Love's First Bite: Bad Boys and Alpha Vampires Boxed Set (6 book bundle)

by Eden, Cynthia

“I know a few French words, but I don’t think my brain will ever grasp the concept of the masculine and feminine nouns. I moved here from Minnesota. Trying to find myself.”

  “Personal discovery, eh? How’s that going?”

  She shrugged. “Okay, I guess. Some days I feel more lost than when I first arrived here.”

  “I sense that about you. It worries me.”

  Johnny propped an elbow on the back of the bench and caught the side of his head in his palm. Kam met his gaze with the fierce defiance she often used on stage. Let them believe they have a connection, then laugh and on to the next sucker.

  Except this time she couldn’t find the disinterest, the laughing need to look away.

  He touched her lips, stroking them so tenderly she could barely feel his fingertip. The vampiric shimmer tickled her mouth. His lashes were long, and he didn’t wear the smudged black eye shadow tonight. Moonlight pearled on his pale skin. Something so pure about him, and yet she knew he was not. A decadent innocence, he.

  When he stroked her cheek and over her dark hair, he suddenly smirked.

  She rushed to learn his thoughts. “What is it?”

  “There’s something so captivating about you. A man could lose his soul to you.”

  He could not have guessed more correctly. But only if she bit him.

  “Of what value is a soul?” she countered. “Wouldn’t such sacrifice be worth the adventure?”

  “The adventure of you?” He caught his chin in hand and made show of eyeing her carefully. “I think so. But I’m having a difficult time conceding to share you with this mysterious dark lover of yours. I’d like to keep you for myself.”

  Kam’s heart stuttered. She forced herself to peer at the blur of neon lights and not into the devastating challenge she saw in the man’s eyes. She wanted to believe his need to keep her—to possess her—was true. Because if it was? Could she trust him to reveal her desperate truth?

  She wanted to. She needed to.

  “Johnny, will you…”

  The tilt of his head, the expectation in his eyes, the slight parting of his lips that revealed fangs, enthralled. Kam sighed, releasing the anxiety, the real fear that kept her wound up tightly—as he had suggested—and decided to step off the edge. Just this once. Into the unknown. Which may or may not promise sanctity. Yet it may also wage wars untold in her heart.

  If she asked Johnny for help surely her dark master would know. He always seemed to know everything. And so she would not.

  Not yet.

  “Kiss me,” she whispered. For she had not been kissed by a man since arriving in Paris. Had not allowed such intimacy with any of her bites. And certainly the dark one should not be labeled a man in the usual sense of the word.

  Johnny moved closer, his eyes never leaving hers. The clean scent of him enveloped her in his allure.

  Kambriel closed her eyes. She did not expect he would actually kiss her. She was tainted. Dark and—did he not understand with whom he dallied should he touch her?

  Should she tell him?

  Not when he’s so close. You can smell his desire. You want to connect with him. You need him. Don’t spoil it. Steal this moment, if you dare.

  The hush of his warm breath dusted her lips, her chin and the curve of her jaw. She sensed he was scenting her as she did him, and as he drew his nose along her jaw she wished for contact, skin against skin. His tempting heat would surely sate her desperate want of warmth.

  Her heart pounded faster than a drummer’s solo. When on stage her body thrummed with the beat of the audience’s cheers and dancing stomps, which in turn hummed through her extremities and filled her with a vibration of the masses. Life, bloody life.

  Yet this moment was spectacularly singular, she and him.

  Anticipation quickened her breaths. A brush of his dark hair skimmed her cheek. The trace of mint tickled her nose. Her breasts rose and fell. His mouth was so near hers. Wanting. Anticipating. Reaching for that which she knew could be the most dangerous act she will have committed since setting foot in Paris.

  “Kambriel,” he whispered, “you’re trembling.”

  She caught her hands against his chest, her fingers curling into the soft tee-shirt beneath the vest and clinging. The vampiric shimmer heightened sensation. The air between them sparkled sharply.

  “This is a mistake,” he murmured, yet his nose nudged hers and his breath whispered across her lips. “You willing to make it with me?”

  She nodded and pulled him closer. “Please. I need…”

  His mouth lingered before hers, brushing her lips intermittently. Deciding whether or not to make the mistake?

  Don’t reveal the sacrifice required. He will run.

  Kam gasped out a tiny moan. So close. Please. Touch me. Make me believe what I’ve lost can once again be mine.

  The vampire’s mouth touched hers. A tentative connection, which abandoned hope and crushed hard, sealing their fates in a manner Kam wished would survive eternity. He was unaware. An innocent. This knowledge hurt her, but at the same time fueled the incessant need to claim all she could, grasp it to her chest and not let it go until it was as crushed and damaged as she was.

  Moving onto her knees, she settled forward, straddling his legs without breaking the connection. His breath mingled with hers, imbuing his minty sweetness across her tongue. The structure of him, sitting beneath her, pulling her down and holding her across the back, felt immense and overwhelming, and yet, not so threatening.

  He was safe. Too safe. Unwary.

  He cupped her cheek and pulled from the kiss, pressing his forehead to hers. “So good,” he whispered. “So wrong.” And he renewed the kiss more fervently, taking from her as urgently as her heart begged for rescue.

  He could not save her. But he might restore brief light to her darkness.

  Dashing her tongue under one of his fangs, Kam tasted her own blood and pressed it against his tongue. Johnny moaned, wrapping his arms across her back, holding her there. Keeping her.

  She wanted to taste him, but would not be so bold. It was for him to give his blood to her if he chose, and he did not, so she must be satisfied with the embrace. An embrace she would dream about ever after. If she never saw him again, this kiss would carry her through the days, a bright glint to the dark webbing about her soul.

  “Do you know how difficult it’ll be to walk away from this?” Johnny asked, bracketing her face to peer into her eyes. “Your kiss tastes so dark.”

  Kam bowed her head to his. How right he was, and it embarrassed her.

  “Like dark chocolates. The kind I used to sneak from my mother’s stash when I was little. Sweet with a kick of bitter. Made to be savored slowly.”

  She liked the sound of that. And she did not. She wanted him to devour her.

  “But your blood…” He tapped her lower lip and pushed his finger into her mouth, touching the tip of her tongue where she had cut it on his fang. Healed now, but so sensitive to his touch. “Some kind of drug,” he whispered, with an eyebrow quirking in wonder. She’d bet he slayed a thousand hearts when on stage with that teasing brow. “That little taste… Kambriel. I knew this would be wrong.”

  Suddenly he stood. Kam wasn’t even aware of him pushing her off his lap, until she had to catch a hand on the back of the bench to keep from sprawling to the side.

  “What did I do?” Kam asked.

  Johnny whispered, but she heard it, “You just touched my soul, Kam.” Turning from her, he clutched a hank of his hair in a hand. “Fuck.”

  She bent her knees, bringing her legs up to her chest again, a protective position she assumed without second thought. Shouldn’t he be holding her close?

  “Guess that means there’s going to be a fight,” he said, lightening the mood. He shoved his hands in his pants pockets and stared off at the carousel.

  “A fight?”

  He tilted a smile at her, and it was so charming Kam was lured to her feet to stand before him. She wanted to climb inside
his smile and find shelter there.

  “Only one man can have you. I want to be that man.”

  He slid his hand behind her neck and bent to kiss her again. This time, he dove deeply, painting her tongue with his, dashing across her teeth, breathing her air and exhaling his want. And it was all Kam could do to wish away the past months—or years—and start anew.

  “Save me,” she whispered.

  Then, realizing what she’d said, she pulled from his embrace and turned to dash down the pebbled walk. She’d spoken her most desperate desire. Too soon. She didn’t know if she could trust him yet. What mistake had she made?

  “Kam!”

  “I didn’t mean it,” she called, but she didn’t shout it. Didn’t want to commit to that lie. “Don’t follow me. He’ll know.” By the time she reached the tree-lined alley that opened onto the rue de Rivoli, only then dare she turn around. Johnny Santiago stood at the end of the long garden walk, backlit by the carnival lights. A rock star who had just crooned a love song to her heart. The mirrored pond glimmered at his feet, further lighting his midnight stage.

  A man who would fight for her? After only one kiss?

  “One kiss is all that matters,” she whispered, touching her lips, and feeling his warmth there. “It will bring my death.”

  ***

  Upon returning from the Tuileries, Kam wandered into her flat, absently commanding the music on with but a spoken word. Music always filled her head. It kept her thoughts from committing hari-kari. Because once she started to mentally wander backward in time, memories were abruptly shut out by an invisible wall that she wanted to beat her fists against.

  Now, as she stretched her arms above her head and languished in the remembered feel of Johnny’s arms about her body and his mouth taking hers, she allowed a smile. She didn’t need any music but the song his kiss had sung to her.

  “Off,” she commanded the electronic system which monitored her voice and controlled the stereo and all the appliances in the flat.

  Alone in the center of her bedroom, the silence fell stunningly rough and smothering upon her. She shed her tee shirt and stepped out of the skirt, kicking off her heels. Naked, she wandered around the bed, which spilled over with deep purple satins and silks.

  Hugging herself she closed her eyes and tilted back her head. “Johnny,” she whispered, and again, his sexy smile imprinted into her being. She hadn’t felt so light in a long time. It felt almost too wondrous to hold onto.

  Almost.

  “I’ll be careful,” she whispered. “He’ll never know. And if the dark prince does find out, let him try to stop me.”

  Yet she knew Himself could crush Johnny as easily as clapping his hands. Dare she risk the charming vampire’s life to fulfill her own wicked pleasures?

  She desired the giddiness of his kiss once more.

  And then, once again.

  And with that, the promise of something hopeful and perhaps even, escape.

  Crawling between the sheets, she snuggled into the lush goose-feather pillows and fell asleep instantly.

  And in the darkness something fluttered. The tattoo on Kambriel’s shoulder lifted a wing, peeling away from her skin. It ascended into flight, its wings catching the moonlight in the crimson scales.

  ***

  Deep within his lair, Himself received the nightwings. Two landed upon his eyes and their antennae drilled into his pupils, transmitting a recording of the day’s events. He looked forward to reviewing Kambriel’s show at Club l’Enfer. After the show she’d grabbed a bite from one of the many hundreds of fang junkies who watched her show.

  Another soul for him, safely stored within Kambriel until the body died. He did so enjoy collecting.

  But what was this?

  Himself curled his fists about the end of his throne, his talons scratching the adamant metal harvested from Beneath. Another vampire. Nothing new. She caroused with all sorts. None of them meant a thing to her. She belonged to him.

  Just another fling? he wondered of the bold vampire who dared to kiss her—on her mouth. He was rarely allowed such intimacy. He would not have access to the man’s thoughts until she had bitten him. And why had she not? She never engaged unless it was to feed her insatiable hunger.

  Annoyed, he grasped the nightwings off his eyes and crushed them. Himself flung the refuse away and growled lowly, sinking into the throne and kicking out a hoof against the imp that crouched nearby. The creature squealed and scrambled off into the inky darkness.

  The vampire would suffer for this.

  Chapter Four

  Kam tugged on a chemise. The feather-light silk fell to her thighs. Sheer black silk stockings tied at her thighs with red bows, and…six inch black patent leather heels. Shoes made her feel powerful and sensual, and the higher the heel the sexier she felt. She wasn’t sure what dress she wanted to wear tonight…

  Spreading her hands up through her hair, as she pulled her fingers through it, the long locks coiled and curled as if she were styling it with a hot iron, yet all she need do was a quick fluff. That’s how her life worked. Being the Dark’s girlfriend had its benefits. Most days.

  Footsteps trod through her bedroom and paused at the doorway to the walk-in closet. Stiffening, her spine elongating, she recognized his sulfur and ashes scent. Not a terrible odor, but uniquely his.

  Glancing over a shoulder she smiled at the tall man with long black hair dusting his elbows. He wore no shirt because she preferred him that way. Showed off his muscular chest and impossible abs. Black leather pants. Always. And no shoes. It was her image of sexy. Her greatest temptation. Himself always appeared to others as their temptation.

  Unless he chose otherwise.

  “I wish you to spend some time with me before your show tonight, Kambriel.”

  His deep voice always slicked warmly across her skin. Not quite evil, yet innately wicked. If he ever belted out a slow, simmering love song, the result could prove dangerous to her wanting desires.

  Kam toyed with the hem of the chemise. She’d passed the afternoon thinking about that kiss with Johnny. Over and over. Stolen right out in the public gardens for all to see. Except for the one who stood before her now.

  Anticipation did not suit him.

  Perhaps the look he wore wasn’t so appealing after all. She readjusted her image of sexy to scuffed boots and pants hanging low at the hip to expose sensual, taut muscles, and a crazy haircut that revealed sharp cheekbones and a switchblade smile—

  Kam pushed the image away as quickly as it had formed.

  Himself had an innate way of knowing what most attracted those who would look upon him. If he ever assumed Johnny’s look, she would be in serious trouble.

  “I was going to head over to the club early,” she offered, “to make some adjustments to my costume. Maybe some other day—“

  Her breath gushed from her lungs. Chill air crept across her skin. Before she could protest, Kam was seated before a grand, black marble table, outfitted with a feast. He could transport her anywhere, anytime, whenever he wished. That was one of the disadvantages to being his girlfriend; these sudden trips to his lair were unexpected and rarely announced.

  She cast her gaze over the food and drink displayed to entice. Everything was always black, silver, or some kind of shiny hematite. Looked like something a robot would consume, if robots needed to eat. It couldn’t be real food. She’d never tried more than a few nibbles for she always lost her appetite. Not that she, a vampire, had an appetite for food.

  Always, the goblet filled with blood sat on the opposite end of the table—before him. Seated on his throne, he posed with one knee draped over a chair arm, his head tilted to watch her with those all-seeing black eyes that glowed red when he was angry or pleased. Now they were cold matte black that, with a blink, sheened briefly with silver.

  “I’m not so hungry.” Kam pushed a plate of jiggling chrome baubles away from her. Something on the table slithered between a pair of silver candelabra. She gave it
no regard. “Show me your true self.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if you wish the truth from me, I wish it from you. You know I prefer you in true form.”

  She honestly did, as horrible as that image was.

  The man on the throne transformed in a blink. The pale muscled skin turned red and then black as pitch until she could not determine where flesh ended and the black metal throne began. Ebony horns jutted out from his temples, long, curved and deadly. His face changed, lengthening and defining cheekbones and deep eye sockets. Fangs elongated, cutting through leathery lips, spilling not red blood, but black. A terrifying vision to wake to in the middle of the night.

  Kambriel preferred him in this form. It was who he was. His truth. She could face this demonic form with more confidence than the pretty, handsome visage he wore for her because this was not her image of what she desired, but rather, the truth of her life.

  And she must never forget that. For though her thoughts were often muddied, and she couldn’t always remember past events or names, or even her family, she had to cling to the reminder something in her life was not right. And never would be right.

  Still painfully underdressed in the form-clinging chemise and red-bowed stockings, she stepped up onto her chair, wobbling slightly on her high heels. He’d seen her in all states of undress. She wasn’t ashamed for him to look upon her, though, in her deepest being she thought that she should be. It was one of those things she hadn’t control over, so she accepted their awkward familiarity with the same blind ease she’d accepted all the extravagant gifts.

  Kam stepped onto the table. Without looking down, she navigated the marble surface crowded with luscious yet vile foods. It was a long walk, and when she arrived at the end, she squatted and lifted the heavy goblet to her lips. She drank deeply of the hot blood. Blood from a source of which she had long ago stopped trying to determine. Human or creature? Didn’t matter. It satisfied as if a four-course meal replete with dessert and wine.

  Better than intimate contact with a blue-eyed rock singer?

  It had been. Until now.

  Drawing away the goblet, blood trickled down her chin. Himself groaned at sight of it. He reached for her and she leaned forward, rubbing her chin against the side of his large hand as if a cat. He retracted and licked his fingers clean of the blood.