by Anya Breton
“Max wanted you to be there when he woke,” Ali Mac said.
A glance at the microwave told me it was seven thirty. There was still an hour and a half before the sun would begin to set. I’d have to hang around Max’s house for an hour, bored simply because he wanted me to be there “when he woke”? I grunted but joined the werewolf on the porch all the same.
His truck smelled like fast food fries and coffee, a combination that reminded me I hadn’t really eaten anything today. I’d only been able to stomach a quarter of a slice of toast before I’d given up and focused on the coffee.
Maybe I’d see about eating something at Max’s place. He probably had refreshments for his party. I could load up on hors d’oeuvres before he sent my stomach into a flutter with his sexy voice and thrilling fingers.
Ali Mac parked the truck in the cul-de-sac in front of Max’s house so he could see me inside himself. He took me down the one corridor I’d yet to visit. The open arch hid a set of stone triangular steps that wrapped down and around a corner. I followed behind him into the dimly lit space. My breath quickened in concern that we’d enter into a crypt with honest to Hera coffins.
The deeper we went, the cooler it grew, perhaps because we were beneath the surface. We passed several doors, one of which was made of glass and revealed the interior of a standard wine cellar, not at all crypt-like. Another sporting complex metal contraptions appeared to be the exercise room. Ali Mac knocked on the heavy wooden door set within the arched frame at the corridor’s end. Wrought iron candelabras flanked the entrance as if to mark it as important.
Ali Mac must have heard something. He twisted the doorknob and then motioned for me to go inside. “He’ll be right with you.”
I stood dumbly. The sun hadn’t set. How could Max be right with me? And where exactly was I?
At the werewolf’s impatient wave, I scurried through the arched door into a softly lit … bedroom. My mouth parted in surprise upon spotting the wooden framed bed with the rich tangerine waved canopy. The saffron comforter was wrinkled and turned down at one corner while the merlot pillows had an impression of a head. The whole place smelled of lavender, sand, cedar, and moss—of Max.
Through an open door the patter of water droplets against fiberglass implied the shower was going. Someone had neglected to tell me the all-important information that vampires could wake before the sun set.
I dropped into the merlot-colored armchair beside the door. The space was elegant while still managing to be masculine with its dark wood and heavy wrought iron wall hangings. On the wall to my right was a fresco of a Spanish street lit by a noontime sun. Ivy hung around it to give it a lifelike appearance.
“Hola. Rebecca.”
My attention snapped to the bathroom door where Max stood dripping fresh from his shower. A towel covered only enough to leave me wondering. I immediately remembered what had happened between us last night. A flush worked its way through my cheeks.
“I thought I’d be bored for an hour or so,” I said.
“Bored? With me?” Max chuckled softly. “I don’t think so.”
The wicked promise in his eyes had me stammering. “I m-meant I didn’t know you’d be awake.”
“Ah,” he said a little flatly while resuming patting his skin with the soft fabric. “The older we are, the earlier we wake.”
How old did that make him?
“Dr. Marino behaved himself?”
Max’s neutral question caught my attention. “He was his usual annoying self.”
“Good.”
He sauntered across the room with the towel swaying from side to side, offering a glimpse of what I’d seen once before. The vampire stopped in front of the chair. He took my hand with his free one, lifting me to my feet inches from his nearly nude frame. Curling the hand around my waist, he pulled me against him. One silent beat he stared into my eyes. Heat built between us.
Max released the towel and fisted the freed hand into my hair. I sighed in pure bliss as his lips set against mine and curved into a knowing smile. His tongue slipped into my mouth, swirling in that masterful way that made me weak. Faster than I could follow, he had me on the bed, his long body covering mine. My heart’s startled jump drew a groan from him.
He pulled his head up, giving me the full measure of his heated chocolate gaze. “Please. Rebecca. I can wait no longer.”
Now I understood why he’d wanted me here early. He’d wanted to demand this before his guests arrived.
My mind raced for a reason I should refuse him. There were plenty but none worth his ire. Instead I pushed my hand into his damp sable locks to bring his lips back to mine.
He groaned against my mouth. “Gracias a Dios.”
Though the evidence of his arousal already pressed on my belly, Max didn’t immediately strip me. He kissed me deeply, tongue swirling clear to my throat. It shouldn’t have been sexy, but Hera help me, it was.
His fingers danced up my thigh, playing with my thigh highs’ elastic band as he had last night. I writhed and whimpered at his cool, teasing touch. He muttered how much he liked the silky garments and how they’d stay on after he’d stripped me.
This was really going to happen.
My breath hitched. If he’d heard it, he ignored it. Max nudged my tank top’s strap aside so he could kiss my bare shoulder. His tongue passed over my skin. I arched into his mouth as his fingers scrabbled with the hook and zipper behind my waist.
He deposited kisses along my collarbone to my chest, skimming between my breasts on his way to my waistband. Quick efficiency was applied to the skirt’s removal. Max paused to gaze at me, grinning before he deposited a kiss just above the lacy line of my orange silk panties.
I let out a soft gasp as heat spilled down my stomach to meet his mouth. His nose nudged the tank top’s surged band as he laved his tongue over my belly. He paid close attention to my side, nibbling on the tender skin until I’d cried out. It was the foreplay for the foreplay.
Soon Max’s tongue dipped into my belly button. I whimpered because the heat he’d drawn had reached the throbbing stage. He needed to do something more before I went crazy.
The slow, delicious torture of Max’s trip up my torso had me writhing in need by the time his mouth closed over my left breast. Pure desire shot from my nipple down into my core. I cried out his name to the ceiling, digging my fingers into his shoulders.
The tank top was quickly tossed off as he lifted me to my knees so he could feast on my breasts. His stiff length rested against my silk panties.
“Querida, they’re beautiful,” he whispered while switching between each breast to offer adoring kisses.
I soon found myself rubbing against him without realizing what I was doing. And when I’d noted my wickedness, I increased the pressure rather than end it. Max groaned loudly, muttering a curse to his god as he did. His hand dropped. Teasing caresses feathered over my panties. Seconds later he delved his fingers into my passage, drawing a panting cry from our lips.
Max set me onto my back, tugging the slick silk over my legs in a frantic move. He dropped them beside the bed, and then paused. His breath caught as he stared down at me.
“Ay dios mio!” In English, he apologized for failing to give me longer than ten minutes of foreplay.
I understood the apology when his cool, rigid tip pushed against my slick folds. “¡Sí!” I cried out.
With a mighty groan he pushed forward, burying the cool length of himself to the hilt as he’d promised last night. His body shuddered with pleasure. Soft oaths crossed his lips before he captured my mouth with his.
I met his slow thrust, urging him faster. Something had to be done to soothe my throbbing need. We moved as one in increasing vigor. Our cries mingled within the stone room. The pace quickened until I could no longer meet it. I flopped back, content to let him take control, reveling in the shivers of desire that regularly shot over my body.
Our orgasms came swiftly, one right after the other. I went first,
exploding with desire and screaming so loudly I might have popped my eardrum—a marked change from yesterday’s soundless roar. Max gave voice to his desire as well, bellowing to his god as the spill of cold seed filled me. I shuddered once in distaste for the strange sensation before I pushed it down in favor of the wonderful calm that had come over my body.
Max lay with me for several minutes until my pulse eased. Then he drew us a bath in the marble tub in his attached bathroom. I settled into the hot water, letting it relax me as much as he had.
****
I should have argued harder that I could walk on my own. Max was having none of it. He’d cited my one stumble from the tub—something I’d assured him was caused by the puddle of water at the base—as the reason I must allow him to carry me to the festivities. If the looks on his guests’ faces were any indication, they knew exactly what we’d been doing prior to appearing.
I should have found a way to dry my hair and remove the wrinkles from my top. My hair looked silly damp without its usual gel. And it was proof I’d recently been wet. Max’s smug smile probably didn’t help. That expression made it easy for everyone to guess why he’d been delayed.
He set me on an open lounge chair beside his pool—the lounge chair beside Desmond. Max lingered for a sexy kiss that somehow managed to stoke the fire of arousal again despite what he’d done to me a half hour ago.
“Two hours at most, querida,” he said. “Then I’ll take you back to bed. I miss your warmth already.”
Searing embarrassment filled my cheeks. He’d said it in English, loud enough that everyone in the vicinity had heard him. I felt like a slut—worse, a vampire’s slut.
In Spanish I said, “You’re making a scene.”
His mouth spread into a bright smile. Mild surprise widened his eyes. He truly hadn’t realized I understood his language.
He replied in his native tongue. “So stop me.”
He knew I couldn’t. My lingering arousal faded in the face of his now knowing smile.
“I could hit you with a blast of Air and send you into your pool,” I said.
Max’s lips curved into his mischievous grin. “Do it and I’ll make you join me. Rebecca.” My name had a sexy accent when he spoke in his native tongue.
I turned my head away. He brushed against me, lips pulling at my neck. A spark of desire spiked from where they touched. Finally he sauntered jauntily down the lawn past the many small bonfires.
Oh Zeus, he could have bitten me! But he hadn’t. He hadn’t so much as grazed a fang over my skin. I’d been foolish not to worry.
I was too ashamed to look at anyone, so I stared at the crest on the pool’s floor. My body remained stiff in anticipation of the reaction around me. But the only reaction I got was Desmond standing from his lounge chair and fading into the shadows.
Nell found me ten minutes later. She was dressed in a cute, pale blue sundress that matched her eyes. Her long hair was back in a soft braid that made her look her youthful age. My employee dropped down into the lounge chair Desmond had vacated, crossing one espadrille sandal over the other.
“You look…” Her voice trailed off without finishing what I supposedly looked like. “Shit on a trailer hitch! You did it!”
I shot her a sharp look.
Thick wrinkles twisted her forehead. She gaped at me. My cheeks tripled in heat at the aghast expression.
I stood, hoping to avoid the many witnesses. I wasn’t going to argue with Nell in front of them. With feigned calm I made my way down the lawn. Nell followed me to a copse of trees that appeared to be guest-free.
“Yes,” I said once we’d stopped. “I did it. I’m sorry if you’re disappointed in me.”
She folded her arms. “Are you still insisting this is all because he has something of yours?”
I pressed my eyes shut because it pained me to answer the frosty question. “No. I did it because I wanted to.”
Nell pulled in a quick breath through her nose. “At least you’re not lying anymore.”
My shoulders slumped. “It started because he has something of mine. I wasn’t lying.”
She shook her head and then stalked across the grass. I sunk onto the glossy green surface, alone and surprisingly cold in the summer heat.
I didn’t understand myself. How could I feel so good with Max one moment and then ashamed in the next? Was I as bigoted as Desmond? Or was this because Max was supposedly the bad guy?
Across the torch light and fire glow, attendees mingled in their small groups. Summer rock songs spanning the decades echoed over the massive yard. Children played with balls and hoops while adults kept an eye on them with bottles of beer and hot dogs in hand. There were couples on blankets. Elderly in lawn chairs. And dogs chasing sticks.
It looked like a normal slice of Americana. And yet it wasn’t. These were the citizens of Wipuk, a hidden colony of witches, at a party thrown by a vampire.
Even though these people were the fringe of society, I didn’t fit in here. I was the fringe of the fringe. It hurt my heart to think of it.
My gaze passed over a face turned in my direction. I knew without focusing that it was Desmond. He stood within a group of males parallel. Two had their backs to me while one, a dark-haired hunk, also watched me. No doubt that was Eamonn Cary, the Dark witch high priest. The circle of women to their left might have been Eamonn’s harem for all I knew.
I made myself look away, spotting a pale blue sundress in the distance. A wide male soon eclipsed her. The dark, shoulder-length hair and leather jacket were details only Ali Mac could claim. Nell tried to dart away. One rapid arm caught her. And then he was bent over her. She squirmed and kicked for several seconds before going pliant in his arms. I knew exactly what that felt like.
As I watched them, Springsteen’s “Born in the USA” switched to Etta James. My spine went ramrod straight. “Sunday Kind of Love” was his song.
Moisture formed beneath my eyelids. I dashed my thumbs beneath my eyes, destroying the evidence of my emotion. If I didn’t get out of view soon, I’d burst into ridiculous tears in front of all these creatures.
I hopped to my feet, sprinting down the lawn past the happy witches. There were woods lining Max’s property to the west. The trees would dampen the sound. They had to. I only had to run far enough.
I shoved through the overgrowth, disappearing within seconds. Frantically I rushed from the audio torture. It was dark here where the torchlight and bonfires didn’t reach. But the music did.
Then the damn song repeated.
“Stop!” I dropped to my knees in the brush. “Please.”
The CD skipped. The music changed to the Mexican hat dance and then jumped to the song Max had sung to me in the cantina.
“Stop,” I said now that I knew he was truly here. “You made your point.”
“What point did I make?”
I lifted my head. Trip feigned a recline against one of the trees he couldn’t actually touch. Water mist coated the shimmering midnight blue shirt and black pants atop his honey-skinned slender build. That mist meant he was ensconced within the Spirit Realm. Dark blond hair hung to his shoulders in a grown-up surfer boy style. His eyes were hooded and hidden.
After three weeks, Trip had returned.
It had seemed like all eternity. I’d begun thinking he’d given up his obsession. How wrong I’d been.
“Kora.” His baritone voice went sharp. “What point did I make?”
“You’ve been watching?” My answer was uncertain because I wasn’t sure it was the truth. I’d gotten him in trouble. A punishment in Tartarus wasn’t something he’d easily forgive me for, even if it had been his own doing.
“I have.”
His lack of emotion was unsettling. He’d always been an open book. Trip’s expressions had been easier to read than a child’s. Maybe they still were. I couldn’t currently see them in the shadows the woods and his hair cast.
“Why didn’t you stop it?” I’d been wondering for weeks. �
��Was it because of your … punishment?”
“What are you asking, Kora?”
“Charon, take you, Trip!” I tossed up my arms. “You know exactly what I’m asking!”
He cocked his head, tone going snide. “I don’t want to get this wrong.”
“You’ve frightened everyone else away. Why not this one?”
“I tried,” he said with a haughty sniff.
“If you’d tried he wouldn’t have…” I couldn’t finish the sentence, turning my head to hide the flush in my cheeks.
“He wouldn’t have fucked you an hour ago?” My heart skipped at the bitterness in his voice. Trip took a menacing step forward. “Is that what you mean, Kora? Or should I say Rebecca?” He spoke the word exactly as Max had done countless times.
“Don’t call me that.” I jumped to my feet so I could put some power behind my demand. Portions of his features became visible.
“It’s your name.” His pointed, mauve lips adopted a sneer. “I have more of a right to call you that than he does considering I was nearby when you were given it. Is that what you meant? That if I’d frightened him away, it would have saved you from being fucked by a corpse?”
“Why are you here?”
Trip tossed his hair out of his face. His jaunty grin didn’t reach his hazel eyes. “You were depressed, alone, wondering why your life wasn’t as easy as theirs, wishing you could have an ordinary existence with ordinary things. It seemed like the best time to talk to you.”
I drew in a choked breath because that was exactly what I’d been thinking when I’d been huddled into myself on the grass, watching Wipuk’s citizens behave with seeming normalcy.
I made myself breathe. “The best time to talk or the best time to torment me?”
“Are they not the same thing?”
The typical answer should have made me irate. Instead, it was as if a weight had been lifted. I choked again.
No. It wasn’t possible. I was relieved he was here?
But I was. Against all reason, I’d missed my lifelong nemesis. I felt alone on Earth when he wasn’t around.
“Oh, Zeus,” I whispered and slumped back to my knees, desperately trying to hide the moisture in my eyes. “Why?” I moaned at the sky as if the king of the gods himself would send an answer.
