Vampire's Pet

by amy o'connor

  He was a monster. Something from a fairytale. She’d never liked the Brothers Grimm, their stories had given her nightmares. They’d made her dream about things like this.

  Monsters.

  There are no such things as monsters.

  Telling herself that, no matter how firmly, wasn’t working. She’d seen him fling himself over the balcony, twenty-odd stories up. Rather than plummeting to the sidewalk below, he’d floated. Floated?

  She shook her head. It just wasn’t possible. None of this was possible.

  Yet she was standing here on his balcony, soaking wet and shivering with cold. She leant cautiously over the railing, the metal shockingly cold on her naked stomach. There was nothing below her. No bloody mess where his body should have been. Nothing but well-tended grass, and a few shadowy rosebushes. It was hard to see in the gloom, but she was quite certain. If he’d jumped off the balcony, he’d definitely flown away.

  Humans couldn’t fly.

  A violent shiver wracked her. She wrapped her arms around herself in a futile attempt to stave off the cold. She could hardly believe she’d run out here naked when she’d seen him step off the balcony. Thank goodness it was night time and no one would have seen. And why had she actually cared, after what he’d just done? The rain was icy, stinging her still-sensitized skin. Standing around out here, catching a cold, wasn’t helping anyone. Apparently, he wasn’t dead. Unless…

  Vampires had fangs suspiciously like his. At least, they did in the movies. Could there really be such a thing as a vampire? Her stomach churned, her hands clenched over her gut. She’d just slept with one. A vampire. She’d let him take control of her body, nearly let him into her mind. She screwed her eyes shut against the thought. She’d enjoyed it.

  Realizing that her body was still aroused didn’t help either. The raindrops were collecting in little streams, rivulets wending their way down her body, gathering naturally between her legs before rushing to the balcony floor. They traced the areas where his hands had so recently been, coolly damp — like his tongue. The volume of water rushing between her legs, racing over her clit was increasing, and with volume came pressure. She pressed her legs together, holding on to the feeling of a thousand tiny tongues licking their way inside her. On her overheated skin, the cool was delicious.

  A gust of wind blew a thick strand of hair into her face, tickling her nose. It reminded her of the real world — the storm howling around the balcony, the rain weighing down her sodden hair. Fingers of wind pushed their way into every crevice of her body. It ruffled the curls between her legs, pushed tantalizingly at her ass. She could even feel it swirling between her toes, tickling and teasing.

  She squirmed.

  Lightning split the sky, briefly lighting up the road below her, and the marina off to the side. Despite the storm, there were people down there, scurrying between the restaurants and their cars. There was even a couple seated on the deck of their moored yacht. Probably watching the storm. Possibly watching her.

  Blushing furiously, Gwen stepped back inside. For a moment, her body’s reaction to the rain had made her forget she was nude — and in public. It had also made her forget about monsters, at least for a little while.

  Inside, the air conditioner still hummed. For a moment, she was colder than ever, her skin a mass of goose-bumps. She couldn’t think when she felt like this. Cold. Aroused.

  She glanced wildly around the room until she spotted the remote lying on the coffee table. She grabbed it, jabbing at the buttons until the machine fell silent. With the balcony doors closed, the storm was reduced to an insidious whisper of wind curling around the down pipes. The thunder had rumbled off into the distance.

  Dead silence.

  Dead.

  Monsters.

  She shuddered. There are no such things.

  A trickle of water ran down her back, cold on her butt, and she sprang into action. Right here, right now, she didn’t care about the details. She had to get away from him. Assuming he wasn’t dead, she had to believe he’d come back to finish off what he’d started. Then she’d be dead.

  Her clothes were in a messy heap by the sofa. She struggled into them, the water on her skin dragging against the usually slinky fabrics. Her stockings lay discarded nearby, one draped rakishly over the TV in the corner. She glanced at them, then tugged her shoes on without bothering. She’d wasted enough time.

  She was buttoning her blouse as she ran down the hall to the bedroom. Her overnight bag could stay, she didn’t want to waste time juggling it. She barely paused as she scooped up her handbag, pirouetted on the shiny timber floor and jogged back down the hall to the living room. Gwen was out the front door and had slammed it behind her before she could change her mind.

  Escape. She had to escape.

  And she had to ignore the sensual fog that seeped insidiously back into her mind every time she thought of anything the slightest bit erotic…

  Shaking her head furiously, she fished her cell phone from her bag, hopping awkwardly and trying to adjust a strap on her shoe at the same time. She wedged the phone between her shoulder and her ear, simultaneously pressing the elevator call button. The plastic under her fingers was sinuously smooth, her fingers gliding easily over it. Fascinated, she caressed it…

  “Taxi? A pick up at the Marina Apartments please. I’ll be waiting out front.”

  Gwen allowed her eyes to close in relief, the woman’s voice in her ear going unheeded. She’d caught the first bit, the important bit. The bit about how there was an empty cab in the area that would arrive in approximately three minutes.

  The ‘ding’ of the arriving elevator was loud and she sprang upright, heart pounding. There was no time for daydreaming, and definitely no time for admiring the sensual qualities of plastic. Plastic? Gwen snorted inelegantly, the sound echoing hollowly around the elevator. She stabbed a vicious finger at the lobby button. She had to get that man… monster?... out of her head. Eyes trained on the numbers above the door, she watched anxiously, impatiently counting each one as it flicked on and off. The elevator sunk swiftly lower.

  From somewhere deep inside, a cry of protest welled up, lodging in her throat. Her stomach clenched in denial, blood throbbed behind her temples. She had to get away from him. That was the only intelligent thing to do. She would not let herself become some kind of pathetic sacrificial victim — the idiot blonde in the long, white nightdress who was willingly drawn to her doom in Boris Karloff films. She was smarter than that.

  The elevator glided to a stop. A regal pause had her almost screaming in frustration, then the doors drew slowly back. She was nearly away. Gwen straightened her back and stalked across the lobby. A cab had pulled in under the awning, wind screen wipers still clacking rhythmically to and fro. Its headlights cut a swathe through the darkness, somehow highlighting it.

  Automatic glass doors opened and she stepped outside, forcing herself not to run straight back upstairs. Her heart wrenched, demanding she stay. She wanted to scurry back into the warm and light. To wait for his return.

  Nooo!

  She concentrated on her breathing. Breathe in, breathe out. She could beat whatever black magic spell he’d used on her. She was stronger than that. Her heels clicked as she crossed the pavement, and she couldn’t help glancing to the side, to the spot where his shattered body should have been. Would have been — if he’d been human.

  The little reminder was enough. She forced herself to ignore the tenacious fingers of fog, the ones that turned everything she touched, everything she looked at, into a sensual experience.

  The vinyl seat caught against the damp fabric of her skirt, clinging to her legs and wedging itself between her thighs. Her jacket brushed over her breasts, her nipples swelled under the subtle friction. Even the soft salsa music coming from the cab’s radio was getting under her skin, inciting her to sway with the motion of the vehicle, to trail her fingers over her body…

  Gwen leaned back, overhead streetlights flashing hypnotically
red through her closed eyelids as they passed under each one. She sighed. This was absolutely ridiculous. He was a monster. He’d tried to kill her. Ergo, it was now her job to… run away! No matter how loudly she screamed the idea in her head, it wasn’t sinking in. Whatever he’d done to her body, whatever he’d done to make her want to stay so badly, was strong.

  But she was stronger.

  * * * *

  Finding her was easy. Convincing her he wasn’t evil, however, was going to be a problem. He’d been perched on the roof of the neighboring building for several minutes now, simply waiting while he figured out what to do next. He may have decided Gwyneth belonged with him but it was obvious she wasn’t thinking along exactly the same lines. Even from here, he could hear her accelerated heartbeat. He could smell her fear.

  High above him the stars were starting to creep out from their hiding places behind the storm clouds. The moon was still rising, its brittle light casting deep shadows around the lower floors. As the old saying went, in for a penny, in for a pound. It was time to go and explain what had happened earlier in the evening.

  Todd stretched, taking pleasure in the way every muscle responded to the merest thought. With Gwyneth in the world, the slightest thing felt brand new. He leaped lightly to the ground, springing effortlessly up and over the sagging gutter. Gwyneth’s pharmacy was located in its own building and was well-maintained. Unlike her next door neighbor, she probably owned the freehold. Either that or she had an excellent landlord.

  Unsurprisingly, the back door was locked. He tested the handle, twisting it softly back in the opposite direction. Nothing. The blind was down, the window firmly barred. It wasn’t that iron bars could actually stop him if he wanted in that badly, more that even he would make a fair bit of noise pulling them out of the brickwork.

  Ah well…

  He rapped softly on the door. “Gwyneth? Are you okay?”

  Todd grimaced at himself. Of all the totally stupid opening lines he could have thought of, that one pretty well took the cake. Her startled gasp answered that question for him. Of course she wasn’t okay — she’d just been scared silly by an idiot vampire!

  “Go away!”

  He tried again. “Let me in, sweetie. Please. I need to explain what happened.”

  “No.”

  The single word was almost lost. Something scraped across the floor, a high-pitched squeal of metal on tiles that made him wince. It was worse than fingernails down a blackboard.

  “Please. We need to talk.”

  There was no answer and, this time, he managed to turn down his hearing a bare second before something heavy thudded on top of whatever she’d wedged across the door.

  Todd sighed. He really hadn’t wanted to do this. Watching him launch himself off a balcony must have been shocking enough, seeing a demonstration of vampire strength was just… uncalled for. Nevertheless, he leaned on the door. There was no choice. He needed her.

  Her rapidly erected barricade didn’t stand a chance. A small cabinet toppled off a table as he pushed, for a moment blocking his entrance. That instant in time was all Gwyneth needed to make good her escape. Even as he was kicking the cabinet out of his way she was pelting across the room, flinging open the dispensary door and heading out into the night.

  “Damn it!” He punched the wall, oblivious to the jagged hole he left in the plaster. “Stupid, stupid, stupid!” He stalked across the room in her wake, reaching out to sweep a row of old-fashioned glass bottles off an open shelf. They fell to the ground with a satisfying crash.

  Todd could feel the heat surging through his blood. He didn’t need to look in a mirror to know his eyes were glowing red. He wanted her. He was going to have her. He’d tried polite. It hadn’t worked.

  He glared at the shop door. It had slammed closed behind her and all he could see of outside was a blurry image of a rain-washed street, each street light surrounded by a watery halo. It wasn’t like she’d be hard to find. Her blood sang to him, her rapid pulse as she’d fled him had goaded him into a primitive possessiveness. He could still hear her heartbeat. She was no more than a block away.

  She was his.

  * * * *

  He was behind her, somewhere in the shadows, just waiting to jump out at her. God only knew why he wanted her. Whatever the reason, she just wanted to get away. Needed to get away. He was a predator. There was no other way to see him. Those teeth…

  A shiver ran through her, totally at odds with the frantic messages her heart was sending her. Yes, she could feel it pounding furiously as she increased her speed, but it wasn’t that. The further she ran, the more her heart tried to tug her back. Somehow he was calling to her.

  Be damned if she’d let that happen…

  Gwen increased her speed. She skidded around a corner, her heeled shoes totally impractical on the slippery asphalt. A tree loomed in front her. She jerked sideways and a shower of cold drops splattered her face. She reached out to steady herself against its trunk, her chest heaving. There was no time to stop.

  Gwyneth.

  It was her imagination. It had to be her imagination. She refused to believe anything else. A low chuckle echoed in her ears — warm, comforting… smug. She jerked her head around, scowled at the empty street behind her.

  Gwyneth.

  This time she knew it wasn’t her imagination. She also knew she hadn’t heard her name with her ears. Somehow, he’d crept inside her head. Gwen hauled in a breath, determined not to let him win. A second deep breath, then she was off and running. She glanced to either side, looking for anything that would help her escape.

  Nothing.

  It was a boring, blank street, by day lined with blank-faced offices, by night equally dull and equally blank. A dark shadow on the opposite side of the road beckoned. It was only an alley — in normal circumstances the last place she’d want to go by herself at night. Tonight, there didn’t seem to be much choice. She darted out of her flimsy shelter and into the night.

  * * * *

  He had her!

  Finally, he’d figured out the tortuous path into her mind. He doubted he could control her — not yet anyway — but he was sure he could communicate with her. Maybe even influence her. The way she’d started around, her eyes flicking over every shadow as he’d called out to her in her mind had confirmed it.

  Now he flew overhead, a silent black shadow in the drizzly night sky. Even if she looked directly up at him, he doubted she’d see. Certainly, no ordinary human would. The only question now was how to catch her. How to convince her she belonged to him was a totally different hurdle and one that could wait. His own feelings were too confused, emotions he didn’t know he had taken control of his actions. A tiny voice deep inside protested the way he was chasing her, hunting her down. A stronger, infinitely more primeval part of him was egging him on.

  Todd dropped from the sky and slumped against a light pole, oblivious to the renewed drizzle. If nothing else, the rivulets of water coursing from his hair and into his eyes were a cold reminder of his humanity. And it hid his tears.

  He was nothing but a monster, a demon who’d long since lost his soul. No wonder she was running from him. She was desperate to escape — and who could blame her? If he’d held onto the faintest hint of human feeling, he’d be able to let her go. Was it so impossible? Surely another woman would come along. He closed his eyes, battling for his sanity. Without her…

  In the distance, a horn blared.

  His nostrils flared. The beast roared.

  Every good intention he’d held, however briefly, flew from his mind as he once again launched himself skyward. He was a black shadow streaking across the sky, racing against mortal time. Racing against hope.

  Tires squealed. A very feminine, very familiar, scream pierced his heart. Abruptly, it cut off. All he could hear was the single, hollow thud of Gwyneth’s body hitting the truck. It kept echoing through his head. No other sound. No heart beat. No flutter of breath.

  Nothing.

&n
bsp; He landed running, heedless of who might see him. His Gwyneth was lying in the gutter. He could smell the blood. In his mind, he’d heard the snap of every bone. For a split second he’d felt her agony. She may not have believed in the connection they shared, but he did. He lifted her to him, cradled her against him.

  Nothing. No life.

  No hope.

  His howl of anguish filled the night.

  For years he’d felt nothing. It had been safe, comfortable even. Now, in the space of a few gut-wrenching minutes he’d learned first hand about the misery that went with love. And all because of a fucking hit and run driver. He snarled at the stars. They’d mocked him once already today. It seemed they were doing it again.

  The beast had mostly subsided, drowned in the long-forgotten emotions. It left an empty space somewhere inside him. He was cold, desperately cold, yet he could feel his own heart pounding. Sweat mingled with the rain. If he’d eaten, he knew he would have heaved the lot of it up. His stomach was a whirlpool, his head was even worse. And all he could do was stare down at the ravaged body of his Gwyneth.

  Wet, filthy, covered in mud and blood. Under his gentle touch, her skin was already going cold. Sightless eyes stared up at the stars. What he would give to bring her back to him. She didn’t deserve to die, and especially not running from him. It was his fault she was dead.

  While there’s life, there’s hope.

  Crap! He shook his head, denying the insidious thought. It persisted, nurtured by the beast that was once again unsheathing its claws. He wasn’t human, hadn’t been for centuries.

  There wasn’t life — exactly — but there was still time. Although physical death was instant, it took time for the life force to leave a body. He had a few minutes still. If he hurried, he could turn her.

  And then she could hate him for eternity instead of just for one short human life time. He couldn’t do it to her. It wasn’t fair to turn her into something she despised just to salve his own conscience.