Nightlord Lover (5 page)

“Of course we’re friends.”

Jordan smiled and glanced around her apartment. “You don’t
have a couch. I know someone who sells couches.”

“Jordan, don’t go finding me a couch.” Larissa laughed,
feeling the merlot going to her head.

“No trouble. They owe me a favor.”

Vampires from both Edmund Manor and the Beaumont House
entered the dining hall and quickly took a seat around the long table. This
wasn’t a formal meeting, only eight out of the dozen Guild members were
present, but all were dressed elegantly out of respect to Bastian who sat at
the head of the table.

Anger overriding proper etiquette caused Garrick to slam his
fist on the mahogany table hard enough to crack the wood. He glared at Lazaro
and Kashia sitting across from him then faced Bastian and lowered his gaze. “My
apologies, Bastian. Larissa’s my claim, she resides on my land. I demand she
remain under my protection until she willingly is drawn into the Guild.”

The elder for the Guild tapped his fingers on a leather-bound
book as he stared across the room. Garrick knew he had to move fast, convince
the other elders to make Larissa off limits or mark her as his own.

“Laws for the New Hope Guild allow any one of us to make a
claim on a new arrival, regardless of their residence. The number of claimed
crimson swans should not be determined by the amount of landownership,” Lazaro
argued.

“I agree.” Kashia stood up. “The benefit is for all who reside
in the Guild. How many crimson swans does one member need?”

Garrick growled at the female vampire. She had more
offerings in one week than Garrick took in a month. “Kashia, if we’re going to
take head counts—”

“Enough.” At the end of the table, Bastian stood from his
carved wooden chair. His dark-brown hair hung loosely around his shoulders. The
European cut of his black shirt looked hand tailored and highlighted his muscular
build. “Lazaro has a valid concern,” Bastian said, locking his gaze with Garrick’s.
He watched the fury in his master’s eyes. Nothing angered Bastian more than
fighting among those within the Guild, especially over new claims for crimson
swans. “The more offerings we have, the stronger we are and better protected
from our enemies.”

Bastian spoke from old wounds. His mate, the lovely Claire
Fulton, was beheaded by a female vampire slayer in the mid-1800s shortly after
Garrick arrived from New Orleans. Many of their kind were killed by this
slayer, until she was destroyed within the underground chambers and her ashes
tossed into the river. Garrick understood the pain of losing one’s master,
especially since the vampire who turned him was also his lover. He too lost his
master and lover in New Orleans. The loss of Jeannette Durant still bore deep.

A week before Claire’s death Bastian arranged for an artist
to do a portrait of her as a gift, but she never received the painting. Bastian
told Garrick to destroy the artwork but he didn’t have the heart. The painting
that hung in Larissa’s apartment, next to another by the same artist, Ramon. The
second one was of Garrick in front of the Beaumont House. These Ramon infused magical
powers into the oils. “I don’t have claim to many crimson swans. Not nearly as
many as Kashia implies,” Garrick said. “Larissa is working and living on my
property, therefore, she’s my claim if I choose. It’s convenient and less
conspicuous.”

Bastian growled loudly, his fangs protruding. At four
hundred years, no one dared challenged the elder. Garrick had to remember this.
“Then make your claim, or another will do so.”

While he waited for the right time, he’d have to keep a
close eye on her. Thankfully Ramon’s painting would help with that.

* * * * *

Larissa never had such vivid dreams and she never
sleepwalked. But how else could she have gotten to her living room? This had to
be a dream. Clutching the blanket from her bed, she gazed out her sliding-glass
door. Moonlight and streetlights illuminated the man’s distinguishing features
in a gauzy glow. Garrick stood on the balcony, summoning her.

Wickedly and exquisitely drawn to him, her body craved him,
needed him beyond normal desire, as if his touch was necessary for survival. As
if a cord were attached to her womb, her heart and her nipples, she felt the
pull draw her toward him. In the back of her mind an element of danger nagged
her. The dark desires of her body shoved aside any fears.

Naked and aroused, she sauntered closer to the door, teasing
him at first. She stroked her breasts, kneading them until the skin felt
flushed and her nipples hardened. After Garrick’s kiss earlier, she knew he
wanted her then, and now he’d returned, obviously he couldn’t resist her.
Satisfied that she was right about their attraction, she smiled seductively and
slid her hand between her legs, dipping a finger inside her slick channel. His
eyes widened and glowed with intensity and lust in the surreal light. A trick
of the moonlight between the trees.

He pointed to the doorknob and she nodded. When she reached
for it, a blue spark shot out and shocked her hand. She tried again but was
struck by the electric current. Glancing outside, she was about to tell Garrick
to come in through the front door, but it wasn’t Garrick. It was the Goth man.
Teeth bared like a predator, he punched the door, glared at her, then turned
and leapt off the balcony.

Larissa shook herself. Had she been dreaming, walking in her
sleep? The man was nowhere in sight. But his presence or the dream had left her
sexually restless, unsatisfied.

Still horny, she touched herself between her legs. Her pussy
was moist and her clit swelled and thrummed with an achy need. In a matter of
seconds she could get herself off. She was that close to a climax.

Turning away from the window, she was about to return to her
bedroom to relieve that need, when the street lights illuminated the oil
painting of the Beaumont House, where Garrick lived. She studied the image of
the man who looked more and more like Garrick. His blue eyes drew her closer.
How could she resist when she imagined he was watching her? Thoughts of being
with him intensified the ache inside. Despite knowing little about him, she
wanted him in her bed. Rubbing her hand over her slick flesh, she fantasized
about Garrick pleasuring her. She dipped a finger into her channel, smiling
impishly at the painting as if he could see her.

She felt naughty and deliciously wicked. Given the chance,
would she let him watch her like this? Make herself come? Opening her legs
wider, she spread her folds, presenting her clit for him to view. She’d tease
him, not allow him to touch her until he begged.

Every inch of her skin craved his touch, his mouth, his cock
thrusting deep. She gasped, tantalizingly close, but postponing it a little
longer would make it that much better. Yes, he would like to watch her.

She tapped her clit until it plumped, her body shivered and
her womb clenched as the orgasm rocked through her. Her body sagged as she
barely held herself up while the pleasure continued to explode through her.

* * * * *

“How could you possibly resist that babe?” Ramon stared at
the oil painting in Garrick’s suite. He had a matching painting, a mirror image
in his room with the power to see into her apartment. Earlier Garrick said he
sensed Larissa was in danger and had Ramon work his magic on the old painting.
The scene of the Beaumont House with Garrick standing in front of it in 1800s
period clothing had faded to the scene inside Larissa’s apartment.

Ramon had bewitched the painting a century ago as a means
for Garrick to watch his quarry and that building. Tonight they had an added
treat.

“Yes, she is beautiful. This was unexpected.” He glanced at
Ramon with a mischievous look. “We were expecting Lazaro to try something after
the meeting and thankfully your spell worked.”

“Having a witch as a crimson swan for so many years had its
benefits. Prudence taught me many things.” He raised his eyebrows, knowing
Garrick caught his meaning.

“I bet,” Garrick said, smiling.

Prudence Hughes, Ramon’s lover from the 1800s, satisfied
more than his need for blood. She was loyal, beautiful, adventurous in bed and
an excellent companion. But even when she took ill, she refused the third
marking from him, the sampling of his own lifeblood that would have saved her
and given her immortal life. Immortality frightened her, she’d said. Rather to
live each day as if it were her last, than to live forever where each day was meaningless.
A hundred years later he still missed her. At times, days were difficult
without her.

Garrick glanced back at the painting. “What are we going to
do about Larissa?”

“Lazaro and Kashia are your biggest worries. I know you like
to draw your crimson swans in slowly, have them come to you as willing
partners, but I don’t think you can wait. This one needs to be marked and bound
to you.”

“I could lose her forever either way. If I force her, she
could resent me. If I don’t, Lazaro could take her.”

“You could lose more than Larissa,” Ramon pointed out. “Lazaro
and Kashia want the Beaumont House and your shop. They’re gathering strength to
take over more businesses. I don’t believe they’d be stupid enough to challenge
Bastian, but they would challenge you.”

“They’re capable of doing anything. They’re a threat to the
stability of the Guild.”

“Can I help?” Ramon asked. In the painting, Larissa walked
into her bedroom and Ramon waved a hand and the painting returned to its
original form.

“Yes, I’m going to have to gently persuade her, but quickly,”
Garrick said. “Claiming her together will strengthen her protection.”

“Good idea, but what do we have to do to convince her?”

“I know exactly what we have to do, but it’ll take a couple
days to prepare.”

Three days later Larissa hadn’t had one, not one sale at her
shop. She panicked. At this rate she would have to sell her business and get a
job delivering pizzas.

The front door opened and Jordan stood out of the way as two
burly guys carried in a large sofa. “Hi, Larissa. Sorry I’m late. I had to make
a stop to pick up this.”

“Jordan, I asked for no more surprises. I can’t afford a
sofa.”

“You don’t have to. Can you open your apartment door for
these guys?”

Larissa planted her hands on her hips. “I appreciate this
but I can’t accept it.”

“Yes you can,” Jordan argued. “I worked out a deal with this
guy. We barter in this town, but I don’t need a couch. Please, Larissa. I really
want to do this. It’s used anyway. Think of it as payment for your career
advice.”

“You don’t need to pay me for career advice.”

“Please?”

“Okay, but stop bringing me gifts.” Larissa led the guys
upstairs and they dropped off the couch. It looked new to her with all the
packing material around it. She couldn’t figure out why Jordan was doing this.
Who were these people she knew? And why did they owe her favors?”

When she got back downstairs to the shop two young women
were in the store. The same ones who purchased panties the other day. Great,
returning customers. “May I help you?” Larissa asked.

One approached the counter with a bag while the other
perused the store. “Yes, we were in the other day and I purchased these
panties. I’m sorry I have to return them.”

Larissa’s heart sank. Her business was only getting worse. “Sure,
I can help you with that. Was there a problem with them?”

“No, I decided I didn’t like them when I got home. No
special reason.”

When she took them out of the bag, Larissa noticed all the tags
had been cut off. “I’m sorry but I can’t allow you to return these with the tags
removed.”

“But I have a receipt.”

Larissa heard the door open and noticed Garrick and Ramon
enter. Both men went over to Jordan and talked to her. Terrific, they’d have to
listen to her arguing with a customer. “I’m sorry, you can’t return these.”

“Thirty dollars for panties I don’t want and I can’t return
them?” The customer’s voice raised in anger now. “I want to talk to the
manager.”

Larissa kept her tone even and professional. “I’m the owner
and this is more than store policy, it’s a health regulation. Underwear and
swimsuits cannot be returned once tags are removed. I’m sorry.”

“Lazaro won’t be happy about this. You’re not even a Guild
member.”

“What? Who’s Lazaro? And what is this Guild?” Larissa had heard
Jordan mention Lazaro. He was a friend of Kashia. Who were these people and why
had Jordan warned her about them?

The woman continued to bitch and slam her fist on the
counter. Finally she and her friend marched out of the store in a huff.

Garrick approached her. “Trouble?”

“No. Once in a while you run into customers you can’t
please. Just part of the business.”

Ramon watched the women leave and stared out the door in the
direction they walked.

“Something wrong, Ramon?” Jordan asked.

“No. I’ll be right back.” He left the store without glancing
at anyone.

* * * * *

Ramon strolled down the sidewalk, following the two young
women who laughed and patted each other on the shoulder. They were up to
something. Ramon sent a subtle suggestion to them, a little glamour, a little
enchantment mixed in with witchcraft. He sent a special thank-you to Prudence
again. Vampires had their powers to charm and lure their quarry, he had something
extra.

One of the women stopped, grabbed her friend by the arm. “Hey,
let’s check this out.” She was the bitchy one with long dark hair who had given
Larissa a hard time.

“Check what out?”

“I’ve never seen that side street before and it goes
straight down to the river. What a pretty view.”

“Side street? It’s an alley and it’s dark,” her quiet friend
warned.

“Not too dark. Come on, quick walk. Look at the Christmas
lights along the shore in Lambertville.”

“Fine, whatever,” the friend groaned. “Then I want to hit
Havana’s for a drink.”

They strolled down the narrow path shaded by evergreen trees
and thick shrubbery. At the end was a wooden dock, deserted of boats for the
winter months.

“Wouldn’t you love to live here?” the bitchy one asked.

“Yeah, it’s nice. And it’s cold. Can we go now?”

“Hi, ladies.” Ramon approached them and surrounded them in
an invisible blanket of his allure.

“Hello,” they both said hesitantly.

“Are we trespassing?” the quiet one asked.

“I suppose.” He glanced down at their bags. “Christmas
shopping?”

“Yes. Want to see what we bought?” The bitchy one opened her
bag and pulled out five sexy lingerie items. Then the other one showed off her
selection.

“Nice. Looks pretty pricy,” he said.

“They would be if we paid for them,” the quiet one giggled.
She was well under his spell to admit the shoplifting he’d suspected.

“Hmmm. Bad girls too. I like bad girls. I bet you’d both
look hot and sexy wearing them. It’s getting me turned-on.”

“I bet.” The bitchy one didn’t flinch by his boldness and
the other one stared at him with a glazed look. It was a test to see how far
under his control they were. They passed with flying colors. She stepped up and
placed a hand on his chest. “Maybe you wouldn’t like us once you knew how bad
we were.”

She opened her coat and unbuttoned her sweater, revealing a
swell of large breast above a bra two sizes too small. “Hmmm. Sweet,” he said.

Taking his hand, she brought it up to her breast. “Can you
take both of us?”

“No doubt.”

They were far enough under his spell to take a blood
offering, a double offering at that, take the lingerie items they stole and
return them to Larissa’s shop. Something wasn’t right. Crimson swans weren’t
usually this aggressive. Willing for sex, receptive to seduction, yes, but this
aggressive, no.

When crimson swans were under the spell, they often wanted
to share their life stories. Before he made his collection, he wanted to know
more.

Something about these two bothered him to the core. He’d
been taking offerings for over a hundred years and could read people.

“Tina, not this one,” the quiet one warned.

“Idiot, you used my name. This is the last one for the
night. Promise.”

“No, I don’t want to do this anymore,” the friend said.

“Shut up.” Tina smiled. “He’s hot and wants to fuck both of
us.”

“Don’t want to do what anymore?” Ramon asked. “What’s your
story?” The bitchy one was strong willed and he sensed the other one was
troubled by something.

“Mister, my friend has a knife.”

“Stupid bitch,” Tina said. The knife plunged into his gut
right under his rib cage, then again and again, all the way to the hilt. She
hit a few major organs. He’d heal quickly but a small amount of blood stained
his shirt. He liked this shirt. The Stones T-shirt with the big red tongue.

Ramon grabbed her by the throat and shoved her back so she
could see the knife sticking out of his gut, then let her watch as he slowly
pulled it out and dropped it on the dock. Tina’s eyes widened as her face
turned blue. He’d cut off her windpipe so she couldn’t breathe.

“How many did you kill?” he asked the other one.

“None. It’s all her. I don’t want to be with her, but I’m
caring for my sister and don’t want her taken away in foster care.”

“How many did Tina kill?” he asked the friend while Tina
gasped for air, but he didn’t let up.

“Ten this season, I think.” The friend said it without
remorse or fear, as if she were talking about how many towns they had visited
this year. How odd.

Although the knife wounds wouldn’t kill him, he would need a
lot of blood to regain his strength.

Without hesitation, he sank his teeth into Tina’s throat.
The pressure, built from his stranglehold, caused her blood to rush into him so
fast his head swam. The woman next to him breathed steadily and didn’t even
whimper. Was she so powerless under his allure? He hadn’t thought so. Something
wasn’t right about the quiet one.

When the last of Tina’s blood entered his body, Ramon raised
her body over his head and tossed her like a piece of driftwood into the river.
The current caught her, taking her downstream and quickly under the surface.

“Are you going to kill me too?” the other one asked. A
logical question with no terror in her eyes. Even under the influence of his
power, there should be some fear.

“You said you weren’t the murderer.” He studied her. “You’re
stealing, so you can take care of your sister.”

“My sister?”

He narrowed his eyes.

“Oh yes, my sister.”

Was she confused or lying about this sister? “I could offer
you a job so you don’t have to steal anymore. Would that help you and your
sister?”

She nodded.

He glanced down at her side and noticed the knife gripped in
her hand. She’d picked it up after he’d tossed it onto the dock. “Don’t even
think about it,” he warned. “You saw what happened when your friend tried to
stab me.”

“What are you?” The woman was curious not frightened.

“One of the protectors.”

“You just killed Tina. How are you a protector?”

He stepped closer, circling her with his allure. He needed
to find out her story before he decided what to do with her. “I protect the
innocent. Tina was a murderer. Are you innocent?” He placed his hand behind her
neck. She tilted her head to one side, revealing the steady pulse at her neck.
Almost ready.

She nodded.

“You didn’t scream when I killed Tina or when I threw her in
the river.”

She shrugged. “Tina was always too mouthy. I told her not to
come down here. I don’t like dark places. I got locked up in dark places when
I…”

“Ah, now we’re getting somewhere.” One more push and—

She raised her hand to slash at his throat with the knife.
He was too quick for her and knocked it from her hand. The knife splashed into
the river. “Ouch!”

He sank his fangs deep into her vein, drawing enough blood
to weaken her. Why it took so much of his allure to control her, he couldn’t
understand. She was powerful. When she relaxed in his arms, he pulled away.

“Now tell me, do you have a sister?”

“No.”

“When did you make your first kill?” he asked, going on
instinct.

“Nine. A babysitter. I stabbed her and my parents put me
away for a year.”

“What happened then? How many kills after?” She was in her mid-twenties
so he hated to think how many this psychopath had killed over the years.

“I ran away at eleven and killed many. I’m not sure, twenty
maybe.”

The lack of remorse chilled him. “Why? Were they a threat to
you? Were you trying to survive? Did they harm someone or something you cared
about or believed in?”

She thought a moment. “No. I don’t care about anyone. I have
a dark personality. I kill because I can or I just want to see if I can get
away with it.”

Ramon’s gut twisted and not from the wounds. He hated to see
this side of humanity. Gazing across the river, he considered how many had died
over the years in this area due to wars, vampire slayers, renegade vampires and
more. At least in these deaths there were usually reasons, survival, politics,
a sense of righteousness, but this woman killed for no worthwhile justification,
not even for pleasure. He had no words.

“We’re the same.” As if she had validated her actions. “You
kill too. There’s something special about you. Maybe we can work together. I
can help you.” She slid her hand to his cock. He wasn’t aroused. Not even after
all the blood he drank.

Her eyes gleamed like a wild animal. The most emotion he’d
seen since he met her, unless she was faking that too. “Yes, we both kill. So
how can you say I’m bad? I’m like you.”

“No, you aren’t like me. Yes, we both kill. But I don’t kill
unless I have a reason.” He clamped his fangs onto her throat in a death grip.
This time he heard his serial killer whimper as the last drops of her life
blood drained from her body. She joined her friend Tina at the bottom of the
Delaware.

* * * * *

At the sight of Ramon walking into her store, Larissa knew
something was wrong. With his face flushed and brow creased, she wasn’t sure if
he was angry, distressed or in pain. Then she saw his shirt and rushed over to
him. “What happened? Is this blood? Are you okay?” His shirt was black so at
first, she hadn’t noticed the slashes or bloodstains.

He nodded, not looking at her. “I’m fine. I was roughhousing
with a friend’s dog and he got ahold of my shirt.”

“Oh, my God. Were you bit? Let me see.”

“No. Really, I’m fine. Just a few scratches.” Ramon pushed
away from her. “Where’s Garrick?”

“Basement. He’s checking on a fuse that blew.” Larissa
pressed him. “You should let me take a look, clean up the cuts so they don’t
get infected.”

“No need. Where’s Jordan?”

“Still here,” Jordan answered cheerfully as she came out of
the back room. “I just finished unpacking the deliveries. Hi, Ramon.” She
frowned when she saw him but didn’t comment on his appearance. She probably
noticed he didn’t look well either.

“I’m closing up, Jordan. You can go home unless you want to
stay for a glass of wine.”

Jordan glanced at Ramon and he gave her a stern look. “Can’t
stay, but thanks anyway. Ramon looks like he could use a glass.”

Garrick came up from the basement and stopped when he saw
Ramon. “Trouble?”

Ramon shrugged. “Not anymore.”

“Guild or local?” Garrick asked.

“Local, but it’s going to expand quickly into a Guild issue.
We can’t wait.”