by Cecy Robson
No. I couldn’t. Just like I couldn’t believe how badly it affected her. Taran went through men. It wasn’t in her nature to tie herself down to anyone. I knew her beauty and spirit would eventually land her “the one,” but I also thought for sure the sap would salivate at her feet. I wanted to ask her more about it, but her rising temper needed a distraction.
“Have they found anything?”
She huffed. “Nothing but a shitload of infected vampires. They’re averaging eight kills a night. That’s thirty-six vampires since we left Zhahara’s. Where the hell are all these vampires coming from?”
“I don’t know. But the weres can’t continue to keep the human population safe until they find the source of the outbreak.”
“No. They can’t. And if that nastiness spreads outside of Tahoe…” She shuddered. “At least with the wolves out, I haven’t heard of anyone belonging to the area missing.”
I glanced outside the window at the darkening sky. “No, but another tour bus disappeared last night. This time on the Nevada side.”
“Aw, hell, Celia. I so didn’t need to hear that.” Taran abruptly turned off the radio like the sappy song bothered her, and lost herself in her thoughts. “Do you want to go out tonight? Just me and you? I’m tired of sitting at home.”
It had been a long three days of wallowing in self-pity, but that’s all it seemed I had the energy to do. “No. Sorry. Maybe dinner tomorrow?”
“I meant…to hunt for bloodlusters ourselves.”
My head shot up toward her. I almost jumped at the idea. The thrill of a hunt enticed my tigress, pulling me out of my sadness. But then realization hit me like a freight truck. “Are you prowling for monsters or are you gaming for wolves?”
Taran grew silent.
“Taran?”
“Damn, Celia. I’m turning into one of those desperate, pathetic girls I used to make fun of.”
Yeah. Join the friggin’ club, order the comfort food, and bring on the chick flicks. I dug my claws into my thighs, willing myself to support Taran. “You need to give Gemini time. He has a genuine and honorable responsibility to the earth. I don’t think he’s purposely avoiding you.”
“Will you show Aric the same courtesy?”
My chest hurt at the mention of his name. “That’s different. And you know it.”
Taran easily pulled into our neighborhood—no simple task during one of her more annoyed eye rolls. “Aw, hell, Celia. We’ve all seen the way that wolf looks at you—Oh, shit!”
I jumped up out of my seat as our house came into view. The front had been converted into an elegant restaurant. Three chefs busied themselves cooking in the outside kitchen situated along our sidewalk, while a fourth drizzled a three-tiered cake with chocolate. That seemed extravagant enough. The orchestra—complete with a pianist, a cellist, two violinists, and an entire woodwinds section perched on our lawn—much, much worse.
“Is that a boar on a goddamn spit?”
I nodded at the boar on the goddamn spit. “Yup.”
A stark white canopy was draped along the entire overhang, tied with scarlet satin ribbons at each pillar. Elegant china, stemware, and linens covered the table positioned alongside the porch swing. Yet it was the master vampire standing at the top of the steps who drew my attention.
I stumbled out, eyes wide, mouth open, only to be greeted by one of the good Catholics in a naughty French maid uniform. Lord, I couldn’t imagine shopping with them. “Good evening. The master wishes you to join him for dinner.”
Misha winked back at me, his long, luscious hair loose over the shoulders of his charcoal tux.
“Ah. Yeah. I can see that.” I glanced desperately at Taran.
“You’re on your own, Ceel.” She sashayed toward the house. “I’ll be inside knitting or whatever the hell old maids do. Hey, Misha,” she said with a wave.
“If you wish to go inside and change first, the master prefers thongs or crotchless panties,” the vampire whispered.
“Ah, thanks, Ana Clara. But I’m not changing.”
Ana Clara wrinkled her face like she’d stepped in something nasty. Or perhaps she just didn’t like me. I went with the latter. I still wore my plain blue scrubs and my hair pulled back in a twist. But damn it, I hadn’t been expecting…this.
Misha walked down the steps and held out his arm. “It would be my pleasure if you joined me.”
“Last chance,” Ana Clara whispered. “If you want, I’ll lend you my panties.”
I gave her a hard stare. “I can honestly say the answer will always be no to that one.”
Ana Clara scowled like I was the unreasonable one. I took Misha’s arm and followed him up the steps. I had nothing better to do. My plans included the same old Saturday-night ritual—takeout, a Laverne and Shirley marathon, and shoving ice cream down my throat.
My porch was long enough to fit the table, but the porch swing made it so we could sit only across from each other. A very good thing, considering how Misha’s aroma of sex and chocolate thickened as he regarded me. A waiter bustled over to drape the cloth napkin across my lap and fill my glass with wine. “Would the lady care for an additional beverage?”
“Just water, please.” I chuckled despite myself, and leaned my arms against the table. “Misha, what are you doing here?”
“You’ve denied my gifts of gratitude.”
A “gift,” in my opinion, was something tied in a pretty package—a nice sweater, perhaps, or a four-pack of movie tickets. Master vampires took gift giving to astronomical proportions. “Nothing personal, Misha, but a vacation home in Bermuda and the four Aston Martins were a little too extreme.” Although Taran had insisted otherwise. “And we’re still paying you back for the house.”
Misha hadn’t absorbed Zhahara’s power. While he’d cast the fatal blow to end Zhahara’s existence, bloodlust had technically led to her redeath. Her power had likely transferred to the vamp responsible for her infection. Misha had, however, inherited her fortune and doubled his billions.
He leaned back in his seat, watching me as I sipped the water the waiter brought. “I wish only to thank you.”
I smiled. “You just did.”
Misha quirked an elegant brow. “Mere words are not sufficient for all you and your sisters have done.”
“They are for us.” I shrugged. “We have everything we need.” Almost everything…My mind wandered back to the bloodlust. “Why won’t you help the weres hunt the infected vampires?”
A steaming bowl of seafood bisque was placed in front of us. It smelled scrumptious, but Misha didn’t bother to glance at it. “My darling, the cause of the infection remains unknown. I refuse to continue to risk the well-being of my family by exposing them to the infection.”
I couldn’t blame Misha. Hank, Tim, and the three naughty schoolgirls were all that remained of his once large family. Except there was a way he could help. “I need a favor.”
Misha’s smooth smile lengthened across his beautifully masculine face. “A mountain of diamonds, a sultan’s fortune, and the last beat of my heart would not be enough to express my gratitude. Tell me what you desire and it shall be yours.”
All righty then. “Um…Will you let me take your blood?”
Misha paused, his gray eyes widening before they lightened with a sinful shimmer. He tugged off his tie, popped off a few buttons of his shirt, and exposed his jugular…along with a few other body parts. I held up a hand. “I mean for research purposes—not for consumption.” I tried not to think about how easily Misha would let me feed from him.
“There are many ways to examine me, my darling.”
I’m sure there are. I stole a glance at the bulging muscles of his pecs. And that many have tried. I cleared my throat. “My friend Danny wants to compare the blood of an infected vampire to that of a healthy one. To see if he can establish a connection to the bloodlust.”
Misha’s vampires scaled the porch and surrounded him, hissing with menace directed at me. “Our master’
s essence is not something for you to toy with,” Tim snapped.
I stood growling. “This isn’t a game. Your family may be safe for the moment, but the rest of Tahoe isn’t!”
Misha held up a hand. In an instant, the vampires vanished from sight, yet my tigress could sense their presence nearby. Along with the scent of their fury.
Misha’s frown appeared more troubled than angry. Enough for me to think he would deny my request. “As you wish.”
“Huh?”
He fixed his shirt and tie, the smile returning to his face. “I said you may take me.”
Vampires lived—in an undead sort of way—to come up with more sexual innuendos than humanly possible. I excused myself and returned with the phlebotomy supplies Danny had dropped off. I purposely didn’t glance at Misha while I drew his blood. When a vampire drank from another, the experience was both emotionally intimate and orgasmic. The thought alone made me nervous. Although I’d grown to like Misha, it wasn’t in the way he wished. I returned to my seat once I secured the sample in the house and washed my hands.
Misha reached for my hand the moment we finished our first course. “May I?”
“May you what?”
He chuckled. “Allow me this moment to thank you.”
I stared at his palm. “Does this involve teeth?”
“No.”
“Blood?”
“No.”
“Tongue?”
Misha considered me quite the comedian. He laughed. Hard. “Only if you wish it so, my darling.”
I held out my arm. His hands slipped down from my elbow until they both covered mine. A brief sizzle sparked against my nail beds before what felt like a bevy of feathers traced up my arm. He released me as I squirmed from the touch.
“What was that?”
Misha smiled. “I believe the saying is ‘my digits.’”
“Excuse me?”
Misha leaned close. “My dearest Celia, you are the most unique of beings. You risked your life for mine, you returned my essence, and yet you seek neither wealth nor power nor recognition in exchange. I am forever in your debt. Should you ever need me, call my name and I shall thunder through hell itself to reach you.”
I turned my hand back and forth, half expecting to see, “For a good time call,” inked across my skin. “So, what, you’re like my guardian angel master vampire now?”
Misha thought about it. “Yes. Your guardian angel master vampire who wants to bed you until you scream in ecstasy.”
I blinked back at him. “Um…”
The sound of a familiar car engine had me turning toward the street. I did a double take and jumped out of my chair, toppling it over. Aric’s black Escalade veered into our neighborhood. At first he traveled the speed limit. Suddenly he slammed on the brakes, likely when he spotted the Tavern on the Green the front of my house had become. Several long, sweat-soaked seconds passed before the Escalade gradually pulled forward again and slowed to a stop…right across from the damn spit.
That’s when I knew for sure I was on Saint Peter’s shit list.
I bustled down the steps and stopped short when Aric ambled out. “Hi,” I squeaked, sounding like a prepubescent boy undergoing a major voice change.
Aric’s walk was slow, purposeful, bordering on deadly. It was likely due to Misha’s coming to my side and slipping an arm around my shoulders. God, please kill me.
Aric fixed on Misha’s arm like he planned to rip it off with his jowls and eat it. His fists clenched tight, cracking his knuckles before he turned to face me. “I caught an infected vampire today. I came by to drop off his blood so you can get it to Dan. But I see you’re busy.”
I believe my spleen fell down to my toes. Aric could have brought the sample to Danny directly. Why would he have come to my house…unless he had wanted to see me? I ducked away from Misha as Aric stormed to his SUV. “Wait! W-would you like to join us?”
I really needed to work on that open-fangs-insert-paw thing. Aric froze with his back to me. The angry scowl and the “hell, no” refusal I’d expected never came. He peered over his shoulder, surprising me with an impish grin before jogging away from his Escalade and positioning himself between me and Misha. He looked right at my guardian angel master vampire when he spoke. “Sure. I’d love to.”
Misha inclined his stone-cold face, acknowledging Aric with his own devilish grin and motioning with a grand wave. “After you.”
The corner of Aric’s mouth curved. “No. After you.”
I stepped between them. “How about we walk together?” Because that wasn’t masochistic or anything.
I kept my focus ahead, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t feel the heat between the ultimate preternatural stare-down taking place on either side of me. “Ah, just as a reminder, my house is neutral territory, so neither of you can, like, dismember each other and…stuff.” At least, that’s what I hoped the friggin’ treaty said. Up until the last week I hadn’t been curious enough to ask to read it. Now it seemed I should have requested a notarized copy and taken notes.
Good gravy, my words did nothing to ease the tension. If Misha could have changed, I imagined he’d take on the form of a king cobra, mostly because of the hypnotic cadence of his voice. “Only an ignorant mongrel would dare insult you in your home, my sweet kitten.”
Aric’s widening smile made me whimper. “Or a bloodsucking leech who’s too much of a pansy to fight his own battles.” His smile dropped. “And don’t call Celia your damn kitten.”
My hands clasped their arms as I encouraged them—rather forcibly—to separate further. “Let’s sit, okay?” I said, unable to suppress the growing hysteria in my voice.
Aric picked up the overturned chair for me, but Misha yanked it from his loose grasp and held it out so I could sit. Aric nudged his way through to push it in for me, giving Misha ample time to grab the other chair. “I fear you’ll have to stand for the remaining feast. Then again, perhaps you’d prefer to eat from the floor on all fours?”
Aric didn’t blink. Instead he leaped onto the porch swing, landing so his long legs stretched out toward Misha and his back lay against the armrest…side by side with me. “No worries, Meesh.” His hand rubbed my back affectionately, sending warm tingles ricocheting along my spine. “I have all I need right here.”
I adjusted my napkin over my lap as Taran stuck her head out. “Celia, did you…” Her head whipped to Aric, then Misha, before one of her siren grins crept out. “Aw, hell. It’s either feast or famine, huh, Ceel?” Taran didn’t wait for me to answer. She went inside, slamming the door shut behind her. Except it did little to muffle her uproarious laughter.
I’d like to say the salad portion of the meal was filled with quiet, polite conversation. But pissing contests seldom are, even to the beat of “Canon in D” played via orchestra.
“What troubles you, mutt? Flea prevention not up to par?”
“Don’t get testy, bat boy. It’s not my fault you’ve run out of prom queens to devirginize.”
“Wit is not your forte, dog. Stick to what you know—drooling, scratching, and licking body parts typically unreachable.”
“Damn, you are pissed. Did one of the angry villagers leave a pitchfork rammed up your ass, Drac?”
Okay, this is fun. The breeze from the lake pushed a loose curl against my chin. I unclipped my hair to straighten it. My long tresses fell around me in a big, tangled mess. I used my fingers to comb through the strands. As I twisted it back into place, I noticed silence had fallen along the porch.
Aric and Misha watched me with deep fascination. I turned around, expecting Ana Clara to be pole dancing against one of the pillars behind me. She wasn’t. She stood near the steps, adjusting the straps on her four-inch shoes and appearing bored. I turned back slowly. After years of having men ignore me or step away in fear, how the hell had I caught the interest of two very sexy males…with fangs and sharp claws?
I adjusted my position in the chair nervously, grateful when the waiter
and Ana Clara appeared with plates of roasted boar piled high over garlic potatoes and vegetables.
Aric sniffed his food. “Hmm. Smells great.” He yanked Misha’s plate away and replaced it with his.
Misha quirked a brow. Ana Clara appeared and stole the plate away before Misha could take a bite. “Excuse me, Master, but I’d seasoned it more for the mongrel’s taste.” She handed it to Hank over the railing; he quickly dumped the plate and the entire contents in the trash. Arsenic, she mouthed before disappearing to get Misha more food.
I stopped with a forkful of food inches from my mouth. Aric winked. “It’s okay, Celia. Yours is fine.”
I pushed my plate away, just to be cautious. Misha scowled, blaming my sudden lack of appetite on Aric, of course. ’Cause heaven forbid he’d point his finger at “Fifi,” his arsenic-toting Catholic schoolgirl. “Celia wouldn’t have hesitated had you not interrupted our lovely dinner.”
Aric peered through the family room window. “Huh. It would have been lovelier in the house. Oh…but then I guess that’s not possible, since she didn’t invite your unholy carcass in.” He took a bite of his food. “Good. Very good. Still, not as delicious as your meatballs and sauce, Celia.”
I knew what Aric was trying to pull. And yet my tigress went into “aw, shucks” mode.
Misha seethed before relaxing into his chair. His composed demeanor worried me more than his anger. “Ah, the mutt knows how to charm the ladies.” He chuckled as he regarded me. “Yet I am not surprised. Surely after the multitude of females he’s bedded in his young life, he’s learned many a way to entice those he wishes to conquer.”
Multitude?
Misha’s frostbite stare shifted to Aric. “And they all have been of your race—purebloods, in fact. What a pity your Elders forbid you from courting a non-were.”
“At least none of them have been young enough to be my great-great-great-great-granddaughter, you creepy bastard.”
All humor dissolved from Aric’s face as he took in the hurt causing me to recoil like a wilted rose. A frigid cold swept throughout my body, freezing my muscles against my bones. Misha had accused Aric of “bedding” a lot of females. And Aric hadn’t denied it. Knowing the mass of naked flesh he’d touched caused my insecurities to dig a hole into my sternum until my heart threatened to pull apart like boiled meat. Worse yet, the females he’d slept with all shared common traits. They had all been of his kind. They had all been of pure blood. And none had been anything like me.
