Blood Lite II: Overbite (10 page)

A blond male in the corner stood at the same time the dark-haired suitor did. Both males locked gazes as Raina closed her eyes and moaned.

From the corner of her eyes, Lola watched her girlfriend’s small clutch vibrate across the bar. She quickly set down her ginger ale and grabbed it, and then flung it up under her arm.

“Please Bruno, please Bruno, don’t come looking for her tonight,” Lola said, and then accidentally sipped the drink she was holding and came up sputtering.

“Let me help you with that,” a smooth baritone voice murmured so close to her ear that she almost fell off her stool. “The name is Andre.”

He rounded her bar stool and blotted the spilled drink with a small square bar napkin. “I’ve never seen you in here before.”

“My first time,” Lola said, setting down Raina’s drink and taking a huge gulp of her ginger ale. Then she hoisted her purse up higher on her shoulder, awkwardly balancing two purses and her drink.

“So, not being sure how far you wanted to take this adventure,” he said in a smooth Caribbean lilt, “you decided to ingest garlic.”

Lola covered her mouth and he laughed a deep, rich, belly laugh that warmed her insides.

“I’m sorry,” he said, coming to sit beside her. “I didn’t mean to tease but couldn’t resist. You are simply the most interesting woman I’ve encountered in a very long time. May I replace the drink that half spilled?”

“It wasn’t mine . . . it was for my girlfriend, and like a klutz I accidentally drank it.”

“That’s all right,” he murmured. “Sometimes I drink things that I’m probably not supposed to. What can we do?”

Lola looked up into one of the most handsome faces she’d ever seen and then looked back down at the mess she’d made on the bar. His skin was so dark and even that it made her want to reach out and touch it. Instead, she traced drops of Jack Daniel’s with her finger against the smooth mahogany that reminded her of his skin. Thick, black lashes rimmed his intense, deep-set eyes. Strong African features made him look more like a work of art than a living being; then she quickly reminded herself that, technically, Andre wasn’t alive . . . but damn. A stone-cut body sat beside her, openly studying her, and she refused to make a size judgment based on his wonderfully large hands. In that moment she wished that she had on a nicer blouse to go with her jeans and heels, something black and daring and V-neck like Raina wore instead of the scoop-neck purple thing she had on.

Andre leaned on his forearms at the bar but inclined his head toward her. “What you have on is just fine,” he murmured. “It is your style and what is within each woman that is different that a man yearns to uncover.”

“You read my mind—like, like—”

“It is what we do,” he said with a casual shrug. “But some things are written all over a lovely lady’s face.”

He hailed the bartender. “Please replace Lola’s drink for her friend and refresh her ginger ale. Her mouth is going dry.”

“Stop that!” Lola replied, sounding testy but couldn’t stop smiling.

Andre held his hands up in front of his chest as the bartender removed Raina’s drink and knocked back what was left in the glass.

“So, you came here tonight to babysit your girlfriend.”

Lola shrugged and took a fresh swig of her pop. “Pretty much.”

“I’m a bouncer here and I see this all the time. A beautiful woman comes in, begins tweaking up the testosterone on dangerous males, and voilà . . . the perfect storm.”

Lola watched his gaze travel to the dance floor where two interested vampires had Raina between them.

“I think those guys are willing to compromise with a three-way, but I don’t think your girlfriend is ready to experiment that deep in the life yet.”

Lola choked on her soda. “I’ve gotta get her out of here!”

Andre nodded. “Yes . . . you do, but the window has passed. So, I’m going to ask you to jump behind the bar with old Matt.”

“Jump behind the—”

No sooner than the words had passed her lips, the front door came off its hinges and seven burly werewolf pack males charged the dance floor in full transformation. Vampires took to the rafters and second-floor railings. The dance floor cleared and Raina placed her hands on her hips.

“Excuse me,” Andre said, catching a wood-handled baseball bat from the bartender, which had a silver club end. “Now would be a good time to get behind the bar.”

Lola scurried over the bar but stood watching in amazement.

“Gentlemen, I’m afraid you’re going to have to take this issue outside,” Andre called out calmly, advancing on the floor with ten buff bouncers.

Bruno transformed back into his human form, standing before Raina naked and angry with a hard-on. “This is between me and my lady!”

“Then keep it that way and take her home,” another bouncer shouted.

“I’m not going home with him, I’m going with them!” Raina shouted, taunting Bruno.

“Lady, you don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here,” another bouncer yelled.

“Shall we call you a cab?” the rebuffed dark-haired vampire said with a sneer toward Bruno.

“We can see her home before morning,” the blond said with a knowing grin.

Andre wiped his free hand down his face. “Come on, dudes. Gimme a break tonight.”

The moment Raina stepped back from Bruno, the bar erupted. Chairs went flying, punches were hurled, fangs came out and canines got bared. Pole dancing females screamed and dodged flying beer bottles, carrying off their snakes, as huge bodies took out the stage. A chair hit the bar, followed by a table that shattered bottles above Lola’s head. She scrambled to safety just in time as the entire shelf crashed to the floor.

But there wasn’t time to dwell on the near miss. Lola kept moving, dodging hurled furniture and hard-landing bodies. Finally, a pump shotgun blast and the smell of silver shell discharge brought the bar brawl to a screeching halt.

“Enough!” a velvet-suited vampire said, coming down from the executive offices. “Wolves, go home. My vampire staff, reglamour this place and pull it together.”

Disgruntled patrons muttered their disappointment. The bartender shook his head. “Damn, just when things were getting good.”

“You coming?” Bruno bellowed toward Raina, folding his arms over his massive barrel chest.

“After I get my purse,” she said, lifting her chin, unfazed, and going back to the destroyed section of the bar where she and Lola had been sitting.

Lola stood there for a moment gaping as Bruno nodded, and then hunted on the floor and picked up her handbag.

“All right, but hurry up, girl . . . there’s still some moon left,” Bruno said after a moment when Raina folded her arms.

Stunned, Lola watched Raina collect her bag and then extract her car keys.

“Girl, you don’t mind driving yourself home tonight, do you? You know how he gets, all tense and sexy, and I guess I’ll have to give his fine ass some.” Raina dropped her car keys in Lola’s hand and then hugged her, whispering in her ear, “We’ve gotta do this again soon. Tonight was awesome.”

There were no words. Lola stared behind her girlfriend and the pack alpha, noticing that several of his beta friends were now giving her the appreciative eye. Then a deep baritone voice filled her ear and made her turn away from the group by the door.

“Why don’t you stay, boo? Hang out with us tonight. It’ll raise your stock in the pack.”

She shook her head and found herself chuckling at Andre’s hand sign to call him. Yeah, she was dog tired and just wanted to go home. She’d experienced enough drama for one night. But when she looked back, the vampires generally seemed forlorn, as though the mêlée was the most fun they’d had in years.

“I don’t have your number,” Lola said after a moment and loud enough for the werewolves to hear her.

Andre laughed a deep, rich island laugh as her phone sounded in her purse. “Now you do. I don’t mind dating out if you don’t. Call me—just not in the morning, and no garlic. Cool, ma?”

A Sweet Girl for Todd

MARK ONSPAUGH

“Here you go,” she said, handing him a brochure for a tanning salon.

It read
Aztec Tan
and featured a tanned and muscular jaguar warrior surrounded by pretty girls in bikinis.

Todd gulped. One of the beauties in the photo was standing before him.

“So, how about a tan?” she asked.

Todd was embarrassed by the attention, especially from a beauty with such large blue eyes. She wore a turquoise silk blouse, open just enough to tempt his gaze. He tried to concentrate on her blond hair, which shimmered in the sun like spun gold.

Like Sif, the wife of Thor, he marveled.

“Mama never let me go out in the sun,” he said. His mother had always made dire predictions about what would happen if he ventured outside, so he had grown up in a world of perpetual dimness. Then, three months ago, she had been installing new blackout curtains and had fallen off the ladder, breaking her neck. After she was gone Todd took his first tentative step outside. Once he discovered that he would not burst into flame or melt like a waxwork figure, he had reveled in the feel of sunshine and open air.

“No wonder you’re so pale,” she said, shaking her head sadly. Todd felt his heart break to see her unhappy while at the same time his spirit soared because she really seemed to care for him.

“I also had bad skin, but I’ve been using Skin-Alive and Chum-Scrub,” he said.

“I think your skin is beautiful,” she said shyly. “My name is Mandy.”

“I’m Todd.”

“You have family here in L.A., Todd? I can tell you’re from out of town by your accent . . . Chicago?”

“Detroit,” he said, happy she was interested. “No, it was just Mama and me, and she’s dead. I wanted to go someplace . . . sunny.”

“So now you’re here, seeking your fortune . . . And maybe . . . love?”

Todd blushed a bright crimson and felt it travel all the way from his cheeks to the tips of his toes. It was not an unpleasant sensation.

Mandy took his arm, and her touch sent a shock wave of electricity through him. He willed himself not to sway, lest she break her grasp.

“So, Todd from Detroit, how about that tan?”

“I’m . . . uh . . . too big for a tanning bed,” he said as if imparting a secret.

“Not ours,” she said sweetly.

Todd hesitated. He was six foot two and tipped the scales at just shy of four hundred pounds. Todd had come to learn that what might serve most men was either too small or too fragile for him. He was sure it would be that way with her tanning bed and wasn’t sure he could take the embarrassment.

“Tell you what,” Mandy cooed, “you try a tan and you can join me for dinner.”

“You mean, like a date?”

She giggled, and it was not the cruel laughter he had heard as he had waddled down Hollywood Boulevard, or the hateful snickers as he ate lunch at the House of Pies. No, her laughter was melodious and magical. Aphrodite might have made such a sound.

“Of course, silly. You think I’m going to let a handsome, robust man like you get away?”

Handsome! She found him handsome!

Was love beckoning to him? His mother’s voice, unbidden, reminded him that sunlight was bad for her little man and that he had a ticket back to cloudy Michigan.

Todd banished her from his thoughts, a first on this day of many firsts.

Mandy led him down the boulevard, and again he was struck by the dizzying array of colors and textures, of people from every country, some pierced and tattooed into tribal fetishes or creatures Conan or John Carter of Mars might have fought.

“First trip to Hollywood?” Mandy asked.

“My first trip
anywhere
,” he confessed. “I thought it would be like the Clark Gable days.”

Mandy giggled again, the sweet notes making his heart flutter. He suddenly caught her scent, flowery and clean with a hint of something animal underneath, and felt a strange stirring along his spine and down into his pelvis.

Maybe that’s love, he thought.

Mandy escorted him all the way to a strip mall down on Sunset near Vine. Even when his hand became sweaty from exertion, she didn’t let go, and Todd was sure he had found the sweet girl he had been yearning for since he first read of Dejah Thoris, Princess of Mars.

The shopping center seemed deserted, and weeds had started to sprout in the parking lot. In amongst several failed businesses sat a cheery little storefront with a mural of a Mesoamerican pyramid and a smiling sun with sunglasses. The sign read “Aztec Tan, the Sun Experts!”

Inside it was cool and brightly lit, with posters of Mexico covering the walls. Todd was introduced to the staff, which included Lila the massage therapist and Derrick the “tan master.” This title was delivered by handsome Derrick with a self-deprecating smile. Todd envied Derrick his heroic muscles and dark curly hair. He looked like Apollo.

He might have been jealous, but Mandy introduced him as “my Todd,” and he again felt that pleasant heat suffuse his body.

Then Todd filled out a medical history (no illnesses, no next of kin) and a release (“in the unlikely event . . .”), which Mandy assured him was just for “those stuffy lawyers.” She shyly gave Todd a kiss on the cheek and that removed any fears he might have had.

After much coaxing, Todd stripped down to his shorts. While he drank a soothing herbal tea, Lila covered him in spicy ointments and buttery creams. By the time she was done, he smelled like Christmas morning.

They helped Todd into their largest tanning bed. Todd chose a recording of ambient forest sounds and they all bid him sweet dreams.

Night birds sang sweetly, but it was the crickets Todd found soothing, restful. He suddenly felt a longing for home and . . . and . . . But the feeling was gone as quickly as it had come, and he thought of sweet Mandy and their date when he emerged bronzed as a jaguar warrior.

As it grew toasty warm, Todd felt a sharp pain in his gut, and then along his spine. As he was about to panic, a warm calm settled over him, and he thought he remembered his father, lifting him high, high up in arms, long and strong.

Todd drifted off to the sounds of a tropical rainstorm, thinking of his father, his dinner with Mandy, and custard pies, his most favorite dessert. Something large and dark flew across his memory, and then was gone.

Soon Todd was asleep, and they could all hear him snoring, a ratcheting worthy of a frontier logging camp.

Derrick locked the tanning bed securely and turned the temperature up to 350°F. Mandy put out the “Closed” sign and locked the front door, then began setting the table in the employee lounge. Lila called the rest of the clan at various salons in the Valley.

They arrived quickly. Clients like Todd were all too rare, even in a big city like Los Angeles.

Like Mandy, Lila, and Derrick, they were all tanned and dark, with fine physiques and easy smiles. Contrary to popular legend, they weren’t bald, or scabrous, or pale. They didn’t lurk around cemeteries or avail themselves of raw flesh. Oh, they had certain cousins who practiced this, some even sophisticated enough to act as though theirs was a refined palate, like a Japanese noble dining on sushi.

Disgusting.

They played the old songs and games, and some moved off into other rooms for liaisons with cousins not seen in many months.

Soon Todd’s snores stopped, and a delicious aroma filled the salon. Everyone laughed when Mandy drooled on her new blouse, and she was the subject of good-natured ribbing for much of the afternoon.

Then came the ritual “Baring of the Teeth,” where they removed their carefully crafted bridgework to reveal strong white teeth filed to points. They played Slash Tag and Bite the Blindman for another hour, then got down to serious drinking and carousing.

Twelve hours later, with hula music playing and all the guests happily drunk, Derrick opened the tanning bed with a flourish.

Everyone stared.

Todd was gone.

In his place was a six-foot lozenge of copper-colored chitin, rounded with hemispherical protrusions at one end, tapered and segmented at the other. It looked like a kind of sarcophagus.

“What the . . .” Derrick exclaimed, but by then the pupa was splitting open, and new Todd emerged. Famished from his change, he devoured every screaming one of them, his stinger paralyzing them, then his razor-sharp forelegs and crushing mandibles more than equal to the task of devouring flesh and bone.

Todd saved pretty Mandy for last, her blue eyes wide with a terror that seemed to his new eyes like love. His venom turned her organs and bones into jellied confections, sweeter than anything he had ever tasted . . .

Even custard pie.