_Anthology - Love Bites

by _Anthology

  Kelly got the first glass. She eyed the red liquid, sniffed at it suspiciously, and said, "Is this pig’s blood?"

  Matthew made a low sound that could easily have been a growl. "No," he said through gritted teeth. "This is something special. A deer. Natalie brought it down herself, on our trip to the north woods, last full moon. A doe. She was pregnant."

  Martha’s and Kelly’s heads turned toward Natalie in unison. "The doe, not me," she clarified. "Highly illegal for a human hunter, but I wasn’t human at the time." Natalie and Matthew looked at one another and laughed.

  Martha sipped the blood delicately. She swallowed, nodded, and took a full swig. "Delicious," she pronounced. "Congratulations, Nat. That must have been quite a kill."

  Kelly considered the blood for a moment, then took a sip. Her face registered pleasant surprise.

  "Thank you, Martha," Natalie said. "Now, I think you were about to tell me about that restaurant at the B&B on the shore?"

  Kelly’s face took on a far-off, dreamy look. "The Horned Owl Inn," she said. "The chef’s name is Oliver, and he’s one of us."

  "Us us," Martha interjected. "Not you us." She poured herself seconds.

  Kelly ignored Martha. "He makes the best seafood I’ve ever tasted," she said. "Oysters, mussels, Maine lobster. He also makes the most amazing clam chowder."

  "Clam chowder?" Natalie said. "I thought you two were strict carnivores. Isn’t clam chowder full of diced vegetables?"

  "You’re thinking of Manhattan style, with tomatoes," Matthew said. "There’s also a New England style, which is full of potatoes." "Not when Oliver makes it," Martha said, cutting off Kelly’s reminiscence. Kelly seemed to dream on anyway. "Somehow, he knows exactly what you want. He made a pot from scratch, just for Kelly and me, heavy on the cream and clams and no plant life." She said these last two words disdainfully. "And somehow, he makes this dish both elegant and exquisite."

  "You have to try it," Kelly said, wiping a bead of drool from her lower lip.

  Martha reached across the bar and took Matthew’s hand. "You must take Natalie there to try Oliver’s famous clam chowder," she said. "Promise me you will."

  Matthew looked over at Natalie. She gave him a slight nod of approval. "Okay," he said. "I promise." The night went on, as smoothly as could be expected. When Martha and Jenny left, Matthew surveyed the dirty plates and glasses. "Let’s leave this mess until tomorrow evening," he said. His big body settled into the soft suede of the living room sofa.

  "Agreed," Natalie said, kicking off her pumps. She joined him on the sofa, pressing her face into his chest and breathing his masculine scent. "You so do not smell like wet dog. But try not to take it personally. Kelly just doesn’t like men."

  "Or pregnant doe’s blood," Matthew added. "Or medium-rare roast. Remind me again why we’re friends with vampires?"

  "Martha is an old family friend," Natalie said, snuggling in closer. "She knew my greatgrandmother."

  "Are you sure I can’t kill them?" Matthew asked, chuckling.

  "No, that would be murder," Natalie said.

  "How about during a full moon?"

  "Not unless you want to start another interspecies war."

  "How about just Kelly, then?" he said.

  Natalie laughed. "Let’s just go to bed," she said, looking up at the old grandfather clock. "The sun will be up in another hour or so." Matthew looked at the clock and frowned. Natalie rose, and he followed her. In the bedroom, Matthew watched as Natalie took off her choker of freshwater pearls and dropped it into the chaos on the vanity table. Watching himself in the mirror, he slid the straps of her silk sheath dress from her shoulders and let the dress fall to the floor. He looked into her eyes.

  Natalie found Matthew’s black-brown eyes full of desperate longing. She loved that look in his eyes. The love and lust were so deep, they went straight to her heart, her clit, and the animal center of her brain all at once. She didn’t know whether she’d moved closer to him or he to her. Natalie only knew that her body was pressed against Matthew’s and that her mouth was locked onto his. She could still taste the doe’s blood on his tongue. The primal taste aroused her. She sucked his tongue fiercely.

  More than the taste, though, it was the feel of Matthew’s tongue moving inside her mouth that made Natalie’s heart pound. The logical part of her mind drifted away. She was consumed wholly by the pleasure that Matthew’s mouth brought to hers.

  He pulled away, kissing Natalie, lightly, on the lips. She felt his retreat as keenly as if a part of her soul had drawn away. Natalie opened her eyes, almost panicked. “Turn around,” Matthew said in a cool voice. Without thinking, Natalie obeyed him. His hot mouth, kissing its way down the hard muscle where her shoulder met her neck, was a relief. The kisses were light, then suddenly deep. She knew what was to come, and that made her want it all the more. As his teeth sunk into the sensitive flesh, Natalie’s body tensed. She found the sensation purely pleasurable.

  Natalie knelt on the bed. Matthew unbuttoned his shirt, slowly, from the bottom up. "Do you remember the night we spent on the shore? Our first full moon together?" he said. "Of course," she said. "We spent the whole night running, making love and chasing crabs in the sand." She reached up to help him with the buttons, but he turned her hands away. "We woke up face-down in the sand, human again, surrounded by all the little holes we dug trying to get those crabs."

  " I woke up face-down in the sand," he said. "You woke up face-down on top of me, your head and shoulders resting on my back. You sat up and brushed the sand off your body, and I shook the sand off me. I put my arm around you." He let his shirt fall to the floor and took off his pants. "You trusted me. That was such a good, safe feeling. I knew then that I wanted to be your mate."

  She sighed, eager for another taste of the sensation his bite had provoked.

  "Let me make love to you like that again, like we did on the beach that morning," Matthew said. He sat beside her, taking her in his arms. Natalie breathed deep, imagining that she could still smell the sand, the salt water air, mixed with Matthew’s sweaty, aroused scent. He laid her on her back, kissing her lips and then her neck.

  "Do you want to know what I remember about you that morning on the beach?" Natalie said softly into Matthew’s ear as he kissed her.

  "Yeah," he said. "Your face," she said. "You have such an expressive face when we make love. Most guys have the same stony, lip-curling, eyes-shut, forehead-wrinkled face that could indicate either extreme passion or a killer leg cramp." He laughed. "Oh, but not you, Matthew. You’re gifted with range that Lon Chaney would have envied."

  Matthew laughed so hard that she thought he forgot what he was doing, but not quite. His fingers traced their way down the silky flesh of Natalie’s thigh. He pushed her thighs apart, looking down at her sex with eager anticipation.

  "Yeah," she said. "Like that." But tonight, Matthew was so hungry, so voracious, so deliciously wild and wonderfully rough around the edges. She wanted to watch his face, but she couldn’t keep her eyes open. The pleasure was too intense.

  *** Natalie sat on the edge of the large, heart-shaped bathtub. It was almost full now. The door was closed, the fan turned off, and the room was filled with steam. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and banana-clipped it to the top of her head.

  Matthew knocked on the door. "Come in," Natalie said.

  He stepped in through the steam, carrying a martini glass. Inside it was a pale orange slush, with a bright pink straw sticking out from the side. He handed it to her.

  "What’s this?" Natalie asked.

  "A peach smoothie," Matthew said. "I made it with vanilla frozen yogurt."

  Natalie took a sip. "Delicious," she said. "Thank you." "Yeah," he said, taking a seat next to her on the edge of the tub. She set the drink down and looked at him. Matthew had shaved and was dressed to the nines. He wore his favorite smokegray suit with the red-and-pink striped tie she’d bought him.

  Natalie sniffed. She smelled Matthew’s af
tershave, a thick, spicy, woody scent. Underneath it, Natalie smelled Matthew. He was in no danger of a transformation tonight, yet Natalie could smell the predator in him, alert, ready to strike. It both thrilled and frightened her.

  "You’re going out," she said without emotion.

  Matthew nodded. He let the back of his hand fall across Natalie’s naked thigh. She shivered at the gentle touch. "Are you upset?" he asked her. Natalie shook her head, reaching behind him to turn off the hot water. "You know I’m not the jealous type, Matthew." She smiled, baring her teeth. "I’m just going to stay in, drink my peach smoothie, and read my book in the tub."

  She didn’t have to tell him that she’d just started her period. He knew. The moon was new, and just like last month, the new moon ushered in Natalie’s bleeding. She was as regular as the phases of the moon, and in perfect synch with them.

  So was he. Suddenly, forcefully, Matthew lifted Natalie off the edge of the tub and onto his lap. He kissed her mouth violently, crushing her breasts flat against his chest. He took all that he wanted from her, drinking in her mouth, biting her lip until he tasted blood, and then kissing the blood away.

  Matthew broke away, squeezing Natalie’s body in a tight hug. He brought his mouth to her ear. "I love you," he growled fiercely.

  Natalie’s hands gripped his shoulders tightly. "I know that," she said. "Go." She laid a soft kiss on his lips.

  "Really?" he said in a gravelly, raw voice. "Really," Natalie said. "This is our regular thing now, Matthew. The moon is new, I’m in the tub, and you’re out on the prowl." She got up from his lap, stared down at him for a moment, and stepped into the tub.

  He laughed nervously. After one more deep, searching, penetrating kiss, Matthew was gone. He came home early in the morning, in daylight, just as Natalie was settling down to sleep. His suit was rumpled, and he needed to shave again. He went straight to the shower. When he crawled into bed beside her, Natalie no longer sensed the predator. His scent was muted, calm.

  Natalie never asked Matthew where he’d been, or whom he’d been with. It didn’t matter. She was being sincere when she said that she wasn’t the jealous type. Besides, it wasn’t as if werewolves could pick up human diseases. At worst, he’d met another werewolf and picked up a few fleas. For Matthew, Natalie could put up with a flea collar.

  *** The water was hot, but pleasantly so. No longer hot enough to scald and redden tender flesh, it suited Natalie just fine. Jasmine-scented steam rose to Natalie’s nostrils, filling her lungs, making her light-headed and drowsy.

  She opened her eyes as another wave crashed over her, disturbing this peaceful soak in the heartshaped tub. Matthew was restless again. She sat up, cupping bath water in the palm of her hand. She poured it down Matthew’s chest and watched as the oil-slicked water cascaded between the black hairs.

  "Hey," Matthew said, "I thought we agreed; no splashing."

  "You splashed me first," she said.

  "Not on purpose," he argued. "I was just changing positions. I can’t help it if this tub isn’t quite big enough for the two of us."

  "Don’t blame the tub," she said. "We’d be fine if you weren’t so restless. Are you ready to get out, or what?"

  "I’m ready to get out," he said. He looked through the glass-block window, spying the near-full moon through the trees. She lifted herself from the tub and sat on the edge, dripping. The cool surface felt good after the heat of the bath. Matthew chivalrously stood and reached a towel for her.

  "Want to sneak into the zoo again?" Natalie asked him. "We could chase the gazelles around the enclosure . . .."

  Matthew smirked, wrapping himself in a towel. "Two nights from now, maybe. It isn’t as much fun when you’re human." He looked in the mirror, briefly, then looked back at her. "I had a different idea, actually."

  "Oh yeah?" she said, hanging her wet towel back on the rack. "What’s that?" "Road trip," he said. "To the shore. I can’t stop thinking about it, ever since that night Martha and Jenny were over. I keep remembering how it felt that morning, waking up beside you on the beach, making love in the wet sand with the tide washing over us."

  "And the night before," she added dreamily. "Running wild in the moonlight."

  "Catching crabs," he said. She looked at him funny, so he said, "I mean, chasing crabs around in the sand, digging them up, eating them. Nat, let’s go to that B&B the hags were talking about."

  "You really shouldn’t call them . . .."

  "I know," he said. "But that’s not the point right now. We need to get back to the beach, Nat. I need to find out if that clam chowder is as good as they say it is."

  "It’s already one in the morning," she reminded him. "By the time we find the place, it’ll be close to four." "I know," he said again. "Dangerously close to sunrise. I know it sounds kind of crazy, Natalie. I know it might be a complete waste of time, but I really need to get out of the house, and I think we should go tonight."

  He looked at her, his black-brown eyes shining with the promise of mischief. There it is again, Natalie thought. The predator. And the predator couldn’t be reasoned with.

  "Okay," she said. "I’ll get dressed, and we’ll go."

  Matthew pulled her to him and planted a soft kiss on the top of her head. "That’s my girl," he said. Natalie laughed. Matthew let go of her, and she wandered into the bedroom to pick out a t-shirt and skirt. Being nocturnal saved them from suffering most of the heat of the summer days, but still, it was a hot night. She chose a plain black tee and her flirty, too-short, green plaid schoolgirl skirt. It was perfect for the beach.

  "I love that skirt," Matthew said, pulling on his favorite light blue button-down. "Your ass looks great in it."

  "Thanks," she said. "Why don’t you wear those black cotton shorts?"

  "I thought you said they were too tight on me."

  "I did," she said. "I didn’t say I didn’t like it." He smiled, showing just a bit of fang. A quick Internet search turned up the location of the Horned Owl Inn, complete with driving directions. Natalie printed out the map, and they got in Matthew’s car. Taking the interstate, they headed north until they found the obscure county road that would take them east, to the Inn. Or so they thought. It turned out that Matthew had confused County Road 19 with State Road 119, and they were lost for almost an hour. By the time they pulled into the Horned Owl’s parking lot, Natalie could sense that the sun was about to break over the vast, black ocean.

  "We’re too late," she said quietly, as Matthew walked around to her side of the car.

  He put his hand on the small of her back. "No," he said. "It’s still dark. There’s still time." The Horned Owl Inn was a three-story historical home in the grand Victorian style. On the parking lot side, all the windows were heavily shuttered to keep out the sunlight. The house had a wide, screened porch. Through the patterned art glass of the thick, oak double doors, they could see the sleepy-looking attendant, a young woman, sitting at the front desk. Natalie looked up at the two enormous brick chimneys and imagined the fires roaring on a chilly night.

  "It looks cozy," she said. Matthew nodded. "Let’s walk around to the beach side," he said. They followed the battered oak boardwalk around to the ocean side of the house. On the ground floor, there was another set of heavy oak doors, leading out to a partially-enclosed porch that joined the boardwalk. The second and third floors each had terraces, adorned with ornate gingerbread woodwork. The windows were open on this side, letting in the night breeze.

  "I’m guessing the vampires get the rooms on the other side," Matthew said. "I wonder how we get to the restaurant?" "There," Natalie said, pointing out a faded wooden sign where the boardwalk ended and the sand began. Its white letters were half-hidden behind overgrown beach grass. As she approached, though, Natalie could make out the words "Oliver’s Café," and an arrow pointing them back toward the parking lot.

  Matthew took Natalie’s hand and led her back to the lot. Only then did they notice the windowless, dome-shaped, metallic building, un
connected to the Horned Owl Inn. The neon sign flashed "Oliver’s" in red letters.

  Cautiously, Matthew pushed open the heavy door. Natalie followed him into the blackness inside, leaving them in a narrow hall. Making their way slowly, feeling the walls as they went, Natalie and Matthew found a second door. Natalie pushed and heard the sound of sleigh bells; they hung from the interior side of the door.

  Once inside, Natalie and Matthew found themselves alone in a round, dimly lit dining room. Eight tables of various sizes were spread throughout the room, each with a gleaming white tablecloth and a set of chairs clad in red vinyl. On the far side, a set of swinging doors indicated the kitchen.

  "Should we sit down?" Matthew asked, looking at Natalie.

  "We’re closed." Natalie and Matthew looked around, trying to determine where the woman’s voice had come from. Suddenly she was there at the kitchen doors. Dressed in a pink-and-white uniform, her stark white hair done up in a bun under a hairnet, the old-fashioned waitress seemed to be at least seventy years old. She gave Natalie and Matthew a good, hard look. She addressed them as if they were children, and perhaps a little slow. "I said we’re closed. We’ll open again in a few hours, when the relief cooks come in. Oliver’s had a very busy night, and he’s exhausted."

  "We’re friends of Martha and Kelly," Matthew said hopefully.

  "I don’t care if you’re friends of Martha Washington," the old woman said. "We’re closed." Matthew looked at Natalie as if in apology. She shrugged. "We’ll get a room at the inn," she said. "Maybe Oliver will have had his rest in time for dinner. After the sun goes down." She said these last words carefully, scanning the waitress’s face for any sign of recognition. There was none.

  They were just about to leave when Natalie heard soft footsteps. She turned to see a young man standing beside the elderly waitress. He wore a stained white apron and chef’s hat. Surely this was Oliver. Oliver didn’t seem to be any more than seventeen, though it was impossible to tell for sure. He had very short black hair, long sideburns, and uncommonly bright green eyes. He wasn’t exceptionally handsome, but there was something compelling about him.