Vampires and Sexy Romance (25 page)

When Min got home she pulled her thick oak front door closed and threw the latch, the dead bolt, and the chain.  But it would take more than just that to keep a persistent vampire at bay.  Sure, if you didn’t invite them into your home they couldn’t just come in.  But they could throw things through windows—burning, smoking, poisonous, exploding things.  And then your house would be on fire, and when you ran out to escape the flames, voila!  They got you.

So she had to think up some protective spells, and quick.  Maybe conjure up something big and mean and wolfy to play watch dog.  Could she create a bullet proof, twenty foot high wall around the house on the fly?

Maybe I should move?

But then she took a deep breath and sighed.  She’d never leave this house.  And no blasted vampire was going to drive her out of it either. 
After all
, a twinge of excitement ignited in her heart, making the back of her neck itch. 
He’d look so good naked, up in my room, on my bed.  Damn good.

You’re really going to do this—this astonishingly stupid thing—aren’t you?

Min stopped and looked about her, at the house she’d grown up in, the house she now lived in all alone…practically.

Yep, she was going to do it.

Min walked back to the kitchen and into the pantry.  There, behind the Oreos and the belladonna, she found the family “Recipe Book,” otherwise known as the grimoire.  Grandmother had called it her Cicatrix.  But her mother had thought calling it a scar was nasty, so she renamed it the “Recipe Book.”

Min thought of it as her best friend, something that never let her down, that had taught her so much more than even her grandmother and mother, and that had saved her life on twenty-six separate occasions.

As she rubbed her neck and found a thin line of her own blood on her fingers, she was praying to the pestilent gods that tonight it would be twenty-seven.

~*~

Luca doubled back to Vine Street, and then started off in the direction the witch had been headed in before her glamour had led him astray.  And at first he did smell the witch’s scent, her hot blood.  But not even a block later he lost it, the trail going cold as his mind raced for an explanation. 

Maybe she had magicks that could cloak her scent?

No.  She would have used it all along, or might have doused her glamour with her scent to keep him running after her.

What she had done, Luca figured out just before he lost his mind, was double back herself.  She’d led him in the wrong direction, and then she cast her charm, making him go the wrong way. 

That would give her enough time to get home. 
Clever witch.

Once in her own home she would be safe.  He could not enter unless she lost her mind and invited him in.  But there were ways of getting around that.  Luca smiled as he remembered throwing a bag full of live snakes in through the window of one hapless girl.  How he’d caught one delectable widow’s son just before he made it to his mother’s door.  He’d used the yowling child as bait, and the widow had run out heedlessly to save the boy. 

Luca had eaten them both.

So, clever or not, Luca was sure that once he tracked this witch down, getting her back into the clear night air would be easy.

What was hard was going back to the cold trail to try and follow it again.  No sooner had he caught a strong, fresh whiff of her, than the trail evaporated, and he was left brooding again.

He turned back around and slowly paced up the street until it came again.  There was fear in that scent.  And something else: pure, unadulterated lust.  Luca licked his lips and inhaled deeply.  He would have her, and tonight!

As if the scent of her blood was pulling him along by his nose, he slipped in through a side yard, over a gate, down a short, dark alley, and out onto a neighboring street.  The scent became stronger, richer, and his strides came longer and faster.  He was close.  The scent saturated the very air and enfolded him in luscious torment. 

~*~

The witch’s house sat on the corner of Temperance and Independence Avenues: a tall brownstone, with a wrought iron gate that surrounded its inadequate yard.  The roof was pitched with gables, a widow’s walk and even a turret.  There was a green man carved in stone affixed over the front door.  A pagan touch, a mark of protection—but not from what Luca was.

He stood there in the shadows of a neighboring house and watched the witch, her unrushed, confident movements.  She was simply getting ready to go to bed.  He could see her in a second story window as she brushed her hair.  He could have watched her for hours.  Her every move was addictive to the eye. 

Abruptly, though, the witch peered out at him…from every window in house.  He felt a shudder of surprise ripple inside him.  But he liked surprises.  So he smiled and tipped his head to the cunning witch.  He hadn’t taken his eyes from the building for more than a second, yet when he looked back there were twice as many windows aglow with light.  And each boasted a lovely vision of the witch.

Fruitlessly Luca realized he didn’t know where the real windows were now.  That would make forcing her out of the house far more problematic. 
Sneaky…very sneaky. 

The image of the witch in the nearest downstairs window brought a telephone up to her ear. 

Is she really calling the police?  She can’t honestly believe they could do anything…except die.
  The thought of the witch showing such disregard for human life excited him. 

A phone rang from about twenty feet behind where the vampire stood.  He smiled at the witch—it was her turn to nod.  He slowly turned to find a pay phone directly behind him.  Had it been there a moment ago?  Was she powerful enough to conjure things out of thin air?

Probably not.  His attention had been on watching her…or at least the image of her that she had wanted him to see, that he hadn’t noticed before.  He strode carefully over to the phone and gently picked up the jangling receiver.  Luca brought the device to his ear, yet said nothing.

When he turned back to the house all the windows were dark, except the one which held the phone wielding witch.

“So what’s your name, vampire?”  Her accent was thicker now.  Obviously she’d paired it down to blend into this new world.  But now that she was confronting an old evil, she let it flow freely.

“I’m known as Luca…but you can call me master.”

The witch’s laugh was robust and infectious, and she had the loveliest smile—so sweet, but her eyes rolled toward the ceiling. 

“I’m sorry,” she chuckled.  “I don’t mean to be insensitive, but you’re a complete ass!”

It shouldn’t have made him angry.  He really wasn’t that thin skinned.  But she was laughing
at
him.  That overt slight made his blood burn in his veins. 

“And your name?”

“Min,” she said.

“Well, Min…when I sink my teeth into you lovely neck, you won’t be laughing then.  You’ll be begging for your life!”

The witch stopped laughing, but her radiant smile didn’t waver in the least. “Maybe…but I’d wager you don’t have the balls to make me do anything but laugh at you.”

The witch’s words stung.  They made heat ripple off his cold skin.  He hadn’t felt such a hunger for vengeance in so long he didn’t recognize it at first.  She was baiting him, no doubt.  But to his detriment, he was falling for it.

She shook her head slowly, that maddening smile still beamed through from the window.

“It’s too late,” she protested.  “I’m already dressed for bed.”  Luca noticed the witch was wearing a silky blue robe, cinched around the waist.  Lace whispered its secret underneath.  “But why don’t you come inside?”

“Come inside?  Are you seriously—”

“Inviting you, a vampire, into my home?  Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.  You’re invited to come in…”  Suddenly there was the crackle of fireworks from somewhere to the vampire’s left.  His eyes only averted for a moment, and seeing nothing he looked back to find that every window in the house had disappeared.  All that remained was the hard brown stone of bricks.

“That is,” she purred into the vampire’s ear…the wrong ear to come from the telephone receiver.  “If you can get in.” 

The connection went dead.    

Luca shook his head wearily, yet he had a smile on his face.  She had more tricks than he’d seen in any one witch before.  She might be even trickier than his own psychotic sire.  A part of him trembled as he thought of his old mistress.  She drank him dry inside the church he had attended since birth—so much for the protection of his god.  She had tucked him away after she’d forced the blood on him, hiding his corpse in a small crypt, where the prior occupant had long ago wasted away to dust.  She woke him three nights later by dripping holy water on his bare chest.

She’d taken his virginity that night, his arms and legs chained to the altar as she gave him such great pleasure, and dealt him such terrible pain, dripping the acid-like water in time with her own undulating hips.  From that night on, pain had been irrevocably linked to the pleasure of sex.

How many times had she cut him deep with a silver blade just as he’d climaxed?  How many times had she branded him with a crucifix as she rode him to her own orgasm?

He gulped, but then felt a little thrill start to burn in his chest.  It rose in intensity until he thought he would burst into flames.  He could only hope she was so inclined, and so creative.

To Luca’s frustration, not only were the windows of the witch’s house now gone, but so were the doors.  He knew where the front door had been, but as he ran his hands over the unforgiving bricks of the outer walls of the house, he could not find it.

And that’s all he needed: a door he could smash to a thousand splintery pieces.  Now that he had an invitation, all he needed was an entrance.  Fangs fully extended, he seethed with aggravation.  He had to get into the house.  His thirst for the witch’s blood was excruciating.

As he circled the brown stone he sporadically beat his fists against the brick walls, and searched frantically for a windowpane he could break in through.  But he found nothing but more infernal brick.

Ultimately he stood once again across the street from the house and stared up from the shadows to where there should have been windows.  He knew that if he did not enter the house before the sun rose, the next night the invitation would be lost.  But if he could just get inside, even if he didn’t kill her, he would be free to enter anytime he wanted.

Of course, that was if he could find his way into the house for a second time…and since he wasn’t doing very well with that at the present, he wondered if he was being overly optimistic.

And what if the witch knew how to revoke the invitation?  He had heard that it had happened a few times in the past, but truthfully he hadn’t put much stock into the rumors.  Of course, until tonight, Luca had never once considered not killing his prey.  Maybe those tales of revoked invitations had also been brought on because one of his brethren had wanted to turn his prey into his companion.

Maybe this is an omen?
  Luca rubbed the back of his neck.  Ever since the moment he’d laid his hands on the witch’s creamy soft skin, he had felt an incredible burning at the back of his neck, right at the base of his skull.  Maybe that was an omen too.  And the way that electrical connection had been when he’d touched her.  Not to mention the fact that the witch’s blood was what had lured him to the blasted city in the first place.           

Luca’s attention came to rest high above where the windows had been, up on the gabled roof top.  There stood a large stone and brick chimney—and there wasn’t a bit of smoke wafting out to smudge the clear black night sky.

Ah…just what I was looking for…

Luca, as with most vampires, was a very good climber.  He had heard stories of vampires who could fly.  But that, like so many powers and talents vampires were said to possess, were not found in most.  His sire had had exceptional strength and mental powers that kept her more than safe from humans and other supernatural beings. 

He scaled up the bricks of the brown stone, used a drainage gutter to flip up over and landed on his feet high atop the roof.  He stood there for a moment and half expected for the witch to have rigged some sort of trap for him, or for the chimney, or the roof itself, to change its geography.

But nothing of the kind happened.  Instead, Luca moved with silent speed to the lip of the chimney and took a long inhalation.  No fire—thankfully—but he caught the intoxicating aroma of the witch, and her blood, drifting up to him.

Could be a trap…but then again, maybe the witch isn’t as sharp as she thinks.
  It would be hard for a human to consider all a vampire’s capacity for physicality.  Sometimes even Luca was surprised by what he could manage to do.

Probable trap or no, the witch was just down the chimney, and the possibility of getting to her and taking her was more than he could pass up.  As if he’d done it all of his many long years, Luca hopped up atop the lip of the chimney and swiftly descended the tight confines of the brick construct, and made not a sound.  Moments later his feet found purchase in the empty hearth and with a dip at the waist Luca ducked out of the chimney and into the witch’s bedroom.

He was so excited he almost didn’t notice the pinprick feeling that shivered over his flesh, as if he’d walked through a spider web.  He moved into the room, taking in the worn yet romantically antique furnishings, and the enormous four poster bed that took up an entire wall and stretched like a vast Roman arena dedicated to the battles of lust.

I must take her in that bed.
  The thought made his entire body ache.  As he stood there and gazed dreamily down at the satin sheets and the feather pillows, and old fashion feather mattress, the witch sauntered out of what had to be a bathroom and crossed the room behind him.  She took a seat on the antique loveseat and took a drink from a glass of red wine, as if the vampire wasn’t even present.

“You are either very brave, or incredibly stupid.”  Luca said.

The witch looked up from her wine and made a haughty clucking with her tongue.  “And you’re either the rudest vampire I’ve ever met, or…” She laughed.  Again it made Luca’s blood boil in his veins.  “No, I was right the first time.  You are the rudest man—living or dead—I’ve ever met.”      

Luca surged toward her, instinctively raising his hand to land a blow across her cheek, hard enough to not only take that glower from her pretty face, but to possibly knock her unconscious.  That way he wouldn’t have to hear her quips, and he could have his way with her without her using her magicks against him.

In that moment he no longer considered bringing her over to be one of the undead.  He wanted her dead
.  Dead dead.
 

With a playful purse of her lips the witch said, “Stop.”  She didn’t even raise her voice, just said it as if she’d said hello.  And to the vampire’s amazement he stopped in his tracks and stood stalk still, his body abruptly not his own.  It was practically vibrating, waiting for her next order.

Luca shook his head and tried to force it from his mind, but there it stayed, the overwhelming desire to do exactly what she told him to do.  He still wanted to kill her, wanted to beat her to a pulp, then lick the blood from every scrape and gash he visited upon her.  But his body just stood there, not flinching a muscle…waiting.

She looked up at him with the biggest doe eyes, brown and drowning deep.

“So,” she cooed as she stood and moved toward the vampire.  “Do you want to play?”

~*~

Min entered her bedroom and caught sight of the vampire in her peripheral vision.
  Good.
He does have half a brain.  Well, not much more.  Enough to find a way in, but not enough to know it’s all a trap.

She sashayed over to where she’d left her glass of wine then sat down on the loveseat.  It was usually where she read each night before retiring to her bed.  The book sitting on the marble-topped end-table was Alice Hoffman’s
Blue Diary
.  The monster-of-the-piece’s son had just chopped down an enormous apple tree.  She’d wanted to return home to that book all day, but now she could scarcely remember why.

“You are either very brave, or incredibly stupid.” The vampire said to her.  She liked that he was so arrogant.  It made him more interesting. 

Min looked up at the vampire and felt a surge of raw need course through her veins.  She had never wanted a man more than she wanted this monster.  Every molecule in her body was singing with that need.  And that spark he’d set off inside her, with just that first touch, had smoldered and built until it felt like a bonfire was alight in her soul. 

“And you’re either the rudest vampire I’ve ever met, or…” She laughed. 
And I wouldn’t change that a bit!
“No, I was right the first time.  You are the rudest man—living or dead—I’ve ever met.”   

Immediately she recognized pure hatred infuse the vampire’s features, and with blurry speed he tore across the room toward her.

She was surprised how calm her voice was when she told him to stop.  Not so surprisingly, he did.  As if an invisible hand had caught hold of him and held him anchored to the spot, he stood still as a statue…at least from the neck down.  His face was distended with effort as he tried to break free of his constraints and kill her.

She caught his eyes in her gaze, and as she stood to move toward him she felt a magnetic tug, some force pulling her toward him.  She knew, deep down, that if she was smart—and didn’t want to die a gruesome, rather painful death—that she should stake the murderous fiend right then and there.

But instead the words, “So…do you want to play?” fell from her lips.

“Play?” the vampire spat at Min.  “I’ll play with you!  After I snap that pretty neck of yours, I’ll play with your—”

“Enough!”  Min snapped and paced toward him.  She felt an irrational stab of physical pain, that he really only wanted to kill her now…

“If you really don’t want to play, then I might as well tell you to…” Her face burned as she rummaged through her humiliation stricken mind for something to scare the bastard with.  “To burst into flame.”

And it did seem to scare him.  His shoulders hunched and the life drained from his features. 

He gulped.  “You can’t just tell me to catch on fire.”  He didn’t sound so sure though.

“You’re in no position to tell me what I can and can’t do.”  Min pushed him, and he fell back a few paces.  Obviously she didn’t have to verbally tell him to move.  She could just move him manually without his consent. 

Good to know.          

“And,” Min practically purred.  “I’ve got a box of matches right over there on the mantle, right above the —”

The vampire gasped.  “Gris-gris.”

Min smiled and enjoyed the long, bitter silence that followed.

“Good,” she said as she moved to the fire place and retrieved the box of matches from the mantle.  “You know about gypsy magicks…necromancy and voodoo.  Then I won’t have to waste anymore of our fleeting time together trying to convince you that I’m in the driver’s seat here.”  She stopped in front of him and stared into his feral, monstrous face.  Fangs were one thing, but the bumpy forehead thing was not much of a turn on.  “You’re just along for the ride.”

The vampire closed his eyes, defeated.  “It was all a trap.”

Something hot flared deep within Min’s chest, warm enough to soften the cold edge of her hatred.  “Well, yes.  But I think you’ll like the kind of games I have planned.”

“If you’re going to kill me...” His eyes opened, and he looked down on Min with weary, jade green eyes.  She had assumed they would be blue, since his hair was as golden as the sun.  “Just get it over with.”

A sudden image swept over her, a memory of a vision she had a few months ago.  Soon after they’d found her mother frozen in some sort of stasis, she’d been in the office at the shop.  While she cleaned up she’d picked up at strange silver dagger from her mother’s desk.  It had been carved with numerous ancient runes, a language she didn’t understand in the least.  The moment she picked the thing up it had thrummed with power, and no sooner did she feel that power enter her, the damn blade of the dagger cut her.  Not a deep cut, but her blood spilled over the blade well enough. 

In that moment she’d fallen into a vision: as if on a distant shore a man waited, silent but intense.  He wasn’t just waiting for her, he was hungering for her.  And for a split second she saw his face in terrifying clarity, so close she could have touched it.  “Come to me.” She had whispered.

A heartbeat later she once again sat at her mother’s desk in the magic shop.  The silver dagger was gone.  She hadn’t thought of that night even once since it had happened.  It just hadn’t occurred to her to even try.

But looking into the vampires cruel green eyes, she just knew that he was the man in her vision.  There was no question.  But why would a soulless, murdering vampire appear in a vision?   

Min closed her eyes and gave her head a little shake. 
We return you to the regularly scheduled program, already in progress. 
She let out a haughty breath. 
This vampire just isn’t getting it, is he?
 

“Take off your shirt, please.”

“What?’ The vampire jerked, his face incredulous, but his hands immediately moved to unbutton, and then pull his black, long sleeved silk dress shirt from where it was tucked into his slacks, and then off over his brawny shoulders.

The sight of his naked torso was enough to make Min sigh.  But she wanted all of the arrogant vampire to appeal.   

“Luca, was it?  I could do without the fangs and bumpy forehead.”

And just like that, the vampire’s fangs retracted, and his monstrous expression turned young and smooth again.  There was a softness to his manly features that only belonged to the young.  He had not been more than twenty when he’d been turned vampire.

Abruptly he smiled and looked confused…and a little drunk.  And just as quickly Min’s breath abandon her.  She swooned. 

He had the most beautiful dimples.

Yikes…

Evil Dimples?

Min reached out a shaky hand and dragged it across the soft flesh of his chest, over the thick, hard muscles underneath. 
He was broad and strong before he died. 
She shivered. 
He must have been a farm boy.

The vampire took a sharp inhalation of breath, and then he moaned.  Min’s other hand joined in and caressed slowly down over his pecks and then lower, over the rippling muscles of his stomach.  She was intrigued that the burnt flesh of his chest was already completely healed.  But from his gasp when she’d stroked that beautiful skin, he must still be able to feel the burn.