Vampires in America

by D. B. Reynolds

  She blushed, but kept her head down as she nodded. “I woke up early and decided to get some work done.”

  “Just as well. We’ve leaving for San Antonio soon, and it’s a long drive.”

  Natalie’s eyes flashed wide open. Shit! She’d forgotten about that. They were driving to San Antonio tonight, just like in her dream!

  Marc walked into the kitchen at that moment, leaning down to kiss her cheek before going over to where Christian was preparing his favorite caramel macchiato. The kiss was an innocent gesture, something he’d done a million times before, but remembered heat had arousal slicking her pussy between clenched thighs.

  “We need to hit the road sooner rather than later,” Marc said casually, taking a slurping sip from his drink. “I don’t want to get stuck overnight with the San Antonio crowd. And this being a weekend, the hotels will be packed. So we need to leave time for a safe return home.”

  Natalie looked up then . . . and smiled.

  The End

  Vampire Vignette #15

  Old Enemies

  Between LUCIFER, Book Eleven, and RELENTLESS, Book 11.5

  Washington, D C, present day

  DUNCAN WOKE TO a warm body and the smell of spring flowers. He tipped his head slightly, burying his nose in the silky lushness of Emma’s hair. He could tell from her heartbeat and her slow, even breaths that she was still asleep, though he had no way of knowing how long she’d been that way. She was always there in the pre-dawn hours before he fell into his daylight sleep, and she was always there when he woke for the night. But that didn’t mean she hadn’t been up during the day. There was business to attend to, much of it with people who preferred to go home to their families at night. And there was her physiological need for sunlight, not to mention the psychological one. His Emma was, after all, fully human.

  And he liked her that way.

  The hand that had been draped just below her ribs slid lower, until his fingers caressed her smooth hip and widened to splay over her flat stomach, continuing their downward path to comb through the neat patch of dark curls between her thighs. He paused when she stirred—her heartbeat quickening, her breathing a touch faster—and then slid one finger between the petal-soft folds of her outer lips. He took his time, rubbing his finger back and forth, opening her to his touch, feeling the slow build of her arousal, her pussy growing hotter, wetter.

  Emma’s slender fingers closed over his wrist. Not to stop him, but to make sure he continued. He grinned. He’d been known to tease his mate, but she did her own share of teasing, too.

  His finger coasted over the exquisite nub of her clitoris. The sensitive little pearl was hard, but not as hard and swollen as it would be before he released her.

  She moaned, still holding on to his wrist, her hips flexing into his touch.

  Duncan tipped his head far enough to run his tongue over the sweet curve of her ear, biting gently on the soft lobe, before letting his tongue wander to the satin skin of her neck and the plump line of her jugular. He nipped lightly, teeth only, no fangs. But it was enough to have Emma sucking in a breath of anticipation.

  She was fully awake now, her body writhing gently against his, turning slightly to make her breasts more accessible, while she pushed her butt against his growing erection in a sweet caress.

  Duncan dipped his finger deeper, pumping in and out briefly, before adding a second one to rub over the most exquisitely sensitive area of her vagina. She cried out, bucking wildly as her pussy flooded with liquid heat. Duncan’s eyes closed, overwhelmed with desire for this woman, as she strained against his hold, even as her fingers tightened their grip on his wrist, as if daring him to pull his fingers away.

  He kissed her neck, sucking at her skin, before biting hard enough to leave a mark. It startled her enough to make her jerk in his arms, loosening her hold on his wrist long enough for him to slide his hand out between her thighs without hurting her. She made a small noise of protest as he dragged his wet fingers over her belly and hip, only to suck in her breath as those same fingers gripped her lovely thigh and pushed it forward, making room for his cock between her legs.

  He entered her from behind, sliding his full length into her tight body in a single, slow stroke, feeling her inner walls stretch to accommodate him in one breath, and with the next, begin rippling around him in a sensual dance of seduction. He groaned as his cock sank into her. Her pussy was so silky hot, so tight. She fit over his cock like the finest glove, made just for him. He recognized the conceit in that thought and didn’t care. This woman had always been his. It had simply taken him a while to find her.

  His left arm curled beneath her, holding her close enough that he could squeeze her breasts, pinching the nipples into dark buds that rolled between his fingers like delicate pearls, while his right hand pushed deep between her thighs, spreading her puffy folds and baring her clit.

  “Duncan!” Emma cried out, caught between the thrust of his cock from behind her and the press of his fingers in front. Her clit was fully engorged, swollen with blood until it was like a ripe cherry, begging to be plucked. He stroked it with the rough pad of his finger, listening to the gasped intake of her breath. “Duncan,” she whispered, almost a plea. Begging him to stop? Perhaps. She would be overwhelmed with sensation by now—his cock stroking steadily in and out, his fingers crushing her breasts, scraping over her clit, and all while his breath heated the skin of her neck, reminding her that his fangs were close, reminding her of the ecstasy of his bite.

  His cock swelled abruptly, hardening to the point of pain, as if Emma’s overload of pleasure, her need for release, had freed his own desires, his own hunger.

  He sank fully into her body and held there, groaning. If he moved, he would climax, and he wasn’t ready for that. He wanted a few more minutes of Emma’s shivering heat, the tight clasp of her sex around him, the trembling of her body as she begged wordlessly for release.

  He put his lips to her ear, nipping the outer curve gently, and whispered, “I love you, Emmaline.” In the next moment, his fingers closed over the swollen nub of her clit, even as his fangs sliced through her skin and into the velvety seduction of her vein.

  Blood, sweet as honey, filled his mouth and rolled down his throat, filling him with heat, lighting up every nerve in his body, bringing him back to life after his cold day’s sleep. He drank greedily. Emma’s blood tasted like her, warm as sunshine, with a floral bouquet like the finest wine. She was delicious, but she was his to protect. He stopped, withdrawing his fangs and licking the small wounds, sealing them so they’d heal far faster than normal.

  Emma was still trembling in his arms, her pussy clamped around his cock from the orgasm that had slammed her when the euphoric in his bite had flowed into her bloodstream like fire. He lifted his fingers from her clit, but only slightly, still caressing her, sliding through the cream of her climax, brushing against her clit, reminding her he was still buried inside her, and he was hard.

  He moved again, his hand between her legs holding her against him as he fucked her with long, steady strokes. He loved the deep, wet heat of her pussy after she’d climaxed. The way her inner muscles trembled with the passage of his cock, a million tiny fingers caressing him, as he glided in and out of her body, plunging in to the hilt and then sliding out until only the bare tip of his cock was inside her.

  Emma’s was still in his arms, holding her breath for what she knew was coming. Her heart was racing, her breath panting. She reached back and smoothed her hand over his cheek, her fingers gliding across his lips, dipping into his mouth, kissing his jaw, when he bent his head to brush his mouth over her shoulder.

  “Duncan,” she whispered, the name a caress on her lips.

  He hummed a wordless response even as a new hunger crashed into him, powering his hips as they thrust harder, faster, his every thought filled with fucking her, with hea
ring her scream his name as her pussy rippled around his cock in climax.

  She gasped in surprise as her abdominal muscles suddenly clenched, dragging a wordless cry from her lips. Along his cock, her sheath was shivering in anticipation, stroking his shaft, urging him to come, to fill her with his release.

  Duncan gritted his teeth as his balls tightened, feeling his orgasm like a tide of heat raging to be freed. He closed his fingers over Emma’s swollen clit, pinching the engorged bundle of nerves, even as his climax roared through him. He heard her scream over his roar of completion, felt her bucking wildly within his arms.

  And then there was nothing.

  EMMA OPENED her eyes and gazed around slowly. She couldn’t move yet. Her muscles were limp, except for the little jolts of erotic sensation that kept firing off, making her shudder in remembered pleasure. Duncan’s arm was heavy over her waist, his thigh still shoved between hers. She shifted slightly. Every time he moved, his thigh brushed against her pussy, sending fresh waves of desire rocketing over her abused nerves. A girl could only take so much sexual pleasure before turning into a quivering pile of goo.

  Duncan’s lips touched her shoulder. “Mine,” he murmured.

  She reached back and tugged his long hair, bringing his mouth down to hers for a kiss. “Mine,” she repeated.

  He laughed. “Yes, Emmaline. I am well and truly yours.” He sighed. “What’s our schedule for tonight? Any boring visitors or even more boring parties we must attend?”

  It was her turn to laugh. He pretended to hate the politics and politicking of DC, but she knew that privately he loved the challenge of it. Loved outwitting the various politicians and bureaucrats who thought they were so very smart. Especially the ones who dismissed him as a freak in a fancy suit, a novice to the DC scene. They didn’t seem to understand that he’d had more than a century to prepare for this job.

  Plus, he had her. She smiled at the thought, and said, “Amazingly, we have nothing on the calendar that requires us to leave the house tonight, unless we want to. There’s a whole pile of new legislation for me to wade through, and I’m sure some of it will require your attention. Beyond that, you should review the final upgrades on the new embassy. Alaric is waiting for your approval before he goes ahead. He’ll be by later.”

  EMMA SAT CROSS-legged on the small sofa in her office, hunched over the laptop on the coffee table in front of her, going through the previous day’s Congressional Record that had hit her inbox that morning. Congress members were constantly inserting things into the Congressional Record for the folks back home, recognizing the local team’s victory, somebody’s hundredth birthday, their favorite ice cream. Who knew what they’d come up with? It cost nothing, and it made for good press in the next election, which was what occupied most of their time. The actual running of the country, the whole “how a bill becomes a law” stuff, was a small part of how they spent their days.

  Fortunately, the Congressional Record, which included both types of congressional activities, was online and searchable. It made her job much easier. Or, at least, the part of her job that included keeping an eye out for anything that might affect the business and/or well-being of Duncan specifically, and vampires in general. She had a regular list of search parameters, and one of the techie vamps had written a program that would search the official record and generate a list of items for her to look at closely.

  Which was how she came to discover a sneaky piece of legislation buried so deeply that she wouldn’t have found it if she’d limited her search to “vampire.” Even though the proposed law was aimed specifically at vampires, it never used the word.

  “Fucker,” she muttered. Noting the name of the congressman—Kerwin, a name which sounded familiar, as if she should know it—she switched over to his official website and started making notes. This would be the first item on her list when she met Duncan for their nightly briefing. She was his lover and his mate, but she was also the equivalent of his congressional chief of staff. Her job was to keep him apprised of anything that happened within the hallowed halls of congress which might affect vampires. And this bill definitely qualified.

  Congressman Kerwin—and, damn it, why was that name so familiar?—was trying to prevent vampires from residing in the District of Columbia. And since the most prominent vampire currently living there was Duncan, this bill was personal. It was also unconstitutional, since vampires had been recognized as citizens, with all the rights thereof, in previous Supreme Court rulings. Kerwin had to know this, so the reason for his legislation had more to do with stirring up hatred than actually preventing anyone from living in DC. The question was why?

  She glanced at the time on her screen. Duncan should be back soon. He’d gone over to the building site, which was the location of the old vampire “embassy” building. The one that had burned down with Duncan and his vampires trapped in the basement. Or, that had been the plan. The killers hadn’t understood what it meant to be a vampire lord, especially not a very powerful vampire lord, like Duncan. He’d literally blown a hole out of the basement and escaped along with every vampire who’d been trapped with him. And then he’d gone after his enemies, both human and vampire.

  But it seemed he’d missed one. She made a few notes, then shut her laptop and got up from the sofa. Walking over to the small bathroom attached to her office, she stripped off her yoga pants and T-shirt. She’d been dressed for comfort while she worked, but Duncan liked her to dress up for their meetings. Liked it a lot. The thigh-high stockings went on first. Her bra and panties were already sexy, silk and lace, so no need to change those. Next was a pencil skirt, this one a black-on-black stripe, and a white silk blouse that showed more than a hint of the pretty bra underneath. A quick brush of her teeth, a touch-up on her makeup, which wasn’t much—Duncan liked the way she looked just fine, makeup or not—and she was ready to go. Except for the shoes. He did love her shoes. Today’s pair were red, a Gucci Mary Jane pump with a black and red strap. Not her highest heel, but the Mary Jane design added a touch of naughty schoolmistress that she loved. And so would Duncan.

  Emma was just bending to pick up her notes when that indefinable something lit up inside her, and she knew Duncan had returned. She couldn’t stop the smile that stole over her face as she straightened. She loved him with everything she had, everything she knew. And, most importantly, he loved her back the same way.

  “Evening, Alaric,” she said a few minutes later, when she passed the vampire contractor in the hall. “How’s it going over there?” Alaric was supervising the rebuilding of Duncan’s main residence, the so-called Vampire Embassy, in DC. Their enemies had burned the old one down with Duncan and his vampires still inside, but they’d badly underestimated Duncan’s power. No vampires had been killed, though the structure had been destroyed.

  “Making progress,” Alaric replied. “Though this damn weather isn’t helping. Your boyfriend has the details.”

  She laughed and kept going. Duncan’s office was down the hall, the only room large enough to accommodate the number of vampires who sometimes met there. This was a temporary house. It was large for a house, but not for an embassy. The house that had been destroyed in the fire had been twice as big, and would be even bigger when it was rebuilt. She was still surprised at how long it took to build a house. Although, she had to admit that the vampires’ DC residence wasn’t just a house. The new building would be nice, but this one served them well enough, so she was content to wait.

  Duncan’s office door stood partway open, so she pushed it the rest of the way and stepped inside to find him already walking toward her, his face lit up with a smile that made him even more devastatingly handsome.

  His arms came around her and he took her mouth in a hungry kiss, as if it had been days rather than hours they’d been apart. Emma’s arms wrapped around his back, holding on for dear life. Duncan’s kisses would knock her right off her Mary Janes,
if she wasn’t careful.

  He lifted his mouth at last, but didn’t stop kissing her, nibbling at her lips, her cheeks, and finally transferring his attention to her ear. “I like the shoes,” he whispered, and then bit her earlobe just hard enough to be felt. The bite sent a bolt of lust straight to her pussy, leaving her wet and warm. And he knew it, too. The bastard.

  “Cheater,” she muttered, but he just laughed.

  “I didn’t know kissing my mate was cheating,” he replied, closing the office door.

  Okay, well, he had a point. It wasn’t the kissing, it was the kisser. Duncan’s powers of seduction were irresistible. Fortunately for them both, he only practiced his magic on her, so she wasn’t complaining.

  “Alaric sounds unhappy,” she commented as he led her over to the big table where they usually started this nightly briefing. They rarely ended up there. Once the early business was finished, with its paperwork and computer files, they’d move to the comfortable couch where all too frequently, Emma ended up underneath Duncan. Or sometimes on top, depending on his mood.

  “Alaric believes the weather should accommodate itself to his schedule, but he’ll recover.”

  “Hmmm. Anything I need to know about?” She’d stopped asking for details, like when the house might be finished.

  “Nothing. I spoke to Raphael. He and Cyn send their love.”

  She gave him a skeptical look. “If somebody sent love, then you talked to Cyn.”

  He laughed. “She was in the room. They were on speaker.”

  “I knew it. Anything happening there?” She didn’t look at him when she asked the question. The North American vamps were plotting to invade Europe, and it terrified her. She knew her fears were irrational. As powerful as Duncan was, Raphael was so much more, and he stood behind the plan along with all the others. Together, they were a force like the vampire world had never seen. And Duncan wouldn’t be directly involved in any of the fighting. Ireland had been decided on as the point of invasion, and he had no roots in Europe, at all. But still, things happened in war. He might not be a direct participant, but he was a very visible representative of the North American vampire community, and that made him a target.