Runaway Vampire

by Lynsay Sands

  Unhooking her arms from where they hung over the headboard, Mary sat up cautiously, grimacing when Dante immediately stirred. He didn't open his eyes, but reached blindly for her. He caught her arm and tried to drag her down to lie on top of him, but Mary resisted, sure that if she got any closer to his throat she'd rip it out.

  "Dante," she muttered, tugging at her arm to try to free herself.

  "Mmmm?" he murmured sleepily, still pulling at her.

  "You need to let me go. I think I need more blood," she said apologetically, almost ashamed of her apparently endless thirst for the red liquid.

  Dante reacted as if she'd stuck a tack in his butt at that announcement and was suddenly moving. In a heartbeat he'd lifted her off of him and set her on the bed and then he was gone, crossing the room so quickly he was almost a blur. She watched him open the fridge in the entertainment cupboard, and then he was returning with several bags in hand. Dante handed her one, and set the others on the bedside table, then lay down beside her on his back.

  Mary glanced from the bag of blood he'd given her to his supine body and licked her lips as her gaze slid down along his length. His hands were under his head, his legs crossed at the ankles, and he was sprouting an erection as she looked at him, Mary noted with interest.

  "Feed," Dante growled.

  Mary hesitated, then tried to emulate his earlier actions and brought the bag quickly to her mouth, relieved when it popped smoothly onto her fangs.

  "Good," he murmured and let his eyes close.

  Mary watched him silently as she waited for the bag to empty, noting that now that his eyes were closed, his penis had stopped growing and was only semi-erect. She thought he'd actually dropped off to sleep again, but when the bag was empty and she pulled it from her mouth, he blinked his eyes open, took the empty bag and reached to the table to retrieve a fresh one for her.

  "How many times a day am I going to have to do this?" she muttered with irritation as she took the bag from him.

  "It is different for different people, but this constant need shouldn't last long,"

  Dante said reassuringly. "I think it is because we did not have an IV to give you blood while you were turning and had to try to feed the bags to you orally while you were thrashing about. I suspect more landed on the bed than in your mouth," he admitted with a grimace and then added, "That might have contributed to the length of the turn too."

  "We were in the room next door," Dante said when Mary glanced down at the mattress they were on. "This is Francis and Russell's room. We moved you here shortly before you woke up so that they could clean up our room and replace the mattress and such."

  "Oh," she murmured.

  "Now feed," he ordered gently.

  The moment Mary slapped the bag to her mouth, he nodded and closed his eyes again. Mary stared at him briefly, noting that his erection was smaller still and then reached out to clasp him gently. She didn't really plan it or anything. In fact, her hand seemed almost to have a mind of its own as it closed around him.

  Dante's eyes immediately popped open, air hissing through his teeth as his hips bucked in response to her touch, and Mary stilled, shocked to feel a shaft of pleasure shoot through her as well. Knowing this was the shared passion he'd spoken of, and fascinated by it, she tightened her grip and then slid her hand down his shaft and slowly back up. Her own eyes immediately closed, a moan slipping around the bag at her mouth and her hips shifting where she sat as her body responded. She might have been touching herself, she thought faintly as she continued to caress him. Only touching herself had never felt this good. This was--

  Mary gasped and blinked her eyes open with surprise when Dante suddenly rose up, caught her by the waist and lifted her, setting her down on top of his erection as he dropped back to lie flat again. She stared at him over the bag of blood, her eyes uncertain. He'd set her down so that her body held his erection flat between them. She could no longer touch him as she'd been doing, but he could touch her and smiled slowly as his hands reached for her breasts and cupped, then caressed them as she fed.

  Mary closed her eyes on a sigh as he played with her. Her caress had brought on sharp, hard pleasure, but this was a slower, milder pleasure. At least it was until Mary shifted her hips against him, her core rubbing across his erection. The hands at her breasts immediately tightened briefly and Dante muttered something in Italian that sounded beautiful, but could have been anything from an insult to a grocery list. He did tend to switch to Italian when excited, she thought as she shifted herself across him again.

  "Si, Mary, ride me," he groaned, his hand dropping to grasp her hips to urge her forward and back along his length again, pressing her tighter to him as he did.

  Mary moaned around the bag at her mouth, and did exactly that, helping to move herself over him. But the moment the bag at her mouth was empty, she tore it away and leaned forward to kiss him.

  Dante cupped her head and kissed her back almost violently, then turned, rolling her beneath him on the bed. Mary slid her arms around him, and then reached down, trying to grab his butt, but he was already pulling back slightly. He was positioning himself, she realized as she felt him press against her opening, and then he was sliding home and she arched and groaned into his mouth as he filled her.

  When Dante suddenly broke their kiss, she cried out in protest, then gasped in surprise when he caught her ankles and drew them up to rest against his shoulders on either side of his head. With nothing else within reach, Mary grabbed at his forearms and almost screamed as he slammed home again, this time seeming to thrust deeper and fill her more fully. She opened eyes she hadn't realized she'd closed and simply watched his face, her mind full of amazement as wave after wave of pleasure began rolling through her, seeming to expand with each surge, and then her eyes squeezed closed and she cried out as those waves all suddenly crashed against her brain at once, carrying her under as they did.

  Mary woke to find herself wrapped in Dante's arms . . . and it felt perfect. In all the years she'd been married to Joe she'd never woken feeling so content or as if she belonged right where she was. Joe had been her husband for the better part of her life. For a while he'd also been her enemy, and then he'd been her partner and best friend, but Dante felt like . . . a part of her. And she was quite sure that she could have lain there forever. At least she could have if she didn't have to pee so badly.

  Grimacing, Mary glanced toward the bathroom door and then at the hand dangling off her shoulder. After a hesitation, she slowly eased downward, trying to get out from beneath his arm without waking him. At first Dante's arm went with her, but then it dropped away and she quickly sat up, then slid from the bed and rushed to the bathroom door.

  Mary spotted the toothbrush by the sink while she was washing her hands afterward. The sight made her slip her tongue around the outside of her teeth and her eyebrows rose slightly when she didn't find them furry. She didn't even know when last she'd brushed her teeth. Her last morning as a mortal, she supposed. Which meant it had been . . . what? Dante said she'd been asleep for four days, but how long had they slept this time? She didn't know, but even four days was a long time to go without brushing. There should be some serious buildup on her teeth, but there didn't appear to be any. Did nanos take care of that too? Is that why she hadn't woken up with bad breath and a desire to brush and gargle? Man, if they did, that was pretty super cool. Mary had always hated the dentist.

  Adding that to her growing list of things to ask Dante, she picked up the toothbrush, squirted some toothpaste on it and quickly brushed her teeth. She followed that by brushing her hair, then considered herself in the mirror.

  She looked good. At least Mary thought she looked good. Her hair fell softly around her face with a natural wave that didn't need much fussing. She'd already recognized that she didn't need makeup. She wouldn't feel at all subconscious going out like this. Well, with clothes on, of course.

  Making a face at her reflection, she turned and opened the door and stepped
out into the bedroom.

  Dante was still sleeping, his beautiful body splayed out on the bed, completely uncovered from the waist up, and one leg also free of the sheet that just draped across his hip and trailing down to cover one leg after tenting slightly over his groin, which didn't appear to be sleeping like he was. He was a feast for her eyes. And other parts of her body as well, she recognized, as a tingling started between her legs just from looking at him. Mary almost tossed aside her desire for food to crawl on top of the man and settle herself on that morning erection pushing at the sheet, but she was hungry again. Crazy hungry.

  Turning from the sight of Dante's beautiful body, she walked to the closet and eased the door open. Mary immediately spotted the shorts and T-shirt she'd worn the day of the accident among the male clothes inside. Her gaze slid over what appeared to be a dozen pairs of jeans, and twice as many black T-shirts, followed by several more colorful T-shirts, and finally a black leather jacket. Her eyebrows rose. The man was apparently a clotheshorse, she thought, wishing she had more of a selection herself. However, she didn't.

  Retrieving the two hangers holding her T-shirt and shorts, Mary turned away, and then paused and glanced around the room, wondering what Dante would have done with her bra and panties. Mary hung the clothes on the bathroom door, and then made a quick, quiet search of the drawers in the room, but there was nothing resembling panties and a bra anywhere. And then something made her look in the garbage bin. They were there, right on top.

  Mary lifted out the two scraps of material, her breathing slowing as she noted their state. Both were ruined, and it wasn't just because they were so caked with dry blood as well as a more oily substance. It looked like they'd both been cut off of her. She let them drop back into the garbage bin, and rushed into the bathroom to wash her hands, not liking the oily feel to them.

  Drying her hands quickly, Mary grabbed the hangers from the doorknob and then closed the door and quickly pulled on the clothes. The first thing she noticed was that they were both now quite large on her. The shorts were at least four or five sizes too big. Although she automatically unsnapped and unzipped them to put them on, she didn't have to. Mary figured that out when she did them up and then reached for the hanger holding the T-shirt and her shorts dropped to pool around her feet on the floor.

  Muttering under her breath, she left the shorts where they were for the moment and pulled on the T-shirt. While it had been almost clingy before her turn, it was now quite blousy on her. Shrugging, Mary pulled the shorts back up and tucked the shirt in, hoping the extra bulk would help keep them up. It wasn't enough, however.

  Holding them up herself, Mary went back out to the bedroom and considered her options. She already knew there was nothing in the closet to use as a belt. That left the room at large. The only thing in there that she might have used was the drawstring from the curtains. She even actually considered that, but it was vandalism, or theft or something, so she let that idea go.

  Mary glanced toward the closet, considering using one of Dante's T-shirts, but then her gaze dropped to her own T-shirt instead. It was longer than she needed, if she cut the bottom couple of inches off . . .

  Raising her head, she glanced around until her gaze settled on Dante's jeans lying in a puddle on the floor by the bed. A lot of men carried pocketknives. Did he? A quick search of his pockets proved that no he didn't, or at least he didn't have one in them now.

  Grimacing, Mary straightened and scowled as she looked around the room, and then recalled the razor in the bathroom.

  It would do, she decided and slipped back into bathroom again. Mary ended up having to break the razor blade casing to get the actual blades out, but decided she would explain to Dante and replace it first thing. Even before she found food. There must be a drugstore somewhere nearby. Or maybe they'd have razor blades in the hotel store. They often carried necessities like that in those places, she thought as she took off the T-shirt and began to slice the bottom couple of inches off of it.

  Mary's next thought was that she hadn't seen her purse anywhere in the room when she'd been searching for things. Which probably meant it had gone up in flames with the RV. Good God, she had no money! She was completely dependent on Dante!

  Just like he'd been dependent on her at first, she realized. Only she at least had clothes, even if they were too big and had several slits and tears from the accident.

  Sighing, Mary finished slicing off the material she needed, then pulled the T-shirt back on and tucked the bottom of it into her waist again. She then strung the strip of T-shirt she'd cut off through the belt loops of her baby blue shorts and tied it up in front. It wasn't pretty, she decided as she checked out her handiwork in the mirror, but it would have to do for now.

  Shrugging, Mary turned and slid back into the bedroom, then simply stood there, unsure what to do next. If her purse had been there she would have simply slipped out, found a store or restaurant and bought herself something to eat. However, her purse wasn't there.

  It was an odd feeling being without it. Mary had been carrying a purse since she was a teenager. She'd never thought about it much, but now realized that the leather bag was freedom of a sort. So long as she'd had her purse, she'd had pretty much anything she might need in an emergency; money, credit cards, keys, usually a couple of bandages, a lipstick, a tiny deodorant stick, perfume, often allergy pills and aspirin, a little packet of Kleenex, sunglasses, reading glasses, her phone, Handi Wipes, safety pins, a tiny emergency sewing kit, and a brush and compact.

  Mary could have used several of those items right then, like the deodorant and perfume. Certainly the sewing kit and safety pins might have saved Dante's razor. If she hadn't been able to just pin the shorts so that the waistline was smaller and stayed up without a belt, the sewing kit had tiny scissors in it she could have used to cut her T-shirt.

  Man, she'd never really considered how much she depended on her purse. Until now, when she didn't have it, Mary thought grimly and then simply went over and sat on one of the chairs at the table. Her gaze slid to Dante, but he was sleeping soundly and she didn't want to wake him. She glanced to his jeans, but while she might have used a pocketknife while he was sleeping and then returned it to his pocket, she was not taking his money. Even though she would have returned it the first chance she got, taking it without permission just seemed wrong to her.

  Sighing, Mary raised her hands and peered at them silently, then spread them to the side so she could see her legs. It was a new and pretty body, and exactly what she'd often fantasized about having, but really, it didn't feel comfortable to her yet. She was used to having more bulk and taking up more space; now she felt kind of scrawny.

  The thought made her smile faintly. Mary had always bemoaned her figure for being too voluptuous and wished she was smaller. Now that she was, however, she felt like a foreigner in her own body . . . and wasn't at all sure she liked it. Perhaps that's why her diets had always failed and she'd never seemed to be able to get down to that more desirable weight the world seemed to insist on. Maybe she'd actually felt more comfortable being larger.

  The hotel room door opened suddenly and Mary stiffened and glanced to it with alarm. Her alarm did not ease when she saw two men entering, one fair haired, and one with dark hair, but both tall and strong-looking. Standing, she started to move toward the bed to wake Dante, but was caught by the arm just as she bent to shake his shoulder.

  "Let him sleep. He has been without it for days while watching over you."

  Mary turned slowly and stared at the fair-haired man who had somehow crossed the room so quickly. Her gaze then zeroed in on his eyes, noting the golden color and sheen to them and she asked uncertainly, "Are you--?"

  "Friend not foe," he assured her with a smile that made the skin at the corner of his eyes crinkle. Releasing her arm, he offered her his hand, and introduced himself. "Russell Renart Argeneau Jones."

  "Argeneau," she murmured, accepting his hand and shaking it. "Like that Lucian fellow."
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  "He is my great uncle," Russell confirmed. "My grandfather, Ennius Argeneau, was one of his younger brothers."

  "Oh," she said simply. Mary could hardly tell the man that she didn't like his great uncle.

  "Do not worry. Most people do not like Lucian," Russell said with amusement as if she'd spoken aloud.

  Mary's eyes widened and then she glanced to the man with dark hair as he appeared beside them. His eyes were a deep brown with shiny flecks of metallic bronze in them. Both men were obviously immortals then, she reassured herself as he said dryly, "Lucian is an antiquated ass who has no idea how to be civil." He wrinkled his nose, and then added almost reluctantly, "Sadly, he is also one of the best people you could ever have on your side."

  "Why?" Mary asked dubiously.

  "Because he is frightfully strong," the man said solemnly. "In character as well as physical strength. He always judges fairly, always does what needs doing, and, if he approves of you or your cause, he will fight to the death for you."

  "Oh," she breathed and had to admit that sounded pretty admirable, which was a shame; it made it harder to dislike him, and Mary really hadn't liked him by the time she'd finished the one and only conversation she'd had with him. She did not enjoy being threatened, by anyone.

  "This is Francis," Russell introduced quietly.

  "Francis Renart Argeneau Jones," Francis said, extending his hand now as well.

  Mary raised her eyebrows over the shared last names, and as she shook the offered hand, asked, "Are you brothers or something then?"

  Russell exchanged a glance with Francis and they both smiled faintly, before the fair-haired man took her arm to urge her away from the bed.

  "Or something," Russell murmured, as he led her to the chairs by the table. There were only two chairs. He urged Mary into one, held the other for Francis to sit down, and then bent to press a kiss to his neck before moving to lean against the window ledge next to the table.

  Mary glanced from one man to the other as they shared an affectionate smile and breathed, "Ohhhhh," with sudden understanding.