His Captive Mortal

by Rose , Renee

  He turns. “Is that why you don’t have food?”

  I shrug.

  “Is it?” he demands.

  “That and I don’t have a car, so I don’t buy a lot of food at one time.”

  He rolls his eyes and vanishes.

  Will I ever get used to him disappearing and appearing like that? I blink at where he stood, heart lurching. I rub my chest, feeling abandoned. But that’s stupid. Good riddance is more like it.

  Will he come back tonight? Will he bring food? Rummaging through the kitchen, I realize I truly hope he’ll bring food for me, too. But surely that’s too much to hope for. He made it plain he looks out for no one but himself.

  I try to stay pissed but keep coming back to one thing: he was protective of me with Tommy. Maybe it’s just because he needs me. He certainly tried to play it off that way. But there’s no denying our chemistry. We are fire together. Everything about the sexy vampire turns me on, even when he acts like a jackass.

  Or was it especially when he acted like a jackass? Because as infuriating as I find him, some part of me doesn’t want him to ever stop.

  But that’s messed up.

  I need to steel myself against his charm because I’m in way over my head. I don’t even know if he plans to kill or turn me when he’s done with me. I don’t know if he’d take any compunction in forcing me to do whatever he wants—lick his boots, serve as his sex slave...damn. Why did that turn me on?

  I flip on the tv, waiting, I suppose, although I have no clue if he’ll even return.

  An hour later, a car pulls up and parks outside my duplex. Not able to look out the window, I open the door a crack and peek outside.

  No. Way.

  Charlie walks up the sidewalk carrying at least four bags of groceries, maybe more. I throw the door wide and run out in bare feet to meet him. “Let me take some of those.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” He cranes his neck around the pile of bags to look at me with amusement. Sexy vampire.

  “Oh so now you’re chivalrous?” When he doesn’t answer, I ask, “Are there more?”

  “Yes, but I will get them. You may put things away.”

  Bossy pants.

  I guess I should be used to it by now. I peer into the first bag he sets down and get excited.

  It’s silly—I wasn’t starving. But I was living on a shoestring ever since I moved to Tucson to attend the University of Arizona to get my teaching degree. By the time I graduated, budget cuts had reduced teaching staff across all the districts, and I couldn’t find work, so I’d taken the job at the center. It didn’t pay much more than minimum wage, but at least I’m using my degree, and eventually it should help me find a teaching position.

  But I don’t have money to splurge on all the things he bought: steak, shrimp, scallops. The most expensive brand of ice cream. Organic produce and imported crackers. Fine wine. European cheeses. I felt almost giddy about it.

  He bought food from the deli, too, containers with shepherd’s pie, Greek salad and sweet potato french fries. Despite the imperious act, he pitches in with efficient ease, taking over the arranging of food in my refrigerator, opening the deli containers and setting plates out on the table.

  “Thank you.” Now I’m slightly ashamed about my earlier demand that he contribute. I hope we aren’t taking turns with groceries because I can’t afford half of what he bought. I grab two forks and sit across from him, stealing peeks at his beautiful face, the way his canines extend just a little farther than a mortal’s, even when retracted. Why do I find that so appealing—especially when they should scare the bejeezus out of me? Or is it because they scare me?

  I wolf the food down, and he raises an eyebrow when I clean my plate within just a few minutes.

  “Do you want more? By all means.” He gestures 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,” I say primly, standing up and carrying my plate to the sink. But then I spot the Belgian chocolate shortbread cookies on the counter. Softening my tone, I ask, “May I try one of those cookies?”

  “Help yourself,” he says. “The food is for you.” As I rip open the package, he asks, “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.”

  I half choke. “No,” I say in the hardest tone I can manage.

  He raises a dark brow. “Do you love it?”

  I cock my head and chew a cookie slowly before swallowing. “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 turns back to his plate. “That’s a pretty cavalier way to talk about ending my life,” he observes. “Would you kill anyone who interfered with your career?”

  “Well no, but—”

  He turns back. “But what?”

  I swallow.

  “But I’m a vampire, so my life doesn’t count?”

  I fiddle with the cookie packaging, not looking up.

  “I see,” he said drily.

  I break the cookie in two and lick a the chocolate part, closing my eyes to savor the rich treat. When I open my eyes, Charlie is looking at me like I’m a cookie, and he wants to take a bite out of me.

  “What?” I bluster to hide my uncontrollable flush.

  “That is disgusting,” he sniffs.

  I wrinkle my nose, trying to think of a witty response.

  “And rather cute.” His voice is deep and dark and delicious as chocolate.

  My insides turn gooey, and I bite back a giggle. Fork, am I flirting? “Thanks again for buying groceries,” I say softly, giving the cookie another lick.

  He lounges in my kitchen chair, all arrogance. “Well, you’ll need them, so you can cook for me.”

  “I don’t really know how to cook.” Not exactly a witty comeback, but my vampire keeper needs to know.

  “Well, I guess you’ll be learning that along with magic. You’ll have to study hard and prove to me you can handle working that job and still achieve the level of competency I need from you.”

  I start to roll my eyes and yawn wide enough to crack my jaw. The clock reads three in the morning.

  “You may go on to bed,” he pronounces his authoritative tone.

  “Are you in charge of my bedtime, too?”

  “I’m in charge of all of you, little mortal.” His gaze rakes up and down my body, and suddenly all my clothes feel too tight. I’m suddenly greedy with the desire for him to take charge immediately. Which is a bad plan all around. What is it about this vampire that makes my IQ plummet and my SQ rocket?

  Unable to make an intelligent response, I flee to the bedroom.

  Chapter 7

  Charlie

  The little mortal is trying to escape. Adorable. I flash to her bedroom, materializing on the edge of her bed in a casual, observer’s pose, one leg crossed over the opposite knee. Like a patron settled in to watch a show. I will watch her undress, just to remind her who’s in charge.

  Aurelia doesn’t realize I’m here. She has her back to me, her shirt off, revealing the ropy muscles of her slender back. She unbuttons her pants and shucks them, tossing them in the hamper. She has simple gray cotton panties on, but they couldn’t look more erotic, clinging to her muscular ass, showing enough cheek to thicken my cock.

  She turns and shrieks when she sees me, clutching her pajama top to her chest. “W-what are you doing here?”

  “Watching the show.” I wait for the fury. I’m looking forward to it, really.

  Instead she stands stock still, rubbing her lips to
gether, her breastbone lifting and lowering at a rapid pace. Oh Lord. She’s turned on. “Get out,” she whispers, but her voice holds no conviction. The way her eyes skitter down to my crotch and linger, I half expect her to take it back.

  “You don’t need to put that on.” I indicate the pajama top. “I don’t mind sleeping with you that way.”

  “You...” she spits. “You aren’t sleeping with me.” Her expression grows uncertain. “I don’t want you in here.”

  “Your scent tells me differently.”

  She snaps her eyes to mine. “What?”

  “Admit it, Aurelia. Your naughty parts are tingling right now.”

  A flush spreads across her cheeks and down her neck. “What do you want from me?” she demands.

  “Come here,” I murmur. Her feet begin to move, and I celebrate the tiny victory. When she’s close enough, I snatch the skimpy pj top from her hands, dropping it on the floor.

  She jerks and covers her breasts with her forearms.

  I grip her wrists and pull her arms away from her chest, pinning them down by her sides. “You have a lovely pair of breasts,” I tell her, my fangs lengthening.

  The fresh bloom of her arousal fills the bedroom. Is she more turned on from my commands, the physical restraint or the sight of my fangs growing long for her.

  “Please,” she manages, her voice cracking.

  I lift my gaze from my study of her breasts to her face, tickling her skin.

  “Please, Charlie…”

  “I like it when you beg,” I murmur.

  The scent of desire grows stronger. “Please.”

  I lift her wrists and place her hands on her head. “Keep your hands right here, love. Show me you can obey.”

  She swallows, pupils blown. “What do I get if I obey?” Her voice sounds husky and smooth.

  I hook my thumbs in her panties and slowly drag them down her thighs. Her thighs twitch together, and I watch in fascination as a droplet of moisture trickles from her pussy. I gather it with my fingertip and bring it to my mouth. The nectar makes my dick punch out hard against my zipper.

  The fucking torture.

  I don’t know why I’m even doing this to myself, yet it seems impossible to leave this beautiful, barely-touched woman unsatisfied. She craves something I know how to give.

  And she deserves satisfaction after she’s borne my sudden presence and endless demands so well.

  Her pillowy lips part, nipples pull taut. I gently stroke the pads of my thumbs over them.

  My cock throbs.

  I make an approving rumble in my throat as I slowly walk around her body, admiring the display. I trail my palm over her ass, then draw it back and smack her on one cheek.

  She gasps and wobbles but satisfies me by staying in position.

  I slap the other cheek. She shivers, her breath short.

  “You like being spanked by me,” I observe.

  She drops her arms and tries to turn, but I catch her wrists and stretch them above her head with one hand, shifting her weight to the balls of her feet, shifting her balance forward.

  I deliver another stinging slap to each cheek, then rub her heated flesh. “You look good in pink.”

  “Why,” she pants, “why do you do this?”

  I soften my touch, making it more like a caress now, soothing the sting away. “Vampires often mix pain and pleasure when they play with mortals,” I tell her. “It makes our partner’s blood sweeter.”

  She stiffens, but I press my body against hers and murmur in her ear. “You surrendered to me. Why?”

  “You made me,” she lies, as she shifts her weight back to her heels, a whisper closer to me.

  “No, Aurelia,” I breathe in her ear. “You want it. You’re curious. You want to know what happens next, don’t you?” When she doesn’t answer, I give her ass another slap. “Don’t you?”

  “Yes,” she gasps.

  Her admission floods my chest with the warmth of success. I caress her backside, my fingers trailing up her inner thighs. She jerks when they brush her swollen sex. She clamps her legs together as if to keep me out.

  “Come, Aurelia. You and I both know you aren’t serious about that.”

  I slide my fingers between her legs again, wiggling to get through her tightened thighs until the tip of one finger touched her slick entrance.

  “Your kitty’s ripe for me,” I murmur, my voice sounding thick.

  She lets out a shaky moan.

  I screw one finger inside her, and she wriggles against me, wanting more.

  “Beg me for it,” he said.

  “No.”

  “No?” I remove my fingers.

  “Wait—”

  “Ah,” I say with satisfaction. I wrap one arm around the front of her and splay my hand across her belly, bringing my lips to her ear. “What are you more afraid of, Aurelia? Enjoying it or giving in to me?”

  Her legs buckle, as if her knees went weak. I hold her up and nip her ear. “You can let go of that pride, can’t you? Admit you want pleasure from your master?”

  “Please—”

  I flick her earlobe with my tongue. “Please satisfy me, Master? What would you like me to do?”

  “I don’t know,” she whimpers.

  I step back to give her another spank.

  “Ooh!”

  “You do know, but you’re too afraid to admit your desire.”

  “No,” she insists, sounding stubborn.

  “No?”

  “No,” she repeats firmly.

  I draw back to study her face. She lifts her chin. Her face is lit by her magic, fairy light illuminating her skin. She literally glows. It’s amazing she doesn’t see it.

  What am I doing? Aurelia isn’t my lover. She’s a means to an end. I could seduce her, but with the curse still on me, there’s no point.

  As soon as she lifts the curse, I’m gone. Anything else is a distraction—her hot body, her fearlessness, her pretty face. And I swore I’d never be distracted by a woman again.

  “Get some sleep. You’ll need your strength in the morning.” And with that order, I release her wrists and disappear.

  * * *

  Aurelia

  I lurch into the space where Charlie stood, but he’s already gone. My arms grab air.

  Damn. I didn’t really want him to leave. Stop being an arrogant ass, yes. Pump the brakes on the dirty talk...maybe.

  But he left.

  I run a hand down my face and steady my shaky breath. My legs wobble as I head for my bed, and my sex pulses in time with my backside. Mechanically, I find my pajamas and pull them on with trembling hands.

  Where did he go? Is he still in my apartment? Where does he always disappear to?

  But the real question is: Why did I tell him to go? Why did I say no? I wanted him, I did want to know what came next. What kept me from admitting it?

  I walk to my full length mirror and stare at my face as if it will tell me the answers. I hardly resemble myself. My eyes are wide and glassy, as if in some kind of stupor. My cheeks are flushed and my hair rumpled. I look like I had hot sex with a vampire. And I could’ve. I had my chance.

  I let my forehead fall gently to the mirror, resisting the urge to bang it against the glass. Why. Did. I. Say. No.

  Was it out of pride?

  My pussy gives another pulse. I’d bet my last pair of panties Charlie would rock my world in bed. Any man—or...vampire—who gets me that wet just by sliding his finger between my legs would have to know how to make me scream in pleasure. One touch from Charlie is a million times better than a whole night with Wilson, my lazy ex-boyfriend who never lasted more than two minutes.

  I flop down on my belly with one hand between my legs. My fingers press into my sex, trying to rub my clit the way Charlie did. My fingertips dance over my swollen folds, seeking the same pattern. I imagine him working himself over me, his hardened cock pressing my low back.

  I push my mound against the heel of my hand, my fingers undulati
ng over my sex, some hitting my clit, some slipping in and out of my entrance. Charlie wouldn’t ask, he’d just prop up my hips and slide in. He’d bang me from behind, sinking in balls-deep, punishing me with his cock. He’d hold my hips firmly, shoving in and out of me roughly, dominating me until I exploded.

  I explode. My release makes my hips buck as I press all five fingers over my convulsing sex.

  Is Charlie off somewhere, jacking off? He seemed as aroused as I was before he left. If he’s touching himself, is he thinking of me?

  Or is there someone else?

  Chapter 8

  Charlie

  I trace to Congress Street. Tucson bars close at two, so things are quiet, even in the heart of downtown. I’m in Lucius’ territory, and I should be lying low, but I can’t go back to Aurelia.

  My cock literally throbs. I kick a bit of trash out of my path. But I did it to myself. Even if my little fairy let me go on, there’s no rest for the wicked. No coming for the carnivorous. No relief for the rabid. Not until Aurelia lifts the damn curse. When she does, I’ll fuck my Tinkerbell so hard her teeth will rattle.

  But no.

  Damn fairy’s in my blood, and even though I crave her, I won’t take her against her will—not even if I were capable of getting off. I want Aurelia to want me. Correction: I want her to need me with the same lust burning under my skin. Hell, I want her to beg me. I want her weight on my lap and her shrieks cracking the windows. I want my name on her lips and her nails scratching furrows down my back. But only if she’s willing.

  I want to win not just her obedience but her submission, her desire...her heart.

  I still in a puddle of moonlight. Her heart? Seriously? Since when did I become a teenage sap in a vampire movie? I could give a fuck about love. Look how well it worked out for me last time. Once cursed, twice shy. If a hundred year old curse isn’t enough to break me of falling in love, I deserve my current hell.

  I pass an all night diner full of people getting their dinner. I need my own dinner—I haven’t fed since finding Aurelia. Not smart to do it in Lucius’ territory, but surely a little sip from a random girl won’t give me away. But my stomach turns at the thought of holding any human but Aurelia. When I pass a few tasty morsels, my fangs lie dormant.