Big Bad Vamp

by Celia Kyle

  Next, for Wren, came the bow chicka bow bow and whamo, Wren was tied to a vamp for life.

  Tory was not a long-term kind of girl. Besides, she had to get the hell out of Dodge. Pronto. That winged wacko was still after her.

  Groaning, she pushed until she was sitting on the edge of the mattress, feet dangling. Damn, why did they have to make the thing so high from the ground?

  And, oh god, she was naked like Wren had been. Shit. She wasn’t a prude, but she wasn’t one to “rock out with her balls out”, either. Besides, she was sorta squishy. Everywhere. She’d meant to tone up at the gym. Really. But the Little Debbie Swiss Cake Rolls had called to her and, hey, her doc had said she was an extraordinarily healthy fluffy chick.

  Another nudge and her feet hit the carpet. She took a moment to enjoy the cushiony, soft surface. But it didn’t stay lovely for long. Not when she suddenly took a nose dive and landed on the floor in a crumpled heap. Maybe getting out of bed had been a not good, very bad idea.

  When the door opened and then clicked shut, followed by the rapid thump of feet on the soft surface, she figured “not good, very bad” didn’t quite cover the situation.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” The voice came out as something between a whisper and a roar. Whoar? Well, that sounded too much like whore. Rosper? That just sounded dumb.

  Large hands slipped beneath her arms. They tugged her up and then back onto the bed, tossing the sheet over her body.

  Now that saying “one step forward, two steps back” made sense.

  Getting a good look at her captor, a memory poked her and a hint of clarity smacked into her. Thank goodness it didn’t hurt. “Liam?”

  She’d seen pictures of the guy along with photos of the rest of the Knight Protectors. Wren had wanted her to know the difference between friend and foe if her BFF ever sent one of the fang gang to help her. Tory had scoffed and assured her that she’d never need assistance from the sharp-toothed peeps.

  Apparently, she’d been wrong.

  On the heels of that thought came another startling realization. A mixture of fear (and arousal ‘cause the guy was hot) slammed through her. The situation was too reminiscent of Wren’s experiences for comfort, and she shouted at the vamp. “I’m not fucking you!”

  Liam’s eyes widened, irises bleeding red, and his mouth opened slightly to reveal lowered fangs. Shit. Shit-shit. Wren had warned her of this. Warned her that the red eye and flashing fang thing meant… Tory let her gaze wander a little south. Yup, red eyes plus sharp teeth equaled horny blood sucker. Horny, well-endowed blood sucker.

  Ignoring the shards of agony that assaulted her limbs, Tory dragged her body backwards across the expansive bed, anxious to put space between her and the walking hard-on. “I mean it! No fuckious maximus.”

  Liam’s tongue snaked out and traced the tip of one of his fangs. “No?” He placed a knee on the bed, and she ignored the seductive ripple of his muscles as they shifted beneath his skin-tight shirt. Because she didn’t want to rip the cloth from his body and then trace the rise and fall of those muscles with her tongue. “Really, sweet Victoria?” He eased closer, and she wiggled back. His fingers gripped the sheet, tugging on the material. “Not even a little?”

  She took a deep breath, willing her fear and excitement to recede. Vamps got off on both (per Wren) and boinking was not on her current “to do” list. Nope, running…hiding…more running… Those all topped her “let’s do right fucking now” agenda. Besides, how did someone only fuck “a little”? It was the same thing as being “a little bit pregnant”.

  Tory shook her head. “No. I’m good.”

  Saliva pooled in her mouth, tongue practically begging to lick him from head to toe. Shit, this was so whacked. Tory admitted that she could be a total hypothetical whore (she so didn’t get around in real life) with the best of ‘em, but this was totally out there for her.

  Something different, weird in a bad way, was tugging and poking at her, slithering beneath her skin. It scratched and scraped, nudging her to go to Liam, spread her legs and let him take her to heaven.

  “Victoria…” His voice was a low, seductive growl and that…thing…shoved at her.

  “No.” Tory’s skin itched, flesh rippling and damn if her gums didn’t ache. Canines in particular.

  Oh. Hell. No.

  “You fucker.” She whispered the words, still easing away from the advancing vamp as reality came crashing down. “You blood sucking, people eating, piece of shit asshole!” Her canines grew, lengthened within her mouth, and brought a lisp along with them. “You changed me into a god damned fanger.”

  That got Mr. Sucktastic to stop his approach and he stilled. “Shit.” Liam shook his head as if to clear the thoughts pinging through his empty skull. With a huff, he retreated, hands raised and palms exposed. “Just stay calm, Victoria. I can explain.”

  “Explain?” She shifted and realized that, once again, she was buck naked. Hoisting the sheet higher, she tucked it more firmly around her. “You mean, explain why my teeth are now oodles longer and sharp? That explanation?”

  “You were dying, and I couldn’t very well tell Griffin’s Fire that you’d died before I could get to you. The woman is evil.” Griffin’s “Fire” slash mate was actually Wren. And yeah, the girl could totally be a mean beyotch. But that couldn’t have been the only reason for her sudden switch from vegetarian to meat-itarian. Not that she was craving meat at the moment. Nah, she was sorta jonesing for a nice veggie burger with a gluten free bun and a dash of ketchup. Mmm…

  “And Changing me had nothing to do with what I found in Pinxton’s files. Nothing at all.”

  Liam winced. “The thing about it is…”

  She rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. “Okay. Gimme the vamp handbook, get me through this shit and I’ll help you guys. I’m one of you, right? I should help. Brom’s super smart, gimme him. Anyone else is a waste of time.” She ignored his glare and eased toward the edge of the bed, scanning the room for her clothes. Hell, any clothes.

  “Well…” There was no missing the hesitation in his voice.

  “Well, what?”

  “Brom’s in Rome on Protector business and the others don’t know you’re here. Or what’s happened.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck, I need a drink.”

  She blinked. Then again. “Explain.”

  Liam padded around the bed to a small bar hidden in a corner and then poured himself a glass of amber liquid. The harsh, sweetened scent let her know that he was serving himself a bit of bourbon. She wondered how she’d caught the fragrance from across the room.

  Oh. Right. Vamptastic-ness.

  “I was sent out to grab you and bring you here. Unfortunately, Pinxton got to you first and shredded your body. Changing you was the only answer, Victoria.”

  “It’s Tory.” She snapped.

  “Victoria.” He leveled an unreadable look at her. “And if I could have given you the choice, I would have. Besides, Wren and Carac were supposed to offer you this opportunity. I just nudged the timeline along a little.”

  “And why doesn’t anyone know I’m here? The mansion is big, but it can’t be that big.”

  Liam tossed back the amber liquid and mumbled against the crystal glass.

  “What?”

  The tumbler thumped against the bar top. “Because I’m not allowed to Change anyone. I’m not old enough and don’t have the power to control a baby vamp during their initial Hunger.”

  “Okay, so you’re being a pussy and hiding. I get that. But, dude. I’m totally in control.” She snorted and waved a hand. “I got this shit.” Tory did a little butt dance on the bed and then let her feet fall to the ground. Hey, she stayed upright this time.

  In a blink, Liam was there, arm curled around her bare shoulders. “No, I don’t think…”

  Then, the most delicious scent known to man hit her, blanketing her in welcome, and she couldn’t hold back the grumble in her stomach. “Mmm…”

 
; “See? Your first Hunger is coming. Fuck. Get back in bed, and I’ll get Carac. I brought you some steaks and bagged blood. This was such a stupid fucking idea—”

  “I’m sure as shit not listening to you. Is that enchiladas? Do you think there are any that are veg-friendly?”

  Liam stilled next to her and she shrugged off his hold, tugged the sheet free of the bed and wrapped it around her body, letting the excess trail over the ground. “Victoria, get back in the damned bed.”

  “No.” Then she ignored him. Dude. Enchiladas! She raised her faux clothing a little higher as she stepped over the massive platter of raw steaks and…bags of blood? Ew. Nose high, she followed that heavenly scent down the hallway.

  “Victoria.” There was that rosper again. It filled the hallway, but she ignored Liam.

  Her footsteps were muffled by the plush carpet as she traveled along the hallway, and the low murmur of voices reached her. She didn’t recognize most of them, but then Wren’s rose above the rest and Tory increased her pace.

  With a burst of speed she’d never had before, Tory raced to the top of the steps and then down to the first floor, following those delicious aromas. With more haste than finesse, she burst into what could only be a dining room and suddenly, all eyes were on her.

  “Um, hello?” She tugged her sheet tighter around her body.

  Wren and ten other men were seated around the dinner table. She watched as each man’s nostrils flared and confusion crossed their features. Only one of them deigned to greet her, and not particularly nicely at that.

  “You smell funny.”

  Jerk. But at least there were enchiladas.

  * * *

  Liam was going to die at Carac’s hand, followed immediately by Victoria. Or Victoria, then Liam. Before all of that, Wren was going to beat him bloody.

  Carac, his Sovereign, the Knight Protector’s leader and Master vampire, sat across from him, disappointment and anger shining clear in his eyes.

  The retelling in the dining room had been quick, a bare bones recitation of events. Now that dinner was over, and Wren and Victoria had moved across the hall to “chat”, the real debriefing would begin.

  “Does anyone else think she smells funny?” Simond broke the silence. “Like, vamp, but not.”

  “I don’t smell funny!” Victoria’s shout immediately followed the Protector’s observation and Liam winced. Part of him wanted to slap a piece of duct tape on her mouth while another part wanted to sink balls deep into her pussy until she screamed in pleasure.

  Instead of either, he yelled at her. “Shut it, Victoria. We’re having a private meeting.”

  “Then have it quieter,” the woman grumbled.

  Carac pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Come in here, Victoria.”

  “He could say please.” Victoria was probably trying to whisper.

  “They don’t. It’s an old people thing.” Wren was obviously not even attempting to be quiet.

  The two women entered arm in arm, so alike, yet so different. Where Wren was occasionally evil, yet sweet, with her natural red hair and genuine smile, Victoria was…purple…and had a wicked tongue.

  A tongue he’d like to taste and then feel on his cock. His attraction to the curvaceous woman was one he couldn’t deny. Now that she was no longer covered in blood, and her color had returned, Liam could appreciate her beauty, appreciate the sway of her hips and the gentle roundness of her body. Appreciate the scent of her blood and how something about her called to him like no other.

  Padding through the room, Wren immediately went to Griffin, and Liam didn’t give Victoria the opportunity to sit anywhere but next to him. He snagged her hand and tugged until she was settled on the couch, his arm around her shoulders.

  She glared at him.

  He smiled at her.

  She flashed her baby fangs.

  His dick went hard.

  “Children.” Carac’s voice cut through their flirting. “Victoria. Tell us what happened and then we’ll discuss your current biological situation.”

  “Biological situation?” She snorted. “It’s not like I’ve got some weird period-esque hormonal imbalance here. I have fangs. And itchies like my skin doesn’t fit. That is not a simple biological situation.”

  Carac’s stare remained centered on her, and the Sovereign didn’t say a word. The man could out-stare a cat.

  “Fine,” Victoria harrumphed and then got on with the recitation. She recapped the “digital visitation” of Hyde Pinxton’s personal and business records, his connections and their personal and business stuff and on and on. Then there was the bug out, followed by the fight at the storage place. Liam tossed in a few details here and there including a mention of a resurrection. He was careful not to include his desire for the not-quite-human, Victoria. Thankfully, she glossed over their encounter in his suite.

  Then there was the fact that the mansion was bugged. That had gone over well. Their discussion was postponed for a good hour while, after destroying the microwave and a toaster to create a “bug detector”, Victoria cleared the living room of the unknown electrical devices. She’d promised to create a few more “bug detector jobbies” if someone went to Radio Shack. Joce had been dispatched. Then she’d told Carac she’d fix his security system because “this shit is whacked”. That hadn’t gone over well, either.

  Finally, they got back to the other serious matters they faced.

  “Liam, you’re sure it was a daeva?”

  He nodded. “Absolutely. I could see the dark fog that surrounded him and the neck tattoos. I couldn’t miss the evil in the air. Pinxton is working with a demi-god.”

  “Demi-what-the-fuck?” Of course Victoria couldn’t keep quiet.

  Liam sighed. “Not something you need to know. Where have you hidden the information you found? You said you tucked it somewhere safe.”

  He watched as Victoria narrowed her eyes. “If I give you guys that stuff, will you tell me about my ‘biological situation’ and the demi-what-the-fuck? I figure it’s an even trade. I show you mine, you show me yours…”

  An insane surge of possessiveness and rage overtook him. The thought of Victoria showing anyone anything of hers summoned the urge to hide her away from everyone. No one would see what belonged to him. He growled deep in his throat, flashing his fangs and glaring at every other male in the room.

  “Liam.” Carac’s voice cut through his fury, and he focused on the Sovereign.

  “What?” He was unable to withhold the anger in his voice.

  “Calm yourself.”

  Liam couldn’t ignore the order in his Sovereign’s voice and the compulsion that immediately followed. Denied permission to warn others off physically, he reached over and hauled Victoria closer.

  “Hey!”

  He pressed Victoria’s face to his shoulder, shielding her from the others. “Be quiet.”

  “You overbearing, undead mother fucker!” Her voice was muffled, but he got the gist of her words.

  As did the others in the room.

  “We’re not undead.” Simond tossed that out.

  “Now, where is the data?” Carac’s voice overrode his.

  “My…”

  He didn’t catch what Victoria said and he eased the pressure. “What?”

  “My stomach. There’s this wire hooked to one of my teeth and, at the end, is a mini SD card. Insane galactic powers, itty-bitty storage space.”

  “You…” No way. There was no way she would have…

  “Yes. So, I promise to visit the porcelain god just as soon as you tell me why I’m fangy, yet I don’t want to eat Wren for dinner.”

  “The thing about it is…”

  Victoria fought him then, shoving at his body until he couldn’t do anything but release her. And damn was she strong already. His cock was solid as a rock now.

  “Don’t ‘thing about it is’ me. That is my line solely reserved for chatting about my fucked up-dashery to Wren. What. The. Fuck?”

  �
��We’ll call Brom in Rome.” He wasn’t above begging for his brother Protector’s help. “And Brom’s sire, Adela, has already forwarded several of the Ancient scrolls to the manse. Maybe there will be something in one of those. You know several languages, correct? Maybe you can read through them…” He let the suggestion trail off.

  Victoria gave him a skeptical look, eyes narrowed and eyebrows raised. “What languages, exactly?”

  “Sumerian?”

  Victoria harrumphed, but did relax against him. “I know that one.”

  Liam smiled. “There, love. All settled.”

  She frowned. “You’re sexy, but I hate you. Just want that out there.”

  He gave her a jerky nod. “Noted. The card?”

  Victoria rolled her eyes and climbed from the couch, heading toward the door. He moved to follow, but she pushed him down. “Hells to the no. You are not watching me get jiggy with the toilet.” As she stomped past Wren, she grabbed the other woman’s hand and dragged her along. “Let’s go, beyotch. I don’t feel like eating you, so you can come along.” With Wren’s exit, Griffin was immediately behind the troublesome duo.

  “Dude. You’ve got a seriously fucked girlfriend.” That came from Tybalt, another Protector brother. Soon to be ex-Protector.

  Without conscious thought, Liam was across the room, fingers wrapped around the other man’s throat, squeezing tighter with each passing heartbeat. “You were saying?”

  A low gurgle came out of Tybalt’s mouth, and he increased the pressure. Victoria was his. His. And no one would disrespect his woman. He didn’t want to examine his feelings, didn’t want to look too closely at the emotions filling him, but he couldn’t deny their presence. Maybe it was their shared blood, the connection of sire and progeny.

  Yes. That was it. That was what lingered between them…

  “Liam.” The compulsion to release the man slammed through him like a Mack truck, overriding his will.

  One by one, his fingers eased their grip until Tybalt wrenched free of his hold, coughing and gasping for air. “Fuck, man.” He rubbed at his throat as he backed away. “You need to put a leash on him, Carac.”

  Liam turned his attention to the Sovereign, watched as the oldest of the old rose to his feet, eyes trained on him. “I need the room.”