Blood and Snow 6: Masquerade's Moon

by RaShelle Workman

  “Lips red as rubies, hair dark as night. Drink your true love’s blood, become the Vampire, Snow White.”

  Praise for the Blood and Snow series:

  “The modern twist on the Snow White fairy tale was interesting and original, which isn't easy to find these days. Highly recommended.” Sarra Cannon, bestselling author of the Peachville High Demons series

  “This book will definitely suck you in (no pun intended) instantly.” Anthony

  "BLOOD AND SNOW draws you in from the very beginning and never let's you go, only to leave you anticipating more! Loved it. Can't wait for volume 2." Debbie Davis from Debbie's Inkspectations

  "This is a fun, smart, and sexy read!" Elizabeth Mueller, award winning YA author of Darkspell

  “I definitely look forward to more, and recommend this to anyone who likes a fairy tale with a twist.” Kay Glass

  “If you enjoy vampires and fractured fairy tales you'll enjoy these quick reads!” Laura Pauling, author of the Circle of Spies series

  “Best books that I have read!” Mercedez

  Main Menu

  Start Reading

  Afterword

  Additional Works by RaShelle Workman

  Indelible Authors

  About the Author

  Contact Information

  Copyright Information

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  “So you’re half angel? A—” I paused, waiting for him to say the word. Grabbing a pillow with the Disney-inspired Aurora on it, I tossed it at him.

  “A chayot?” Gabe caught the pillow and smirked. He knew I liked the way he said it. Pronounced like coyote, but with the ch sound at the beginning, I thought it sounded incredibly sexy coming from Gabe’s succulent mouth.

  I’d searched the Internet to find out more about the chayot. After him, Professor Pops, and the other brothers left my house on the night I came back—the night Gabe told me why he still lived.

  There were different definitions according to different religions about what chayot meant, but all websites came around to the same thing: angels. The highest-ranking angels.

  Then I clicked on Images in the Internet search and discovered a green fruit called a chayot. Mainly though, the screen was filled with pictures of beasts with four wings, males and females with wings—sometimes black, sometimes white, and some with tails, and horns.

  One website said the chayot were holy beings that dwelled on Earth. The site contained diagrams explaining why, and listed names of biblical prophets, and teachers they believed were chayot. The pictures portrayed figures without wings (or horns and a tail). They looked like any normal human. I wanted to believe that was Gabe—at least half of him. But I didn’t know for sure. Needless to say the information on the World Wide Web freaked me out.

  Gabe snorted, bringing me out of my thoughts. He tucked the pillow into the large overstuffed chair he sat in. We were in my living room, the TV turned on low, and Gatsby was curled in my lap. My cat gave me an evil glare, one eye still closed, when I threw the pillow. I ignored him.

  “Not exactly an angel.” Gabe brushed his hands through his hair.

  “What, no wings?” I grabbed another pillow, this one with a cross-stitched Ursula hovering over a wide-eyed Ariel on the front, and chucked it.

  I was trying to be funny, but he seemed preoccupied. A strange shadow passed over his face, but immediately disappeared. He caught the pillow and stuffed it in the groove next to the one with Aurora on it. “No wings. No halo. No trumpet. Just a deeply embedded passion to rid the world of evil.”

  An insistent dread filled my heart.

  He means you, my inner voice grumbled.

  I pushed down the feelings, my insecurities. “And you can’t die?” The memory of his body twisted at an odd angle sprang to mind, and my stomach turned.

  “Of course I can die. All creatures can. But it isn’t easy.” He smirked; cool cockiness oozing from his pores.

  “How?” I asked, and immediately regretted it. I didn’t want to know how to kill him, my sexy Gabe. I was just curious, kind of like how I studied ways to kill other mystic creatures in Professor Pops’ Museum of the Supernatural. I got the feeling Gabe didn’t understand that though, and another shadow passed over his features. “Never mind,” I added quickly.

  He got out of the chair, and knelt in front of me. I shooed Gatsby off my lap, and scooted closer, putting my knees on either side of him, brushing my fingers along his worried brow. His green eyes tore into me with hunger, desire, and something else… guilt?

  Did he regret the way he felt about me?

  Of course he does. He was supposed to kill you, my inner voice chided.

  I wouldn’t accept that. I was still me. Still the Snow White he flirted with at Warehouse Video. The same girl he wrapped in his arms and promised to never leave. Wasn’t I? A lot happened since the night we slept in the same bed.

  I’d been bitten, changed into a revenant, and finally a vampire. But I hadn’t killed anyone. I still went to school, fed my cat, and did normal stuff.

  Drinking the blood of a human is not normal, my inner voice huffed.

  Gabe seemed to sense my internal conversation. “Kiss me,” he said, his voice low and husky. Gabe tugged me onto his lap, our lips meeting. I pressed my body into his, allowing my need for him to overpower every other emotion. For several long minutes we were lost in each other and I forgot about everything but how good it felt to have Gabe’s hands caressing my body, his tongue skimming the inside of my mouth.

  When we broke apart, we were both breathing heavily. I smiled, running my hands through his thick dark hair. Gabe was beautiful. His eyes searched mine, a signature Gabe-smirk plastered on his face.

  He’s proud of himself, my inner voice smoldered.

  “My turn.” I pulled his hair, tugging his head back, exposing the delicious blue-green vein. My canines started to grow.

  A low growl rumbled in the back of his throat, and he closed his eyes.

  I sank my teeth into his neck, relishing the way his skin parted. I tugged his body tightly against mine, sucking slowly, enjoying the intimacy.

  “Snow,” he groaned cupping my butt with his hands.

  Now that I knew he was half chayot, I relished the distinct difference in his blood. I understood it. This was my third time drinking from Gabe. Professor Pops had made me promise to drink from each person only once.

  Yes, but Gabe isn’t all human, I thought, pulling my teeth from Gabe’s neck, and kissing the twin holes that were already healing.

  He grabbed my head, and kissed me, his tongue entwining with mine. “I love you, Snow,” he whispered into my lips, gently rocking me closer to him.

  His words halted my insides.

  He loves me, I thought cheerfully.

  “I love you too,” I returned.

  He slowly moved backward, bringing me down with him and rolled so his body covered mine.

  I knew Professor Pops had “the talk” with him after he walked in on Gabe and I the other night. In a phone conversation, Gabe and I decided we would wait to go any further than kissing, but his body felt so good against mine. I almost decided to change my mind.

  Gabe stopped though, sitting up, pulling me with him.

  “I should go,” he said, his voice hoarse, his hair rumpled.

  “Okay,” I agreed.

  We stood, and he hugged me. “You’re amazing,” he said, his lips brushing against my hair.

  “Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you.”

  I nuzzled his neck. He groaned, kissing my forehead. “I can’t imagine what it feels like for you,” he stopped and touched his neck, feathering his f
ingers across the place my teeth had been moments before. The holes were already gone. “But I’ve never experienced anything better.”

  His words caused my knees to go weak. “That pretty much sums it up.”

  For some reason an image of Christopher popped into my mind.

  Ask him about the pendant. Use your powers of persuasion if you have to, and ask already, my inner voice commanded.

  But I couldn’t. I didn’t want Gabe to think I was accusing him of stealing.

  “What is it?” he asked, his fingers touching my swollen mouth.

  I shook my head. “Just happy.” I sighed, leaning into him. I never would’ve believed there could be a Gabe and I.

  “See ya.” He opened the front door, letting in a brisk November wind.

  “Bye,” I responded, closing the door behind him.

  I got ready for bed, a perma-smile trapped on my lips. After I pulled my purple comforter over me, Gatsby jumped up and curled himself at my feet, his purring a soothing ballad. I immediately fell asleep.

  Chapter 2

  I was dead. My body rested on a cloud of purple, inside a clear glass cylinder that was my casket. I’d been laid to rest in a gossamer white dress. Dainty white slippers covered my feet. My dark hair was curled and a white ribbon wound through, like a headband. In my hands I clutched a single red rose, the color of my stained lips. Dark lashes stood out against the stark white of my skin. The casket rested on a white stand in a lush field full of thousands of white daises. They swayed in the slight wind.

  The smart-dressed brothers and Professor Pops were at the foot of my casket, and the Vampire Queen stood near my head. She wore a blood red dress that scooped low, enhancing her breasts. Above, the sun shone brightly. Birds twittered in nearby pine trees. The hum of insects provided a despondent melody, and a babbling brook meandered nearby.

  It was like looking at a painting of a moment in time. No one spoke. No one moved.

  What are they waiting for, I wondered.

  Overhead, a glorious man with velvet-white wings descended. In his hands he held a large sword. Tears filled my eyes as an overwhelming serenity consumed my soul, and I wondered at it. Why I didn’t feel sadness at seeing my body laid to rest in a casket, or fear because of the menacing angel. There was only calm.

  He drew closer, his features coming into view.

  “Gabe.” I noted the set of his jaw, and the hardness in his green eyes.

  He alighted next to my body, and lifted the lid on the casket. Still the brothers, Professor Pops, and the Queen remained still.

  Could they not see him? Was he going to kiss me awake?

  The eyes of my corpse flew open, and my fangs grew. I heard a furious growl rumble in the throat of my dead body.

  Gabe brought the blade above my heart and plunged. As the sharp edges parted my skin it made sounds like metal ripping through concrete. “I’m so sorry,” he cried, pulling back after several moments. Red blood dripped from the edge of his blade and landed on my white dress.

  My eyes closed.

  My fangs withdrew.

  And I was gone.

  Chapter 3

  When I woke I was shocked to see eight handsome men standing at the foot of my bed—Professor Pops and all seven brothers. Professor Pops held a light wooden tray abounding with food.

  Heathcliff stage whispered, “One. Two. Three.”

  Eight deep voices sang as one. “Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Snow (Gabe said Snowflake. I recognized his baritone). Happy birthday to you.”

  “And many more,” Daniel added.

  “On channel four,” Salvatore sang.

  “We live next door,” Bart crooned, lifting a hand in the air.

  “She likes to snore.” Dorian wiggled his eyebrows in amusement.

  “It shakes the floor,” Sebastian finished, holding the last note.

  I couldn’t help the embarrassed giggle, and I covered my head with my blanket. “Thank you,” I muttered. If I had the choice of any eight people in the entire world to be part of my life, these goofy, awesome, amazing men would be who I chose.

  “Show your face, birthday girl,” Dorian said, flipping the covers back. He caught some of my hair in his fingers and I yelped.

  “Violent,” I howled playfully.

  His eyes grew wide in mock terror. “Sorry.” He brushed the hair out of my face with one hand. I sat, sticking out my tongue, which caused all the guys to laugh, including me.

  Professor Pops set the platter of food on my nightstand.

  A large waffle, topped with a generous helping of whipped cream, strawberries and almond slices steamed from the center of the plate. A glass of orange juice rested at the top, near the knife and spoon, and a bowl of fruit sat above the fork.

  “Looks delicious,” I said, wishing it would taste like the food in Sharra. At the reminder of the apple I sampled while there, my mouth watered.

  “You can eat in a minute. Presents first,” Heathcliff said. One by one they filed out of my room, and then came back. Each held a beautifully wrapped present.

  I willed away the tears forming on my lashes.

  You’re such a baby, my inner voice clucked.

  I flapped my hand, fanning my face, hoping that would help. “You guys didn’t have to get me anything. The party tonight is more than enough.”

  “Pish. Posh,” Salvatore said, setting a box wrapped in shiny silver paper and tied with a red bow in front of me.

  I raised an eyebrow, and laughed. “Thanks, old lady.”

  “Open it.” He sat at the end of my bed. The others gathered around.

  I picked it up, and shook. It was light, but there was definitely something inside. Untying the ribbon, I ripped off the paper and opened the box. “Socks,” I said, holding up a blue pair. “A lot of socks.”

  “Sixteen pairs of socks,” Salvatore said with a radiant smile.

  “You’re such a douche,” Sebastian goaded, slapping Salvatore in the back of the head.

  Salvatore reciprocated by punching Sebastian in the stomach.

  Professor Pops glared. “Language,” he snapped, efficiently ending the altercation.

  “I really needed socks. Thank you.” I leaned over and hugged Salvatore.

  “Your welcome,” he responded, suddenly shy.

  Sebastian pulled him from the bed, and sat in his place. His box was wrapped in a shimmering navy blue paper and tied with a big magenta bow. He placed it in my lap. I opened it with gusto, the excitement building at all of the presents. Inside were smaller, plastic boxes. The first contained a watch with a red band, the face shaped like an apple. “Cute,” I said, setting it next to me on the bed so I could open another one. Another watch was nestled inside. This one had a baby blue band. The face was baby blue and surrounded by diamonds (hopefully fake). The next little box had a watch with a black band and tiny black diamonds circling the face.

  “These are cool, right?” he asked, searching my face.

  “Very cool,” I responded sincerely, putting the black one on my wrist. Salvatore made a noise, so I hurriedly slid on black pair of socks.

  “Sixteen watches, in all different colors.” He helped me open the rest. My bed held a rainbow of watches, and I wondered what I’d do with them all.

  “I’m thinking there might be a theme to the gifts,” I said, glancing at each of the guys.

  The all agreed with, “yes,” “of course.”

  My smile was so big it hurt my cheeks.

  “Told you it was a great idea,” Daniel said.

  For the next half hour I opened presents, the delicious-looking food forgotten. It didn’t matter. I wouldn’t have enjoyed it anyway, and I think they all knew it.

  Each brother gave me sixteen of something.

  Dorian gave me shirts. They were new and made for women, but still had old 80’s memorabilia on the front. Musicians like Def Leppard, TV show characters, like the Smurfs. A yellow shirt had a smiley face drawn on it w
ith a hole in its forehead. I put it on over my tank.

  Bart gave me earrings in all different shapes and sizes. I rarely wore earrings, but put in a pair of ruby-colored studs.

  Daniel gave me apples, which I thought was hilarious, but the guys grumbled was lame.

  Heathcliff gave me journals. “So you can write down your thoughts,” he said. They were beautiful. Some in leather, others had pretty designs and flowers on them.

  Professor Pops presented me with sixteen pairs of Converse, in an array of shades, from bright orange to teal and lime green to lemon yellow.

  “Thank you,” I squealed before clearing my throat. I couldn’t help the enthusiasm that spewed out of me. I wasn’t a shoe person unless the shoes were Converse. “These are awesome!”

  I jumped up on the bed and hugged him.

  “So glad you like them,” he grinned, his eyes twinkling.

  I cleaned up my bed, putting the watches into the box, the socks back in their box, and moving the Converse into a boxed pile on the floor.

  Gabe stepped forward. “One more,” he said, his voice soft.

  I’d been nervously avoiding his gaze. The dream of him floating from the sky and stabbing me through the heart was still firmly situated in the forefront of my mind. Last night he’d told me he wasn’t an angel, and didn’t have wings, but the dream still freaked me out.

  “Snow?” Gabe shook the present playfully.

  I smiled. “Sorry.” The box he handed me was small, the paper a bright green secured by a white and green polka dot bow. I opened it. Inside was a red iPod Nano. Surprised I glanced at him. He’d remembered my new favorite color was red.

  “There are sixteen songs on there.” He winked. “I hope you like them.”

  I hugged him. “Thanks, Gabe. I’m sure I’ll love them.”

  He placed his hands on my waist sending an electric pulse of heat through my belly. I leaned into him, enjoying his smell, like fresh laundry, sandalwood, and a hint of his mouth-watering blood. Holy being or not, I was drawn to him.