A Vampire's Fallen Christmas Star (Vampires On Holiday #2)

by M. L. Guida

“Because you considered yourself to be my master, and it’s not fucking proper for a master to kiss a slave.”

  “No, no. It’s been a long time since I’ve been—” She refused to confess under his dark scowl. He wouldn’t believe her anyway. She was done fighting and wanted to rest. When she turned to go back to her room, he grabbed her arm.

  “You’ve what?”

  “’Tis nothing. If you’ll excuse me.”

  “No. Answer the question.”

  “Jayden, I’m tired. I want to go to bed. It’s been a long night.”

  He pulled her closer. His warm woody scent filled her, sending her senses on full alert. He scanned her eyes as if he could read her mind. His eyes widened. He ran the back of his hand down her cheek, and she flinched.

  “I’m not going to hurt you, Eleanor.”

  “Then release me.”

  “You could break away. Why don’t you?”

  “Jayden, I’m asking you to let go of my arm.”

  “Did you mean you’ve not been intimate with a man for awhile?”

  “Drop it. I’m not an innocent. What are you—a reporter from the National Inquirer?” she snapped, sounding nastier than one of Cinderella’s stepsisters.

  She thought he’d be angry. But instead, curiosity and wonder filled those deep eyes.

  She held her head up high. “I’m tired.”

  He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “You said that.”

  “Doesna mean ’tisna true.”

  “You’re almost a century old. How many times have you been with a man?”

  “That’s none of your business.” She was too embarrassed to tell him that she’d only slept with four men and none of them had excited her blood like he did. His head was already too fat. No way would she fuel his arrogance.

  She lowered her gaze. Instead of thinking about those past dull kisses, the memory of Emery and his men haunted her. The foul breath, the panting, the pinching. She closed her eyes, unable to utter the words. Only Janus and his true love, Deirdre, knew what had happened. She hadn’t told anyone—human or vampire.

  “I need sleep.” She clutched her wine glass, not able to tell him and relive the horror.

  “Eleanor, please tell me.”

  “I canna.” Her voice cracked. She wanted to retreat to her room, her very own panic room. Underneath the hardwood floors and plaster walls was reinforced steel. Metal bars could slide over the double-paned windows if necessary. She also had an arsenal of guns and knives hidden in her closet. No one could enter without her permission, not unless they wanted an early grave.

  “Did someone hurt you?”

  “Jayden, please, I donna want to think about it. ’Twas a long time ago.”

  Strong fingers clasped her chin and turned her head. “It still gives you nightmares?”

  Tears threatened to fall again. “Every night.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. She hadn’t let any man hold her so close in what had seemed like centuries, but she had to admit, she liked it. The tension in her muscles relaxed, and she lay her head on his smooth chest to listen to his beating heart. He rubbed her back, and she purred like a cat under his strong, but tender massage.

  “I’m sorry.” His voice rumbled inside his massive chest.

  Sincerity flooded his tone, and she believed him. Hated tears fell down her cheeks.

  “You’re exhausted and need sleep.”

  Before she could protest, he lifted her off the floor and carried her down to her bedroom. She clutched her wine glass tight. She had never allowed a man to enter her sanctuary and wasn’t sure why she was allowing Jayden. Maybe because she knew she was stronger than him. Maybe because she knew she could escape. Maybe because she knew she was safe.

  Jayden placed her on the bed and knelt in front of her. She could get lost in his blue eyes. She’d never noticed before but they changed from light to dark depending on his emotions. The blue deepened to midnight, warm and mysterious.

  “You’ll never have to fear me, Eleanor,” he said.

  She wanted to believe him, wanted to so badly. She nodded, unable to speak, raw pain consuming her. When she had been weary, the horror had returned, sending her into an emptiness of despair. She took a sip of wine. The smooth liquid trickled down her throat, pushing away the acid burning in her stomach.

  “Would you like some more wine?”

  She was surprised she’d drained it. “Aye, I would.”

  She twirled the crystal wineglass. Such a simple goblet, but it reminded her of Ireland in happier times.

  Jayden wrapped his large hand around hers, and she jumped.

  He took her glass. “Oh, sorry.”

  “I didna hear you.”

  “Another vampire power?”

  She flashed him a tiny smile.

  He left with the glass. Within a few minutes, he returned with her glass refilled.

  Her fingers brushed over his. Heat swelled inside her. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He settled into a weathered rocking chair next to the window.

  The ash rocking chair had been the only thing that had survived the fire. Her father had made it long ago for her mother. Her mother had used to sit in it to nurse each of Eleanor’s younger brothers.

  As Jayden put the wine bottle on the window sill, he stretched out his long legs. “I don’t mean to pry, but was it the vampire hunters that hurt you?”

  She sighed, not sure if she should tell him, but maybe he needed to understand what his friends truly were. “I wasna yet a vampire when it happened.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “My father had befriended a vampire, Janus Morano. Janus had saved my father from being murdered by thieves. Father had been indebted to him. Janus had stopped killing humans long ago. He’d known how to cast a spell to put humans into a trance and then would feed, leaving them weak, but very much alive.” She took another sip of wine.

  Jayden gripped the arms of the chair like her father used to when he was tense, usually about the British raising taxes. “So, the vampire killers punished your father by hurting you?”

  “Aye. I had three younger brothers. The youngest only nine—Emery. So full of life. He had wanted to be an explorer.”

  “Jeez.”

  She wiped a single tear. “I can still hear his sweet voice. Begging them not to hurt my mother.”

  “They killed her first?”

  Eleanor bit her lip and nodded. The wind howled outside. Snow blew around outside. “I just remember him holding his little wooden ship in his hand. Father had carved it.”

  “What did—”

  “Slit their throats. Mom and my brothers. They at least died quickly.”

  “Your father?”

  “They forced him to watch.”

  Jayden’s eyes widened and his mouth tightened, his lips turning white.

  Eleanor didn’t know if his reaction was disgust or anger. Why had she said anything? Had to be the wine. “Anyway,” she said. “It was a long time ago.”

  The sky lightened to purple, and the stars dimmed.

  Weariness settled into her bones. “We should go to sleep.”

  “How did they die?” His voice was crisp and deadly.

  She furrowed her brows. “What?”

  “I asked how the vampire killers died.”

  She didn’t answer as she flashed back to that night. The screams, the blood, the horror, but what had been worse was the lust she had for death. Revenge was supposed to be sweet and satisfying, but those were lies. It was brutal. After she’d killed Carver, her family had still been dead.

  “Eleanor?”

  Eleanor blinked. She was back in her bedroom with Jayden staring at her, his expression perplexed.

  She put her mother’s goblet on her stand to avoid his gaze. “Janus and I killed them.”

  “Janus is the one who turned you?”

  “Aye,” she said, her voice faint and dying.

  �
�The night the hunters brutalized you, was the night you were turned into a vampire, wasn’t it?”

  Her muscles twisted tighter and tighter. She shoved her hair behind her ears. “You should go to bed because the dark sleep is coming. And you donna want to be caught in the hallway. Only the bedroom windows have the heavy drapes to keep out the sun. I’m tired and need to sleep.” She was rambling, knew she was rambling, but she didn’t want to look at Jayden to see the judgment in his eyes. He must think she was dirty, unclean. She was. Five men had repeatedly raped her, calling her a whore, using her like a whore, making her a whore.

  The nightmare took over, clouding her thoughts. She flashed back to Ireland.

  “I fought…fought…so hard.” A heavy weight pressed on her lungs as if Emmet Carver had been on top of her, his large hands everywhere, jagged fingernails scratching her skin. The foul taste of rotten mutton in his mouth had gagged her. His python tongue had trapped hers, circling and squeezing tighter and tighter. Pain seized her chest as if her lungs were being squished. She couldn’t exhale. She was dying. Air. She needed clean mountain air. “I canna breathe.”

  “Listen to me. Inhale. Exhale,” Jayden said, his drill sergeant voice taking charge.

  She tried to lock onto him, to follow his orders, but her vision clouded. All she could see was Emmet Carver’s cold green eyes, holding her hostage.

  Strong hands gripped her arms and shook her. “Eleanor, come back. You’re safe. You’re not in Ireland. Look at me.”

  The black fog dissipated in her brain. Fierce blue eyes, not green, stared at her. Begged her to come back, grounding her. Jayden. Aye, he’d keep her safe.

  She shook her head. Air slowly filled her lungs.

  “But there were so many,” she said, her voice puny and far away even to her own ears. “And they were so…strong. So…strong.” Her father’s stricken face flashed in her mind. The horror. The shock. “Father…I’m sorry. I tried.”

  She inhaled and exhaled, trying to take deep breaths, but only sucked in snippets of air. She put her hand on her chest. Her heart threatened to explode. The room spun around and around.

  “Shhh, baby. It wasn’t your fault.” Jayden held her close. He rubbed her back and kissed the top of her head. “Breathe, Eleanor, breathe.”

  His husky voice was magnetic, and the rumbling inside his chest calmed her. He caressed her hair the same way her mother had when she fell and scraped her knee as a little girl. His scent of sandalwood and pine blanketed around her like a shield. He was her knight, a defender against the night terrors.

  She missed her father, her brothers, and her mom. Missed all of them so damn much. Sobs long denied bubbled over, and Eleanor’s vision blurred. She didn’t want to be alone. Alone meant the return of the nightmares.

  Jayden pushed her away, and with his rough thumbs, he brushed the tears smeared on her cheeks. “Would you like me to stay with you tonight?”

  She swallowed, not sure how to answer. She wanted to say aye, but the word wouldn’t come out. She’d been with other men, but they’d never made her tremble. No not like Jayden.

  Not waiting for an answer, Jayden lifted her into his arms and laid her on the bed. He stretched out beside her and cuddled her close. She laid her head on his chest. He didn’t kiss her. He didn’t touch her. He didn’t hurt her. She was surprised at the disappointment filling her.

  She could feel the sun rise. Her breathing slowed, muscles turned weak and heavy. She glanced up at Jayden, he stopped breathing, and his skin paled. His heart stopped beating. She’d wake with a hot man in her bed. She was stronger than him. She could protect herself. But for once, she wanted to be with a man and wanted him to banish all the monsters.

  Chapter Seven

  Eleanor fluttered open her eyes as the sun sank behind the mountains. The spicy scent of sandalwood and pine teased her senses. She had slept all night with her head and hand resting on Jayden’s naked chest. The dark sleep still gripped him. His arm cocooned her next to his hard body. She raised her hand to run over his sculpted chest, to feel those defined muscles, but she jerked her hand away, as if his body had changed into a hot oven. She clenched her fist and refused to give into temptation. What if he woke? And was angry? Or worse, what if he woke and wanted to kiss, wanted something more?

  She escaped from underneath his arm. She scooted toward the edge of the bed, but fingers glided down her back—smooth and soft. Chills fluttered down her back, and she wiggled.

  “Where are you going?” he drawled.

  Her hair fell in her face, and she clutched her hands together tight, afraid he’d guess she wanted to move them over his body. “I was going to take a shower.” She hoped her voice sounded firm and calm, and hid the shakiness and stress strumming through her veins.

  He moved his hands up her back and massaged her shoulders, thumbs pressing on her shoulder blades and fingers pressing deep into her muscles. “How did you sleep?”

  His warm breath whiffed over her like a warm summer breeze.

  She was surprised on how her pent-up muscles unwound slowly and gently. But what surprised more was how much she rolled her head and released a small sigh, enjoying his masterful touch. She’d had massages before but always went to a masseuse. This was different. Sensual. “Uh…fine. If you’ll excuse me…”

  “You’re still tense, Eleanor. Just relax minute.”

  His alluring voice mesmerized her. She couldn’t help but lean back into him. He rubbed harder. Her muscles released the toxins of the night before, nightmares over the years. All that mattered were his hands and fingers kneading her.

  “Lay down on your stomach.”

  “I should take shower.”

  “Let me do your back. The shower can wait.”

  Escaping to the bathroom did not seem to be such a grand idea. Eleanor wanted more, and her back was knotted. Against her better judgment, she stretched out onto the bed and folded her arms, resting her head on top. When Jayden straddled her buttocks, she jolted.

  “Easy, I’m not going to do anything.” He pushed her nightgown up to her neck.

  “Then what are you doing?”

  “Massage is better when it’s skin-to-skin.” He leaned over and pushed her shoulders down. “Trust me. I won’t do anything.” His voice lowered, and under his breath, he said, “Not unless you want me to.”

  Her own curiosity teased her to test Jayden’s promise. Heat spread from her cheeks down to her curled toes. What would he do? And how far would she let him go? Stop. For now, a massage. Nothing more. She lay her head down, but her muscles coiled as if she were a cobra ready to strike at the slightest betrayal.

  He sighed and leaned over, his rough palms flattening onto her spine and kneading her tense muscles like an expert baker determined to smooth out any kinks. The tautness in her body lessened with the pressure of his fingers. She sighed as she relaxed into the mattress. He pushed and manipulated each vertebrate until she inhaled and exhaled all of her mistrust. Jayden sang a melody, one that she’d never heard, in a foreign tongue. Jesus, Mother, and Joseph. It was Latin!

  The rolling chant matched his knuckles twisting into her back, finding knots and uncoiling them. His Gregorian voice changed pitches, and she fell under the spell of the rising and falling cadences. It was as if she traveled back in time to the middle ages and lay on a pew in a monastery.

  “Where did you learn to sing like that?” she asked, her words coming out in low moans and groans.

  “My father said if I was going to be a singer then I needed to have a professional voice coach, and my coach insisted I learn how to sing classical music and sing it in Latin.”

  “Your voice is beautiful. I dinna know that—”

  “A rock singer could be professionally trained?”

  He stopped rubbing her back, and guilt gnawed at her for insinuating that his voice wasn’t beautiful. “I didna mean that your voice wasna beautiful when you sang with Nightmare. It’s different. More edgy, husky. I love your voice. I
really do.”

  She was rambling again. She winced at her own stupid words. Lordy, he must hear this from blushing bobble heads all the time.

  She turned her head, ready to see if he was frowning or rolling his eyes. His hair hung in his face, and she had no idea what he was feeling. He rolled off her backside and stretched out besides her. She wiggled and pulled her nightshirt down, not wanting to have her skin exposed to his wandering eye. She wished she’d felt differently, but the thought of a man she desired touching her bare skin, created a bubbling cauldron in her stomach.

  “You’re trembling,” he said.

  “Thanks for the massage, but I’ve got to go—”

  “Take a shower.” He reached out and ran his finger down the side of her face.

  She flinched.

  “Do I repulse you that much?”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “No, not at all.”

  “But—”

  “That night haunts you.”

  Emmet Carver’s ugly sneer flashed in front of her face and she tried to block it out. “Aye. And it always will. But I have been with other men.”

  “But I don’t measure up.”

  “No, that’s not what I mean.” Her cheeks warmed at her short response. She had to get away from him before she did something really stupid like screw his brains out. “If you’ll excuse me…”

  He grabbed her arm.

  She stared at his hand, hoping he wasn’t going to strip the last remaining strands of her will power.

  “Eleanor, when was the last time you were kissed?”

  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been kissed before his impromptu embrace at the club. Only Janus’s kiss stuck in her mind, but it had never been passionate on his side. They’d only kissed a couple of times, and he’d always broken it off. He’d always told her that when he kissed her, it was like kissing his sister. “I beg your pardon.”

  “You keep those memories pent-up in your mind. You stay hidden in this house—”

  She tilted her chin. “I told you I have. Did last night make you daft?”

  “No, I get it about vampire killers. Believe me, I do. But to live your life in fear. Forever. It must be lonesome.”