upon arrival in her morgue. Narcolepsy did not present with no pulse or heartbeat.

  Well that didn't stop you from screwing him now did it?

  Oh shut up and let me think!

  Didn't vampires' heart rates slow down in sleep? She tried to remember the whole Dracula thing.

  You slept with a guy who thinks he's a vampire. You didn't use a condom, you could be pregnant. Better yet, you might have gotten a disease.

  OMIGOD. She'd slept with a certified loon. A nut job. How was that for desperate and lonely?

  Oh, this was freaking insane. Of course he wasn't a vampire, no more than she was a part of the team at CSI. Yanking her robe off the hook impatiently, she threw it on and pulled the door open as Zach set a heaped plate of food on the small table. She eyed him warily from the doorway. He'd made her breakfast ... aw hell. Well, if he was a nut, he damn sure was a thoughtful one. Her stomach growled its appreciation.

  "I am not a nut, Claire, nor am I the kind of vampire you've typically read about in some stupid, blown-out-of-proportion novel. I don't know where the narcolepsy came into this, through some screwy fluke, perhaps. I have a job. I'm an architect, with parents and friends and a life. A life that just got a whole lot better because I found you. Now come sit down beside me and we'll talk."

  She shook her head emphatically. Sitting with him was a dangerous thing, being anywhere near this man was a dangerous thing; it led to other dangerous things. She shuddered as desire, inexplicable and molten, rolled through her veins.

  "No. I will not sit with you, not until you tell me what the hell is going on!"

  He rounded the small table beside the chair and came toward her. She backed up against the door frame, pressing her back to the wall. Zach didn't just fill up a space, he owned it, loomed in it, and he was damn yummy while he did it.

  Yummy? Jesus Christ in a mini skirt, YUMMY? For the life of her she couldn't figure out why she didn't feel an ounce of fear. Not the least bit threatened by this wing nut. Remembering the wicked things he'd done to her body cancelled everything else out.

  Horny tramp...

  Am not.

  Are too.

  "Claire, honey, give me your hand." Her hand reached out to touch his. It was an action she couldn't have stopped if she'd tried. Zach enclosed it in a firm grip and led her to the overstuffed chair. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he watched her closely.

  Claire looked down at the table absently and noticed that he'd made her scrambled eggs and toast and orange juice. She sighed loudly.

  Of course he was a vampire, no human man would go to all this trouble. A human man would have eaten it himself. This guy is like a dream come true she thought, and then cringed. Idiot, she scolded herself mentally, he just heard me think that.

  Zach chuckled knowingly, with that smug look on his face.

  "You made me breakfast." She stated simply, hating the warmth that invaded her heart. Nearly every doubt in her mind flew out the door of improbability as it slammed firmly behind her.

  Hookay then, she'd schtupped a vampire, or at least a guy who really believed he was one. And she'd liked it. Hell, she'd LOVED it. He seemed harmless enough, except when he got too close to her.

  There was nothing harmless about what his body did to hers. It was carnal. And something she wanted to do again. Soon.

  He grinned, his dimples deepening. "Yup, I'm not just a vampire, but a vampire who cooks," he said, sounding rather pleased with himself.

  "All right," she said, between bites of fluffy egg, "what does this mean in the scheme of things? I mean, do you want to bite my neck? Turn me into a vampire too? Will I have to work the night shift at the morgue forever, 'cause I can't go out in daylight? We didn't use a condom, what if I have a disease?" Claire paused to munch her perfectly toasted bread, waiting for his reply.

  Then it really hit her. She was sitting here calmly talking about hooking up with a vampire, or at least a guy who thought he was a vampire ... Holy delusional, Batman! Humoring him seemed to be the best road to take.

  Let's calmly talk about drinking blood and living your life by the light of the moon. Well, she conceded, most of the good TV shows were on at night anyway...

  "No, Claire, I told you, most vampire nonsense is all folklore. You don't need a condom. I assure you, I don't have a disease. You do not have to become a vampire if you don't want to. Actually I'd prefer we didn't talk about that now, at least until we get to know one another better."

  Better? Knowing one another in the biblical sense was about as close to getting to know one another as it got.

  "You need the chance to adjust to this. I know it's a lot and your brain is on overload, so don't worry about the vampire thing just yet. For now let's just stick to the basics, okay?"

  She nodded her head and sighed.

  The basics being I just screwed a guy who thinks he's a vampire, but forget about that Claire. Really, don't trouble yourself with the impossibility of this. Don't let it worry your pretty little head.

  His words cut into her thoughts. "I can do all of the things most average people do. I do go out in the daylight, with heavy sunscreen, and sunglasses. I am part of a more enlightened group of vampires; we're not all out to suck your blood or make you something you don't want to be. Some of the older sect still hold onto the traditional ways, but the tides are turning, and soon vampires will be a part of your everyday life. We don't want to frighten people, and whatever happens to them, they must first agree to."

  Well, that was peachy--a vampire slogan. Vampires Unite! Claire rubbed her forehead with the heel of her hand.

  "Where the hell did you get a name like Kowalski?"

  Zach laughed. "My father is Polish, vampires are Polish too, you know."

  It sounded like a bumper sticker. A Polish, narcoleptic vampire. "What about fangs?"

  Zach sighed. "I do have those, but I only need them when I drink from another. Don't get excited, I don't swoop down on innocent people and suck their blood. My family has a reserve of sorts, where all the blood I need is available to me at any given time."

  Claire wasn't about to ask where this reserve had come from.

  "I eat three meals a day just like you, I just happen to drink blood rather than the usual human beverage." He flashed her that lethal grin.

  Claire leaned back in the chair, absorbing the blood thing--not that blood bothered her, she was, after all, a coroner.

  "How did I end up back here this morning?" She looked at him over the rim of her juice glass.

  "I brought you. When I woke up and realized I had literally passed out on you, I figured it was the least I could do. Narcolepsy isn't always conducive to afterglow, if you know what I mean." He wiggled his raven-tipped eyebrows at her.

  "So why don't I remember it?" Claire wasn't accustomed to losing blocks of time, and she didn't like not having control of anything. Right now she certainly didn't have control sexually, not on this 'out of control' spree she seemed to be on.

  "Well, you were pretty tired, and I suppose there was some residual shock. I mean a dead guy had just made incredible love to you," he teased. "Don't worry, I punched your time card for you, and seeing as you were one of the only people there, I don't think anyone saw me, if that's what you're worried about."

  Oh well, of course; we wouldn't want the janitor to see me leave with a naked dead guy.

  Now for some of the more life-altering questions, like the whole Ama
zing Creskin thing...

  "You can read my mind, I assume?"

  Zach nodded, grinning awkwardly at her.

  "It's rather an unfair advantage, don't you think?" She countered.

  "Well I guess that depends on how you look at it. I'll always know what you want, and I'd call that a big advantage for any guy, vampire or not. But I'll also know when you're angry with me, and why. I can tune you out. It takes a bit of doing, but it can be done."

  She felt a small measure of relief at that. Some things needed to be your own.

  "Explain this 'I must fuck you' thing. I mean, you said it as though that monster of yours would dry up and fall off if you didn't stick it in something right away."

  "Monster? That's not what you were thinking when you were ogling it under the sheet on that examining table!" he grunted.

  Claire blushed from head to toe, casting her eyes to the floor.

  His laughter rumbled throughout the room. "When I awaken, it's usually from a deep sleep, especially if I've had an attack of narcolepsy. I am always voracious, insatiable, if you will."

  Claire shivered. No kidding, her nipples acknowledged. What the hell did that mean? Did he screw anyone he woke up next to?

  Pushing her plate away, she remained silent, unable to address the last of her concerns. Namely, the bizarre attachment she'd begun to feel for him. It just didn't make any sense.

  "Claire, look at me." He seemed to always be able to coax her into doing exactly what he wanted, so why fight it? Her eyes met his and she felt her breath leave her body. His blue eyes locked with hers. "You are my Life Mate Claire, I don't know why we met under the circumstances we did, but I knew it from the moment I touched your hand and looked into those big black eyes, that you were mine. I have never experienced the complete joy I have when I'm with you, not even close. Now come here." Zach's demand was soft but clear.

  Claire crossed the small space to stand between his thickly muscled thighs, helpless to do otherwise. Zach untied the belt of her robe and parted the silky material, sweeping his long fingers over her tight nipples. His dark head bent to her breasts, swiping each nipple with a soft caress of his silken tongue. Claire's hands came up to cradle his head, pressing him closer as warm heat pooled to her cunt.