The Caretaker of Showman's Hill (Vampire Romance) (11 page)

She didn’t like what he said, and squinted her eyes to let him know it. It almost sounded as if he was calling her loose – like those girls at the Bat House. She wanted more than anything not to be a twenty-five year old virgin, but when she gave that up, it’d be to a man she loved, not a stranger.

“I wish I could believe you, Basil, but up to now everything you’ve told me was a lie.”

“Then test it out for yourself,” he challenged her. “I promise you I will do nothing to manipulate you. Kiss me now. If you feel nothing, than maybe it was me after all, though I don’t believe so.”

“I won’t do that,” she said, not being able to keep her eyes off his lips. She tried to block her mind so he wouldn’t know how desperately she wanted to kiss him.

“Then live with your own doubts the rest of your life,” he answered indifferently. “I don’t really care.”

He slipped out from under her, and she knew he meant to leave her. She had to know the truth, and this was the only way to find out.

“Basil, wait.” He never left the bed, but turned to her, eyes sad, yet caring. “I think I’d like to find out. Promise you won’t manipulate my emotions in any way?”

“If anyone is controlling emotions around here, you are working your magic on me.”

At his words, she leaned in to him, placing her lips boldly upon his own. She gently rubbed her mouth across his, savoring the softness behind it. He didn't respond to her action, but she felt a stirring within her. So it was her own feelings after all. This time she kissed him with passion, hopefully trying to make him feel emotions of his own. His mouth came alive under hers, as his tongue pushed its way between her lips.

The taste of whiskey flavored his kiss. Whiskey and man, though he swore he wasn't human. His hands caressed her back, the coldness of his skin from the rain sending a small shiver up her spine.

"We'll have to do something about those cold hands," she said in between kisses.

"It's a trait of vampires. Cold hands, warm heart."

There he was giving her the old vampire story again. Though she knew it wasn’t true, she had to admit he’d been very convincing.

"Really? What else is a trait of your kind?" She liked the game he was playing.

He nuzzled her neck, his tongue darting out to lick her skin. "Do you really want to know?" She noticed a new gruffness to his voice. It made him sound wanton and sexy. He bit playfully at her skin just above her collarbone, and she found his gesture exciting. She’d never had a man do this to her before.

"I do want to know. I want to know all about vampires,” she told him not bothering to hide the patronizing tone to her voice. “Please tell me."

"Fangs," was his answer. Before she could ask, he grabbed her hand and brought it to his mouth to show her. She tried to pull away when she felt the elongated sharp teeth jutting out from between his lips. They were real. She knew that now. He wasn’t lying. She’d been teasing and tempting a vampire she’d thought was fictional, but she knew now that vampires really did exist.

"Get away from me!" She looked at his teeth and screamed, jumping from the bed and stumbling in the darkness.

"Now do you believe me, Cassie?" He followed her off the bed. She swore his eyes glowed red in the darkness.

"I don't know what I believe.” She backed toward the door, never taking her eyes off his fangs that almost seemed to glow in the dark. “Just leave me alone. I'm getting out of here and don't try to follow me." Her mind raced in a thousand directions.

"I can't let you leave the grounds, Cassie." He moved toward her.

"I’m going to leave and you can't stop me." Now that she’d said it, it all seemed so stupid. How was she going to outrun a vampire? If he wanted her there, then she had no chance of escape.

"Haven’t we been through this before?" The door slammed shut behind her and she pulled frantically on the handle but it didn’t budge. "I think we should sit down and talk. How about a drink?" He picked up a bottle and poured some of the contents into a glass.

"A drink? What the hell do you think? I'm going to let you suck my blood while I suck yours? For that matter - does a . . . a . . . person such as you even have blood?"

He put down the bottle and brought the glass of liquor with him as he kicked off his boots and made himself comfortable on the bed, rearranging the pillows.

"Yes, Cassie. Vampires," he stressed the word for her sake, "do have blood, but it’s different than yours. And I'm not going to suck your blood if I can help it. I drink blood on occasion, but I've managed to supplement it with - other things."

"Such as?"

"Such as liquor and borscht."

"Is this normal for a vampire?" She still felt scared out of her wits, but his passiveness helped to calm her nerves slightly. She knew she’d never be able to leave the place if he didn’t want her to, so she needed to gain his trust now and plan an escape later.

"What do you consider normal?" He patted the bed beside him and tossed his head, motioning for her to join him. She wanted to keep her distance, but she knew if she didn’t obey, it would only make matters worse. She sat down on the bed and took the glass he offered. She noticed his fangs retracting. She lifted the glass to her mouth and swallowed the liquor in one swift move.

The fire of the alcohol burned her throat and she coughed repeatedly, now cursing herself for drinking so quickly.

"Not used to bourbon?" He stood and hit the wall above her head and reached into some sort of drawer, rustling around and then closing it. She thought he’d been going for more alcohol until she heard the sound of his zipper. She looked over to see him undoing his jeans, now knowing he was changing his clothes in front of her. She looked away and held the glass to her mouth again, trying to drain it of its last drop.

"You can look now, sweetie. You're such a modest virgin."

She turned with a start and saw him sitting crossed legged on the bed, in a pair of dark sweat pants - no shirt. From a gold chain around his neck hung an Egyptian ankh. With his fangs retracted he looked incredibly sexy, even in the dark. Cassie found she had a hard time looking away. Why the hell didn't he cover up that gorgeous chest?

"Because you enjoy looking at it and it does my ego good to have a beautiful woman sizing me up."

"Stop the mind reading tricks," she demanded. "It makes me feel ravaged."

"That's not all I'd like to ravage. You bring out a dormant feeling in me I haven't felt in years."

"It's called lust," she volunteered the information. It was a feeling she'd been getting in touch with herself since she'd met him. A feeling she'd rather not be having towards a vampire right now. "If you're a vampire, how can you wear a cross without burning up or something?"

She reached out and touched the ankh - it felt surprisingly warm.

"It was a gift from my mother," he told her. "I've worn it ever since I was a child. I had it on the night I became a vampire."

She let go and pointed to the top vaulted drawer. "Your mother?" she asked.

He nodded. "My father too." He pointed to the middle vault.

Cassie sickened at the thought, and she was sure Basil could hear the rapid beating of her heart.

"Basil, they're not . . . they're not . . ."

"No, they're not in the wall, Cassie. I buried them in the graveyard years ago."

She took a deep breath and tried to relax the best she could. Basil took her empty glass, his hand brushing against hers as he did so. A feeling of warmth rushed through her. She wondered if he felt it too, but he didn’t seem to notice. He strolled over to the bar to refill her drink.

"So then, your family was the Wensiltons? The circus that came from Europe and crashed here in 1819?"

"It is."

Basil poured her a glass of amaretto this time. It was what he considered a lady's drink. He turned and handed it to her and reached for a bottle of scotch for himself.

"Tell me about it, Basil." He watched her take a sip of the amaretto. She seemed to like it. He carefully sat down beside her.

"My mother was Egyptian. That’s why my skin is tanned instead of pale like most vampires who never see the light of day. She met my father while in England and they married. They liked to travel and started up a circus. My father liked animals and my mother was into all sorts of weird things, so it worked out fine. The circus traveled around from country to country. I was the first-born - in England. Therefore my mother named me Basil."

Cassie took another sip and leaned back on the pillows. She was relaxing, and seemed interested in what he had to say. It felt good to have someone new to talk to.

"Go on," she encouraged him with a nod of her head.

"Sefu, my brother, was next born - in Egypt."

"Sefu's your brother?" she asked, not sounding at all surprised.

"As well as Louie who was born in France." He had the feeling she already knew they were his brothers. He could have picked her brain to find out, but he didn’t want to do that any more than he had to.

"And Antonio . . ."

Basil took a swig of Scotch before continuing. "Not my brother. But unfortunately related. He's my cousin on my father's side."

"Don't tell me - he was born in Italy."

Basil nodded. "My family had a strange way of doing things."

Cassie slipped off her shoes and curled up into one of the big pillows. She seemed to be accepting him, and he wondered if it was the work of the alcohol or by her choice. He found himself wanting to put his arm around her and snuggle up with her, but didn’t think it would be a good idea. One more emergence of his fangs and she’d go hysterical again. Instead, he took another swig and swallowed deeply.

"Then your brothers and Antonio are all . . ."

"Vampires, Cassie. You can say the word. It's nothing dirty and you won't turn to stone if you speak it aloud."

"Who else?" Cassie asked curiously.

"Andre - my uncle. Also Hope, Faith and Charity."

"The whores are related to you too?"

Basil should have been angry with her for that comment, but knew the alcohol was making her tongue loose.

"They're not whores, Cassie, nor were they ever. They're not related to me, but just friends of the family. The three of them are sisters. They were part of the circus as well."

“What about La Roux?" she asked, draining her glass and holding it out for more. He poured her another round and replaced the bottle.

Basil wasn’t sure how to answer this one. He really didn’t want to talk about La Roux tonight. That was more information than he wanted to share. Still, he knew Cassie would keep asking until she got some kind of answer.

"La Roux is different,” Basil explained. “She doesn't quite fit in the same classification as the rest of us."

"Then what is she? A werewolf or something?"

Basil found Cassie’s accusation amusing. He couldn’t help but smile.

"No. She's not a werewolf. Let’s just leave it at that. Now get up, we're going to the house."

"What for?"

"I'm hungry. I need you to give me a bite to eat."

Her eyes opened wide and her hand rubbed the side of her neck. "Hungry?" she asked.

He smiled again. "Not for your blood, sweetie. However, if you'd be so kind as to fix me some seaweed soup, I'll supplement my feeding with that instead."

He popped open the clothes vault and pulled out a black t-shirt with the Grateful Dead and a skeleton plastered across the front. He closed the drawer and pulled the shirt over his head feeling the shiver run down Cassie’s spine at the sight of it. She sat there, staring wide-eyed at his shirt, and he didn't need to read her mind to know what she was thinking.

"Sometimes the thought of being dead is appealing," he told her.

“Then, you’re not . . . not . . . ”

He bent down and placed his hand on her knee. “No, Cassie, I’m not dead. I’m the undead. Damned for all eternity to walk the earth, watching others grow old and die and only wishing it was me in their place instead.”

“Don’t say that,” she whispered. “You don’t mean it.”

“Oh yes I do,” he told her solemnly, “but I don’t expect you to understand.”

He watched her chest moving in and out with her labored breathing. He watched her perky breasts move slightly beneath the cotton fabric of her baby blue shirt. He felt his loins stir as well as his own blood. Then his eyes settled on that long, beautiful neck of hers beneath her short, sassy blond hair. He felt his fangs starting to emerge, and he stood up abruptly to make distance between them.

“If we stay here any longer, I may not be able to control myself.”

“All right,” she answered slowly. “Let’s go get something to eat.” She got to her feet and placed her glass on his bar. Basil saw her wobble, so held a guiding hand to her back. He helped her to the door, and noticed it was still raining.

"Come on, we'll take my car," she directed and dashed down the stairs. Basil stepped out and closed the door behind him. He looked at the two guardian sphinxes at the foot of the stairs and shook his head.