Biting Serendipity: April Fools For Love (Biting Love Short Bites Book 4) (2 page)

“Not me, either.” Thor flashed palms like stop signs. “Camille, I tried before and…let’s just say it didn’t work out.” Somehow, he made “Didn’t-work-out” sound like “Ti-tan-ic”.

The finger came out again, jab-jab. “Look, Not-Me and Not-Me-Either. I hired extra help to grow my customer base. The winning prank gets played at the award ceremony and covered in the paper—basically, free citywide advertising. So we win, we grow. We
don’t
win, we don’t grow, and I don’t need help.
Capiche?
”

“But why us?” I exchanged another baffled glance with Thor, getting the same combination of zing and reassurance.

“Because you both need to loosen up and show more
Sexy And Fun
. Besides, no one else is available. Consider this incentive to prove to me that you have the right va-voom to be at Nieman’s. Win the April Fools’ Day competition—or you’re fired.”

My insides iced.

Camille sailed out, leaving Thor and me riveted in place, staring after her, shocked like we’d just had cattle prod enemas.

This was a disaster. Me, play a joke? And not just any trick, but a winning prank in a city of master pranksters?

Thor groaned. “It’s March twenty-ninth. How does she expect me to come up with a gag in three days?”

“We don’t stand a chance.” Now I groaned too. Maybe I could’ve done it when I was a kid, but, like Scrooge visited by the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come, I’d had a change of heart—although in my case, I’d been visited by the Kangaroo of Karma. Monkeyshines were no longer part of my life.

“We?” Thor said.

Slowly, he and I turned to face each other. I use the phrase “face each other” loosely. With me in my barmaid flats and him in his boots, he stood nearly a foot above me.

But his expression…it wasn’t the usual faint disapproval, but a stunned disbelief—strangely tinged with what almost looked like yearning.

He actually wanted to do this?

Then he gave a sharp shake of the head. “Ridiculous. She couldn’t have designed worse partners.”

That stung. “Hey.”

“I didn’t mean…” His mouth tightened.

I jumped in before he could pound in yet again what a killjoy I was for a little old lady just trying to have some fun. “My mistake. No we about it. Camille only said we had to do this, she didn’t say we had to work together.” My chin jutted.

“Don’t.” Thor growled, low in his throat. “We can work together. All I meant was neither one of us is into pranks.”

“Right.” I heard killjoy.

“Look, I’m just saying I’ve entered this contest before, and I didn’t stand a chance even when I had a
fun
partner.”

“A
fun
partner?” What was I, chopped obligation?

“All I mean is that it takes a sort of daredevil mentality to win. It’s not like either of us has a single adventurous bone in our bodies.”

“Keep talking.” The night had turned sour. “Reinforces just how much you don’t want to work with me.”

He looked away. “I want to work with you.”

His mouth said yes but every other stunning body part underlined no.

“Right. And all the sniping we do has
nothing
to do with our mutual dislike.”

I knew it was a mistake the moment it left my lips.

His gaze swung back. “
Mutual dislike?
” His eyes were like arctic storms. Angry?

Or hurt?

“You know what I mean. You’re always on my case about Granny.”

“Just because I don’t agree with how you treat Ms. Butt doesn’t mean…fuck. Doesn’t matter. Camille ordered us to do this, so we do this.” He jerked one shoulder in a shrug.

The sleeveless T-shirt and leather vest meant what shrugged was bronzed, naked skin, muscles jerking, especially luscious triple-scoop deltoids that I wanted to lick.

Wanted to lick so bad, to keep myself from doing it, I had to run my tongue over my suddenly throbbing lips instead.

His gaze dropped to my mouth and darkened, stormy this time like a steamy tropical squall. “What are you doing?”

“M-me?” Nerves prompted me to lick again. “Just…nothing.”

He leaned closer, his hair swaying forward to frame his chiseled, handsome face. “Nothing?” His pupils dilated to pools of black.

My heart shot into overdrive. Air seemed to have left the small room; contrarily, what there was of it smelled, not of lime and coconut, but leather and male.

Searching my gaze, he reached out and gently cupped my chin. His fingers, warm and slightly rough on my skin, thrilled me down to my toes. His face was so near mine now I could feel the heat of his breath on my skin.

He’s going to kiss me.

My lips parted on quickened breaths. My desire must have shone in my eyes because the saucers of his pupils lit with a red flame. Blood pounded in my ears.

The vampire was staring at me.

Insanely, that turned me on. I tightened toes in my ballerina flats and lifted toward him.

The moment crystallized between us. His red gaze was tethered to mine, the hand that so gently held my face was crowned by a hint of talon, and when his lips parted, fang tips were revealed.

Vampire, human. I was prey. Yet I was also something precious. My lids slid shut in anticipation.

His mouth captured mine.

He tasted of whiskey, hot and oh-so-smooth. The sweet fire of his kiss sent my blood from hot to boiling, my mouth like the inside of an oven. I opened under his beguiling lips, to vent some of the heat.

Instead, more heat rushed in, his breath, scorching.

I trembled, my belly fluttering with excitement. My muscles yielded, and I fell into him. My breasts pressed against the wall of his chest like smashing against a cliff. Sharp, sweet desire stabbed my groin, and my blood whooshed ever harder in my ears.

“Sera,” he groaned. He backed off to swirl lips against mine, thousands of brief, buffing kisses that kindled my skin until my lips were burning.

My breath came in quick gasps, his scent like the crashing, salty sea. His fang tips grazed my lips as he kissed, sweet and heady sensations taking on an edge. I dipped my tongue between his parted lips, hinting for more, then thought, “Ah, fuck it,” threw out Staid Sera, wrapped arms around his neck, arched my body into his, and thrust my tongue into his mouth, telling him in no uncertain terms.

A growl ripped from his throat. The fiery thrust of his tongue battled past mine into my mouth, claimed me. I groaned at the taste of him, the feel of him, filling me. My jaw dropped, yielding to his onslaught.

He seized my bun in one big hand and held me captive for his plundering. He kissed me savagely now, a Viking invader.

One powerful arm wrapped my ribs, crushing me to him. His scent, tangy leather, wrapped me even tighter. My nipples tingled and hardened. I released his neck to slide palms over his shoulders, the ones I’d wanted to lick so badly, reveling in crowns of notched, rock-hard deltoids as big as bowling balls. My pelvis flooded with heavy, hot need.

He was all hard muscle, but something even harder, growing long and fat against my skirts, snagged my complete attention.

Thor
wanted
me.

Shock burst inside me like a glitter bomb. All those disapproving looks…all those frowns…yet he was devouring me like a favorite dish. And as he ground his hips into me, that big bulge sure wasn’t his keys, not unless they were a thousand on a ring.

“O-oh my.” A woman gasped. “Oh my goodness.”

Not me.

He groaned and broke the kiss. “Jenny.” A growl burred his voice, more beast than man.

Chagrin was a slow, cold rise of floodwaters in my chest. I released his massive shoulders and opened my eyes, wondering what fresh contempt I’d see on his face.

But his hard gaze was over my head, staring at the interloper behind me. “What do you want?”

“I-I…” She squeaked.

I glanced over my shoulder.

Barmaid Jenny Gelb, pert in her yellow braids, breast-plumping vest, and panties-baring ruffle, was four years and a lifetime younger than me. She was another new hire at Nieman’s Bar, having applied within days of my start.

She stood there, her stockinged legs crossed, bouncing in desperation.

“I, um, need to use the bathroom. Hi, Ms. Braun.” She waved weakly.

Chagrin froze in a sudden lump of shit-crap-dammit. Young Jenny was a major reason I colored between the lines. She was…“Impressionable” was a kind word. She made lemmings look like rebel mavericks. I tried to be a good example because she desperately needed one.

Making out in a public restroom at work, yikes. I’d certainly outdone myself setting a good example for her. I should
never
have thrown Staid Sera aside, not even for an instant. I felt like knocking my head against something hard…like Thor’s pecs. Even now, that thought segued to mentally rubbing my cheek along those luscious big muscles, then kissing and licking and…well, none of it would be a better example for impressionable young barmaids.

Thor was right. We made awful partners. He not only made me want to color outside the lines, he made me want to scrub the lines out.

“Go next door,” Thor said.

“B-but that’s for men.”

“Is the toilet different?” He gave her a hard, grouchy glare. “There’s a penis on it?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Will it make you grow testicles and beard?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Then
scram.
”

Jenny squeaked and the door slammed behind me.

He glared after her.

“Maybe…” My voice was still breathy from the kiss. He was just that good. It wouldn’t have taken much to reignite me, which was definitely a bad idea, and one I should put the kibosh on instantly. “Maybe we should take this discussion to your room?”

Mentally, I winced. Smooth. What I meant was we should go somewhere quiet, and I knew he had a room on the premises. What my libido meant was we should continue to “discuss” this where we’d left off, but with a lock on the door this time.

“Are you kidding?” He switched his glare to me. “Look at us. We’re polar opposites. Two people were never
less
meant for each other.”

I didn’t know why he would say it that way. His words didn’t just sting—after that kiss, the best of my life, those words
hurt.

Tentatively, I held out an olive branch. “We don’t have to do the whole project together.”

“Forget it.” He stepped back, one step, but it was a mile in that tiny, tiled room. “We
can’t
do
any
of it together.”

I gasped. We were back to being antagonists.
But then what was that kiss for?
Hurt, I spun away from him. “Fine.”

Behind me came, “
Fine.
”

Backhanding scratchy eyes, I got out of there.

Chapter Two

Thor folded his arms and watched the little schoolteacher scurry away, butt waving appealingly in her swirly little skirt.

Helvete,
hell. What did he do now?

Young Jenny’s whimper, curling through the crack of the briefly open door, told him. What did he do? Get out of here so the poor thing could get comfortable.

He left the bathroom, walking stiffly, and paused to get his pants plank adjusted before facing the main taproom. Behind him, Jenny darted into the vacant restroom. Sera was nowhere to be seen, but it didn’t seem to matter. His erection wouldn’t go down.

She’d tasted so good. Her soft body, pressed against his, felt so right…

Freya take it. Instead of returning front, he stalked to the back exit and stuck his head outside, into the cold March night, trying to clear it. In the old days, he could’ve gone out on rogue patrol and worked off some steam that way, but Camille wanted him on the premises at all times. So, he stood there and sucked in a breath filled with stale cigarette smoke—Buddy the bartender trying to quit again. He took another deep breath, hoping the caustic sting of tar and nicotine would distract him from what had just happened.

He shook his head. It would take a lot more than a little smoke to drive that sweet taste from his mouth or his memory.

Her taste, like sugar, her smell, bringing him to life like the damp promise of spring, her feel, all soft, smooth woman…everything about that kiss had stunned him. Bad enough it had cracked his composure, but he was sure his face showed it and worse, that Sera had seen it. And if Ms. Sera Braun figured out what his response to her meant, if she figured out he was attracted to her, she’d take advantage of it to punch him in the gut again.

Our mutual dislike.

He wasn’t sure what he felt for her, but it hella sure wasn’t “dis” anything.

No, Sera wasn’t right for him. He had to remember that. She was a prissy little schoolmarm who wouldn’t know fun if it bit her in the ass…delectable ass that it was.

His cock rose and nodded in agreement.

Grr.
Thor adjusted his pants again. He’d take a seax to the damn rod and chop it into little itty bitty pieces. He needed more sobriety in his life like he needed a dentist drilling his fangs and putting in silver fillings. Already he was the team stick-in-the-mud, sobersides, spoilsport, wet blanket—he’d been called them all. He desperately needed someone who could bring out the playful side of him. Fun Thor.

But she was so soft, so pretty… He closed the door and leaned against it, staring out the window at the east parking lot, trying to remember why it was so important to find Fun Thor, to push Sera away. It was hard.

He was getting pretty damned tired of being alone.

Seemed like every vampire within five states of him was mating. He was the odd man out. No wonder he was getting lonely. No wonder he’d even thought about dating the cute little schoolmarm.

But no, she wasn’t,
couldn’t
be good for him, as much fun as a bucket of ice water.

Though, come to think, the Ice Bucket Challenge had made him laugh.

He clonked his head against the wood. Hadn’t years of failing the April Fools’ Day competition scarred him enough? Weeks of planning his prank, playing it five or six times on April first to get the best video angle, agonizing over which to submit, finally picking one last minute at ten-fifty-nine p.m. Then the agony of waiting with the entire city milling about Settler’s Square until, at midnight, the five finalists were called up onto the stage of the Oom-pa-pah band shell. The pain of never being called. In fact, the only time he hadn’t come in dead last was the year the town mime had entered. Even the city’s gaunt, professionally somber undertaker, vampire Solomon Stark, had out-pranked him, because he was too
jævelig
sober.

Laughter was the best medicine for what was wrong with his life. Why was he thinking of taking a big dose of SeriousXL?

Hadn’t Phillie taught him anything?

His eyes were on the parking lot but his gaze went inward. Phyllida Versnobt was a vibrant blonde, so full of life. Always on the go, always laughing, partying, just having a ball.

Before meeting her, he hadn’t worried about being fun. He hadn’t even known he was lonely. He’d been living as he’d done for a thousand years, casual dating, lots of sex, and, as vampires did every few centuries or so, settling down for a bit with a wife—although vampires usually could only have children with their lifetime mates.

Then he’d met Phillie. She was pretty, fun, and good in the sack, and five years ago, he’d asked her to marry him. She’d said yes.

Their first joint project, a sort of engagement test, was the April Fools contest. A mistake. He should have picked something easier, like building a garage.

She wanted to do something silly. He wanted to win.

It started with laughing disagreements and ended with hurled accusations. The last time he’d seen her, she’d thrown her hands in the air and shouted as she stalked off that he was an epic grouch (her exact words were,
he ate rules and shit misery
, although later, when he’d phoned to ask her for another chance, she upped it to he ate ironclad rules and shit balls and chains.) The upshot was that he wouldn’t know fun if it whacked him on the head.

The engagement was over, but she’d kept the ring.

Idiot that he was, he spent the next three years trying to win her back. Trying to prove he was Fun Thor. He entered the April Fools competition every year, but
he
was the April Fool, thinking he stood a chance of winning, either the contest or the woman.

Two years ago, he decided he didn’t want to win Phillie back. He’d settle for just proving her wrong. For showing he was, if not fun, then at least not the ball and chain she said.

Two years of proving just the opposite.

Nothing had changed, so why was he thinking of anchoring himself with the most sober anchor of all? He had rocks in his head.

Although at least the sex would be good.

No, from that kiss, sex wouldn’t just be good. It’d be
incendiary…

He whacked his head back against the door jamb. He was an idiot, times three.

Young Jenny, just emerging from the restroom, gave him a startled look and harried off through the swinging door like a frightened doe.

He lifted his aching head. As the door oscillated shut, shouts and scuffles filtered through. Things were getting rowdy in the bar. Camille liked Sexy And Fun but wasn’t so thrilled with paying for broken glasses and spilled drinks. He’d have to go help out.

But how could he, when Sera was there?

At just the thought of her soft scent and softer breasts, his cock filled eagerly. She made his heart hurt and his body throb, which, as he adjusted his pants yet again, was frankly just as painful.

Fine. He’d have to spend the rest of the night avoiding her, if this was what she made of him. Although he didn’t know what he was going to do about Camille’s April Fools ultimatum. Forced to work with Sera, plan with her,
play
with her…? His whole body seized up.

Then the first of the bar patrons stumbled back into the corridor, along with the whiff of vampire—and the sound of Sera’s scream.

I got back to ferrying beer, the sting from Thor’s rejection making me work heads-down faster. The first I knew something was wrong was when Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm’s head snapped up and her eyes flared red.

Not Rebecca the delightful children’s storybook character. This Rebecca was one of three protector vampires at Nieman’s. My punk-rocker friend, Nixie, added the “of Sunnybrook Farm,” but in the tradition of Meiers Corners where coincidence was an art form, Rebecca’s blonde braids, bib overalls, and pig-ringing physique ensured she looked the part. Through overheard snatches of conversation and guesswork, my roommates and I worked out that Camille was the master, Thor her first lieutenant, and Rebecca second looey and a kickass fighter.

The pack of them pretended to be a normal humans, but little things gave them away, like the violet glow and the extra-long canines. Besides, small town, secrets? Get enough vampires in a small close-knit city like ours, and soon almost everyone knows. Especially three v-curious twenty-somethings in an apartment nicknamed the Fangtastic Flat.

Rebecca dashed from the front door to the bar, where my granny had stripped down to her Humvee timing chain bra. She gently scooped the old woman off and settled her on the floor.

Then the vampire woman pulled out her machetes and flickered mind-numbingly fast back to the front door.

Where a mob of red-eyed, fangy vampires pushed to be first through.

Rebecca whirled her blades like a blender through rogues, a combination of punks, suits, and military types. With meaty thuds, the knives struck home. Blood spurted, vampire parts flying.

That was when I realized we were under attack. My heart surged double-time, fight or flight seizing my body. I flung my tray onto the bar and grabbed my granny’s arm, tugging her away from the carnage, through the patrons sure go be stampeding for the louvered door in back…except they were all just sitting there.

“Miss?” To my left, a blond poodle of a man held up a pitcher. “Refill?” he asked hopefully. At another table, a woman poked a man. “You had all four top trump, and yet you took a partner? You damned
mauerer.
”

I swiveled a shocked survey—not only were they just sitting there, they were still drinking and playing cards.

Were they
insane?

“Customers!” I may have shrieked it. “Please move quickly and quietly out the back.”

“Ante up,” the card-playing woman said. “Miss?” The man waved the pitcher. No one else paid any attention to me.

“Customers, please listen—”

“
Niemanners!
” Granny bellowed. “Listen up.”

Heads rose.

“Take shelter in the rear, now.” She pointed toward the backroom. I reinforced the gesture with urgent, swooping hands.

Folks rose from their tables and started shuffling back—but not before snatching up their pitchers and glasses. I beat back a frustrated screech. Meiers Corners. I should’ve been grateful they didn’t stop to collect their sheepshead cards and nickels.

Jenny, just emerging through the swinging door, caught my gestures. Her eyes widened on the violence erupting in front. Immediately, she mimicked my flight-attendant moves.

Behind the bar a door opened, entrance to a private stairwell. Camille sashayed through—and stopped.

“Get the fuck out of my bar!” Dropping her coy, seductive act, she sailed like a Valkyrie out from behind the counter, pulling twin blades from thigh sheaths and wading into the fray at the door.

The tension in my body eased a bit. Sure, the two Meiers Corners vampires faced over a dozen rogues, but I’d gathered that our vampires were fast and lethal. This fight was as good as over.

Yeah. Ever hear the old adage, “Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched?”

Eggs? Meet abacus.

Big hands shoved aside fighting vamps. “What’s wrong with you pansies? Can’t take care of a couple girls? Kill them!”

A broad, scary vampire strode through the mob, shoulders like a bench and cheekbones like plates. Beefy, the kind of chunky muscularity you only see in a serious bodybuilder, wearing a dark business suit.

One-handed, he grabbed Rebecca by the cheeks, giving her a smooshy-face just with his grip.

My heart leaped into my throat and banged triple-time. I started waving bar patrons toward the back like a berserk puppet.

The suited vampire jerked Rebecca’s head, too far,
crack.
My heart plummeted from my throat to my bowels. That snap of bone will haunt me forever.

She fell under the rail and stayed down. The rush of terror and sick nearly took me out at the knees.

In front, Camille struggled valiantly but alone against all those rogues. If she faltered, the humans just starting to exit through the back door were so much fresh blood cattle.

Me among them.

One of the rogues slipped past Camille. I broke out in a hard sweat and started shoving at bar patrons with anxious hands. “Please move faster!”

Then Granny said, “I forgot my clothes.”

And tottered back into the barroom.

My heartbeat thrashed in my ears. All thoughts boiled down to one:
Save Granny
. Legs trembling, I grabbed for her with both hands.

She jagged at that instant to avoid the rogue. I missed and came face to face with slavering vampire fangs.

Instinct fueled me. I grabbed my empty tray from the counter where I’d left it and whapped him in the face.

The metallic clang was augmented by a double crunch, his fangs shattering. He shrieked and reeled back.

But two more rogues had broken past Camille.

One grabbed Granny.

I roared and shoved aside the injured vampire.