by Renee Rose
She didn’t feel as shy this time walking into her room dressed only in the towel. Charlie had fallen back into a deep sleep, judging from the sounds of his breathing. She looked at him, a wave of déjà vu coming over her, as if she’d known him forever, but had just forgotten until now. She shrugged it off and changed.
In the kitchen, she took out the eighteen-pack of cage-free eggs, nitrate-free bacon and organic spinach and made herself an omelet. Breakfast was the one meal she knew how to cook. It was her favorite meal of the day. She made one for Charlie, and then decided to make pancakes, as well, since she found he’d bought real maple syrup. She even beat homemade whipped cream to go on top, and placed berries around the edge of the plate. She covered both plates with plastic wrap—he’d bought the new expensive kind with sticky sides to guarantee it stayed on—and placed them in the fridge.
She left a note in case he was up before she returned home.
Charlie—
I didn’t know what you’d like for breakfast, so I made you an omelet and pancakes. They’re both in the fridge.
XXOO,
Your slave-fairy
She smiled, titillated by the idea of being his slave-fairy. In play, that is. And she was beginning to understand that it was just a game to him. They were flirting. He threatened. She sassed. The consequences were mild. Otherwise he already would have hurt her or forced her to do things she didn’t want to. So far, she found his form of punishment as arousing as he did, even though the humiliation of it infuriated her in the moment.
And she’d liked the way he told her to be home by two. Like a Daddy who set her curfew. And she liked the way he pulled down her panties to spank her. Oh God, she was wet again.
She put on a floppy hat and grabbed her gardening gloves. Carefully closing her bedroom door completely to block it from the light, she opened the front door only enough to slip through, closing it tightly behind her.
She returned to the familiar peace she always found when working with nature. Even in the heat of the Tucson fall, she craved the smell of the earth, the feel of the plants between her fingers.
Her fig tree had dozens of small fruit buds and the basil had grown bush-like, the tops of the stalks beginning to flower and go to seed. She pulled weeds and cut some of the giant sunflowers ready for harvest.
After an hour or two, her neighbor, Jane, came outside and sat on her porch, lighting up a cigarette. The two often passed time this way, having become friends since she moved in.
“What’s with the boarded up windows?” Jane asked.
“Oh. Um...I just got a little nervous about security. You know, being on the ground floor and all.”
“Yeah,” Jane said thoughtfully. “Seems like I saw a guy hanging around your door, but now I can’t quite remember...Are you having trouble with someone? Like an ex?”
“Yeah, kind of. I guess so,” she said, wanting to slap her own forehead for stupidity.
“Well, what’s the deal?”
“Um. You remember Wilson, my ex-boyfriend?” she improvised, going with Jane’s suggestion.
“Yeah.”
“Well, he’s been bugging me lately, and I just don’t want him showing up…” She trailed off at her lame story.
“Didn’t he break up with you?”
Annoyed, she blew her hair out of her face. “Well, no. He was cheating. Or—he refused to commit. He wanted an ‘open relationship’. I wasn’t into it.” She really wished she’d made up a fake would-be molester. Wilson had been a pathetic excuse for a boyfriend, and now, comparing him with Charlie’s powerful presence, he seemed downright remedial as a human being.
“Wait, so why do you think he’s going to try to break into your house?”
She drew a breath. She was quite possibly the world’s worst liar. Good thing she didn’t work as a spy for a living. “He just seemed kinda pissed off. I don’t want him to show up and slash my couch or something.”
Jane stubbed out her cigarette and blew smoke out of her lungs. “Right,” she said, looking at Sasha as if she had lost her mind. “I’ll keep my eyes open and let you know if I see him around, okay?”
“He’s mad because I’m dating someone new,” she blurted.
“Ooh, really?”
“Uh huh. His name is Charlie. You might have seen him around—blond hair, kinda scruffy, pierced eyebrow.” Hot body. Long fangs. Sexy as hell. She felt the phantom pressing of his bulge between her legs again.
“Oh yeah? That’s awesome. Stop by and introduce him sometime, okay?” she said, standing up.
“Yeah, I will. See you later.”
She glanced at her watch. Two hours had passed and it was almost two. She brushed off the dirt and went to the door, hesitating before she opened it. What if he’d already woken and sat in the kitchen? He’d be killed. No wonder he had hypnotized her the day before, his very life was at stake. No pun intended.
Lifting her fist, she knocked on the door and pressed her ear to the wood to listen for movement. Good thing Jane wasn’t still outside, or she would really look crazy.
“Wait,” she heard Charlie call out and she sighed with relief at her foresight. “Count to ten first and then open,” he said from the other side of the door.
She followed his instructions and opened the door cautiously, shutting and locking it behind her. “All clear,” she yelled.
Her bedroom door opened and...damn. Her vampire looked sexy walking toward her in nothing but his jeans, his naked torso spectacular, hair still rumpled from sleep.
“Thanks for the breakfast, love,” he said, grasping her nape and stooping to kiss the top of her head as he passed by.
She stood rooted to the spot, wondering why her heart beat so erratically. “Which did you eat?” she managed to ask after a moment.
“Both,” he grinned, sitting down at the table where both plates sat in front of him. He took a bite of pancake. “And I love this whipped cream,” he said, his mouth full.
She had a moment of pure skin-flick fantasy, imagining him smearing her body with it and licking it off. But no, with him, it would more likely to be whips and chains.
“You’re staring at me,” he said, without turning to look.
“What are we doing today, boss?”
He turned, his lips stretching into a broad smile, teeth gleaming. “You’ve finally figured out who’s in charge around here.”
She didn’t mean to grin like an idiot, but she’d felt all warm and gushy toward him, ever since their interlude that morning. The compassion he’d shown when she’d lost it and teared up proved it was all a game to him. He really did expect her to remove the curse, but he wouldn’t hurt her. And he wanted her. And now that she no longer feared for her life, she found the vampire irresistible. It wasn’t like her to fall hard for a guy—in fact, she never had before. But this one...he did something undeniable to her, turning her insides to hot liquid with a single flick of his eyebrow. She would have to work hard to keep up her resistance toward him or he would have her crawling on her knees for him without any pride at all.
To that end, she balled up a napkin and hurled it at him.
He caught it easily, his hand moving so fast she missed the motion. “That’s another thing...I require tidier surroundings.”
She looked around. Her place wasn’t dirty, but she had a fair amount of clutter lying on coffee tables or counters. “I can’t cook, clean and study to do magic. Maybe you could try doing something useful during all those night hours when I’m asleep.”
He threw the napkin back at her, hitting her in the face. The sound of the doorbell caused him to dematerialize, and this time she saw it happen. It appeared like he pixelated out, breaking into millions of tiny atoms before they vanished. He reappeared in the doorway to her bedroom, where he shut the door.
She answered the bell to find the mailman had left a bundle too big to fit in her mailbox. The books! She bent to pick up the package and letters and shut the door.
“Come out
, come out, wherever you are!” she called out.
Charlie materialized directly behind her, one hand cupping her breast and the other between her legs. He pulled her against him as she screamed and tried to leap away. “Did your package come?”
She jerked at the feel of his firm fingers against her sensitive cleft. “Get away from me, vampire,” she cried, wrestling free and staggering back, feigning indignation as her pussy thrummed, hungry for more.
Chapter Four
He loved flustering Sasha, the color splashing across her cheeks, her eyes flashing. Adorable.
“Open it,” he directed, ignoring her snit.
She seemed happy to change focus, eagerly picking up the box and carrying it to the kitchen, where she sliced it open with a knife. “Wait…” she said, holding up a plastic bag containing a black corset/panty set and package of thigh-high stockings. “What are these?”
He smirked. “I happen to be fond of old-fashioned underwear.”
She threw him a condemning look. “I hope these are for you to wear.”
He made a show of sweeping his eyes up and down her body. “They’re for me, but I won’t be wearing them. But don’t worry—I won’t force,” he said, making his tone smooth like honey. “You’ll put them on because you want to please me.”
She tossed them at him. “Fat chance!”
He caught the hurled items and opened the bag containing the corset, holding it up in her direction with a critical eye.
“Stop it.”
He flashed to stand in front of her, taking her chin in his hand. “Young lady, if you do not wish me to strip your clothing privileges again, you’ll mind your tone when you speak to me.” He sensed heat coming off her in waves, a heady sensation on his cool skin. His fangs began to elongate and he closed his eyes, willing himself think of something besides tying her up and making her come until she wept.
Instead of pulling away, she stepped closer, causing his eyes to fly open. She lifted her face and he could hardly deny what she asked for. Wrapping his hand around the back of her head, he kissed her, his lips twisting over hers, his tongue licking into her mouth.
He caught himself before moaning her name, his desire mounting at the taste of her, the sensuous pleasure of contact. He reached for the hem of her shirt and began to pull it up, but she jerked away, yanking it back down.
“Stop,” she said, breathless. “I...I’m not ready for that.”
He rolled his eyes, not bothering to remind her he’d already seen her magnificent tits the day before. Still, she’d been right to stop him—what the hell had he been attempting? Did he think tumbling her would help alleviate his mounting lust? It would only make it worse, and then he would be blood-starved and blue-balled, which would equal one extremely crabby vampire. And they had real work to do here.
He picked her up by the waist and carried her to a chair at the kitchen table, plunking her down and shoving the box of books at her. “Get busy learning magic, little fairy.”
She tipped the box and peered inside. Pulling a suede flogger out of the box, she looked at it critically.
“Ah yes, that one is for me. To use on you, of course.”
She lifted it to throw at him, but seemed to reconsider, perhaps frightened he’d use it on her. Tossing the flogger back in the box, she changed the subject. “Which book should I start with?”
He shrugged. “You’re the fairy Call it to you.”
Her jaw went slack. “How, exactly, do I do that?”
He didn’t answer, but returned her gaze steadily, daring her to try it. He didn’t know how fairies or witches did what they did, but he’d spent enough time around Anka to know it was what she would have done.
She turned slowly back to the box and peered inside. A glow came around one of the books.
“There! Do you see it?” he asked, pointing.
She whipped her head around to look at him, confusion on her face. She looked back to the box and stared at it. The book remained lit up from his view. He supposed as an immortal, he had the capability of seeing things ordinary humans did not. Like the bubble of protection she’d used when he first saw her.
After a long moment, she picked out the glowing one and held it up. “This one?” she asked doubtfully.
He smiled so widely his cheeks stretched, a surge of—was it pride?— running through him. “Brilliant girl. Clever little fairy,” he praised, practically gushing with enthusiasm. “I knew you’d be a quick study. You read the book, I’ll tidy up around here.” When her eyes widened, he added sternly, “Just this once. I shall expect you to keep a neater house going forward.”
She stuck her tongue out at him and turned to the book, opening it with a look of wonder on her lovely face.
He arranged her clutter into neat piles and began to make dinner. Despite his edict that she cook, he actually enjoyed preparing food. Some vampires chose not to eat at all, preferring to take all their sustenance from blood. He loved food, the years he’d spent in France providing him with a discerning palate.
He’d met Anka in Paris, where she owned a bordello. The raven-haired madame had seemed as immortal as he, her witchcraft giving her the appearance of eternal youth. She had flawless olive skin, almond-shaped black eyes with thick, curling lashes.
Born to a Romani mother, she’d had a French father, so while she’d inherited the gift of sight and healing from her mother, the tribe had found her lacking the Romani spirit and had declared her Gadjo at age fourteen. Sent away, she’d found her way to Paris to make her living first as a prostitute and later as the proprietor of one of the most expensive brothels in the city.
Thinking of her now did not make him angry as it usually did. He almost pitied her. Alone, with no one to help her, she’d had to use every bit of magic, every manipulation she knew to get ahead. Using him had been out of habit. The fact that she cursed him showed she had truly cared. Else she never would’ve minded his finally walking away. He opened the refrigerator and took out the steak to marinate. He also grabbed a few potatoes and set them to boil. He had a hankering for twice-baked.
He hadn’t thought as much about Anka as he had in the last two days for a very long time. The possibility of ridding himself of her curse brought the memories of her to the forefront of his consciousness.
As he worked on the food preparation, he caught Sasha stealing looks at him from under her lashes. She appeared to have a mystical intelligence, as if she saw beyond his self-centered vampiric existence straight into his heart, where she sifted through his loose morals to determine whether he had anything left to redeem. An old soul, it would seem. Descended from the fae.
He had to admit parts of him he’d presumed dead had come to life in the past two days. Something about his little fairy soothed his spirit, made him feel human again.
Her cell phone rang and she picked it up. “Hey, girl, what’s up?” She looked over at him. “Tonight? I can’t…” She twirled a piece of hair between her fingers and looked at him again before walking toward her room. “I met a guy,” she said in an undertone.
He smiled, glad for his heightened sense of hearing, because this was one conversation he did not want to miss.
“Yeah, well...I met him at work...sort of. And we’ve just been...hanging out for the past couple days…Charlie. Yeah. I don’t know,” she said with the suggestive lilt to her voice that teenage girls use when telling secrets.
Something in him turned warm and sugary. He loved hearing her talk about him as if he were a love interest. Her innocence shone through in the conversation and it brought out a protective instinct in him. He’d had no intention of developing a relationship with Sasha, but the idea of her wanting one somehow changed things.
He doused the steaks with balsamic vinegar and olive oil, onion powder, salt, and pepper. He wrapped strips of bacon around the edges and fixed them in place with toothpicks, then returned them to the refrigerator.
Sasha emerged from the bedroom.
“If you wo
rk very hard, I might let you go out with your friends.”
“Shut up, vampire,” she said, but she wore a flirtatious smile.
“Are you going to introduce me to them?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“Why you want to meet them.”
“I’m going to kidnap them and keep them as blood slaves until you free me of the curse.”
She snorted, but darted a glance at him, as if checking to make sure he was joking.
“Nah, that’s only if you haven’t figured it out by Tuesday.”
“I don’t perform well under pressure.”
“I don’t believe that.” He scooped out the insides of the cooled potatoes and mixed them with butter, cheese and chives, popping them into the oven, along with the steaks which he planned to top with blue cheese during the last few minutes of baking.
Sasha walked up behind him and he found himself longing for her to touch him of her own accord. Instead, she said, “What can I help with?”
“You could work on making a salad.”
He moved out of her way and she took the salad fixings out of the refrigerator.
“So how did you become a vampire?” she asked as she began chopping fresh vegetables.
He folded his arms across his chest, leaning back against the cabinets and watching her work. “I was the carriage driver and groom for the Duke of Lynton. His wife, the duchess, had a penchant for being bent over the hitching post and taken roughly from behind.”
Sasha stopped and stared at him, a mixture of fascination and shock on her face. “By you, you mean?”
“Yes, although I imagine I wasn’t the first groom she’d recruited for her recreation. The night I was turned, I’d just driven her to London and had thrown up her skirts in the stables when the Duke found us and shot me.”
Her eyes rounded, the knife suspended in mid-air.
“I managed to stumble out onto the streets of London. He let me go—I imagine he didn’t think I’d get very far, but I must have walked a few blocks before I collapsed. And then a beautiful woman lifted me into her arms as if I weighed no more than a child, and she carried me to her apartment. She asked if I wanted to die, or if I preferred eternal life. I chose eternal life,” he said with a broad grin.
