Vampires in America

by D. B. Reynolds

  “You didn’t like the blue tie?” she asked. “It brings out the color of your eyes.”

  He stopped and gave her a long look. “Who gives a fuck about the color of my eyes? I’ll leave that to peacocks like Raphael and Duncan.”

  Sid laughed, and knew that’s what he’d intended. He knew she was stressed about the night. He was such a sweetheart, but only with her. Her heart squeezed with happiness.

  “Shall I tell Cyn you said that?” she teased.

  He shrugged. “Go ahead.”

  She made a dismissive noise. “You’re no fun.”

  He swooped over and picked her up, nuzzling her neck and shoulders, as she laughed in delight. Nibbling his way up to her mouth, he kissed her deeply, luxuriously, his tongue a lazy swirl of sensuality as he stroked it against hers, his lips far too soft and sexy for such a tough vampire. “I can be fun, habibi,” he murmured against her lips. “Shall I show you how?”

  Sid held on tightly, her arms around his neck, her breasts crushed against the pristine whiteness of his shirt. “That’s no fair,” she whispered.

  He grinned, and said, “Fuck fair.” But he gave her a smacking kiss on her lips and deposited her back on the bench in front of her vanity. “Why are you still sitting there? You already look beautiful.”

  “My hair—”

  “I love your hair. Leave it.”

  “Bossy man.”

  “Not that I care, but we’re going to be late. You should get moving, unless you plan to change clothes in the helicopter?”

  Sid threw a jar at him, knowing he’d catch it. Which he did. Frustrating man. “I’m moving.” She stood and headed for her closet. This was the easiest part of getting ready. For all the significance of tonight, it was still dinner with the family. And sure, if it had been an ordinary occasion, she’d be showing up in jeans and a sweater. These people knew her. They loved her. But this wasn’t an ordinary occasion, so, she was wearing a dress—a simple silk sheath, with long sleeves and a boat neck. The neck thing was deliberate. First, because Aden liked her neck bare—for obvious reasons. And second, to prove to her parents that her neck wasn’t constantly covered in hickeys, like some hormonal teenager. Of course, they’d never see the bite marks on her breasts. She smiled to herself. Those were between her and Aden.

  She turned as Aden walked into the closet, giving him her back so he could zip the dress. He did the honors, then bent to kiss her bared neck.

  “If we were meeting with vampires tonight, I’d be biting you right now. Marking you for everyone to see,” he whispered, his breath warm on her skin.

  She shivered. “Stop that.”

  He grinned and kissed the skin behind her ear, his eyes meeting hers in the mirror. “You don’t really want me to stop.”

  “No,” she breathed, then swallowed. “But you’re the one who said we’d be late.”

  “I say a lot of shit I don’t mean.”

  “Aden.”

  He laughed. “Let’s go then. It’s cold. You’ll need a coat. And shoes.”

  “Oh, ha ha.” Bracing a hand on his rock-hard arm, she stepped into a pair of black pumps, with stupidly high heels. But they made her legs look great, and brought her a little closer to Aden’s height. She pulled a wool coat from the closet, smiling when Aden took it and held it for her to slip her arms through. With a final look at herself in the mirror, and the gorgeous man gazing patiently over her shoulder, she said, “Let’s do this thing.”

  ADEN STUDIED SID’S family home as the limo turned up the long driveway. The house was brightly lit, with warm light spilling from what looked like every room. It was a big house on a good-sized piece of land. He personally wouldn’t want to live this far from the city, but if one was raising a family, it made sense. This was a wealthy enclave that protected its status and its citizens, a job made easier by distance.

  Sid’s hand clenched in his as the limo stopped in front of a wide, brick porch.

  He leaned over and brushed a kiss against her temple, breathing in the sweet scent of her perfume. “It’s not too late. We can still escape, habibi.”

  She smiled and tipped her head against his lips. “No way, dude. You’re stuck with me.”

  He snorted his opinion of that. He firmly believed he had the better deal in their relationship. He was a moody, bad-tempered, and bossy son-of-a-bitch, and those were his good points. Sidonie was light to his dark. She’d dragged him kicking and screaming back to a life where love and even happiness were real things.

  He didn’t give a fuck what her parents thought about him or his relationship with their daughter. He was never letting her go.

  The front door opened, silhouetting two men in the spill of warm, bright light. Aden couldn’t make out details, but he’d bet these were her brothers. They had the same lean build, both tall, with wide shoulders. He couldn’t tell much else, except that they were both wary as they stared at the limo, waiting to meet the monster who’d claimed their baby sister.

  Whatever.

  “You know what to do,” he told Bastien, who was sitting in the passenger seat up front, with Kage behind the wheel. They’d wait with the car, while two more of his vampires, Freddy and Travis, had arrived separately and already taken up positions outside the house. Aden didn’t believe there was any danger lurking in Sidonie’s family home, but one could never be too careful. Besides, if he hadn’t invited them along, his vampires would have come anyway. Whether he thought he needed bodyguards or not, they did. It was in their nature to protect their Sire. It was a vampire thing.

  Aden opened the limo door and climbed out, turning to take Sidonie’s hand so she wouldn’t fall in those sexy-as-hell heels. Keeping an arm around her, he closed the limo door, and headed up the stairs. Her brothers ventured out to the porch with big smiles and hugs for her and cautious looks at him.

  Sid stepped back into the curve of his arm, her body language making it clear that she was with Aden first tonight. “Aden, these are my brothers, Jameson and Robert.”

  The older brother held out his hand first. “It’s good to meet you . . . at last.”

  Sidonie slapped her brother’s arm.

  “Ow. You’re so mean.”

  Aden watched the interplay curiously. There was a protectiveness in Sidonie’s brothers that was more like that of a parent than a sibling. It made him think better of the men.

  The second brother, Robert, held out his hand. “Ignore them,” he said, giving Aden’s hand a firm shake. “They’ve been acting like this since Sid was born.”

  “Well, she is mean,” Aden said quietly.

  Sidonie gasped, but the two men laughed. “Come on in,” Robert said, moving out of the doorway. “It’s fucking cold out there.”

  “Robert!” a woman’s voice scolded to the sound of tapping heels. “Language.”

  Aden choked back a laugh of his own as he reminded himself not to swear until they’d left the house.

  “Baby!”

  Sidonie left his side to hurry into the embrace of an older woman, obviously her mother, though they looked nothing alike. They were both slender, but the resemblance ended there. Her mother had the same light brown hair of her brothers, and she was several inches shorter than Sidonie. Aden supposed if one searched, there was some similarity in their features, but not what one would expect.

  Sidonie was turning, holding out a hand for Aden. “Mom, this is Aden. Aden, my mother, Tamara Reid.”

  “Oh, my,” her mother said, her eyes widening as she took in Aden’s considerable height, which was at least a foot taller than she was, even in her heels. “I’m so happy to meet you,” she said warmly. “Come in. My husband’s just pouring us a drink.”

  That sounded good. Aden couldn’t get drunk, but a nice scotch would go down well. He wondered if Sidonie’s father had
a decent stock of liquor. Maybe he should have brought his own bottle . . . as a gift.

  “Thank you,” he said, then to Sidonie, “You want your coat off, habibi?”

  Sidonie gave him a warm look and slid her coat off into his hands. “Thanks, baby.”

  “Let me take that,” one of the brothers said, and hung the coat in a closet. “Let’s get that drink.”

  They all marched, er, walked into the next room, which turned out to be the sitting room portion of a large, open floor plan that included a dining room, and, beyond that, a kitchen where he could see a man in a black apron working at the counter—the family’s private chef, he assumed.

  He looked around and found Sidonie’s father at the wet bar, pouring an amber liquid from an elaborate crystal decanter. There was no mistaking the relationship between father and daughter. He had Sidonie’s red hair and fair skin—or rather, she had his. She also had his looks, albeit a more delicate, feminine version.

  “Daddy.” Sidonie held onto Aden’s hand and led him over to her father’s side. “This is Aden. Baby, this is my dad, Jameson.”

  Aden eyed the father carefully. The brothers didn’t worry him. In this house, at least, they were clearly betas. Dad was the alpha. But since Aden was accustomed to being the only alpha in his world and was also, quite honestly, considerably more alpha than Jameson Sr., he had to tread carefully. He didn’t want to best the man in his own house, but he wouldn’t be taking a subordinate role to anyone, either. Not even Sidonie’s father.

  “Aden,” Jameson Sr. said.

  “Jameson.” Aden shook his hand, careful to temper his strength, but he met the man’s gaze evenly.

  “Scotch?”

  Aden took the proffered glass. Sidonie was still holding on to his left hand, clinging with both of hers, betraying her nerves. Aden loosed his hand and slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. She smiled up at him with such love . . . it reminded him of why he was subjecting himself to this human custom of meeting the parents. How ridiculous. He was hundreds of years older than they were, and would live hundreds of years longer. As would their daughter as his mate.

  He reined in his irritation before it was reflected on his face. Sidonie was all too good at reading him, and he wouldn’t hurt her over something so trivial.

  “You want a glass, baby girl?” Jameson Sr. asked.

  Aden gave Sidonie an amused glance at the endearment and caught her blush. Adorable. He kissed the top of her head.

  “No, thanks, Daddy. I still don’t like the taste.”

  “The ancestors are rolling in their graves,” Jameson Sr. grumbled, shaking his head. But then he winked at her and held out his glass to Aden. “To my beautiful daughter,” he said, meeting Aden’s eyes with a challenging stare.

  Aden stared right back at him, never flinching. “And my beautiful Sidonie.”

  “I’m with Sid on this one.” Sidonie’s mother, Tamara, stepped into the fray, breaking up the stare-down, as she slipped under her husband’s arm. “I never liked the taste, either.”

  “And yet, somehow, I still married you,” Jameson Sr. said, kissing her upturned face.

  “Aden,” Tamara said, turning in her husband’s embrace. “Sidonie tells me you have some lovely antique pieces, including a spectacular tapestry.”

  He nodded slightly. “I do appreciate lovely things.” He hugged Sidonie a fraction closer, smiling when she glanced up at him with a laugh.

  “Are you saying my daughter is one of those things?” her father inquired with a definite chill to his voice.

  “Daddy,” Sidonie scolded.

  But Aden didn’t let it go. He regarded the human somberly, reminding himself that this wasn’t his world, that these weren’t his vampires, and no challenge had been issued. Or if there was a challenge, it was so laughable as to be meaningless. And yet . . . no one was allowed to question him when it came to Sidonie. She was the light and laughter of his life. “Sidonie is the best thing,” he said deliberately, “that ever happened to me. She is also quite lovely.”

  “Of course she is,” Tamara interrupted. She nudged her husband with a shoulder against his chest, breaking the moment. “And Ron is signaling me to get everyone seated. Shall we?”

  Aden gave Jameson Sr. a tiny sideways nod, as if to say, “I’m willing, are you?”

  The father’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he jerked a nod at Aden, before turning his attention to Tamara. “Lead the way, love.”

  Sidonie held Aden back a moment, slipping both arms around his waist and gazing up at him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “He means well.”

  Aden drained his scotch and set the glass down, before wrapping her in his arms. “I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t want my daughter stuck with me, either.” He heard the unexpected note of bitterness in his words and would have brushed it away, both physically and emotionally. But Sidonie didn’t let him.

  “Don’t do that,” she said, holding him tighter. “You’re the best man I’ve ever known, and I love you. Fuck everyone else.”

  That made him smile. “Language, Sidonie,” he whispered, mimicking her mother’s earlier chastisement.

  “Am I really the best thing that ever happened to you?”

  He tipped his head down and kissed her. “Without question.”

  “Same goes, you know. You’re my best thing, too.”

  “Then let’s go eat some damn dinner, so we can get back to Chicago and fuck.”

  She gave a surprised laugh that warmed his heart. He loved when she laughed like that, free and happy, like a child. She raised up on her toes to kiss him, and he caught her waist. She’d kill herself on those stupid, sexy-as-hell heels, and her father would blame him.

  “Come on, baby,” she whispered against his lips. “We can do this.”

  SID IGNORED HER mother’s careful seating plan, which would have put Sid next to her dad, and Aden next to her mom, on opposite sides of the oval table. As if. She let Aden take the chair next to her mom, but then took the chair next to him, giving her brother Robert a death-ray glare when he opened his mouth to challenge her. This was a family dinner. They didn’t need a fucking seating plan.

  She was still pissed at her dad for trying to embarrass Aden like that. Or challenge him, or whatever else he’d thought to accomplish. She knew her father loved her. She even understood his reservations, and what was probably his unhappiness. Her dad wanted the same thing for her as he had with her mom. What he didn’t realize was that she already had it. Aden was the love of her life, and he loved her just as much.

  She put her arm on his broad shoulder and rested her head against him for just a moment. He responded by stretching his arm across her lap and gripping her outer thigh, as he kissed her forehead. “You okay?” he whispered.

  She nodded against his shoulder, not sitting up until her mother’s private chef, Ron, came around with the first course. She noticed the man’s hesitant look at Aden, so she gave him a nod of assent. She and Aden had discussed this before agreeing to have dinner with her family. Like most vampires, Aden didn’t eat regular food, but it wasn’t because he couldn’t. Vampires could eat anything regular humans did, but it had no nutritional value for them and not much taste. So, they simply didn’t bother. Alcohol had more flavor, apparently, and they still enjoyed the heat of it as it went down. Which was why every vampire she knew drank a lot of booze. But they never got drunk, never even got a good buzz.

  She caught her mother’s chiding gaze, and immediately straightened in her chair, choking back a laugh at her own reaction as she picked up her fork. Aden’s hand on her thigh didn’t move. Apparently, the mom stare had no effect on him. She glanced down at the food. Ron had been with her parents long enough to know her favorites. She caught his eye with a smile as he slipped her brother Jamie’s plate in front of him. He gave
her a wink, then headed back to the kitchen.

  “Something I should know?” Aden murmured, his grip tightening on her thigh.

  Sidonie laughed quietly. “He’s twice my age.”

  “And I’m over two hundred.”

  “He’s like an uncle to me.”

  “So?”

  She tsked. “Aden.”

  He shook his head. “You’re so sheltered.”

  “Eat your Carpaccio, you terrible man,” she ordered.

  He made a dismissive noise. “A moment ago, I was the love of your life.”

  “You still are. Lucky for you, I love terrible men.”

  “Men?”

  “Argh.”

  He laughed.

  “No mushy stuff at the table,” her brother Robert muttered.

  “Mushy stuff?” she said, grinning at him. “No wonder you’re still single.”

  “I happen to like being single. I’m not old enough for the ball and chain. Pick on Jamie here. He’s the oldest; he should go down first.”

  AND, SO IT WENT, Aden thought, listening to the back and forth between siblings and parents, the gentle teasing of people who formed a family. He’d never known anything like it, and so had no comparison. He had his vampires, his inner circle. They were a family of sorts. He loved them, they loved him back. Some might argue that they had to love him, that the bond between Sire and child forced their connection. But, as he saw it, that was no different than the parent-child bond. Not every parent was a good mother or father; not every child cared about his parents beyond what they could give him. Vampires were the same.