Cleopatra's Return: A Paranormal/Vampire Romance (3 page)

His voice held a touch of an accent
, a sexy one she couldn’t place. “Four brutes against a delicate flower? How unsportsmanlike.”

For some reason his use of the term delicate flower made her grin.

“This doesn’t concern you so leave before we kill you too.” Marc spoke cockily, not sensing the danger that Cleo could sense coming in waves off the stranger. Despite the lack of weapon in his hands or numbers to back him, this male wasn’t one to trifle with. Instinct, which she trusted more than anyone’s words, told her so.

“
Are you seriously threatening me?” Cleo could hear the laughter in her rescuer’s voice. “How novel. And idiotic. This is
my
city, and since I did not give you permission to hunt or even enter, then you are trespassing. Leave now.”

“Or else what?”

The male before her shrugged. “Or stay, but know that in doing so you accept the consequences. And I might add, they won’t be gentle.”

“Big talk for one man
,” said Marc. Belligerent and brave because of his demonic backup.

“
Man? What a foolish assumption, one that will cost you, as your time is up and I am done with this conversation.”

The stranger didn’t
dash so much as he flew toward Marc and his demons, almost as if gravity did not apply, and yet he was no ghost. He definitely had some weight behind his initial rush. The demon he hit flew back with a pained grunt. One down, for the moment, three to go.

A part of
Cleo acknowledged this was her chance to escape, yet she found herself mesmerized by the Samaritan act—and the fact that her rescuer moved like a superhero. Whatever he was, one thing was certain. He wasn’t human.
But he sure is hot.

With a blurring speed
that reinforced his supernatural aspect, he punched, kicked, and even at times bit the demons attacking him. Cleo almost jumped in to help when the demon guarding the alley entrance bull-rushed into the fray, but without slowing his pace, the stranger pivoted and somehow ended up behind the gray minion with his arm wrapped around his neck in a chokehold. Superior strength bent the demon’s head back, exposing his neck.

It was then she finally grasped what he was. A
vampire. Tall, Dark, and Fanged sank his sharp canines into the exposed neck. Despite the fact he would surely die, the demon stopped fighting. As a matter of fact, he went limp, and a contented smile tilted his grotesque lips.

I guess the rumors are true. Vampires excrete something when they bite.
And thus the victims went to their grave smiling.

Cowardly
Marc Antony, who’d stood back while the fight went on, didn’t stay to see if the vampire would snack on him for dessert. With a sketch of his hands and a guttural string of words, he called a portal—lucky bastard—and dove back into the cesspool he’d crawled from.

None of his demons followed
. Incapacitated, they lay groaning and bleeding on the ground, downed in an act of violence that Cleo perversely found hot.
It’s been a while since I’ve seen that kind of prowess in a man.
Not since Julius Caesar, her first—and only love—so long ago, had a man, or in this case a vamp, attracted and aroused her.

Done with his feeding,
her super fanged hero pulled a black handkerchief from his pocket and meticulously wiped his face clean of blood. How quaint and polite.

She almost laughed
, but he’d no sooner put the kerchief away than, with a savage ruthlessness, he dispatched all the demons, stomping his booted foot onto their chests and crushing their ribs cages and hearts.

So much for mercy.

Then again, the demons would have shown him none.

Dead,
the bodies disintegrated into a vaporous black cloud. When none of the demons remained, he finally turned to face her, and Cleo swallowed. So far Mr. Vampire had proven friend, but as she knew all too well, often times her enemies would fight amongst each other for the pleasure of acquiring her—or at least attempting to.

Since her death, Cleo
had allowed no man, beast, or other being to claim her. Sexual urges were taken care of on her terms and never with the same male twice. But in the case of Tall, Dark, and Deadly, she might have to revise her stance because, vampire or not, she found herself inexplicably drawn to him.
And he’s the type I’ll bet who takes and doesn’t ask.

Normally that would raise her hackles
, but other than Lucifer, the lord of Hades himself, she’d never encountered someone with the strength to actually succeed. The casual power the stranger displayed excited her on several levels, a fact that pissed her off seeing as how she had no desire to be used again.

With him staring at her, his intent unclear, she n
ow regretted her decision not to run when the chance presented itself. But she didn’t show her trepidation. Cleo stood her ground as the vamp glided across the refuse-strewn alley until he stood before her.

Even in the gloom, his eyes shone a brilliant blue of summer skies on a cloudless day.
Despite his sun allergy, he wasn’t as pale as she would have expected for one of his ilk, but neither was his skin dark. His facial features were pronounced with high and sharp cheekbones, a square chin, and a strong nose. His full lips curved into a mocking smile as she perused him, her usual verbal eloquence vanished amidst her fascination, not a magical beguilement of the type vamps were known for, but a bodily trance as her body—and sexual needs—dormant for so long woke and, with a gush of heat and moisture to her sex, declared,
I want him.

He spoke first, his voice velvety and tinged with a hint of humor. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, thanks to your timely arrival.” She couldn’t begrudge him thanks because, without him, things would have turned out quite differently—painfully so.

White teeth gleamed in a smile that
someone should bottle and sell as a female aphrodisiac—just ask her ever-dampening panties. Even the appearance of his sharp and deadly canines didn’t detract from his attractiveness.

“I am called Michael. And you are?”

“Cleo.” She never used her full name for obvious reasons. The nickname Whore Queen had stuck through the ages, never mind the fact she’d never had a choice in the relationships. She fucking hated the historic misnomer, but mostly because it gave men the mistaken impression she’d spread her legs for anything with a cock. Not.

“Might I inquire as to why those denizens of Hell would want to kill a lovely creature such as yourself?”

W
ith a shrug, Cleo settled on a half-truth. “Their employer was quite displeased with the manner in which I ended our relationship.”

His brow quirked upward.
“And how did you end it?”

“
A long time ago, I killed him and sent him to Hell,” she said with a smile that over the centuries had sent multitudes running but which made Michael chuckle.

He smiled wider.
“I take it the death was well deserved?”

“Seeing as how he was planning to kill me at the time, you could say so.”

Rich laughter erupted from him. “Not so delicate after all, but lovely nonetheless.”

“Lovely enough to chomp on?”
she asked him bluntly, wondering whether this was where the chivalry ended. Had he saved her from Marc and his thugs so he could have her for a snack?

“While I find you utterly tempting, it was not my plan to
, as you say, chomp you. Simply protecting a lady in distress.”

“You like to play the part of dark knight?”

“Not usually. But I’ll admit, you plight intrigued me, and now that I’ve met you, I’m even more entranced.”

“If you’re looking for thank
-you sex, you can forget it.”

“Again, you misconstrue my intentions. I expect no thanks or payment. On the contrary, I should thank you for the opportunity to indulge in some exercise.”

Her turn to laugh. “You call that exercise?” She shook her head, amused but also more than a little fascinated by Michael’s attitude.

“More like a warmup,” he amended.
“Pleasant as I’m finding this conversation, alas, dawn approaches, and as you might have surmised, my kind is less than inclined to greet it.”

Surely she wasn’t disappointed he had to go? “I understand. It was nice,” understatement, “meeting you.”

“The pleasure was all mine.”

In a gesture she’d not seen in cent
uries, Michael grasped her hand and raised it to his lips, placing a light kiss on the back, a fleeting touch that sent a spark of awareness sweeping through her. She wasn’t alone in feeling it, judging by the bright flare that lit his eyes for a second.

Slowly, and with obvious reluctance, he set her hand free. “
Even though I believe the current danger has passed, might I escort you home and ensure your continued safety?”

Cleo bit her tongue on her usual retort of
I can take care of myself.
Something about Michael, vampire and rescuer of damsel in distress, drew her. Why not indulge in her curiosity? It wasn’t like she had anywhere to go. Currently homeless, she had no empire for him to lust after, nor did he know her actual identity, which meant his interest was based solely on her.
Me, as a woman. How novel.

“
About that, I’ve just arrived and have yet to secure accommodations. Perhaps you could recommend a hotel of quality?” And hope that her bank account in the mortal world still held funds she could draw on. It had been a few years since her last visit, and she doubted the ATM card in her wallet still worked, but it was worth a try. If not, there were ways of getting funds. Violent ways, but then again, she never claimed to be good.

As to those who wondered how she even owned a bank account in the first place, her previous visits to the surface had not been all fun and games. While she had wealth stockpiled in Hell, it never hurt to have it spread around. Emergency stashes both here on the mortal realm and in Hell were created for her to draw upon if she had need.

“A newcomer? I am delighted by your choice of location and welcome you to my city. Lucky for you, I know the perfect place for you to adjourn. Come, I shall take you there.”

M
ichael stepped closer, and Cleo’s nose tickled with his scent, a pleasurable mix of men’s cologne and power. For those who claimed there was no such smell, she begged to differ. It was rare but unmistakable. She’d scented it only twice before, faintly with Julius Caesar and overwhelming so with Lucifer. But she had little time to ponder the interesting fact that Michael’s scent almost rivaled that of the Lord of Darkness because, instead of guiding her on foot, he wrapped muscular arms around her, and a moment later they were airborne.

Holy fuck, we’re flying!

T
he curvy female fit perfectly in the cradle of Michael’s arms. A woman who was more than human, yet not demon or vampire or...what exactly? He’d never encountered one such as her before, but for the first time in millennia, his curiosity was aroused, along with other parts of him.

When he’d come across the battle stacked against her, he hadn’t even hesitated.
A damsel in distress and especially against demons? The choice was clear. His skills were in need of practice, and besides, he was hungry. While bitter in taste, demon blood was quite potent. He only wished the male, the leader of the attack, hadn’t escaped like a yellow-bellied coward, a male whom Michael’s instinct screamed would come back for Cleo.

Ah, the lovely
Cleo. Also known as Cleopatra, Queen of the Nile, last pharaoh of Egypt. Her shortened name and bleached hair hadn’t fooled him. Having lived longer than almost all known beings except for a select few, Michael was well acquainted with history. He’d lived many parts of it under various names and guises. He’d actually seen her once from afar during her days as Julius Caesar’s mistress. He’d also heard the rumors of her misdeeds, not that he put much stock in most of them for he well knew how history was retold often depended on the viewpoint of the person writing it.

Knowing her identity, he
guessed who the man whose assassination attempt he’d foiled was—none other than Marc Antony. What Michael found most interesting was, according to recorded texts, Marc Antony had committed suicide when Alexandria fell. Yet Cleo claimed she’d killed him, an interesting tidbit, one which he wondered if his other houseguest, soon to return from his trip abroad, knew about. But he’d debate that later. Right now, he had his arms full and his cock even fuller with blood as his desire raged forth for this woman.

The brief kiss he’d indulged in, that simple skin
-to-skin contact, hit him like a jolt of electricity. Awareness, arousal, want—
need—
for this woman swamped him. How long, if ever, had he felt such an instant attraction to the opposite sex?

I must have her.

Have the woman with the indomitable spirit, the courage to face down adversaries intent on her destruction, a woman unafraid to tease and taunt him. Dark knight indeed. Despite his rescue of her, he was no chivalrous soldier, more like the invader most fought against. Yes, he might have rescued her, but in times past, he would have done so for selfish reasons. She wasn’t far off the mark when she’d asked if he planned to make her a meal. If she were human, he probably would have. Her scent was delectable, and he imagined her taste would be even more so.