Valerie’s black hair stuck up on one side and her cheek still wore the lines from her pillow. She rested her own glass of blood on one of the many packing boxes that still populated their new apartment. She sat in the rocker and John perched on the top of the changing table. Not like Minerva needed changing, but they were prepared for any eventuality.
“I promise that we will not get kicked out of the country,” John said as he toyed with a royal purple rattle.
Valerie awkwardly patted the little bottom that rested against her lap. “I doubt we will have a drug-fueled orgy.”
“What’s an orgy?” Minerva asked.
“It’s a form of sexual behavior,” Valerie explained, “that involves three or more people.”
John pinched the bridge of his nose. “She’s less than a month old. She’s not supposed to know what an orgy is at less than a month old.”
Valerie furrowed her eyebrows. “So she’s precocious. We can handle that. How are we supposed to teach her anything if we refuse to answer her questions? Are you the expert here? You’re not even one hundred years old.”
Settling in together had been harder than John anticipated. Four control freaks in one space made for some itchy conversations. That was why John had secretly arranged this trip.
“And how are we supposed to honeymoon if we have a kid?” Valerie challenged him.
“Glenath and Anthony owe us for bailing them out in Amsterdam. They will take care of our girl,” John stated. “I have planned everything so we can relax. Lance will meet us there. I’ve packed almost everything you need.”
Valerie’s muttered “What the hell are those?” sent John into a suppressed giggle fit. She must have seen the shoes he’d chosen for her. Wait until she saw what surprises he’d sneaked into the luggage. All of them needed to find some kind of equal footing, or their control-freak tendencies would drive them all insane.
John slammed the trunk on Valerie’s new silver Mercedes S600. The former bishop was gabbling baby-talk to the little girl and doing a bizarre finger dance that involved touching her pinky to her thumbs and rotating her wrists in a weird climbing motion.
“How’s little Minnie? Who’s the cutest girl?” Anthony cooed as he waved a stuffed mouse in a polka-dotted dress at the infant.
“Minnie?!” Minerva shouted.
“Be nice, kid,” John mentally said. “These guys are going to spoil you until you can’t stand it.”
“I can handle that,” Minerva Josephine Victoria Janté answered. “Get out of here so they can get on with it.”
Valerie shook Anthony’s hand and tolerated Glenath’s enthusiastic hug. John wondered how his vampire was going to handle meeting his big, affectionate family. She had been alone for so long.
Even more reasons for a honeymoon.
Two hours later, John and Valerie sat under the summer sun in bumper-to-bumper traffic. Valerie chewed on her lips and tapped her fingers on the leather-wrapped steering wheel.
He placed a caressing hand on her thigh. “We are in no hurry, petit chou.”
She rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck. “I hate to wait,” she grumbled.
A vague headache pulsed at the back of John’s skull. He hated being a passive passenger. Distraction. That was what they needed.
John lowered the volume on the stereo until Concrete Blonde’s “Bloodletting” was a low background thrum.
“You don’t talk much about your mortal life,” he said, randomly choosing something to talk about.
Valerie tossed him a half smile, fully aware of his tactic. “Memory fades for me just like everyone else. Besides, from what I read about myself, it’s just as well I don’t remember.”
“What do you remember from your first life?”
“Fleas,” she said, scratching her head. “Disgusting vermin.”
He laughed. “What else?”
She closed her eyes and caressed the leather-clad steering wheel. Her nostrils flared as she inhaled deeply.
As though savoring the sensation, she exhaled on a soft moan. “Perfume. Real French perfume.” She inhaled again. “I was in Paris for Napoleon’s coronation. I wanted to see what he had made of his empire. And the perfume …”
She opened her eyes to stare blankly at the traffic that wound in front of them like a glittering snake of metal and concrete. “Life used to stink. Dead bodies, sewage, the lot. We did our best. But perfume! All those beautiful scents mixed into something new, something no one had ever smelled before. It brought so much hope.”
She rubbed her face against her shoulder. “And now you can surround yourselves with this magic at any time, just to keep one’s armpits from offending.”
“More.” He caressed her thigh. “Tell me about your parents.”
Valerie started. “What?”
“C’mon. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us. Tell me about them. What would they think of their granddaughter?” He gave her a little push with his finger. “Spill.”
Valerie rested her wrists on top of the dash and stroked her fingers against her palms. “My parents. I haven’t thought of them in many years.”
John observed Valerie’s hand rubbing. Thinking about her parents caused her anxiety. “Tell me what you do remember.”
“Well, they were very … determined. You should have met my mother. She was unstoppable.”
“My darling chou, that apple didn’t fall far from the tree. And your father?”
“Bah.” Valerie spun the wheel, pressed the gas, and exited to a gas station. She parked in the shade by the rear and turned off the engine. “We need a break.”
John frowned internally as he quietly closed the Mercedes’ door. Okay, leave the parents alone. He took a moment to study his lover.
Despite the car’s efficient air-conditioning, beads of pink perspiration dotted her temples. Her hair lay limply against her neck and her blouse clung wetly to the slope of her breasts. John’s headache abruptly disappeared.
Valerie avoided wearing bras as much as possible, even with her larger, curvier body. Which meant that sometimes she made some spectacular mistakes about what fabrics showed her breasts.
The yellow cotton had turned translucent. John could see the buds of her nipples poking through and her areolas pressed against the sweat-wet shirt. He spread his legs a little farther to allow his cock some room.
Unaware of his gaze, she twisted, her spine snapping into place. “My back is still used to the Mustang. You want anything? I need a break.”
John leaned against the roof of the new car, staring at her nearly invisible shirt. “Water.”
He wiped his forehead and watched her walk into the station. Her bottom swung underneath her worn jeans. Even wearing scuffed boots and dripping with sweat, she stirred him.
She was exhausted. What he really wanted was completely out of the question.
Or was it? Perhaps now was not the time for his interrogation, but rather lovemaking. It had been nearly twenty-four hours.
John locked the car, aware of the admiring looks that the automobile gathered. It didn’t occur to him that some of those looks were aimed at him. He wore his black T-shirt and worn Levi’s, nothing terribly interesting.
He followed Valerie into the gas station. She was bent over the refrigerated water display, the cooler air making her body react. The attendant licked his lips and ran his hand down to the waistband of his pants. John narrowed his eyes at the lascivious teenager.
The boy shifted uncomfortably at the older man’s disapproval.
Valerie straightened and tossed John a sweating bottle of water. She grinned as he caught it one-handed. Her blunt eyeteeth shone like the moon under the greenish fluorescent lights of the store. Even without her fangs, she retained her air of potential violence. John’s balls swelled in desire. She was the most beautiful, strongest, most fascinating woman ever born.
Once finished inside, John placed his hand on the small of Valerie’s back and steered them toward the far edge of th
e lot.
“And what is on your mind?” Valerie’s eyelids were already at half-mast, a clear sign of building arousal.
John uncapped the water bottle. “It’s too hot. We need to cool down.” He lifted the container over their heads and drenched them both with the cold mountain spring water.
Her rusty laugh sounded like Notre Dame’s bells to John. Tossing aside the empty bottle, he dug his fingers into the curve of her ass. With full deliberation, keeping his gaze on her, he ground their crotches together.
Despite the too-bright sun, Valerie’s pupils were full blown black, barely held together by a thin rim of haze. She pulled his hair, yanking him away from her body. The small sting surprised him into letting her go.
“Look, Mr. Bossy Boots. I’m not some delicate thing for you to command. I know what I want, too. And I want you like this.”
Unsmiling, Valerie dropped her pants around her ankles. She bent over, and placed her hands on the white-painted concrete block wall of the gas station. In the sunlight, her pale ass cheeks framed her dark red pussy.
“Let it never be said that I pass up a chance to obey a lady who knows her mind,” John stated.
Now this was the way to start a honeymoon.
After John caught his breath, Valerie rested against the gas station and pulled up her pants. John idly toyed with her nipples as she buttoned the fly and dug in her pocket. She surprised him when she dangled the Mercedes’ keys in front of him.
“Here. You drive,” she slurred. “I’m going to nap. Wake me when we get there.”
John wrapped his hand around the keys. Before she could let go, he brought her fist to his mouth and with all the love and humility in his soul, he kissed her fingers.
Everything was going to be perfect.
Monaco after midnight was a wonderful place for a vampire. The clean streets, the pools of light from the casinos and hotels, the fresh, impossibly beautiful Mediterranean Sea mere steps away from the sidewalk all fed Valerie as surely as angel blood.
Alone, she walked the streets of Monte Carlo as the night lights flickered. The unfamiliar red-soled high heels slowed her progress to a leisurely stroll and her backless blue dress allowed the balmy sea night air to caress her exposed skin. The rich architecture and air of luxury made her purr like a spoiled heiress.
Monaco had changed a great deal since Valerie had been here in 1814, shortly after Napoleon abdicated and the country reasserted its independence from French rule. The Grimaldi family had done well with the beautiful, narrow nation they cared for.
The hem of her short dress fluttered in the breeze. When was the last time she had worn so much color? Or had so much sex? Valerie wasn’t sure if the two were related, but the hypothesis bore repeated testing. Extremely self-satisfied, she rested a hip against one of the cream-colored garden walls outside the Place du Casino.
The boys had requested alone time. She touched her carefully styled hair. More accurately, the boys had kicked her out of their hotel suite. “Get out. Go gambling. Get into trouble,” Lance had said. “Just don’t come back for at least two hours.”
She shrugged. Fair enough. She’d had plenty of one-on-one time with John. Pleased to be on her own again, she lifted her face to the moon.
The principality boasted a vibrant and diverse nightlife for humans. For a vampire, it was a dazzling array of flamboyance combined with elegance. A blink of light in a darkened corner caught her curiosity.
What was this?
The light in a ground-floor apartment a block away switched on to reveal the very well-built young man inside.
Valerie’s excellent eyesight noticed two things. First, he was very young. Of course, everyone was young to her, but he certainly couldn’t be more than twenty-two or twenty-three.
Second, he had some sort of problem with curtains.
He had the smooth, tight skin of a fit male in his sexual prime. Then he dropped his towel.
This was a treat she didn’t want to miss.
His hairless skin stretched tightly over his muscles, giving her an X-rated anatomy lesson. The lines of his defined abdomen pointed her eyes right to his already half-hard cock.
She touched her own belly as he sprawled lazily in the chair by his desk. A small tube of lotion appeared from seemingly nowhere. He drizzled the creamy fluid over his genitals.
A few testing pulls and his penis filled, jerking to full mast.
Valerie moistened her lips. How her boys would love to see this. She would have to tell them all about it.
He smeared the clear lubricant over his reddened cock. Valerie could almost hear the faint slide of skin over skin as he pulled his foreskin down to reveal a purplish head. The tight bare skin of his balls sent a wash of heat to her clitoris.
His body had the perfect curve from shoulder to hip—a mouth-heating wedge of man-flesh. What a naughty, naughty boy, she thought, as she touched her own nipples. What a shameless exhibitionist. She hid in the shadows, her index finger wiggling past the waistband of her panties.
Her nipples rose when he threw back his head, displaying a lean, corded neck that sported a still-bleeding shaving cut. She rubbed a canine with her tongue. Oh, she could give that bad boy a ride he wouldn’t forget.
She squeezed her breast with her free hand and hoped her men were having as much fun as she.
“John,” Lance whispered. He trailed the backs of his fingers down the other man’s cheek. The clear sky, the sea, the shining moon turned the evening unspeakably romantic. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Fuck that,” John retorted. “No. I’m going to fuck you. Fuck you telling me what we’re going to do.” John’s fists ripped Lance’s tuxedo shirt open. “I’m going to kiss you. And you are damn well going to kiss me back.” He took Lance’s face between his hot palms and leaned in, only to stop a few centimeters from Lance’s suddenly dry lips. “Kiss me like you damned well mean it. I’m not some shrinking virgin.”
John had had sex with other men? Jealousy skittered down his stomach.
John read his mind. “You think I was damn well waiting for you to pull your head out of your ass?” His growl shot straight to Lance’s cock.
Lance growled back and raked his fingers through John’s hair. John’s breath smelled of apples and spice as he hovered over the angel like some black-haired god of lust.
“Then stop dicking around and kiss me already. Or are you going to talk me to death?” Lance taunted.
John narrowed his eyes, obviously fully aware of Lance’s manipulations. “So be it.”
Their noses bumped. Their teeth clicked. And the tussle for dominance was on.
John was a little angry. Lance was a little jealous.
Finally John bit Lance’s lip and pulled back. “How dare you leave me?”
“I, for one, do not question the Boss,” Lance replied, his teeth punishing John’s earlobe.
“I suggest you start,” John snarled, his fiery French blood mixing anger with passion. John slapped Lance’s pectoral muscle, a symbolic punishment. Lance pinked under him, John’s handprint coming in bright relief. The sting of John’s blow distracted him.
Lance grunted and wrestled John underneath him. He worried at John’s lower lip.
Their love was not lost, but it was foundering in resentment and hurt. One of them had to apologize. He’d damaged both Valerie and John while he was working. And even though it wasn’t his fault, he’d still been inconsiderate and thoughtlessly cruel.
He rested his forehead against John’s. He felt the smaller man hold his breath.
“I am sorry, John.” Lance let his lips touch John most tenderly.
“Accepted.” John kissed Lance back. It felt like a promise. A promise to be fair to each other, to start over with each other’s best interests in mind.
The kiss turned hot again. Their teeth came out again, but in overwhelming pleasure, not in anger. Soon, Lance was rubbing and thrusting against John’s solid erection. The friction on their pants
against his cock drove Lance wild.
John’s hands were feverish hot and relentless. They caressed his nipples, squeezed his ass, dug into the knotted muscles of his back. Next, they coaxed the tattered remains of his Henley off his body.
“Come on,” John gasped. “I want to see you. All of you.”
Lance leaned back on his heels and skinned off his shirt. John wriggled out of his own white sleeveless T-shirt, the ribbed soft kind that was made to make the male body utterly delectable. Lance took a moment to admire John’s masculine grace.
As a teenager, John had been wiry and compact, his muscles long and flat like a swimmer’s. But now, he’d grown into the promise of his youthful vigor. The muscles in his chest had thickened, grown more defined, even more masculine. His stomach, while not cobblestoned, was flat and ridged. Lance let his gaze go even farther down to where a line of black hair disappeared into John’s waistband.
John’s penis pressed proudly, tenting the fabric of his dress slacks. He tucked his arms behind his head, letting his legs fall open. He ran his palm over his chest, flicking a nipple.
“Took us long enough to get here,” John said.
Lance popped the top button of his jeans. “Then let’s not waste any more time.” He palmed John’s cock through the fabric. The hard flesh burned his hand, despite the layers between them. John curled up off the bed and unzipped Lance’s pants.
He made a pleased sound when he saw that Lance had gone commando. His cock bounced free as if it were spring-loaded. John took it in his hand. Lance groaned and looked to the heavens, then back to see John squeezing the engorged shaft. Lance’s cock head purpled under those pressing fingers. He was going to orgasm all over that lean, fine body if John didn’t stop that right now.
“All you had to do was ask,” John said and let go. He wiggled his way out from under Lance’s leg and knelt up until they were face-to-face.
The kiss went on and on, far more tender, lingering in its sweetness. John felt the shattered pieces of his soul fuse into a semblance of his former self.
Lance shivered under John’s hand. All that silky smooth skin over firm muscle; John couldn’t stop petting him. The curve of his bicep, the way his shoulder sloped perfectly into the line of his lats. Lance’s wings had disappeared so perfectly, seamlessly blending back into his body. John spent delighted moments enjoying the cord of Lance’s vertebrae and the delicious feel of thick muscles under his fingertips.
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