The Lady Is a Vamp: An Argeneau Novel

by Lynsay Sands

  Jeanne Louise was silent as Paul led her downstairs. She knew he would soon ask her to turn Livy and that the time had come for her to tell him about life mates and her having only one turn. But after. Admitting the feelings that had grown so quickly in her over the past several days, and hearing him speak his own aloud made her want to hold him, be held by him and welcome him into her body. She wanted to make love with him and knew it would be all the sweeter because she now knew his feelings for her.

  Paul led her through the small TV room at the foot of the stairs, past the first bedroom and on to the last one. The one farthest from Livy’s room, she noted and thought that could only be a good thing. He led her straight to the bed before stopping and then turned and began to remove her clothes, brushing her hands away when she tried to touch him or his own clothes.

  Jeanne Louise let him have his way, standing still as he removed her clothes one item at a time, his hands sliding over her body as he worked, offering brief, teasing caresses. When Paul had her naked, he urged her onto the bed, then turned his attention to his own clothes, stripping them away much more swiftly and with less care as he stared at her where she reclined on the bed. His shirt went first, muscles rippling as he pulled it off over his head, and then he removed his jeans and boxers together.

  Paul stepped out of them to climb onto the bed beside her and settled on his side next to her. When Jeanne Louise reached for him, he caught her hands and pinned them on either side of her head as he leaned down to kiss her. She could have freed herself easily, but didn’t, merely kissing back and arching her body until her breasts rubbed against his chest.

  They both groaned as the contact sent pleasure rippling through them, and were panting when he finally broke the kiss.

  “You need to feed,” he whispered, pressing kisses to her cheek and ear.

  Jeanne Louise nodded and smiled slowly. She’d fed again on both Cecily and Sharon while they’d prepared the salads for dinner, but needed more.

  “What’s that smile about?” Paul asked with amusement when he lifted his head and caught sight of it.

  “I was just thinking I know exactly which vein I want to tap this time,” Jeanne Louise murmured, and his eyes widened.

  “Oh,” he asked with interest, nipping at her lip. “And which one would that be?”

  “If you’d care to trade places with me I’ll show you,” she promised.

  Paul raised his head, peered at her briefly and then chuckled and shook his head. “You do like to be on top, Miss Argeneau.”

  “Do you mind?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

  Paul grinned. “Not at all. But this time you’ll have to wait. I intend to have my way with you first.”

  “Your way with me, huh?” Jeanne Louise said with a husky chuckle that died when he released one of her hands to slide his own over her body, cresting one breast before letting his fingers dance down across her stomach toward the apex of her thighs. By the time his fingers slid between her legs they were both breathing heavily.

  “Why is it when I touch you I feel pleasure?” Paul asked, his voice almost a groan.

  “It’s called shared pleasure,” Jeanne Louise gasped out, as he began to shift himself down her body, his mouth following the trail his hand had taken just seconds ago. “You feel mine and I feel yo— Oh God,” she groaned as he dipped his head between her legs, his fingers and mouth now working together and making her forget what she was saying . . . along with everything else.

  Jeanne Louise was vaguely aware that Paul was groaning along with her as he worked. But it was just a peripheral awareness. Her concentration was on the fire burning in her belly, and the tension building in her body. God, he was good at that, Jeanne Louise thought wildly, digging her heels into the bed and dragging a pillow over to cover her mouth as she became aware that she was starting to get a little noisy. But then he was experiencing her pleasure along with her, was feeling exactly what felt best, and knew right when to increase the pressure or tempo.

  She stopped thinking after that and became nothing but sensation, her body singing to the tune he was playing until the tension finally exploded in a rush of pleasure that had her screaming wildly into the pillow. Jeanne Louise was so caught up in it that she didn’t even hear Paul shout out with her. She felt it though, a reverberation against her skin that simply seemed to add to what she was experiencing.

  Paul woke up to find himself lying flat on his back on the bed with Jeanne Louise leaning over him, kissing and nibbling her way down his throat to his chest. When he reached for her, gliding his fingers into her hair, she lifted her head and smiled at him.

  “Time to feed,” she whispered with a naughty smile that made the blood rush south. She then brushed his hand away and continued what she’d been doing, now paying attention to first one nipple and then the other before continuing downward. It seemed it was her turn, and Jeanne Louise was going for the vein she’d mentioned earlier.

  Obviously not the neck or arms, Paul thought wryly as she traced a path across his stomach. He moaned and shifted under her teasing, his hands fisting in her hair as she nipped at his skin. But as Jeanne Louise moved lower, he caught her hair up in his fingers so that it no longer curtained her face and he could watch her nibble her way to and along his hip bone.

  By the time she turned her attention to his shaft it was already completely erect with anticipation. When Jeanne Louise caught it in hand and ran her tongue its length from the base up until she could curl it around the tip, Paul groaned and closed his eyes. When she then took him in her warm, wet mouth, he had to release her hair for fear of pulling it out.

  Christ, this wasn’t the first time a woman had done that to him, but it had never felt that damned good before, Paul thought. But then no other woman had enjoyed the aid of that shared pleasure business she’d mentioned. He had no doubt it was guiding her just as it had him, that feeling his pleasure with him, Jeanne Louise was able to tell exactly what felt best and where and how to caress him to the best effect.

  Shared pleasure was definitely the bomb, Paul decided, and his last semi-sensible thought was to thank God for it and for whatever scientist had created nanos that allowed for it.

  Twelve

  Jeanne Louise stirred sleepily and opened her eyes. She was in bed in the downstairs bedroom . . . alone. Paul had slipped away. He’d also covered her first, she realized as she sat up and the blankets dropped to her waist.

  She glanced toward the door, wondering where he’d gone and then smiled when she heard the sound of soft footfalls coming down the stairs in the other room. Paul appeared in the door a moment later, naked as a baby and bearing a tray with two plates of food and glasses on it. He smiled when he saw her sitting up.

  “You’re awake.” Paul set the tray on the bedside table, and then leaned down to give her a quick kiss. As he straightened, he said, “I checked on Livy, made us sandwiches, locked the doors and turned out the lights.”

  Jeanne Louise nodded, but asked with interest, “Sandwiches?”

  He chuckled at the question, and crawled onto the bed next to her, arranged and fluffed both of their pillows for them to lean back on, then pulled the sheets over to cover himself before picking up the tray again. Paul settled it on his lap and smiled at her. “Hungry?”

  “Mmm.” She nodded, her gaze moving over the sandwiches. “What are they?”

  “Ham, mayo, and cheese.”

  “My favorite,” Jeanne Louise said with a grin.

  “We aim to please here at casa Jones, ma’am,” he drawled teasingly.

  “And you definitely do that,” she assured him, leaning to press a kiss to his cheek. When she then sighed and kissed the corner of his mouth, Paul urged her back.

  “None of that now, you insatiable wench. This man needs sustenance to continue pleasing you.”

  Jeanne Louise chuckled and accepted the plate he held out. She was feeling rather hungry, and they both fell silent as they started to eat. Hungry as she was, Jeanne Lou
ise practically inhaled her sandwich. Even so, Paul was faster. The moment she finished hers, he took her plate and set it on his own on the tray. He then handed her one of the glasses of what turned out to be iced tea.

  “Jeanie,” he said reluctantly as she sipped at the sweet, icy liquid. “We need to talk about Livy.”

  “You want me to turn her,” Jeanne Louise said softly.

  Paul froze briefly, then lowered his head and took a deep breath. His expression was apologetic and pleading when he raised his eyes to meet hers again. “I’m sorry to ask you. I mean . . . when I first kidnapped you, I thought that was all I cared about. You were a way to save Livy. But I think even then I . . .” He closed his eyes and then opened them again and admitted, “I could have taken someone else, but I wanted it to be you.”

  “You could have taken someone else?” she asked, peering at him uncertainly.

  Paul smiled wryly and admitted, “There’s a pretty little redhead named Bev in my department who has made it clear she’d be interested in a . . . er . . . friendship.” He ended with a pained grimace.

  Jeanne Louise arched her eyebrows at the term. He meant this Bev wanted to be his lover. The idea caused jealousy to flare up in her briefly before she stamped it down. Obviously he hadn’t accepted the offer. Besides there was nothing to be jealous of, she was his life mate. So Jeanne Louise simply waited silently for him to continue.

  “It would have been the easiest thing in the world to call her and tell her I’d decided I’d like that,” Paul pointed out. “I could have invited her over to the house for dinner, shot her with the tranquilizer when she came through the door and—” He shrugged. “It would have been the safest and simplest way to get my hands on an immortal. No muss, no fuss, no worry about cameras or security.”

  Jeanne Louise stared at him silently, knowing that he was right. That would have been much simpler, not to mention easier than sneaking around, breaking into his friend’s car to get into the parking garage, and then hiding out in his trunk all night waiting for her to get done her shift. Which begged the question—“Why didn’t you?”

  “I almost did,” Paul admitted with a grimace. “And then I ran into Marguerite while I was shopping for chain—”

  “Marguerite,” Jeanne Louise interrupted sharply. “Marguerite Argeneau-Notte? My aunt?”

  “Yes.”

  “How the devil do you know my aunt?” she asked with amazement.

  Paul smiled faintly. “We met my first day at Argeneau Enterprises. Bastien was giving me a tour and we’d just come from your lab.” Paul paused to smile at her wryly. “You hardly paid me any attention, by the way. Didn’t even lift your head when Bastien introduced us, just mumbled a greeting and kept on peering into your microscope at whatever you were examining.”

  Jeanne Louise stared at him nonplussed. She’d actually met him? Apparently. Well, sort of.

  “Anyway, Marguerite came up the hall in search of Bastien as we left your lab,” Paul continued. “She was supposed to have lunch with him or something. He introduced us and she said she’d love to help out, and perhaps she could drive home volunteers after we’ve tested the tranquilizer on them. So on those rare occasions when we have a volunteer who can’t arrange a ride of their own, she comes and collects them and takes them home.” Paul smiled and said simply, “We’ve kind of become friends.”

  “Friends,” Jeanne Louise said faintly, and then shook her head. This was her aunt he was talking about. “And she encouraged you to kidnap me?”

  “Well, not in so many words,” he said on a laugh. “She didn’t know I planned to kidnap anyone. But I went looking for sterilized jars, and bumped into her in the canning section at Canadian Tire—”

  “You bumped into Aunt Marguerite in the canning section of Canadian Tire?” she asked dryly. Marguerite didn’t can anything. She didn’t even cook as far as Jeanne Louise knew.

  “Yes, and she asked how I was and how Livy was. Of course, I didn’t tell her that Livy was sick.”

  He didn’t have to, Jeanne Louise thought dryly, Marguerite would have plucked it from his mind without even trying. It would have been right there on the surface, the one fact probably filling his thoughts at the time. The main thought that had filled his thoughts since he’d got the news, she was sure. Jeanne Louise didn’t say as much though.

  “Anyway, then she said the oddest thing,” he said, and murmured with bewilderment, “She said it just out of the blue.”

  “What was that?” Jeanne Louise asked warily.

  “That it was always best to go with your heart. That sometimes it wasn’t the easiest route, but it was always the right one,” Paul said solemnly.

  She considered that briefly and then asked, “And kidnapping me was ‘going with your heart’?”

  “I wanted you,” he said simply. “I noticed you that first day during the tour and—despite still grieving over Jerri—found myself looking for you. I varied my break times to figure out when you took yours until I had your routine down. I even took note of what you ate and drank,” Paul admitted wryly. “At first, I didn’t know why you fascinated me. Your hair is black and I’ve always preferred blondes, and then too in the beginning it was just a little more than a month after my wife died and I felt guilty as hell for even looking at you.” He grimaced, but went on, “But I just . . . every day I looked forward to taking my break so that I could just see you. It made me feel . . . I don’t know. At peace, sort of. Maybe happy.” Smiling crookedly, Paul added, “And then I began to notice your shoes and it became something of a game to see which ones you were wearing each day and I’d try to guess what mood that meant you were in.”

  He set his drink on the end table and then scooted down in bed, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling as he confessed, “While it would have been easier to get Bev to the house, I wanted it to be you. I wanted you to meet Livy and like her and . . . to like me. I think I was hoping in my heart of hearts that something like this would happen. That we’d have this connection and passion.”

  “And we do,” Jeanne Louise said softly, thinking that she would have to have a talk with her aunt when this was all resolved. The woman had to have read Paul’s thoughts and known what he was up to. She hadn’t intervened except to give him the nudge he needed to decide on taking her rather than the easier route of taking Bev. The woman was incredible, she thought dryly and then set her own drink on the end table on her side of the bed and lay down as well. She then rolled onto her side and propped her head on her upraised hand to peer down into his face.

  Paul glanced to her, and then raised an eyebrow in question. “You don’t seem happy to know this.”

  “I am,” Jeanne Louise assured him, and she was happy to know that he had been interested in her for more than turning Livy before taking her. That he’d chosen her because he’d been attracted to her for more than two years. But that didn’t change the facts, and now she had some explaining of her own to do. “Paul, immortals have laws just like mortals do.”

  He blinked at what appeared to be a change of subject, but simply waited for her to continue.

  “We aren’t allowed to feed on a mortal unto death. That’s to protect mortals, but it also protects our people,” she admitted and pointed out, “It would cause a frufaraw if bodies started popping up drained of blood with bite marks on them. It might lead to the discovery that our people exist.”

  Paul nodded, and asked, “What happens to an immortal who breaks that law?”

  “Death,” Jeanne Louise admitted, and then added, “We’re kind of strict with our laws.”

  He grunted at that, and asked, “And your other laws?”

  “We are also restricted to bagged blood. It too helps protect us from discovery, and breaking that law—except in an emergency—could very well mean death too.”

  “I’m sensing a pattern here,” Paul muttered.

  Jeanne Louise smiled slightly, but continued. “Basically, immortals are never to do anything that might draw
attention to the existence of our kind. Doing so is punishable by death in every case,” She said solemnly, and then added, “But there are also two laws that were put in place to keep us from growing too quickly as a population and outgrowing our food source.”

  Paul wasn’t a stupid man. Jeanne Louise knew that, so wasn’t surprised when his expression suddenly turned worried, but she continued, “One of those rules is that we are allowed only to have one child every hundred years. Breaking that law means death.”

  “And the other?” he asked tensely.

  Jeanne Louise took a breath, and then told him, “Each immortal is allowed to turn only one mortal in our life time.” She paused and then added, “Again, breaking that law is punishable by death.”

  “And you’ve turned yours,” Paul guessed dully.

  “No,” she admitted, and then before he could say anything, added, “I, like most immortals, was saving that for my life mate when I found him, in case he was mortal.”

  “Life mate?” he asked uncertainly.

  “That one person we cannot read or control, who could be a true mate to us. The one who reinvigorates our appetite for food and sex and who merges with us so totally during lovemaking that our passion is shared and overwhelms us both.”

  “The shared pleasure?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  Paul blinked several times as his brain digested that and then he breathed, “You can’t read or control me.”

  Jeanne Louise nodded solemnly. “You are my life mate, Paul.”

  “Your life mate.” He said the words slowly as if tasting them, and then asked, “How long—I mean, does this shared pleasure and stuff fade off, or . . . ?”

  “No. Immortals mate for life,” she assured him. “They are truly mated till death do they part.”

  “And I’m yours?” Paul asked with wonder. Joy spread on his face, but his voice was solemn and sincere when he said, “I’d like that. To be with you until death.”