“No, no,” Lucas protested. “I mean, where’s the booth for women who want to get kissed by a handsome man?”
Stevens hooted in laughter. “Never seen one of those. You volunteering?”
Lucas gazed down at the shorter human, his head tilted quizzically. He could feel Nick tensing up beside him, heard him draw a breath to speak.
“Sire—” Nick started, just as Lucas laughed and said, “Do you think they’d let me?”
“I’m sure they’d be thrilled,” a woman’s husky voice answered from behind him. “But you’re not for sale, my lord. Not your lips and not any other body part, either.
Lucas spun around. “A cuisle,” he crooned, and pulled his favorite FBI agent in for a hug and a kiss of her very own.
“Sorry,” he said, addressing Mayor Stevens over her shoulder, “my lady is very jealous of my affections.”
“And your lady has a gun,” Kathryn reminded him.
“That is so hot,” he murmured against her ear. He felt her face heat with embarrassed pleasure, and he grinned. “Let’s blow this joint. We can go home and blow—”
“Lucas!”
He laughed and nodded at Mason, one of his vampire guards, who rushed over to open the back door of a big black Suburban, which had pulled right up to the fairgrounds. Lucas slid into the backseat with Kathryn, then settled back as the vehicle left behind the lights of the festival, and disappeared into the darkness, leaving behind all those unkissed women. But then, the only woman whose lips he was interested in kissing was sitting right next to him. And he’d be kissing a lot more than her lips before this night was over.
The End
The Kissing Booth
September 2013
Literary Addiction
(Between LUCAS and ADEN)
Author’s Note: Nicholas is lieutenant to the vampire lord Lucas, who rules the Plains Territory. This scene takes place after the novella HUNTED, and before ADEN.
NICHOLAS GAVE THE blue-haired granny a gentle pat and a not-so-gentle mental push to go on her way. He was convinced he’d kissed every human of the female persuasion in the entire fair, from blue-eyed babies to blue-haired grannies and everything in between. He’d lost count of the number, but whatever it was, he was ready to quit.
He dropped the drape over the window and sat down with a sigh. What the fuck had he been thinking? Hell, he didn’t have to guess. He knew. That damn Mason had dared him to work the kissing booth at the city’s winter festival, and being the competitive idiot he was, he’d taken the damn bet. Nick was sure that Mason had gotten the idea from Lucas, though. The mayor had tried to recruit Lucas last year, but Kathryn had put a stop to that idea.
Unfortunately, Nick had no convenient female to step up and save him. Damn. He wasn’t sure his lips would ever recover.
“Jesus, Nick,” Mason commented. “That last one had to be eighty if she was a day. Someone’s sweet little grandmother.”
Nick gave Mason a poisonous look. “That sweet little grandmother tried to give me tongue!”
Mason laughed. “Not my fault. I gotta say, though. While I hate losing a bet, it was worth it.”
“My lord,” a female voice gushed, and Nick turned to see the female half of the city’s kissing booth hustle up to him, her admirable chest heaving with enthusiasm.
Nick stood, his former exhaustion forgotten. So, he was a shallow son of a bitch. So what?
“Felicia, love,” he crooned, stroking the smooth skin of her bare arm. “You were spectacular tonight. The men of our small town are counting their good fortunes.”
“My lord,” she breathed, casting her eyes down as a blush heated her cheeks. “You’re too kind.”
“Yo, Nick,” Mason’s not at all breathless voice interrupted. “We’ve gotta get going. They’ll be expecting us.”
Nick nodded absently. There was a party at the blood house tonight. Lucas wouldn’t be there. He rarely set foot in blood houses now that he and Kathryn were together. But it was important to show the flag, so, as his lieutenant, Nick would be the one expected to attend. It was an invitation-only event, though, so chances were—
“Oh! Are you going to the party at the blood house?” Felicia gushed, and Nick almost laughed out loud at the look of disbelief on Mason’s face.
“I am,” Nick said, his voice low and intimate, meant for Felicia alone. “Will I see you there?”
“Oh, yes, my lord!”
“Excellent. I shall count the minutes,” he murmured, then backed out of the booth, giving her a final wink before the drape closed between them.
“I shall count the minutes?” Mason muttered as they strode through the crowds to the SUV they’d parked behind the tents.
“You’re just jealous. Besides, she appreciated it.”
“She doesn’t have two brain cells to rub together.”
“I’m not interested in her brain. Felicia can take one for the team tonight. A warm pint will go a long way toward making up for all those lips I kissed.”
The End
Halloween Memories
Paranormal Haven
Halloween at the Haven—2013
(Between HUNTED and ADEN)
CYN STEPPED INTO the private elevator and pushed the up button for the next floor. Actually it was the only other floor, since this elevator only had two stops—Raphael’s office and their private suite on the basement level. The doors opened and she paused in the act of shrugging into her jacket. Raphael was sitting behind his desk, reading, his dark head bent, soft light from the desk lamp caressing the sharp edges of his cheekbones, almost as if he’d been posed that way. He still took her breath away sometimes. He was just so beautiful.
The elevator doors whacked her as they tried to close, and Raphael looked up, a brilliant smile crossing his face. That definitely took her breath away. Every damn time.
She smiled back, unable to do anything else.
“My Cyn,” he crooned, his voice a midnight purr that was uniquely his. “Are we going, then?”
Cyn laughed, hearing the unvoiced question behind his words. They were headed for a fundraiser this evening, which wasn’t something Raphael particularly enjoyed. Usually, she’d have given him a pass. Actually, she’d have liked to give herself a pass, too, but this one was for Jessica’s House, which was a shelter for runaway teens that had been founded by her friend Lucia Shinn. Luci always insisted that Cyn had founded it, too, but the work had all been Luci’s. The only thing Cyn had done was write a check for her share of the seed money.
But, whenever Luci had a fundraiser, Cyn was there, and this time, she’d asked Raphael to come with her. She just didn’t feel like missing him tonight. A lot had been going on in the world of Vampire lately, and from what Raphael had told her, it was only going to get worse. She had a feeling things were going to get unpleasantly complicated before the end, and she wanted to take advantage of every relaxed minute they had left together.
Raphael stood and came toward her, moving in that graceful, loose-hipped way of his, like a big cat on the prowl. It almost made her re-think her plans to go out. He knew it, too, the bastard. His smile grew.
“Yeah, yeah,” she said, fisting her hand in his long-sleeved T-shirt when he got close enough. She pulled him in and went up on her toes to kiss him. “You’re gorgeous and you know it. Who’s with us tonight?”
Raphael put both hands on her hips, drawing her close for a second, longer kiss. Cyn’s breath ran out in a long sigh against his mouth and she leaned against his broad chest. If tonight’s event had been for anyone else, she’d have dragged him back into the elevator and had his clothes off before they hit the basement.
“Juro and his brother will be driving us,” Raphael said, answering her question. He circled his arm around her waist and started for the door.
“And I’m sure there will be others slipped in among the guests. You know how Juro gets about security.”
“An extra gorgeous vampire or two hanging around the party,” she said thoughtfully. “Just think of them as party decorations. They’ll make all the rich ladies feel good about themselves, which means they’ll be more likely to write big checks. This is all good.”
Juro met them downstairs near the double-glass front doors, and Cyn could see his brother already outside, standing by the open driver’s door of the limo, waiting.
“Lucia asked me if you were coming with us tonight,” Cyn commented to Juro as they passed the big vampire and went outside, heading down the stairs to the limo. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes cut in her direction. There was a little bit of warning in that look, but something else, too. Interest. Cyn knew Luci had a thing for Juro, but she was pretty sure Juro had a thing for Luci, too. Unfortunately, they were both being very high school about it all.
Cyn rolled her eyes and slid into the backseat. Raphael followed, immediately pulling her close and leaning in to murmur, “Leave him alone. He’ll get to it when he’s ready.”
“Luci’ll be an old woman by that time,” she muttered, and Raphael laughed.
The trip was as uneventful as any drive on the LA freeways could be, which meant there were only the usual traffic jams. The party was already in full swing when they arrived. Jessica’s House was exactly that—a big, old house in a formerly genteel neighborhood of upper middle-class homes. Most had been remodeled and turned into apartments, so no one had yelled too loudly when Luci and Cyn had bought and renovated one of the houses, turning it into a teen shelter.
Parking was always at a premium on the street—worse tonight because of the party—but Juro didn’t worry about rules when it came to Raphael’s security. He double-parked the limo right in front of the house, and they all disembarked.
Cyn and Raphael paused for a moment, admiring . . . well, perhaps not admiring, but certainly noticing the decorations. Luci had clearly given her charges free rein, and they’d gone to town. The very attractive two-story home had been transformed into a classic haunted house, with draped cobwebs, a crone witch, and dim lighting on the raised porch. The perfectly nice lawn had been turned into a rutted graveyard, and several of the graves seemed to be in the process of regurgitating their occupants. And all to the sound of screams and howling ghosts.
“No one knows we’re here, yet,” Raphael observed. “We can still go home.”
Cyn sighed. Halloween had never been her favorite holiday. She didn’t have the fond memories that so many others had, of trick or treating, and wacky costume parties. The private boarding school where she’d spent most of her youth hadn’t bothered with such things, and by the time Cyn was old enough to make her own decisions, she’d decided costumes weren’t for her. She stepped back as a costumed couple started up the walkway to the porch. Watching them as they disappeared into the house, Cyn figured that while she wasn’t looking forward to the party, things could certainly be worse. At least she and Raphael weren’t dressed like pirates.
“As long as we’re here, we might as well go in,” she said reluctantly. “We don’t have to stay long.”
Raphael leaned over and touched his lips to her temple. “Courage, my Cyn.” And she could hear the laughter in his voice.
The house was crowded with partygoers, mostly in costume, and Cyn had to laugh at the look on Raphael’s face when a sixtyish man walked by, dressed as Dracula, complete with dripping fangs, a red-lined satin cape, and a suitably buxom blood slave companion.
All that Cyn could think was . . . if these people only knew. The scariest guy in the house tonight was standing next to her, wearing a pair of nicely faded 501s, a black T-shirt, and a leather jacket.
Of course, costume or not, it was impossible for Raphael not to draw attention, especially female attention. He was well over six foot, with broad shoulders, the face of an angel, and truly black eyes that looked at you and saw clear to your soul. What wasn’t obvious was that he was the most powerful vampire lord in North America, and probably the world. She wondered what the Dracula wannabe would think about that. She knew what his buxom slave thought, because the woman was all but drooling as she sidled closer to Raphael. Cyn stepped between them and looped her arm through Raphael’s, clearly staking her claim. He was hers and she was keeping him.
“Cyn!” Luci’s voice had Cyn turning to see her oldest friend coming down the stairs. Luci looked more like one of her teenaged charges than the responsible adult head of the house. Her straight, black hair hung in a fall down her back, and she was wearing a French maid’s outfit that accented her exotic looks and made her legs seem a mile long. Cyn slid a glance at Juro and saw him staring at Luci with an intensity he usually reserved for enemy vampires. She nudged Raphael in the side and noticed his mouth tightening slightly as he fought a smile.
“Hey, Luce,” Cyn said, grinning. “How’s the schmoozing going?”
“Cynthia,” she scolded. “Where are your costumes?”
“How long have you known me?” she demanded. “Have you ever seen me wear a costume?”
“Spoilsport,” Luci muttered as she hit the bottom of the stairs and came over for the requisite exchange of hugs. Luci believed in the power of hugs. Cyn . . . not so much. But she believed in Luci, so they hugged, and then Luci stepped back and nodded a greeting in Raphael’s direction. Raphael nodded back.
“Well,” Luci went on, “you look very nice, anyway. Thank you for coming.”
“As if we would miss this,” Cyn said quickly, not quite trusting Raphael’s dry humor and what he might say. He gave her an amused glance, and she knew she’d been right. But then, she also caught Luci tilting her head to see behind Raphael. Cyn snickered. “Juro’s here somewhere. So’s his brother. A smorgasbord of hunky Japanese vamp.”
Luci hissed a wordless warning, something she did quite well. Must be all that practice she got with a house full of teenagers.
“Is Liz coming?” Cyn asked, dutifully changing the subject. Liz was the completely human sister of a young vampire whom Cyn had rescued recently. Mirabelle had been a held prisoner by Jabril, the vampire lord who’d made her a vampire as a way of controlling her substantial inheritance. Liz had been his prisoner, too, but she’d managed to escape on her own. Mirabelle hadn’t been so lucky. Jabril had turned her on her eighteenth birthday, thus barely skimming the edge of legality. Jabril hadn’t taken kindly to Cyn’s interference in Mirabelle’s life, but then, Cyn hadn’t taken kindly to anything about Jabril. And he’d made the mistake of assuming all women were as useless as the way he treated them. That had been his final mistake, as it turned out.
“Liz is here somewhere,” Luci told Cyn. “She’s heading to NYU in January, you know.”
“I heard. Mirabelle’s happy for her. She’ll miss her, but she’s happy for her.”
“It’s complicated with them,” Luci said quietly, with a glance at Raphael, as if this was something he didn’t know or understand. It pissed Cyn off.
“We all understand that, Luce,” Cyn said, a little defensively. She leaned into Raphael’s side, and he slipped his arm around her, his long fingers resting on her hip. The truth was that Raphael understood the difficult situation with Mirabelle and her sister Elizabeth better than anyone, and he took his responsibilities for the sisters very seriously. It definitely was complicated that Mirabelle was a vampire, and Liz was not. Liz was the younger sister, but in a very few years, no one who saw them would recognize that. Mirabelle would forever look eighteen years old, no matter how long she lived—and she could very well live for hundreds of years, especially if she remained under Raphael’s protection. Liz, on the other hand, would likely marry, have children, grandchildren, grow old, and someday . . . die.
The sisters loved each other, but that was a huge divide
for them to cross. Cyn was sure it was one of the main reasons why Liz was going to college on the other side of the country. Mirabelle, on the other hand, had to remain in Raphael’s territory, preferably close to Raphael, himself. At least, for now. And, of course, she had to attend a college that made it possible for her to matriculate at night. It was possible, especially when one had the kind of trust-fund money that Mirabelle did, but it certainly limited one’s choices. Mirabelle wouldn’t be going to NYU, even if she’d wanted to.
But what amazed Cyn was that Luci, for all her natural empathy, underestimated Raphael’s ability to feel human emotion. Too many people looked at his public façade and thought that was the total of Raphael. Cold and unfeeling. But Cyn was the woman who lived in his heart, and she knew just how hotly he burned.
They’d walked through the house and into the backyard where the main party was. Luci was still with them, and Cyn was about to remind her friend of Raphael’s obvious care for the sisters, when raised voices drew her attention to the other side of the patio. Raphael tensed just enough for Cyn to feel it, although all anyone else would have seen was him leaning casually against the porch support post, with one arm draped loosely around Cyn. But Cyn noticed the difference. She also caught the quick look from Juro to Raphael, asking wordlessly if he should intervene, and the tiny shake of Raphael’s head telling him no.
Cyn frowned, wondering why Juro would think—Her thoughts stuttered to a halt when the crowds shifted and she saw the source of the shouting. Mirabelle had arrived, but she wasn’t the one making a fuss. That was the asshole standing in front of her. Cyn hadn’t heard the beginning of his rant, but she heard the end of it.
“. . . telling you, she’s a fucking vampire! Is that what you’re doing here? Feeding our children to that?” the jerk demanded, pointing an accusing finger at Mirabelle, before twisting around and searching the crowd for someone to agree with him.
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