My Vampire Idol

by R. G. Alexander

  If that was true, you could have stayed away from this town altogether. Could have had a midnight snack in some deserted forest. Could have—

  He silenced the voice in his head with a quiet but colorful expletive.

  Could have. Would have. Didn’t.

  Instead he was standing on the stage, towering over Jolene who seemed more than ready to pass him the microphone. Heart of gold, his ass. More like platinum.

  Take that Gerard Butler.

  Mac saw the acoustic guitar leaning on the wall at the back of the stage. Where had they gotten that gem of a Gibson? He had one or two at home collecting dust, but this one looked well loved. He reached for it, glancing at Jolene. “May I?”

  She blushed, her dimples deepening. “Oh, please do. You sir, are my new hero.” She spoke into the microphone. “Now tell me your name so I can introduce you to your audience.”

  Mac grimaced. He was fairly certain Kip wouldn’t recognize him anymore, and he doubted the others even knew computers existed. Still, just to be on the safe side… “Angus.” He blurted out the name of his long-dead brother and then instantly wished he’d picked something more forgettable. Like Jim or Todd. “Call me Angus.”

  Jolene’s smile broadened. “I like it. Give a warm welcome to our first singer of the night…Angus the brave!”

  There was a small smattering of applause, mostly from Hobie and Jolene, but Mac didn’t care. He wasn’t doing this for them. He spied a stool behind the ragged blue curtain leading off stage and grabbed it, setting it down in front of the microphone. The guitar felt like an old friend in his hand. Something that used to bring him joy.

  Jolene slid the microphone into its stand and jogged quickly off the stage, leaving him alone. He sat on the torn leather stool and plucked out a few notes with his callused fingers. Perfectly in tune.

  The lights dimmed and a bluish-white spotlight blared to life, aimed directly at his face. He closed his eyes and frowned. It wasn’t Jolene’s fault. She didn’t know about his sensitivity to light. Didn’t know she’d just invited a vampire onto her stage. The poor thing had no idea what he was capable of—she just wanted someone to sing.

  He kept his eyes closed and started to play what some would consider an oldie—though there weren’t many older than he was—but it was a favorite of his.

  His voice was rusty. He hadn’t belted out a tune since Thomas had gotten him drunk on that shifter moonshine and convinced him to share some of the songs from his youth. That had been a good night.

  Until he found out he’d been on camera. Again.

  Fucking cats.

  But Thomas wasn’t here right now. No one was. No one knew where he’d gone—other than Saint, who always knew but would never tell. He could just be. He could just feel, or remember what it was like to experience the sort of gut-twisting love he’d begun to sing about. The kind of love he’d longed for in his adolescence– that he’d thought he found with the temptress who had created him. So long ago. Hundreds of years.

  He’d never feel that way again. Never wanted to.

  Mac’s voice didn’t waver when he felt the change in the air, sensed the new arrival. Female. Her scent was pure sin.

  Another bloody demon.

  Chapter Two

  He was the one. Her mark. She couldn’t believe she’d been the one to find him, since she was usually the one sent to the long-shot locales.

  The song washed over her as she quietly entered the small-town bar, the male voice full of gravel and grit, caressing her skin like the hands of a rough lover. Making her shiver with a need she forced herself to restrain for the sake of the unwary patrons.

  Son of a bitch.

  He could sing and play the guitar? No one had mentioned that little tidbit in his file. Rose was a sucker for musicians.

  Musicians and drop-dead sexy men who looked like they were carved out of sharp rock and bone and broken dreams. His pictures and what little video she’d had time to peruse had not done justice to this Scotsman’s appeal.

  He was big. He was bearded. He was a ginger with ice-blue eyes she wanted move closer to appreciate.

  The song he sang was soft and melancholy, his brow furrowed in a brooding expression that she knew came naturally to him. She’d think he actually had a beating heart, that he could feel the anguish of every word.

  It was a facade. He was good, but like the rest of his kind, he was little more than an actor camouflaged for the hunt.

  Rose might be half demon, but every bit of her was alive. She had feelings. If anything, her kind’s emotions were more intense than most humans…regardless of how they were painted by humanity and other species. Demons had received a lot of bad press over the years—though she would admit that when it came to the pure-blooded demons…and a few of her half-blooded relatives—some of that bad press was deserved.

  Vampires, on the other hand, were just cold, sexy corpses who—while claiming to recall the echoes of emotion—couldn’t truly experience anything beyond arrogance, pride and gluttony. At least, the ones she’d met. Yet they were forever romanticized in books and movies and tween television shows. If those teenyboppers knew what the blood-drinkers were really like… Well, they would no doubt still be in love—because the truth was, teenagers of every species were among the stupidest, almost entirely hormone-driven creatures on the planet.

  This was a surprise for Rose, though. A first. Vampires didn’t usually sing love songs in run-down, empty bars in the desert. Singing without the intent to seduce or mesmerize. They never did anything without a reason.

  She’d done enough of her homework to know Mac was no arrogant showman like his roommates. Before they came into his life, he’d hardly left a footprint in hundreds of years. And from what she’d seen of the vlog, he’d never willingly gotten in front of the camera until that idiotic competition at his castle. Now he was being hunted by her and others like her because of his contribution. By his elders for drawing too much attention to himself. What had possessed him to get on this—on any—stage when he knew they were looking for him?

  She noticed him send a look to the couple beside the bar, and the short woman responded with a beaming, watery smile and two thumbs up.

  For them? For human strangers? How unusual. That made no sense…

  Unless he’d never chosen to suppress the empathy that came with the fangs... Rose shook her head. He was old enough to know better than that. Only a vampire who was young and stupid, or masochistic and suicidal kept that switch on all the time. And he was neither.

  At least, she’d been told he was neither.

  Maybe she had been told about this weakness. The poor vamp had a hero complex. That might be what this was about. He pretended that he wanted to be alone, that he didn’t care about anyone, but all of his actions belied that pretense. His castle was filled with orphan ghosts, his apartment with paranormal misfits and his life with the kind of trouble that could only come from too many entanglements.

  One too many, or her family wouldn’t have been hired.

  Speaking of family…

  Rose slipped her hand into her jacket pocket, feeling the cell phone’s cool metal against her palm. She should call them. Daisy, Gardenia and the others. Let them know she’d acquired their target.

  Her phone vibrated against her palm and she twitched in surprise. Lifting it out of her pocket, she read the text message that appeared.

  He’s my friend, little Rose.

  Hurt him…turn him in…and I’ll have to act

  However you do have my permission to torture him.

  I dare you—make him smile.

  -Saint

  Saint. Shit. She shouldn’t have been so careless. Everyone knew what he could do. How many times had her sisters told her to stay away from Wi-Fi—from all electronics—when she didn’t want Saint to know her plans? And this particular vampire hunt was not one she wanted him to know about.

  He’d mentioned several times that she was his favorite from the demon s
ide of his family tree, which is why he kept an eye on her, but that wouldn’t last long if she went through with the plan. Upsetting Saint by collecting a bounty on his roommate could be dangerous.

  On the other hand, this could be her last job for the vampires. One last hunt. As much as she liked her cousin, he’d spent too much time with humans on that computer game he’d created. He’d been sheltered. He didn’t know what life as a demon was truly like after the trials. He didn’t understand what she lived with every day. He had it easy…he didn’t talk to his siblings.

  So why was she still hesitating? Better her than another hunter. She and her sisters had a reputation for always getting the job done with the least amount of bloodshed. A six-pack of dynamite—each a gifted and sexually charismatic Halfling born of one infamously dangerous succubus and sired by a different human father—they were in such high demand that they could name their price. And the price for Mac was high enough that Rose could finally get out from under her debt to her family and start her own life. Finally be free.

  His voice was her problem. His beautiful brooding, bearded face was her problem. His body was definitely a problem. But most of all—his voice.

  Damn, it was sexy. Full of longing and loss, passion and regret. At least she knew that vampires couldn’t charm her kind. No creature could. That was why hunting was a valid demonic career choice. High demand and very little risk.

  Still, there was no denying her reaction to it, to him. Or the imp riding on her shoulder that told her she could wait a little bit longer to call in the cavalry. He wasn’t going anywhere.

  And he was singing one of her favorite songs.

  Between Saint’s warning and her reaction, she might have to make some quick adjustments to her original plan.

  Adjustment number one was obvious—sex. She was going to have to seduce him. To feel the scratch of his beard across her breasts and hear his voice growling her name as he spread her legs wide and took what he needed. Rose wanted him, so she would have him. When it came to these types of physical urges, she couldn’t deny herself. It was a family trait she’d learned to embrace. She would ride the Scottish vampire until her desire was sated. Feed off his passion as his fangs sank into her soft flesh until they were both consumed.

  It could take days.

  A soft moan drew her attention to the young woman sitting beside the blank-faced boy. Oh dear. The girl had her hand underneath the table, her chair squeaking loudly as she rocked back and forth, making it obvious to anyone that might be looking what she was doing as she sought her own release.

  “My fault,” Rose muttered apologetically, focusing on pulling herself together. The pushing wasn’t something she did on purpose—it was involuntary. Like the hiccups…only with orgasms.

  It was a gift she’d never been able to control, unlike the rest of the women in her family. They used it like a weapon. Pushed and pulled to get what they wanted. Rose had always wished for that kind of discipline, but all she could do was stay away from dirty movies and situations where public displays of affection were unusual enough to be noticed.

  Situations like this one.

  She saw the vampire’s fingers hesitate, watched his eyes narrow and focus on the woman at the table. Empathy. He could feel the girl’s desire. Desire Rose had caused because it belonged to her.

  At the moment, she’d rather have all his attention, and there was only one way to make that happen without stripping down and standing in front of the stage.

  She opened her mouth and started to sing.

  Her voice carried over the near-empty bar as she moved closer to the stage, harmonizing with his husky baritone and causing an old man sitting alone at a nearby table to whistle wildly.

  She could see the storm erupt in his beautiful wintry blue eyes, though he didn’t sound rattled at all. Their voices merged with an ease that pleased her, but only seemed to increase his ire.

  Didn’t he hear it? How perfectly matched they were? How powerful? She knew sex with him would be the same. Just as intuitive and passionate.

  Rose’s skin warmed and her blood heated with each new verse. They would fit so well together.

  She couldn’t wait.

  Mac’s expression told her he knew what she was and why she was here. Demon hunter. He would make her pay for taking this moment away from him.

  Rose wanted to pay. She would get on her knees and let him punish her until they were both hoarse from screaming out their pleasure. Those large hands, so delicately strumming the strings of the guitar, could control her as easily. Pin her down. Spank her. Tie her up. She could pretend to be an innocent virgin taken by the bloodthirsty Highlander.

  Damn, she really liked the sound of that fantasy. It was going right to the top of her list.

  Her voice wavered as they reached the climax of the sad love song, every member of the small audience groaning so loudly with need she doubted they would catch her minor mistake.

  The imposing Scot stood abruptly, leaning the guitar against the chair. Grabbing Rose’s wrist, he pulled her behind the curtain without a word.

  When they were hidden from view he whipped her around to face him, gripping her shoulders in a rough way that made her shudder with arousal.

  “Whatever you’re doing to them, stop it now, my dear.”

  Oh fuck, the way he spoke…

  “Um, huh?” The people in the bar. “Oh. That isn’t as easy as it sounds.”

  “I can’t promise I’ll... Stop them. Now.”

  She wanted him right now… “I’ll try, but you have to stop touching me first.”

  He took his hands away with obvious difficulty and Rose inhaled deeply. “Thank you, Mac.”

  “So informal?” He took a deep breath. “I don’t suppose we really need introductions since you’ll be leaving now.”

  She wasn’t going anywhere. He might as well learn about her stubborn streak now.

  A strange sound, like a snore, broke the tense silence.

  Rose glanced down at his jeans. “Is something dying in your pants?”

  Mac swore and reached in his pocket, pulling out a cell phone and swiping his large thumb across the screen. “Fucking juvenile delinquent keeps getting into my phone. Thinks he’s funny…”

  Rose crossed her arms across her chest so she wouldn’t give into the temptation to touch him. She didn’t have to ask who he was talking about. “He does that to you too?”

  He read his message, then his eyes lifted to pin her to the wall with their intensity. “He says your name is Rose. I didn’t know Saint had cousins.”

  She lifted her chin. “Your shifting friend, Thomas Lyons has cousins. I’m sure you must have had them when you were alive. Did you think because Saint’s a demon that he doesn’t—that he can’t have family?”

  “Not at all.” He lifted one dark auburn brow. “I never asked, and he never offered. Most of the time we focus on in-the-moment issues. What he’s done to drive me crazy this time, or why he left dirty dishes in the sink, that sort of thing.”

  Oh. He was looking at her so strangely. What else had Saint told him in that text message? “Well, life is full of surprises. I didn’t know you owned a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Or that you could sing.” Or that you’d smell so good I’d want to beg you to fuck me.

  “I’m adapting to life on the run,” he responded with a quirk on his lush, beautiful lips for an instant before his grim expression returned. He moved closer to her, towering over her and making her tremble. “And you can sing as well. I suppose you’re the siren’s call that sailors are warned about. Tell me when the rest of The Devil’s Garden is arriving, hunter. How do you mean to bring me in and who are you supposed to report to?”

  The Devil’s Garden. It was what the vampires had long ago taken to calling her and her sisters: Magnolia, Pansy, Daisy, Gardenia, Ivy and Rose. Saint must have told him, knowing Mac would recognize the name. There weren’t many of his kind that hadn’t heard stories about them.

  Damn i
t, Saint. She wanted to kiss him, and her cousin had practically put up a “no trespassing” sign by mentioning her sisters. Rose supposed there was no harm in telling him the truth. To a point. Just to ease his mind. “We’ve spread out to search for you since you dropped off the grid. New York, Florida, Scotland… I don’t have to check in with them again until the day after tomorrow unless I get a lead. Which they won’t expect because I never do.”

  His fingers reached up to trace the roped necklace that rested against her skin. “Never? And you didn’t call them before you started arousing my audience and distracting me with all that sexual energy? Interesting. Bored, demon? Or just hungry? If the latter, I’ve heard of a nearby diner filled with cruel and thoughtless people ready for you to seduce. Leave this group alone and go entice them with your particular charms.”

  She was hungry, but he was the only meal she required. Rose lifted her hands to place them on his chest, her thighs tightening at the hardness of him. The strength beneath her hands. She scraped her nails across his nipples and down to his stomach without taking her eyes off of him.

  His gaze narrowed, his thick lashes concealing those crystalline gems. “Is this how you hunt, demon Rose? Are you the siren and the bait—with your short skirt, perfect curves and dark, innocent eyes—meant to distract me until they can spring the trap?”

  “We know I’m not innocent, but am I really a distraction, vampire?” she whispered, leaning forward until her breath grazed his lips. “That kind of thing is usually Magnolia’s job. She’s had men like you tied up and on their knees…and they were smiling when they were finally taken away.” She chuckled softly. “I’m not bait, I’m just the scout who wasn’t expecting our target to be so damn sexy.”

  Mac growled and lifted Rose into the air and pressed her against the wall with his large, chiseled body. “You underestimate your skills.”

  “No I don’t. Sadly, everyone else does.”

  When his lips covered hers, Rose melted against him. Yes. Rough and wild, as though he couldn’t restrain his desire. As though he would take her right here, right now, against the wall.