by Renee Rose
Her panic only fueled the boy’s and he freed one hand, which smacked her in the face. She caught his wrist again and pulled it to his waist. This situation was getting worse. First of all, if the other counselors showed up to help, she had Charlie’s presence to explain. Second, she didn’t trust him not to hurt the boy or cause trouble.
“I can calm him,” Charlie said, sounding annoyed.
“I just want you to get the fuck out!” she snarled.
Tommy thrashed about, her anger fueling his fit.
Charlie’s hand snapped out and wrapped a fist in her hair, pulling her head back. “Do not speak to me in that tone.”
Her eyes widened in fear.
“Apologize, or I will punish you right here in front of all these kids.”
The idea of him humiliating her in front of the children made her so furious her head nearly exploded. She glared daggers at him. “I hate you,” she said, shaking her head. “I really do.”
He hadn’t meant to make things worse. When he’d seen Sasha struggling with the boy, an irrational protective urge had surged, even though she had a handle on the situation. His fangs had lengthened for a fight and he had flashed immediately to her side.
Now, though, he had only succeeded in pissing her off. And he’d issued a threat, which meant he would have to follow through. Probably not his wisest move. “Now, Sasha,” he said, lifting his eyebrows in warning.
“Vampire, vampire, vampire,” the boy repeated, thrashing harder.
Sasha’s eyes flared and she shot a frightened look at him.
He must have seen the fangs. He crouched beside the boy, catching his face to hold him still and capture his gaze. He sent messages of calm and erased the idea that he was a vampire.
The boy sagged in Sasha’s grasp, as if exhausted by his fit.
Sasha glared at him. “Get. Out.”
“Apologize.”
“Apologize,” the boy repeated.
“Fine. I’m sorry. Now will you leave?”
He looked at her for a moment. This had not gone the way he had hoped. He dematerialized, tracing to The Black Cat, a bar on Congress Street, owned by a werewolf named Garrett. The seedier paranormals hung out there during the week. On weekends, it was packed with twenty-something humans in skimpy clothes dancing to live music. A trio of decent vampires owned and managed a different nightclub down the street, but ironically, they didn’t love the paranormals hanging around, catering to an upscale mortal crowd. The Black Cat served as home base to more unsavory types. Like him.
He ordered a Stoli and Seven and sat down on a bar stool. A group of vampires played pool in the back, but he ignored them. They weren’t friendly to anyone who didn’t live in their nest, and he preferred to be alone, anyway. Still, he chose The Black Cat because there was a certain comfort in hanging with other creatures of the night. No need to explain his presence or intentions at The Black Cat, no one asked questions there.
Therese, the bartender, slid the drink across the counter. She was mortal, but seemed attracted to his kind, not that she knew what they were. The goth crowd had an affinity to vampires whether they recognized them or not. The vampires at the pool table were regulars here, and even though they didn’t work for Garrett—only his own pack members served as bouncers—they protected the place. He had seen them carry trouble-makers out the back door, probably draining any who gave too much of a fight.
“How’s it going?” Therese purred, leaning over the bar to give him a full display of her ample cleavage.
“Well.”
“Well, what?”
“It’s going well. How are things here?” The small talk bored him, as did Therese’s attempt to flirt.
She squeezed against the sides of her breasts with her upper arms so they moved together and forward, like an offering.
Unbidden, the image of Sasha’s lovely pair rose in his mind, and he remembered the pleasure of flustering her when he sliced off her bra with his teeth. He planned to do so much more to her. In truth, he could hardly wait to do all the things he imagined. Training her to be his—
But no.
He stopped himself. He wasn’t training her to be his, he was using her to free himself of the curse. Period. End of story. He did not need to get involved with another fae in any sort of romantic fashion. Already she had dredged up emotions he’d forgotten existed. Like guilt for what had just transpired.
He stayed at the bar until midnight, when he walked out and traced to Sasha’s workplace. His little mortal had already exited, walking down the sidewalk with small, tight strides.
“Where’s the bubble?” he drawled from behind her.
She picked up her pace, he presumed to show him how pissed off he’d made her.
“I don’t think I like you walking home alone at night. Do you always use the bubble or just when you see vampires?”
She didn’t answer.
“I caution you not to use that bubble around vampires unless you really have to. You don’t want someone less savory than I taking an interest in you.”
“Oh I doubt there are vampires less savory than you,” she muttered, not turning to look at him as she continued to stomp on toward her place.
“There are,” he said, thinking of the crowd at the bar and knowing how quick they’d be to take her life. “And they would drain you, Sasha, the moment they saw your power.”
“Okay, thanks for the warning,” she called out with exaggerated disinterest. She continued marching on, not speaking. When she reached her doorway, she said, “You are not invited in,” as she swung the door open, watching him intently. “You are uninvited,” she repeated, as if testing for the right combination of words.
Either phrase did the job. He hissed, hitting an invisible barrier.
She grinned, looking delighted her tactical move had worked and slammed the door in his face.
He immediately began to pound on the door. When she didn’t respond, he pounded louder until her neighbor’s door opened. “What the hell is—” he caught her eye and sent her back into her place, planting the suggestion that all sounds from Sasha’s place be blocked and she forget seeing him. She toddled back into her apartment and he resumed the pounding.
“Knock it off or I’ll call the cops,” she called through the door.
“What do you think they’ll do?” he demanded, still banging his fist on her door. He imagined her considering and realizing no police force could do anything to him.
“Shall I start busting in your windows?”
She threw the door open. “Won’t that be inconvenient for sleeping during the day?”
He knew she’d already admitted defeat, at least to herself.
“Why don’t you go away?”
“Invite me in. Now, Sasha.”
She gave a huff. He knew she had no legs to stand on and her delay was just a show of pride. “Fine, come in,” she snapped.
He traced past her, snatching her up by the waist and hoisting her off the floor as he shut the door. She kicked her legs, thrashing and beating him with her fists. “Let. Go. Of me!”
“Do not lock me out,” he said, genuinely irritated.
She must have realized he meant business because her tone changed. “Wait. Stop,” she wheedled. “I’m sorry. Please calm down. I won’t. I won’t do it again, I promise!”
He touched his fangs with the tip of his tongue but they had not lengthened. Her fear must have been simply from his expression. He drew in a deep satisfied breath, savoring the scent of fear. Not quite as delicious as the smell of arousal, fear stimulating a different, more dangerous side of his animal nature. Still pleasant and invigorating, nonetheless. All his irritation drained, knowing he had the upper hand once more.
He plopped on the couch and pulled her onto his lap, straddling him, his hands cupping her ass. “That was a very nice apology,” he said smoothly. “I love the sound of desperation in your voice. But do you really think it’s going to get you out of punishment?”
“I’m not sure. You look as if you might enjoy that.”
She slapped his arm. “I would not!” she said with real passion, the passion that goes with “the lady doth protest too much.”
He lifted her off his lap, standing her in front of him. “Pull down your pants.”
She glared at him, sucking at her bottom lip, her face flushing.
He expected her resistance, but when he saw the sheen of angry tears, he softened. Remembering the initial cause of her anger and his guilt, he offered, “I wouldn’t really punish you in front of the kids. Did you think I meant it?”
Her face crumpled and she turned to dart away.
He caught her around the waist and hauled her back to his lap.
She shook, squeezing her lips together as if trying to hold back her tears. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest, slumping back on the couch so she lay nested against him.
“And did you think I would hurt the little boy?” he asked rhetorically. “Really, I think a bit more trust is in order. I am a vampire, but I was human once. I would not harm the innocent.”
She’d pulled herself together, her breath calming, her war with the tears won. She lifted her head and peered at him. “Your fangs were out,” she said accusingly.
He remembered the moment, his instinctual reaction to seeing her in harm’s way. “For a moment, I thought you were in danger.”
She stared, her eyes rounding. “From a little boy?”
He gave a quick shake of his head. “Illogical, I know. I just saw you in a tussle when I walked in, and I had the urge to protect. But they only came out a little. It’s when they are fully elongated and I’m angry you must be very cautious.”
“You...you had an urge to protect?”
“Odd, isn’t it? Goes against my vampire nature to look out for anyone but myself.” He grinned. “I must be quite confident you can truly cure me of my curse.”
The way her gold-flecked eyes traveled over his face with curiosity told him she didn’t quite buy his deflection. He would have to guard his feelings from the little fairy.
“I got moved to day shift.”
“You see? I’m not all bad.”
“Yeah,” she said, her eyes focusing on his lips. “Thanks for making that happen.” To his utter shock, she lowered her head and kissed him.
He surged into action, cupping her face, holding her in place to return the gesture. His tongue licked into her mouth, teased her lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck and thrust her own tongue into his mouth just as his fangs lengthened with arousal. She yanked away from him with a gasp of pain, her tongue sliced on a sharp tooth.
The smell of blood made his fangs punch out. He grasped her head to pull her face back down to his mouth, but she tried to yank back.
She made a screaming sound in her throat, pushing her hands against his chest as he sucked her tongue into his mouth, sealing the cut and promoting its quick healing.
He released her and she scrambled back from him, her face pale and terrorized.
“I was sealing the cut,” he said keeping his tone reasonable, although her lack of trust was beginning to irritate him.
When did he become so sensitive?
“My saliva has quick-healing and analgesic properties.”
She continued to back away, her expression changing from fearful to angry. “Just stay away from me,” she snapped.
The vampire looked annoyed, his brows lowering as he stood up and stalked to the kitchen.
She hadn’t meant to act so bitchy, but she had a genuine fear of his fangs and getting sucked dry.
Opening the fridge, he said, “Why don’t you have any food here? What do you eat?”
“Well, sorry. I didn’t know his royal highness would be requiring food. Maybe you’d like to pitch in for groceries.”
He glowered. “Is that why you don’t have food?”
She shrugged.
“Is it?” he demanded.
“That and I don’t have a car, so I don’t buy a lot of food at one time.”
He rolled his eyes and vanished.
She blinked at where he’d stood, doubting she would ever get used to him disappearing and appearing like that. Oddly, she felt abandoned. But that was stupid. Good riddance was more like it.
She wondered if he’d come back that night. Rummaging through the kitchen herself, she did hope he’d bring food for her, too. But surely that was too much to hope for. He’d made it plain he looked out for no one but himself.
She tried to stay pissed off, but kept coming back to one thing: he’d been protective of her with Tommy. Maybe it was just because he needed her. He’d certainly tried to play it off that way. But there was no denying their chemistry. Damn, everything about the sexy vampire turned her on, even when he acted like a jackass.
Or was it especially when he acted like a jackass? Because as infuriating as she found him, she knew some part of her didn’t want him to ever stop.
But that was messed up.
She needed to steel herself against his charm, because she was in way over her head. She didn’t even know if he planned to kill or turn her. She didn’t know if he’d take any compunction in forcing her to do whatever he wanted—lick his boots, serve as his sex slave...damn. Why did that turn her on?
She flipped on the tv, waiting, she supposed, although she had no clue if he would even return.
An hour later, a car pulled up and parked outside her duplex. Not able to look out the window, she opened the door a crack and peeked outside.
No. Way.
Charlie walked up the sidewalk carrying at least four bags of groceries, maybe more. She threw the door wide and ran out in her bare feet to meet him. “Let me take some of those,” she offered.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, craning his neck around the pile of bags to look at her with amusement.
“Oh so now you’re chivalrous?” When he didn’t answer, she asked, “Are there more?”
“Yes, but I will get them. You may put things away.”
She bristled at the dictatorial tone, but then, she ought to be used to it by now. She peered into the first bag he set down and grew excited.
It was silly—she hadn’t been starving. But she had been living on a shoestring ever since she’d moved to Tucson to attend the University of Arizona to get her teaching degree. By the time she’d graduated, budget cuts had reduced teaching staff across all the districts and she couldn’t find work, so she’d taken the job at the center. It didn’t pay much more than minimum wage, but she was using her degree, and eventually it would help her find a teaching position.
But she hadn’t had money to splurge on all the things he’d bought: steak, shrimp, scallops. The most expensive brand of ice cream. Organic produce and imported crackers. Fine wine. European cheeses. She almost felt giddy about it.
He’d bought food from the deli, too, containers with shepherd’s pie, Greek salad and sweet potato french fries. Despite the imperious act, he pitched in with efficient ease when he arrived, taking over the arranging of food in her refrigerator, opening the deli containers and setting plates out on the table.
“Thank you,” she said, slightly ashamed for her earlier demand that he contribute. She hoped they weren’t taking turns with groceries, because she couldn’t afford half of what he’d bought. She grabbed two forks and sat down across from him, stealing peeks at his beautiful face, the way his canines extended just a little farther than a mortal’s, even when retracted. Why did she find that so appealing—especially when she feared them? Or was it because she feared them?
She wolfed the food down and he raised an eyebrow when she cleaned her plate within just a few minutes.
“Do you want more? By all means,” he said, gesturing with his fork toward the deli containers.
“No, thank you.”
“Go on, you ate
like you were half-starved. I wouldn’t mind seeing a little more meat on your bones, too.”
“I’m not eating to suit your predilections about my body,” she snapped, standing up and carrying her plate to the sink. But then she saw the Belgian chocolate shortbread cookies on the counter. Softening her tone, she said, “May I try one of those cookies?”
“Help yourself,” he said. “The food is for you.” As she ripped open the package, he asked, “Do you start day shift tomorrow?”
“No, I get a day off.”
“What is your new schedule?”
“I work eight to five, like a normal person.”
He made a sound of disapproval. “Of course now you’ll want to sleep at night. I might have to make you quit that job.”
She froze. “No,” she said in the hardest tone she could manage.
He looked over at her thoughtfully. “Do you love it?”
She cocked her head, considering. “I love parts of it. I hate parts of it. But those kids need me. I couldn’t quit. I would drive a stake through your heart before I left that job.”
He turned back to his plate. “That’s a pretty cavalier way to talk about ending my life,” he observed. “Would you kill anyone who interfered with your career?”
“Well no, but—”
He turned back. “But what?”
She swallowed.
“But I’m a vampire, so my life doesn’t count?”
She got busy with the cookie packaging, not looking up.
“I see,” he said drily.
She picked up a cookie and licked the chocolate top, closing her eyes to savor the rich treat. When she opened her eyes, she realized Charlie was still watching her. Her face flushed.
“That is disgusting,” he said.
She tried to think of a response to hurl back at him.
“And rather cute.”
Something in the center of her chest turned gooey and she bit back a giggle. Were they flirting? “Thanks again for buying groceries,” she said softly, giving the cookie another lick.
He smirked. “Well, you’ll need them so you can cook for me.”
“I don’t really know how to cook,” she informed him.
