Sexual Appetites of Vampires

by Donna Fletcher

  Family. She had none, no grandparents, no aunts or uncles, no one at all. She had few fears, but the big fear that had always lurked in her mind was losing her dad. Once he was gone, she’d have no one. She’d be alone, and now she was.

  She shook the sadness away as best she could, not wanting Michael to sense it, and said, “What about the other part of my question?”

  Michael moved forward in his chair and emptied the bottle of wine evenly in each of their glasses. He remained perched on the edge of the chair and after taking a sip of wine, he answered, “I would much rather show you what a bite can do.”

  Damn if he didn’t send her sensual senses somersaulting. How could she think a bite from a vampire could be sexy? She was definitely losing her sanity. She was the one who disproved such nonsense and here she was sitting with a vampire who wanted to bite her neck.

  Yup, she officially had lost her mind.

  She popped up off the chair. “It’s been a long and,” —she searched for a fitting word— “crazy day. Time for bed.”

  “Mine or yours?” Michael asked, standing.

  She had to grin while she shook her head. “Mine and alone.”

  “My bedroom door is always open to you.”

  She opened her mouth, but words failed her.

  “Why deny what your body aches for?” he asked in a much too softly alluring tone that she fought to ignore.

  “One word—vampire. Make that two—crazy.”

  “Then let yourself be crazy for tonight and the next few days. Enjoy what I can give you.”

  Why not, she thought. Why not have great sex with him while stuck here in a snowstorm? When it was over, though, then what? Does she simply walk away, knowing she’d never have such great sex again? Or was it that she had already started to feel something for this man—vampire— and she just might want more?

  “You’re nothing that I would expect a vampire to be,” she said.

  “You sound as if you accuse me of a crime.”

  “It would be so much easier if you were like the evil, bloodsucking creatures in the books.”

  “Then I would simply put you under my spell, suck your blood, and make you one of us, and that is not what true vampires do. They do not take what is not offered.”

  “So if I told you that I wanted you to bite me...”

  “I would make it memorable and you would not regret it.”

  It would be so easy to surrender to him, to share a moment in time that would leave her with... memories. But would memories be enough for her.

  With sadness in her heart, she said, “I will see you in the morning.”

  “Sleep well, Lara,” he said.

  “And you.” She turned quickly. “You don’t sleep.”

  “We do, though we don’t require as much sleep as humans.”

  She nodded and hurried out of the room, thinking that he would be up wandering the house as she slept. But there was no need to worry. Vampire or not, and odd as it seemed, she trusted Michael. It was herself who she didn’t trust.

  Once in her room, she slipped out of the purple robe and climbed into bed prepared to read through some of the books she had collected from the library. She didn’t think sleep would come easily to her, but reading would help, though choice of subject matter might prove to make it more difficult.

  Lara lay beneath the warm quilt, staring at the ceiling with no thought of reaching for a book. Her mind ran wild with the day’s strange happenings and again she wondered if she would wake and find that it all had been nothing but a dream.

  But did she want it to be? Her father had been a practical man and had taught her that there was a reasonable explanation for everything. It was a debate on the unexplainable she had won with someone online that had encouraged her to start her blog.

  Now here she was Ms Reasonable-Explanation-For-Everything finding herself in a situation that had no sensible reasoning to it. And, of course, how rational was it to want to have sex with a vampire?

  She moaned and her cheeks blushed pink as she recalled how Michael had made her come—twice—in the shower. She couldn’t imagine an orgasm any better than that one, yet Michael had implied that it was only the beginning.

  Lara squeezed her legs closed tightly against the titillating tingle that gripped her. She was on lust overload and the only thing that would satisfy it... sex with a vampire.

  “Stop,” she shouted. She had to stop thinking about Michael and sex or she’d be calling him to her. And her resolve was growing weaker by the minute and before she knew it she’d be begging him to make love to her.

  “Read,” she ordered. “Yeah, right... read about vampires. That will help.”

  She shook her head. She was comfortable, the quilt warm, and her eyes heavy. Sleep was not far off, so why fight it. At least it would give her a reprieve from her chaotic thoughts. She snuggled deeper beneath the quilt and soon drifted off to sleep.

  ~~~

  Lara bolted up in bed, her eyes wide and trying desperately to adjust to the dark. The fire in the fireplace had dwindled down to a few embers and there was a decisive chill in the air. She hurried to reach over to the lamp on the nightstand and turn it on, but it didn’t work. She scrambled across the bed to the other light and turned the switch—nothing.

  Had the generator gone out again? The lights had been on when she had returned to her room after supper. How long ago was that? Had she slept several hours? Was it near morning?

  Reluctantly, she left the warm bed, glad she had slept in her socks and stumbled around the room in search of her purse. She might not be able to get a signal, but her cell phone would still show the time.

  After a few bumps to the chins and ankles and a couple of ouches, she found her purse and a quick search inside produced her phone. It read 2:00 a.m. and then went dead.

  “Damn,” she muttered. She might not have a signal now, but as soon as she was able to get one she wanted the phone working.

  There was no point in plugging it in this room when the electricity was unreliable. Downstairs was her best bet, since the electricity had held firm there. After locating her charger and managing to find the purple robe she had on earlier, she went to the door, opened it, and stepped out.

  It was so dark that she couldn’t see a thing and a twinge of fear engulfed her.

  Calm down, she silently told herself. All you have to do is turn left, hug the wall until you come to the end and proceed forward slowly until you feel the top step of the stairs. Once you make it down the curve in the stairs, you’re bound to see the light from the floor below.

  Holding tightly to her courage, she stepped out of her room. Her toe caught on the edge of the hall runner and she stumbled and fell to her knees, her cell phone and charger flying out of her hands.

  Lara frantically searched around on her hands and knees and sighed with relief when she found both of them. She got to her feet and was about to turn left when she realized she wasn’t sure of her direction.

  Don’t panic. Don’t panic. It’s a hallway. At one end is the stairs, the other Michael’s room. If you should reach his room, you only need to turn around and go the other way.

  Her sensible, silent urging did not stop her heart from pounding, but it also did not stop her feet from moving. She took cautious steps until, to her relief, she touched the wall. She halted a moment and took a deep breath, knowing she’d be fine now no matter which way she went.

  After a few steps, she grew more confident and picked up the pace, tightly hugging the wall as she went. Then suddenly, without warning, she came in contact with an empty space and fell into what she surmised was her room.

  She lay on the floor a moment, calming herself and her breathing. At least now she knew where she was and this time she had managed to hold on to her cell phone and charger.

  Pockets. She shook her head. Why hadn’t she thought of that sooner? Probably because she was too busy thinking of her cell phone as a lifeline and not wanting to let it go. She got
to her feet and checked the robe and sure enough it had pockets. She slipped her cell phone in one and the charger in the other.

  Lara took cautious steps to get her bearing and her knee hit something. She reached out to touch it. It was a wooden chest with a metal lock and it made her realize that she hadn’t fallen into her room.

  Of course, there wasn’t a fraction of light anywhere and if it had been her room there would have been the glow from low burning embers from the fireplace. The same if this was Michael’s room, so where was she? The other bedroom she had spied earlier? And in what direction was the door?

  She reached out hoping to connect with a wall, but she connected with something that hung on the wall. And the realization of what it was startled her... it was a set of shackles, thick iron-cuffed shackles. Further exploring along the wall, she touched something else and after examining it with her hands, she surmised it was a cat o’nine tails.

  She backed away from the wall, bumped into something and fell down to sit on a chair and jumped up as soon as she did, having felt something prick her backside. She cautiously ran her hand over where she had sat and felt pointy steel spikes protruding up through the seat.

  What the hell was this room? She shook her head, wanting nothing more than to get out of there. But where was the door and what obstacles did she need to get passed to reach it?

  She could call out to Michael for help, but why hadn’t he realized she needed help. He read her thoughts so easily. Was he sleeping? Could he not sense her in sleep?

  She shook her head again and gave herself a small pep talk. “You’re on your own, always have been. You can do this.”

  Lara took several cautious steps, bumped into a thing or two, though didn’t dare touch the objects for fear of being pricked again. After what seemed like forever, but was probably only a few minutes, her hand finally connected with the frame of the doorway. She sighed with relief and stepped through the door.

  The wall sconces suddenly flamed with light, and there at the end of the hallway by the stairs stood Michael in nothing but his black sweatpants, his chest muscles taut, his eyes flaming red and his fangs protruding.

  Instinct took over, she ran in the only direction left to her—straight for his bedroom. Once inside, she locked the double doors. Her heart beat like a mighty drum against her chest, fear sent gooseflesh crawling over her entire body, and her wide-eyed stare was glued to the doors.

  “Lara.”

  She froze. It wasn’t in her head she heard her name being called. It was from behind her.

  Chapter 9

  Lara turned slowly around. If she had any doubt that he was a vampire, she sure in hell didn’t doubt it now. His eyes blazed with red fury and his fangs were so pointy that she cringed with sympathy for his victims. Was she about to be one of them?

  “You’re hurt,” Michael said, his tone angry rather than consoling.

  Her hand flew to her bottom, and she was surprised to feel a sticky wetness that had seeped through her pajama bottoms and robe. She raised her hand, shocked to see blood on it. She looked at Michael, and she could have sworn she saw saliva dripping in anticipation from his fangs.

  She didn’t think, she slammed her bloody hand against her neck, like that would stop him, but it had been a gut reaction to protect herself.

  He lunged forward and was in front of her in seconds.

  Her hand flew off her neck and slapped against his naked chest; it did little good. He scooped her up into his arms and carried her to his... bathroom? He lowered her to stand on the tile floor and removed her robe, then he grabbed the waistband of her pajama bottom and yanked it down before she could stop him.

  “Step out and turn around,” he ordered after bending down to slip her bottoms out from beneath her feet when she lifted each foot.

  “What are you doing?” she finally managed to get out, looking down at him crouching in front of her, his face not far from her... damn, just thinking about it made her... don’t think, don’t think.

  “Yes, don’t think.”

  Was that a snarl that accompanied his warning?

  “Between the scent of your intoxicating blood, the sweetness between your legs and that deliciously pulsing nub of yours, I’m finding it extremely difficult to kept myself from carting you off to my bed and making you—”

  He stopped abruptly, and she was relieved that he did, since she was pulsating in places she didn’t think pulsated.

  “I need to cleanse the wound you got from the Chair of Torture. Have you had a tetanus shot lately?”

  “Chair of what?” she said, yanking her knit top down as far as she could get it.

  “Tetanus shot?” he demanded.

  A warning look from his hot red eyes had her answering quickly. “I keep it updated, since I find myself in strange situations like sitting on the Chair of Torture.”

  He sprang up so fast that it caused Lara to spring back, her hands slamming back against the vanity to keep her steady.

  Michael stepped in front of her, bracing his hands on the vanity as well, to either side of her, trapping her with his body. He stood much too close and her body reacted. It didn’t just strike a spark; it blazed.

  “How you got in the room of torture, I—”

  “Room of torture?” she all but squealed.

  “It’s what I called it when I was young. My grandfather has and continues to collect torture devices throughout the ages and donates them to various museums around the world. He hopes it will make humans realize something about their own humanity. The pieces in there are recent arrivals.”

  She could only imagine why her grandfather would do such a thing, and she had to ask, “Was anyone in your family ever tortured?”

  “Yes,” he said bluntly, but did not expand on it. “Now turn around so I can take care of your wound.”

  She thought a moment, gnawing nervously at her bottom lip.

  He brought his nose to within inches of hers. “Don’t bother to argue. This is going to happen one way or the other.” He tilted his head and smiled. “I’ve already seen you naked, sweetheart, so what difference does it make?”

  She jabbed him in the chest. “A big difference between feasting on me until I couldn’t stop coming and taking care of a wound to my backside.”

  He leaned even closer until his lips almost touched hers. “You have no idea the pleasure you would get if I truly feasted on you. Now turn around.”

  She gave his chest a push, not that it did any good. “Step back.”

  He did, though slowly.

  Lara turned around before she lost her nerve and gripped the edge of the vanity for support. She jumped when his fingers touched her bare backside and fought to keep her mind empty of any salacious thoughts.

  “Thank goodness the spike didn’t fully puncture your skin,” he said as he came to stand beside her.

  She watched as he searched the medicine cabinet, taking out a bottle of peroxide, antibiotic ointment, and a large bandage. She had to ask. “I thought vampires healed instantly, so why a stocked medicine cabinet?”

  “Appearances.”

  “You have many strangers going through your medicine cabinet?”

  “Overnight guests,” he said with a wink, and then dropped down beside her once again.

  The thought that he had had other women here, in his bathroom, in his bed, annoyed her, so she threw a sarcastic barb at him. “Bite any?” She winced, the peroxide having connected with her wound and stinging mightily.

  “Sorry, I don’t mean to hurt you,” he said.

  His apology was so genuine that it touched her heart. It sounded as if it had actually pained him to have caused her pain. But what about when he bit a woman on the neck? Surely that would be more painful than this minor wound? What did he feel then? Pleasure?

  She was about to ask him again if he ever bit any woman when he sprung up to once again stand beside her.

  He got busy wetting a hand towel and grabbing the larger one that had lain b
eneath it on the towel bar. “Need to get the blood off you.”

  “I can do that she offered.” Worried the blood might be too much for him.

  “Not to worry. I’m not a young vampire who needs to learn to control his urges. Although with you, it is proving more difficult than I anticipated.”

  “Is that why you looked so...” she shivered recalling the feral look on his face when she had seen him at the end of the hall after the lights had come on.

  “I was in the middle of trying to get the generator to kick on again, not wanting you to wake to pitch darkness when I sensed you were already up and about. Then when I realized where you were,” —he stopped— “I was too late to stop you from getting hurt. I should have gotten to you sooner.”

  He’d been angry because she’d been hurt, not because he was thirsty for her blood. He cared about her, and her heart didn’t hammer this time, it swelled like a young girl who was on the precipice of falling off and into love.

  “The snowstorm has grown worse and I fear the one generator will shut off again and might not turn back on, so it would be best if you slept in my bed tonight,” he said as he finished drying her leg and patting her backside dry.

  She was about to reject his suggestion when she felt him apply the antibiotic cream to her wound. His touch was so tender, so considerate that the little embarrassment left from this strange incident vanished. That was as long as she didn’t allow herself to think about her naked derriere being practically in his face. Or be reminded that he had told her he’d love to give it some tender bites.

  She quickly said, “I’ll do fine in my own bed.”

  “There’s no need for you to worry, I’ll sleep on the chaise,” he assured her and stood, taking her by the arm and turning her slowly around to face him. “I want to make sure you’re safe. And being with me, I know you’ll be safe.”

  She realized right there and then that it wasn’t Michael she had to fear—it was herself.