by Rena Marks
He was a pain in my ass. His vanity was incredible, and he had nothing to be vain about. His hair should have been brown but the shades varied during the month. He started the month with a fresh dye job and it was a few shades darker than normal, nearly black. It slowly faded during the month to a reddish color before he dyed it again. He wore thick, coke-bottle glasses and a mustache that hung in waxed handlebars down the sides of his mouth.
His weight also fluctuated greatly. A lot of the time he was on a liquid diet and was rail thin. Then the man would lose all control, ignore the diet and blow up a good fifty pounds before the vicious cycle started again. He was in his thin mode right now.
“I think bite marks on your neck would be a good indication of whether or not you’ve gone vampire.” He deliberately tried to look down my blouse.
I remained calm, refusing to act childishly and rise to his bait. “I think a better indication would be my funeral procession followed by my rise shortly thereafter.”
“Maybe we should behead or stake you to make sure you don’t rise.”
“Please take your seats.”
Mayor Barbara Flagstaff spoke to both of us but looked directly at Glenn. I allowed myself a smirk as an unbecoming shade of murky red colored his cheeks. He sat.
Councilmember Glenn Grove was a woman hater. Everyone knew it and everyone wondered why his own wife put up with him. And, it absolutely burned his butt to have to concede to our female mayor. Barbara Flagstaff tended to favor me. She was a fair person, had known my politician parents and welcomed another woman to the council. If she had her way she’d get rid of Councilman Grove, but his position was elected and not appointed.
“First up on the agenda is whether or not to allow a bar and grill type establishment known as Bang’s to continue to run its business. Arguments for the position are that we don’t want to attract this kind of nightlife attention to our city. Arguments against claim that diversity is needed within our city…”
Barbara’s voice droned on, bored. We’d heard this argument every time it was allowed to be brought up, about every three months or so. I scribbled on a notepad near my fingers. This was the usual argument against Bang’s, nothing new. As usual, I would veto it.
“As you all know, this bill needs a unanimous vote in order to pass. All in favor of the bill?”
A few hands went up.
“All against?”
My hand rose. There was a collective groan across the table. I sighed.
“Did you really expect anything different this month?” I asked no one in particular.
“Especially from coffin-bait,” someone muttered.
I was sure it was Grove.
“May I remind each and every council member that we are televised and professionalism must be observed at all times?” The mayor’s voice rang sharply.
There was no response. No one would confess to the statement.
I smiled, my chin up. “My vote stands.”
“Then with seven ayes and one no, the measure once again doesn’t pass. Next point of business will be the allowance of a new development to the city…”
Three hours later we finally stood to leave. It was late, and I thought about driving to the gym to finish paperwork. But, all the antagonism in the board meeting exhausted me. It would take all my energy just to get home and drag my tired body straight to bed.
It had been light earlier when I parked my car across the parking lot. Now it wasn't. It was eerily silent outside. Clumsy fingers fumbled with my car key as I tried to find the unlock button on the remote. Instead I dropped the damned set and had to bend over to retrieve them.
A booted foot stood in my line of vision, so I slowly straightened.
“Why do you persist on vetoing my bill every time it’s brought up?” Councilman Grove asked me, his piggish eyes boring into mine.
“Why do you persist in bringing up a bill like that?”
“What’s it to you, Councilwoman?”
“Because a few decades ago it would have been black and white segregation, Councilmember. I would have vetoed it then. And I’ll veto this now.”
“I’ll be honest with you. There’s an organization out there that believes in segregation. And before you look down your nose at me, think about it. We’re their food.”
“What’s your organization? Ku Klux Klan?”
“Dammit, woman! Where’s your brain? Think about it. Us versus them. They have unlimited strength and we’re the bottom of the food chain. They can hypnotize us into believing we enjoy helping them, which is exactly where you are now.”
“This argument is pointless. You’re so paranoid you’re beyond reason. I really need to go home and get to bed.”
I had a small headache beginning to pound from mentally bashing my head against a brick wall.
Grove grabbed my upper arm.
“Take your hand off me,” I demanded.
He opened his mouth to speak. Words never made it out.
I panic when I’m grabbed. Before I realized what had happened, Councilmember Grove was hunched over his groin on the sidewalk and my knee ached from the connection.
I left him there, rolling on the ground. I climbed into my car and drove home where I could ice my knee.
When I arrived there, I locked my door behind me. That’s when I felt it. The best way to describe it is something watching me. The very air around me stilled and my senses prickled with awareness. An awareness that left me feeling naked and exposed.
I’d had these feelings as long as I could remember. I had no idea who or what watched me, whether it was good or evil. I can’t imagine it was good, because I could remember being watched once while I took a beating, and no fairy godmother intervened.
And there was no intervening this time. I cocked my head to the side as if I could hear something I could not see. I waited for something to show itself. It didn’t.
It never did.
Chapter Two
Sundays were errand days. I slept late and then cleaned my house. The whole thing, top to bottom. By the time I finished, it was starting to get dark. So I thought I’d take a long, luxurious bath with a nice wine as a treat, candles lit around the tub and some Barry White playing. No, make that Lloyd Weber. The haunting piano tones sent shivers down my back. The only problem was having to run out for the wine.
At least the liquor store was nearby. In fact, it was located in the same strip mall as my gym and the vampire bar.
Once there, I headed straight for the wine section. I began to grab my usual but then paused. Maybe I should try something new. Be adventurous.
“How are you, Anjelia?” Julian Bax stood next to me, as sexy as always in black slacks and a black shirt, the collar dipping low enough to show his exposed pale throat.
I nearly groaned. I was wearing old denim shorts and a ratty t-shirt with my hair in a messy ponytail. I felt dusty and dirty while he was immaculate. Better than immaculate, he exuded prime sex appeal with the whispered promise of complete and utterly incredible orgasms.
“I’m fine. Yourself?”
“Good. What are your plans this evening?”
“I thought I’d sit at home in a long bath, decided I needed wine and wanted to experiment with new ones.”
A little too much information, but I felt I had to explain all three bottles in my arms. I was intensely aware of the need to tug my shorts further down my legs now that my arms were otherwise occupied.
“This one is good. I’d replace this though.”
“With what? I’m a creature of habit. I always purchase old faithful here.” I gestured to the third bottle in my arms.
“Let me.” He stepped in close enough to kiss me, but didn’t. Instead he took two of the bottles, placed one back on the shelf and kept one. Then he reached for another. “Try this also. I think you’ll like it.”
I nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”
“Shall I carry them to the counter for you?”
“Please.”
&nb
sp; He was still close as we walked to the counter and set down our bounty. “Just put them on my account,” Julian told the store clerk.
“Julian!” I protested.
“Anjelia. I know what you’re going to say and I already compromised with you once this week. I let you buy your own lunch.”
The clerk laughed as he bagged the wines. Julian grabbed the paper sacks and walked me out to the car.
“Julian, since you paid for my wine, the least I can do is invite you over for a glass.” Was that my voice I heard? I could hardly tell as my eyes gazed into the velvety darkness of his. All I know is I felt incredible sexy and sultry, as though I could tempt him if I exerted the smallest effort. I caught myself finally and looked away, afraid to stare directly at the vampire. Afraid of possible mesmerization, because maybe Grove was getting to me after all.
“Are you inviting me because you’d like my company or because I bought them?”
“Because you bought them.”
“I’d love a glass.”
Vampires never let opportunity pass them by.
We drove to my place. I live in a modest little Victorian-style house, a buttery yellow with white trim. It has a wraparound porch surrounding the bay window that looks into my living room. I unlocked the front door and Julian waited on the porch. I’d expected him to follow me in and turned back to look at him when he didn’t. I raised an eyebrow.
“You have to invite me in. I’ve never been inside your house.”
“And if I don’t?”
He raised his hand and tried to place it through the open doorway. It seemed to stop against an invisible force field, unable to penetrate through. I walked toward him. His hand was still out, held up against the invisible field. I reached out to him. There was no field for me and my palm settled directly onto his, my fingers perfectly aligned but so much smaller. I pressed against him and he pressed back toward me. I let my hand float gently backward, past where the field began. He couldn’t follow again and mine left his. I dropped my hand and stepped back. It was all very interesting and curiosity was one of my dominant traits.
“Come on in.”
Julian stepped over the threshold. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. You were holding our wine,” I said with a wry smile.
I walked toward the kitchen and he followed me. I opened a drawer and rifled around for my corkscrew before I remembered I’d thrown it away.
“Julian, I forgot. I broke my corkscrew last time I used it. I meant to buy another at the liquor store.”
“I guess it’s a good thing you have me along.” He smiled wickedly, baring perfectly white teeth, bordered by fangs.
“How sharp are they? Surely you’re not going to…”
He didn’t answer but brought a wine bottle up to his left fang. Puncturing the cork, he wiggled it gently, sliding it upward. He pulled the bottle from his mouth and used his incredible hand strength to smoothly pull the rest of the cork from it.
I swallowed. His teeth were white and perfectly straight. And as sexy as hell. “I guess you are good to have along. I can’t believe you just did that.”
“I’ve been telling you that for years. And what good are fangs if you can’t use them?”
I ignored that, though my mind ran rampant with all the ways to use those fangs. Instead, I retrieved the wineglasses.
Julian didn’t like being ignored and reached for my hand.
“Careful,” I warned. “You do want to be invited back, right?”
It was false bravado. Panic hit my lower stomach as I realized I was alone in a house that I’d invited a vampire with superhuman strength into.
When he smiled, my fears vanished. His lower lip curved and he dropped my hand gently. I watched his lip sexily pouting and had the urge to lick my own before I licked his. I poured the wine.
We clinked our glasses together and I took a small sip. “You were right,” I acknowledged.
“I usually am,” he said.
I took another drink and tried not to guzzle it with my nervousness.
“Show me your place?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Sure.”
We walked through the second kitchen door and into my living room. My sofa faced the door, pointing toward the bay window and my front porch. Julian looked about appreciatively.
“I like it. It’s very feminine. It suits you.”
I had a dark moment as I thought of how my previous house looked when I was married. I’d hated it, the black and white décor, all of it my husband’s idea. I shrugged off my mood and we walked through the living room to what was originally my office but now was a library. I took him to my bedroom next.
“I like your bed. Most single people have small beds,” he said huskily.
I preferred a large bed, I slept in the middle—safe—with pillows around me. Though I wouldn’t share that.
“You know, if I ever spend the night, you’ll have to move the bed from the window. That wall should do.”
I looked at him. “You won’t be sleeping over.”
“Anjelia.” He smiled. “What if you needed an overnight bodyguard? Surely if I am doing you a favor like that you won’t expect me to sleep on that small sofa?” he teased.
“Which brings us to the guest bedroom. Feel free to decorate this any way you want.” I led him into the small room which felt dwarfed by his size.
Julian smiled slowly at me. “If you let me decorate it, I’d close off the window. Black blinds, black curtains. With that much black, the coverlet should be black also. With your guest room looking so vampy, you’ll never have another human houseguest.”
Black? I fought the horror. Was he similar to my ex-husband with his likes and dislikes? I chalked it up to black simply being a vampire color and my husband having been a supernatural wannabe.
I shrugged. “I have no human houseguests now. And the room is set up for humans.”
The guest bedroom was painted a light, summery blue. Sheer white curtains adorned the window and a lacy white coverlet draped the bed. Nope, I’d never had a single houseguest, male or female.
We entered my room again so I could show him my adjoining bathtub with the candles strategically placed around it in preparation for my bath. It was big enough for two. Or, at least, I’d assumed it was. I’d never had a man in my tub. Or my house, for that matter.
“Very nice,” Julian murmured. “I like a big tub.”
I had a mental vision of him in my tub, the lights turned low and all the candles lit. The vision jerked something low in my abdomen, triggering a need I hadn’t felt in a long time.
He knew.
He stepped toward me and brought both hands up to cup my face. I couldn’t help myself, and I tilted my head upward as my lips parted in expectation of his kiss.
His mouth slowly descended, brushing against mine gently. I moaned at the connection.
His tongue snaked out to meet mine, eagerly tasting and pleasuring me with each stroke.
His kiss was sultry, sexy, and sensual. Absolutely perfect. And, delightfully sinful.
It scared the living daylights out of me.
I pulled away. Whirling around, I left the bathroom. It was up to him to follow, which he did. I headed for the upstairs as if nothing was unusual. My second level was just a loft reached by a tiny little winding staircase.
“No basement?” he asked, as if the kiss never happened.
“No basement. I don’t really need one. It’s just me.” At that moment a thought occurred to me. I wondered if he only felt safe in a basement where no sun could reach.
“Do you sleep, uh”—do the undead sleep or do they die?— “in a basement?”
“Yes. It’s the safest place from the sun.”
“Where do you live?”
“Lately I live at Bang’s.”
“In the bar? All the time?”
“Do you want to know a secret?”
I nodded, that curiosity gene getting the better of me as I leaned
in.
“Underneath the building where we work is a huge, cavernous basement. We actually live there beneath the businesses.”
“No one knows? How could we not hear you?”
“All the businesses except for Bang’s are daytime operations. During the day we sleep quietly underneath. At night we can make as much noise as we want, because the businesses are closed.”
I was impressed. “That’s actually pretty clever.”
“You won’t tell anyone?”
“Nope. Not if you’ll show me sometime.”
“Would you like to come now?”
I looked down at myself. “I really am in no condition to be out in public.”
He looked at me strangely. “I’m sure you know you’re beautiful, Anjelia.”
“Beautiful?” It made me want to laugh. “You’re surrounded by vampires who look like supermodels. You think I’m beautiful?”
He touched my cheek. “Absolutely. No vampire’s skin can be this warm, not naturally. And it’s so smooth, so soft. Vampires, we all feel the same. Touching another vampire is like feeling yourself.”
“May I?” I indicated touching with my fingertips.
He nodded.
My fingers found his cheek, tentatively at first. His skin did have a different texture than mine, but it was probably something I wouldn’t have noticed on my own. I trailed my fingertips to his hair. It was glossy and black, cut modern and short. Few people have truly black hair. Usually they have a dark brown version. His skin was a pale creaminess that contrasted beautifully with his hair. It was rare to see a black-haired individual with white skin.
His eyes were dark, a deep pool of ebony I could see my reflection in—even as he caught my gaze with his own. Then, slowly, he brought his hand up to cover mine, keeping it pressed to his face. His hand cradled mine as he turned his head to press the barest of kisses to my palm. I noticed his was a few degrees cooler.
“Are you always cold?” I asked.
“It’s something you get used to.” He shrugged.
“But do you crave warmth?”
He nodded. “We can’t go into the sun. We dread summer because the days are longer and that means less time that we can be outside. It makes for long days.”
