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

by Eden, Cynthia

Standing between his legs, she kissed him back as deeply as he kissed her. In that moment she felt as if she were his girl. No one else could make a claim to her, and that’s the way it had always been.

  Though, she couldn’t stop the thought that kissing here at the club was not the wisest thing to do. Not when he had spies everywhere. Had Himself really led Johnny’s grandmother here? Why would he do that?

  “Thanks for the song,” Johnny said, breaking from the kiss. “We sing well together.”

  “We sing like we were meant to duo,” she agreed, kissing him once more.

  “Johnny Angel, eh?”

  She shrugged. “It just came out. But it’s fitting for your pretty eyes and heart-stealing smile. Are you sure you’ve not wings hidden under that leather vest?”

  “Hell, if I did, I’d be flying all the time. But you saw how well I could stay in the air when we leapt from the Eiffel Tower.”

  “It was still flight. First time I’ve ever flown. Did you come to take me away again tonight?”

  “I was hoping you’d want to get out of here. I love the club’s atmosphere, but how can you deal with it night after night? It’s so dismal and dark.”

  “Isn’t that what we are by our very natures?”

  “I don’t know where you grew up, Kam, but vamps are not the creatures of the night the media makes us out to be.”

  “Says the guy who had to leave early to beat the sun home.”

  “Would you have invited me in to your place?”

  She hadn’t been ready for that intimacy. Never had she invited a man into her home. As well, she wasn’t sure Himself wouldn’t find out. Dare she take the chance with Johnny? She wanted to.

  “Exactly,” Johnny guessed at her non-answer. “Don’t worry. I’m cool with taking things slow. I like it, actually. It’s a different pace for me. Let’s me get to know you. Woo you.”

  “Woo me?”

  “Yeah, my G-ma recommended sonnets.”

  “I’m not sure I’ve ever heard one. Hit me.”

  “I uh…” He slapped a palm over his chest. “Right now?” His sheepish smile was almost cuter than the switchblade grin.

  “I can wait,” she assured him.

  “Whew! I will find the perfect sonnet for you, though. I promise. So where do you want to go tonight?”

  “I need to change, so you go on ahead. Will you meet me at Nôtre Dame?”

  “Seriously? The cathedral?”

  Kam nodded, and teased a finger along the combs that secured the demon horns in her thick hair. “Just need to de-demonize myself.”

  “I could wait for you.”

  “No, uh…” She didn’t want to undress in front of him. That was pushing the intimacy too quickly. And it wasn’t wise to be seen, once again, leaving the club with Johnny. “I’ll see you there. Meet me in the north tower.”

  “It’s closed—ah.” He held up a finger. “Gotcha. I’ll see you then, oh mistress of the Dark.”

  “That’s—“

  “Yeah, I know, but I don’t like the idea of sharing you with some dark dude so allow me that, will you?”

  He pulled her into his arms and kissed her again. Now their breaths mingled as easily and sweetly as their voices had earlier. The man had been made for her. And she for him. Kam knew it as she had not known anything for months. Or had it been years?

  “Be strong,” she encouraged inwardly. “He is the one.”

  Chapter Seven

  As usual, Johnny and Kambriel seemed to hook up after two in the morning. Which, if he considered his need to get inside before the sun rose, wouldn’t give them a lot of time together. It wasn’t as though he was afraid of the sun. He’d never seen it rise before and if a guy hadn’t ever done something—well, hell.

  He could do it. He would do it. Soon. Add it to the list right beneath ‘find the perfect sonnet to woo the girl’.

  But right now, he assessed the south side of Nôtre Dame. The cathedral was awesome, in the fullest sense of that word. He couldn’t imagine the man-hours it must have required to erect such a gorgeous structure over eight hundred and fifty years ago without all the technology available nowadays. No cranes, no modern electric tools? What an accomplishment.

  An accomplishment he intended to climb, since he didn’t want to break in through the locked front doors. Breaking and entering was blasphemy.

  So after checking the area was clear, save for a few late night tourists who currently wandered around on the east side snapping shots of the river, he made a leap and, climbing over the depiction of Christ of the Second Coming (using various random saint’s heads to secure hold), landed on the first level. Toeing a saint’s head for hold, he climbed the sheer limestone wall, glad the sky was overcast so the night was truly dark. There were few lights on this side of the cathedral, and he was clad in black, so his actions would go unnoticed.

  When younger, he’d once read about the cathedral and distinctly recalled there was a scene featuring the Horseman of the Apocalypse, along with a couple scenes from Hell carved into the exterior. Would be a kick to find them, but he had a more promising destination, so he swiftly moved onward to the second level.

  When he made the north tower, he intended to stake out a seat next to a gargoyle and wait for Kam—but she’d beat him here. She squatted upon a stone balustrade beside a gargoyle, her eyes closed and head tilted aside. Moonlight gleamed over her pale skin, dazzling Johnny with her beauty. She’d changed from her black leather stage costume to a soft, flowy gray dress that was corseted in black. Black thigh-high boots wrapped slender legs. He preferred her like this, softer and sans horns.

  He wanted to trace her nose and down to her lips, following the moonglow that glittered upon her skin to her neck. And once there, he would touch his fangs to the thick, pulsing vein and taste her. A moonlit feast awaited his indulgence.

  “I win,” she said, and tilted a smile at him.

  “So you did. I’m not going to ask how you managed to beat me here because all I want to do is stare at you.”

  She wrinkled her nose and cast him a wondering look. “Why?”

  “The moon adores you. I think she’s jealous I’m up here, so close to you.”

  He strolled over and leaned against the balustrade upon which she squatted. Her knees jutted over the stone parvis hundreds of feet below. No non-mortal could achieve such a pose unless she was a daredevil with a death wish.

  “It’s almost full,” Kam said. “A few more days. I want the moon,” she whispered. “I want to hold it in my arms and squeeze its cold light into my soul.”

  “Poetic.”

  “Desperation.” She stroked his hair and rubbed the stubble above his ear. “Sometimes I feel that’s the only way I’ll ever get him out of me, is if I release my soul.”

  That was the closest she’d come to telling him about the mysterious boyfriend.

  “Kam, tell me what’s going on with you and this other guy. Is he keeping you captive?”

  “Do I look like a captive?”

  “No. But there are many ways to control a person. You’ve alluded to wanting freedom. Please tell me what’s up with you and this guy. I want to help you.”

  “You have no idea what that would involve. It’s too dangerous.”

  “Damn it.” He grabbed her by the arm and turned her toward him. She slid a leg down over the stone rail and sat, one knee bent up to her chest. “Talk to me, Kam. Give me a chance. Do you uh…do you like me?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Do you want more from me than late night rendezvous and a few simple kisses?”

  “Your kisses are never simple, Johnny.”

  He bracketed her face and kissed her hard. The moonlight that had permeated her soul spread across his tongue, sweetening the tang spiked with hidden fear and regret. He didn’t want her to fear, so held her tighter and kissed her slowly, deeply, lingering in the greedy heat of her. With a fierce determination, he exposed his need and want, his desire to please her, to
know her.

  Could he ever be worthy of this moonlight goddess?

  Pressing his hands to her cheeks, he met her forehead with his and closed his eyes, wishing out loud, “You are as complicated as they get, Kambriel, but I want to get lost in your twists. Tonight when we sang together it felt so right.”

  “You should have been onstage with me.”

  “I’m not trying to nose in on your band, but I do want to sing with you again.”

  “I’d like that too.”

  “But I suspect it’s not going to happen unless you can walk away from this other guy and make a clean break.”

  “That’s probably true. Oh, Johnny, I’m afraid.”

  She gripped his shirt and bowed her head to his shoulder. Was she crying? He sensed she was stronger than that. But what was she afraid of? The boyfriend?

  “Kambriel!”

  Both averted their gazes below. A dark figure stood in the massive stone-paved parvis before the cathedral. During the day it was peopled with a tangle of tourists of all ages and nationalities. Now a long shadow grew across the empty space, creeping from the stranger’s toes as if oil.

  “Is that him?” Johnny asked. His jaws tightened and a surge of aggression fisted his fingers. “He looks not so big and tough. I could take him.”

  “I don’t want you to fight him,” Kam whispered. “I need you to win me from him.”

  “Win you?” Seemed a sudden and tremendous demand. She kept surprising him with her carefully doled out truths. “How do I do that?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Please tell me you’re not his property.”

  He didn’t think anyone owned a person anymore, but there were all kinds of weirdoes in this world. Usually, though, it was the mortals who landed in the devious category of fucked-up morality.

  “Kambriel, come to me,” the voice demanded in a deep, sepulchral tone.

  “I need you to be strong, Johnny,” she said.

  “Me? I’m cool. It’s you I’m worried about.”

  She stood, rising up before the moon upon the balustrade, the gargoyles her vigilant minions.

  “Kam?”

  And then she stepped off the edge of the balustrade and fell, silently, as gracefully as a fallen angel banished to this mortal realm. She landed on the ground before the man, and moved up sinuously from her crouch. The dark shadow oiled across the ground before the man, slipped over Kam’s feet and up her legs.

  Not about to let any man treat Kam cruelly, Johnny flung himself over the balustrade and landed before the twosome, coming up to a defensive stance with hands in fists.

  “She is mine,” the boyfriend said. “Be gone with you.”

  Damn, the guy had one of the deepest, most vile sounding voices Johnny had ever heard. It pricked up the hairs on the back of his neck. Was he a demon? He couldn’t see the guy’s face in the darkness, but surely he would notice if his eyes glowed red.

  “Yeah, I’m not going anywhere,” Johnny said. “She’s not keen on you, buddy. You’re the one who needs to take off.”

  Kambriel shivered. With a gesture from the man—looked like Death curling out a beckoning talon—she stepped closer to his side. He put an arm around her, and yet she met Johnny’s gaze. Silently, she pleaded with him.

  Hell yeah, he’d help her.

  “What’s your name?” Johnny asked.

  The man laughed a hideous rumble that rattled in Johnny’s bones.

  “You didn’t tell him?” the man asked Kam. “Kambriel has been remiss. Tell the idiot vampire whom he attempts to cuckold.”

  Abandoning the cool, confident stage goddess, Kam stepped forward, meek now. The air around Johnny cooled as, behind Kam, the man shifted from a tall, dark shadow into something much bigger, broader, and…horned.

  Johnny’s eyes widened. His mouth dropped open. The shadow of those wicked horns seemed to pierce his shadow on the ground behind him. And though he’d never come face to face with the creature before him, he instinctually knew who and what he was.

  “He’s…” Johnny started. Hell. Really? The prince of darkness?

  Kam nodded.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were fucking the devil?” Johnny blurted.

  Kam’s worried moue slipped into a frown. She gasped. “How dare you?” She slapped Johnny’s cheek. Hard. “I hate you!”

  Turning, she was enveloped in Himself’s arms. With a sepulchral chuckle, her dark master shimmered them away into the night.

  Chapter Eight

  Sulfur lingered in the air long after Kam and her boyfriend had disappeared from the vast parvis before Nôtre Dame.

  “Himself,” Johnny muttered.

  When growing up, he had heard tales of the devil Himself. His father had always warned him never to say the prince of Darkness’s name three times in a row unless he wished to invite hell to his doorstep. Supposedly the devil appeared to others in the form of their greatest temptation.

  He’d looked like a dude to Johnny. And that was not his temptation.

  “Must be able to adjust his appearance. He wanted me to see what Kam must see.” Which in this instance, had been a tall, attractive man; someone Johnny would see on stage in a band. Classic rocker looks.

  Like him.

  Kam apparently had a type.

  But seriously? His rival was the dark prince Himself?

  “And she is sleeping with him?”

  Johnny whistled and shook his head. “Not what I want to get involved with.”

  Walking away from the cathedral, he wandered across the bridge to the right bank. Much as the idea of dating a woman who was involved with the devil appealed on no conceivable level whatsoever, he could not get Kambriel from his mind. Her kisses were too sweet. Her controlled innocence so remarkably refreshing. And their duet—it had started something, inflamed something between them. They were meant to be together.

  *

  Kam turned away from the great throne where Himself sat, his taloned fingers clacking the throne arm. His horns glinted menacingly. No red glowed from his eyes because his lids were down. He was displeased with her.

  She was displeased with Johnny Santiago.

  You should have told me you were fucking the devil.

  A blatant assumption. Did having a boyfriend imply they were having sex? It shouldn’t, but she supposed anyone would assume as much.

  But not Johnny. He was supposed to be different. On her side. Willing to fight for her.

  She’d been wrong about him.

  “I shouldn’t have to retrieve you from your liaisons like a naughty child caught with her hand in the cookie jar,” Himself growled.

  “I don’t like cookies.”

  Himself hissed, clenching a fist with a shing of talons.

  Kam, who squatted on the table before him, turned on her heels so her back was completely to him. He was not her father. No man could replace the great man who had raised her…

  She sniffed back a tear. She wanted to go home to her family. If only she could make this nightmare stop, erase it from memory.

  Lifting her head, she asked, “I’m allowed to do as I please, am I not?”

  “You may drink from whomever you wish, my dark one. But I am no fool. Johnny Santiago is more to you than a mere sip.”

  A fist pounded the table, upsetting the goblet near Kam’s feet. Blood spilled over her shoe and foot. Normally she would have dragged a finger through the rich treat and suck it away. Now, she stood and marched down the empty table, away from him, arms crossed high on her chest. She left a trail of blood in her wake.

  “Do not walk away from me!”

  Her body was tugged backward. Kam clawed at the air, landing on her palms as she was forcibly dragged through the blood. As she neared the end of the table her body flipped over and she landed, crouched, on his legs, her palms catching against his iron-hard black-muscled chest.

  But a breath away from his face, she stared into his hard red eyes, summoning as much defiance as she
could—stage persona to the rescue. And when she thought she could spit in his eyes and march away her body softened against her will and she settled into a ball in his arms. A sigh sifted from her being.

  She didn’t want this surrender!

  He controlled her with a persuasion far stronger than any vampire could wield.

  “Johnny!” she screamed, but her voice was halted.

  A blade cut across her neck, searing red pain as it separated skin, muscle and sliced bone. Kam clutched for the gaping wound—and felt only smooth skin.

  *

  “Hell of a rival,” Johnny muttered as he walked along the Seine toward the barge one of his tribe mates had lived in for years.

  Did he want to compete against the dark prince?

  For as right as Kam felt to him, she would always be wrong, tainted by the darkest, most menacing evil in existence.

  Johnny shoved his hands in his pockets. The early morning walk was quiet, unhampered by tourists, because rain misted the cobblestones. Sunrise in an hour or two, he guessed.

  The connection he had with Kam was undeniable. And if she did dump Himself for him, then he should be pleased. Yes?

  And why should he give a care for what or who she had slept with before she’d met him? Everyone had a past, baggage.

  That chick had a hell of a cartload of baggage.

  But fact remained, he’d told her he wanted to win her heart, and he’d meant that. So that entailed a fight for her. How did a guy fight the devil himself?

  “Johnny!”

  He hadn’t noticed the man leaning against the stone river wall across from the moored barge. Dante tended to meld with the shadows due to his long black hair and a love for black velvet clothing. Add a frill of lace at the wrists and neck? Dante d’Arcangelo had been transformed to vampire during the bohemian phase at the end of the nineteenth century and had never shed the romantic image that had accompanied that fortuitous time in his life.

  The romantic artist look certainly attracted the women. Dante was the lover in the Incroyables, and he took the title seriously. Usually he juggled two or three women, and that didn’t imply one at a time, either. The man’s bed was a revolving showcase of flesh and scintillatingly wicked indulgences.