Don't Talk Back To Your Vampire

by Michele Bardsley

  My purchases arrived yesterday, and this was my first foray into my new look, which Tamara had termed “sexy mama.” I wasn’t quite sure if that was better than “librarian frump.” But I didn’t have a choice about my attire, since all of my old clothes had disappeared.

  Last night, Jessica hauled me to Patsy’s beauty parlor and Patsy gave my brown locks a sassy new cut and highlighted them with red and gold. I followed her directions for “sexy-messy” hair and to my delight, scrubbing gel into it made my new bob look all . . . well, sexy-messy. Linda, the manicurist, also gave me a pedicure and a manicure. My toenails and fingernails were a frosted pink color called Fairy Dance.

  I put on gold hoop earrings and tucked my feet into a new pair of white high-heeled sandals. “You look fabulous, darling,” I said to my reflection. Then I winked at myself. Oh, Lord, I was such a dork.

  As I closed the lid to my jewelry box, I spied Lorcan’s gold rose. I had tossed it into a little slot with no intention of wearing it. Then again . . . I pinned it to the left edge of the halter and instantly felt as though I’d done the right thing.

  I hurried up the stairs and into the large kitchen. On the left side was a nook with built-in seats and a small round table. This was where Tamara, wearing a black kimono, was eating pancakes with Charlie. Charlie was in his late thirties, with a balding blond pate, a round face, and pale eyes—like watered-down whiskey. He favored rumpled khakis and plaid shirts, to hide his slight paunch, and he always wore loafers.

  A forkful of pancake was headed toward his mouth when he turned to look at me. His eyes went wide behind his black-rimmed glasses and he poked himself in the cheek with the fork.

  “Ow. Shit!” The silverware clattered to the plate. He grabbed a napkin, blushing furiously as he rubbed syrup off his jaw.

  Tamara howled with laughter.

  “Tamara,” I said sternly, though it took a lot of willpower to still the bubble of laughter in my own throat. I rushed to the table and tried to help dab, but he shooed me away.

  “I’m fine.” Obviously nervous, he finished cleaning his face. Then he pushed his glasses up on his nose and looked at me sheepishly. “You look very nice.”

  “Thanks.” Was I crazy or was Charlie giving me the once-over? No way. Charlie was like a comfortable pair of slippers or an old, warm robe. He made me feel cozy. I did not like the stare he was giving me now. Smiling weakly, I looked at Tamara. She shrugged and returned to her pancakes, but not before I saw the little smirk that flitted across her lips.

  “Are you ready, Eva?” Charlie stood up. He knew I didn’t like to feed in front of my daughter. It was one thing to be a vampire and another thing to do vampire-like things around your children.

  We went into my office. The big, decrepit desk was filled with papers, files, and books. Books lined shelves around the room and were piled on the floor. Two big leather wingback chairs were parked in front of the desk, but one was filled with—you guessed it—books. Charlie sat in the empty one and I looked at him blankly.

  “Er, how am I supposed to get close enough?”

  Charlie grinned and patted his leg. Okay. I was getting really weirded out. He had been my donor for the three months I had been a vampire, and this was the first time I’d gotten these kinds of vibes from him. Like he wanted to bite me. Still, maybe I was being too squeamish. Even though I had accepted that drinking blood was the only way to stay alive, it still wasn’t an enjoyable part of my daily ritual. I was probably blowing everything out of proportion.

  “Well, then . . . I guess we should . . . uh, proceed.” I clapped my hands together and perched on his knee. He bumped me up, like a lascivious uncle playing horsey, and I fell into his lap.

  “That’s better,” he said. “Drink up.”

  He bent his neck and though I didn’t want to move, I was at too awkward an angle to put my fangs into his artery. Wiggling closer, I put my arms around him.

  “Yeah,” said Charlie faintly. “Oh . . . yeah.”

  “What?”

  “N-nothing.”

  I was hungry, so I dismissed all the weirdness. My fangs descended and I sank them into his flesh. The blood flowing into my mouth tasted like nirvana. Maybe I didn’t like starting or stopping, but imbibing blood was nearly orgasmic.

  Then I felt something moving along my buttocks. Something hard. Something growing. Oh. My. God. I wrenched free of Charlie and looked at him in horror. “What are you doing?”

  “You’re so beautiful,” he said, going all dopey-eyed. His hand reached toward my breast and I batted it away. He pressed his hard-on against my ass and bucked.

  “Stop it!”

  “No!” he cried. He grabbed me by the shoulders and stuck his tongue into my mouth. I nearly gagged.

  “Hey, Mom,” said Tamara from the doorway, “you got a visitor.” I heard the sharp intake of her breath and then, “Holy freaking crap. What are you doing to him?”

  I pulled away from Charlie’s sloppy kiss and tried to scramble off him, but he held on to me desperately. With my vampire strength, I had the ability to hurt him, but I was trying to free myself without breaking his arms. Then he released me, so suddenly that I fell onto the floor.

  “What the bloody hell is going on?”

  Shock rooted me to the spot as I looked up, up, up into the stormy gaze of Lorcan O’Halloran.

  Chapter 4

  I was shaken to the core. First by Charlie’s strange behavior, which was so un-Charlie-like that it was as if someone else was wearing his skin, and second by Lorcan’s sudden appearance. He was the last person I expected to see. What was he doing back already?

  Charlie sat in the wingback and stared at me. His eyes had the glassy look of a puppet’s. Worry gnawed at me. Something was wrong, but was it him . . . or was it me?

  When Lorcan reached down to help me up, Charlie yelled, “Take your hands off her!”

  He leapt up, his fist cocked. Startled, I said, “Charlie! Sit down!”

  “Okay.” He dropped into the chair.

  Uh . . . what the hell?

  Lorcan’s hand on mine produced an electrical shock. At least for me. His face seemed carved from stone as he pulled me to my feet. No one who paid attention could confuse him with his twin, Patrick, who had a more ebullient spirit and who wasn’t afraid of wearing more than one color. Lorcan always wore black, like he was constantly in mourning.

  He let go of my hand and grimaced. “I am not constantly in mourning.”

  I blinked. I hadn’t realized I said that out loud. I looked at Charlie. “I think you should go home,” I said. “Go home and rest. Okay?”

  “Anything you say, Eva. Anything at all.” He stood up and marched out the door.

  Lorcan, Tamara, and I watched him go down the hallway and out the front door. Chewing on my lower lip, I said, “He’s never acted that way before.”

  “Once he reaches his home, he’ll be fine,” Lorcan said reassuringly.

  “Mom, you have the ability to zombify people.”

  “That’s not a cool power,” I protested. “Bending the will of others is kinda lame.”

  “All vampires have the ability to glamour,” said Lorcan, “but the Family Romanov’s talents go far and above memory wipes and”—he glanced at Tamara, smiling—“zombifying people. Obviously your powers are strengthening very quickly.” His gaze flicked over me. “You must learn how to control them.”

  “Are you going to teach her?” asked my daughter with acid sweetness. “Or do you want to skip the niceties and just kill her again?”

  “Tamara!” I bopped her on the back of the skull.

  “Hey! That’s child abuse.” She frowned over her shoulder at me, then stomped away. I think people in China heard the door to her room slam. Guilt wiggled through me. Okay. Maybe I shouldn’t have bopped her.

  “She has a right to be scared of me,” said Lorcan. “And to be angry with me.”

  “You think so?”

  My policy was to right my wrongs ASAP
. You never knew how long you had with someone and I always wanted things to be squared away in case—well, just in case. So I hurried to Tamara’s door and knocked.

  “You’re sorry,” said Tamara as I opened the door. “I know.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, too.” She sighed deeply, as if this admission had cost her all the energy she had left. She sank onto her bed and closed her eyes.

  “I love you,” I said.

  “I love you, too. Now go away so I can mope.”

  Grinning, I shut her door. Then I walked past Lorcan and headed toward the sizable foyer. The library wouldn’t be open for an hour, but I had another nightly task to perform.

  Lorcan followed me into the foyer. I opened the closet and dug out various bags. He helped me drag them onto the front porch. When all the items were out, we sat on the rickety porch steps.

  Like I said, ever since I became a vampire, the critters had been drawn to me like rain to Seattle. Squirrels, raccoons, deer, rats—all creatures great and small wanted to hang out with me. They followed me like I was Snow White or the Goose Girl. Sometimes I could hear their thoughts, which were more like pictures and emotions than actual logic with words.

  Tamara and I had accumulated a number of cats, which went in and out of the house like they owned it. I verbally forbade all cats to go into the library, and strangely enough not a one had set a paw in it.

  Broken Heart didn’t really have dogs—most of them had left with the people. I think the fact that we had real werewolves roaming the forests and the streets kept their lesser brethren from venturing into town. But cats—shoot, they weren’t afraid of anything, not even lycanthropes.

  As the end of August neared, summer still clutched Oklahoma in a lovers’ embrace. The air felt humid and hot, even now, when the sun had been down for hours. A breeze offered some respite and brought with it the sweet scent of honeysuckle, a flower that bloomed nearly everywhere in town.

  “Why are you here, Lorcan?” I offered an acorn to a squirrel. His tiny little paws accepted the treat and he sat on the step by my feet to nibble on it.

  Lorcan didn’t answer. Instead, he stared at the animals scampering around my front yard. Finally, he looked at me and asked, “Don’t you think your daughter has a right to be angry with me? I did kill you, Evangeline. And because of me you’re a vampire.”

  “Everyone is entitled to their feelings. But feelings aren’t actions. Actions say more about you than any words you could ever speak.” I offered some birdseed to a bluebird that landed on the stair railing. “But words have power, too.”

  “My actions were those of a murderer. What does that say about me?”

  “I didn’t realize you meant to kill us. Planning the deaths of eleven people—nope, that’s not nice at all.”

  “You know that is not true.” He sighed. “I will never be able to pay enough penance for what I did.”

  “How do you judge what’s enough? By how you feel or by what others tell you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I knew what it was like to pay for a bad mistake. Maybe that’s why I softened toward Lorcan. I wasn’t exactly afraid of him, maybe because deep down, I could feel his pain. Literally. I don’t know why I knew that the heaviness in my stomach was really his turmoil. He’d said my powers were getting stronger. Lorcan truly was sorry—in fact, he seemed to be in a permanent pity party.

  Lorcan’s gaze captured mine, and I felt my nonexistent pulse stutter. Desire skittered through me, too. I put my hand on his arm. “You’ll be okay,” I said, echoing words that my mother said to me many times, “if you’ll let yourself be okay.”

  “I would be okay,” he said, his voice razor-soft, “if I knew that my actions could be forgiven.”

  “Shouldn’t you start by forgiving yourself? That would probably pave the way for others.”

  “Maybe I should start by asking your forgiveness.”

  Forgiveness wasn’t on my mind. Lust, pure and simple, zipped through me—as sudden and potent as a lightning strike. Lorcan’s eyes captured mine and for an eternity I gazed at him. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to make real what my imagination had created. Was I just horny? Or did I feel something special for Lorcan?

  I lifted my hand off his arm and the spell between us broke. I glanced around the yard. Though I welcomed all creatures (like I had a choice), there was one that had not yet arrived to see me.

  Lucky was missing again. I hadn’t quite decided if he was a lycan or not. He never got close enough for me to pet him, but each time he visited he came a little closer. I couldn’t feel much from him other than deep, aching pain. I didn’t know if my mojo had drawn him here or not. Maybe he knew something about loss, like I did, and that bound us together.

  “Who are you looking for?” asked Lorcan. “It seems as though every animal in northeastern Oklahoma is already here.”

  I shrugged. If Lucky wasn’t a lycan, I didn’t want him run off by the very possessive guardians of our town. And if he was, I didn’t want his secret out. I felt protective of him.

  I peeked at Lorcan and saw him smiling. The sensual curl of his mouth was like a punch to my stomach. He was beautiful. Beyond beautiful.

  “Wow,” I said, fanning myself, “is it hot out here, or what?”

  “Hello, Eva. Lorcan.”

  I looked up to see Ralph walking up the cracked pavement that led to my house. Ralph was the only single dad among the parents Lorcan had accidentally killed. As the father of active twin toddlers, Ralph was kept busy. He had a full-time nanny and cook, thanks to the Consortium, but I rarely saw him around town. He usually brought his sons to the library every couple of weeks. And he always came to the Turn-blood meetings and the shindigs hosted by the Consortium.

  I noted that Ralph looked really good in his dress shirt, jeans, and leather loafers. He had short brown hair and kind blue eyes, and though he wasn’t much taller than I was, I could tell by the fit of his clothes that he was definitely muscled.

  Next to me I heard Lorcan make a low sound that reminded me of a growl. I glanced at him, but he seemed to be looking at the two deer nibbling on a patch of grass.

  “The library’s not open yet,” I said. “Did you already read all the Margaret Wise Brown books to Stephen and Michael?”

  “A million times,” he said with a grin. “But they love them—especially Good Night, Moon. I’ll end up owing late fees. But I didn’t come for books, Eva. I came to ask . . .” He cleared his throat, his gaze on Lorcan.

  Lorcan returned Ralph’s pointed stare, his black eyebrows rising in challenge. I could almost feel the testosterone thickening the air around us. Ralph licked his lips, then drew back his shoulders. “I was wondering, Eva . . . would you like to go out?”

  “Go out where?”

  He flashed that cute grin again. “On a date. With me.”

  I felt flummoxed. I hadn’t been on a date in forever. Suddenly nervous, and flattered, and given Lorcan’s gray-eyed gaze on me, very uncomfortable, I opened my mouth to say . . .

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “Oh, no!”

  The Eva LeRoy makeover suddenly made sense. New clothes, new hair, new look—all because Jessica had been setting me up. I’d bet dollars to donuts my own daughter was in on it, too.

  “Did they put you up to this, Ralph? A pity date?” I put my head in my hands and groaned. “I’m sorry. I fell for it, too.”

  “Eva, no.” He stood in front of me, his hands tucked into his front pockets. “I told Jessica that—that I wanted to ask you out, but didn’t know how. It’s been a long time since I wanted to date.”

  Uncomfortable was far, far from describing what I was feeling now. Lorcan had somehow gotten closer to me. His thigh pressed against mine and it was rock-hard and warm. Even though layers of clothing separated us, my treacherous mind remembered his dreamy half-naked form, in excruciating detail, and had I still breathed, I would’ve lost the ability.

  “Eva, are you all right?” asked Ralph.

&
nbsp; Lorcan’s hand cupped the back of my neck. “You seem flushed, darlin’. Are you feeling well?”

  Oh, please. Vampires didn’t get sick (if one didn’t count the taint). Heat stroked me. I felt as though fingers and lips touched my flesh all at once. Impossible. I could feel every stroke, every lick. My body shuddered under the sensual assault.

  “Eva needs breakfast, is all,” Lorcan lied smoothly. “Perhaps you can call her later?”

  “Of course,” said Ralph. “Promise you’ll think about it, Eva? I swear that pity has nothing to do with my motives.”

  All I could do was nod.

  “Good. See you guys later.”

  Ralph waved at me, then used his vamp speed to run as far and as fast as he could. Whew. I couldn’t blame him. I was acting weirder than usual—and that was saying something.

  Lorcan eased away from me, his gaze filled with concern. “Are you really okay, love?”

  Frenzy couldn’t describe the state of my body. How could I feel this turned-on? But slowly the fires burning me inside out cooled. Within moments, I felt somewhat normal, if less than satisfied.

  “I can’t believe Jessica talked Ralph into asking me out.”

  “She didn’t,” said Lorcan. “It is as he said—he wanted to ask you out. Jessica merely helped things along.”

  “Oh.” I fiddled with a bead on the edge of my halter top. “Ralph’s nice.”

  Lorcan leaned close to me and I felt my undead heart giddyup. I could almost taste him, his mouth was so near mine. I pressed my hand against the butterflies fluttering in my belly. “Is nice what you want?” he asked.

  No, it wasn’t. I wanted ravenous, passionate, can’t-live-without-you need. I scooted away from Lorcan. His presence overwhelmed me. I felt embraced and repelled by it. Confusion reigned, along with the aching desire he inspired—probably in all females within three feet of him. Would it be possible, I wondered, to explore the physical attraction between us? We couldn’t have true intercourse, but there were lots of ways to make love—and I hadn’t tried all that many.