Love at First Bite Bundle

by Kimberly Raye

  “Oh.” She remembered the name of the river and a light bulb went off in her brain. “Black Bottom as in Sam Black.” The man he’d once been.

  The man she’d betrayed.

  “I…” she started, only to clamp down on her bottom lip. She couldn’t change the past with a simple I’m sorry, no matter how heartfelt. And she certainly couldn’t erase the hurt.

  The only way to ease that would be to give him back the humanity that she took from him, which she fully intended to do.

  Soon.

  The hair on the back of her neck prickled, and once again she felt the strange awareness. They were catching up to her. “So, um, do you come here often?” It sounded cheesy even to her ears, but it was the only thing she could think of to say.

  She needed to talk. To cut the tension that stretched so tightly between them.

  “Every now and then. It’s peaceful here. And wide open.” He spared a glance at his surroundings. “It helps me think.”

  Because he couldn’t think when he was cooped up and barricaded in during the day. Hiding from the sunlight. Smothering because of what he was.

  “I know the feeling,” she blurted before she could think better of it. “My folks had this old farmhouse, and I used to hide under the boards when I was first turned. I hated it. It was so dark. So damp. But at least it was safe.”

  “What about your folks?” He spared her a glance then, his gaze drilling into her for a long, piercing moment. “Did they really die in a fire? Or did you lie about that, too?”

  She ignored the urge to turn, to run the way she’d been doing her entire life. But she couldn’t escape her past. She knew that now. What’s more, she didn’t want to. Instinctively, her hand went to her throat, her fingers searching for the St. Benedict medal. Bare skin met bare skin, and she remembered that she’d left it back in her suitcase.

  She stiffened and gathered her courage. “My mother did die in a fire.” She hadn’t deceived him about that. Not completely. “But my father…” She caught her lip for a long moment before the words trembled out. “My father is the one who turned me.” She’d never actually said the words out loud to anyone. She’d never been able to.

  Until now.

  Suddenly, she couldn’t seem to stop herself. Even more, she didn’t want to.

  She wanted to tell him the truth. And she did.

  14

  “HE WENT OUT gambling one night and didn’t come home for three days.” Her voice broke the calm silence. “That was typical for him, though. He was always leaving us, disappearing for days.” She stared out over the water, seeing the old farmhouse instead.

  Her father stood on the front porch. He wore his usual stained overalls, his shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal meaty forearms. The stench of moonshine rolled off him, along with something else.

  A dark, forbidden anger that never failed to send her running into the fields to hide from him.

  Her palms started to sweat, and she clutched at the medal that dangled around her neck. It matched the one that her mother wore. St. Benedict. The protector. The medal felt cold against her palm, and anxiety rolled through her. Along with fear.

  Run. Hide.

  She’d done just that so many times.

  Often he’d found her, but sometimes—those blessed few times—he hadn’t.

  Run. Hide.

  She hadn’t had a chance to do either that night.

  “I thought he was just drunk at first,” she said, her lips trembling around the words. “He had that crazy look in his eyes the way he always did. But there was something else…I didn’t know what it was at first. But then he opened his mouth, and I saw his fangs.” She blinked against the sudden burning at the backs of her eyes.

  “He attacked my mother before I could blink,” she went on when she managed to find her voice. “One minute she was standing there, and the next her throat was ripped open and she was bleeding out onto the floor.” He’d snatched the medal off the older woman’s neck and lapped up the blood while Viv had watched. Terror pumping through her small body. Her own medal digging into her small hands. “He turned on me then. I tried to get away.” A lump pushed its way into her throat, and she swallowed it back down. “I ran for the door, but he caught me. I fought him and knocked over one of the lanterns.” She shook her head. “One minute my mother was just lying there, and the next her dress was on fire. I tried to help, but then he grabbed me and…” The words stumbled into one another, and she swallowed again.

  The past was there, right in front of her. She could see the bright orange flames, feel the heat and the pain and the terror.

  “That explains why you looked so freaked out at the fire back at the machine shop.” His deep voice slid into her ears and drew her away from the carnage, back to the present.

  The images faded, and she found herself staring at a lush stretch of green grass that led to a thick patch of trees.

  She nodded. “By the time he was finished drinking from me, I was almost dead, and my mother had burned beyond recognition. It was too late for him to turn her. I wanted him to let me die, too, but he didn’t. He wouldn’t.”

  Because he was a cruel bastard who’d done nothing but hurt her since the day she’d been born. As a vampire, that cruelty had been magnified.

  “He turned me and then he disappeared. I haven’t seen him since.” She faced Garret then, her gaze finally meeting his. “He didn’t die like I told you, but I wished he had. He was a hateful man. He hit my mother and he…” She caught her bottom lip, fighting back the darker images—the ones she’d buried deep down inside—that threatened to swamp her. “He wasn’t much better to me.”

  Garret’s gaze brightened into a vicious red, and she knew he was pissed.

  At her? Because she’d lied to him?

  Or for her?

  If she hadn’t known better, she would have put her money on number two. But she’d hurt him too badly for him to care one way or the other.

  She shrugged. “I’ve had a long time to come to terms with what happened to me, and I’m okay with it. But still, he should have died in that fire. In my mind, he did.”

  The red faded into an icy blue, and she was left to wonder if she’d only imagined his rage. “My dad eventually died of a heart attack,” he told her, as if one admission deserved another. It didn’t, but oddly enough, hearing his voice soothed the frantic beat of her heart and calmed the images that pushed and pulled inside of her. “My mom died of consumption. Not that I was there. I didn’t trust myself to see them after I turned, so I took off.”

  “How did you find out what happened to them?” She shifted her attention away from her own demons, and concentrated on his.

  He held up the PDA. “Technology is a beautiful thing.” He grinned, easing the dark mood that had gripped them. His expression faded. “I’m really sorry about your mother.”

  He looked as surprised by the sincerity of his words as she was. But then the look vanished as he shifted his attention back to his PDA. “I really need to finish a few notes.”

  She stood there beside him for the next few moments trying to ignore the past that fluttered in and out of her head. Not the bad memories. No, those had faded along with the conversation. The memories that haunted her now featured the two of them. Outside. In the moonlight.

  Talking. Sharing. Making love.

  Not. Making love required being in love, which they weren’t. No matter how much she’d pretended otherwise back then.

  Rather, they’d had sex. Lots and lots and lots of sex.

  Her body stirred, still fired up after her frenzied state just moments ago. Hunger clawed inside of her. She felt itchy and tight. Anxious. Alive. And painfully aware of the vampire who sat so close.

  Physically, that is.

  Emotionally, he seemed a thousand miles away.

  “I—I really ought to take some pictures of this for my article.” With the information she already had from Eldin and several other businesses around town, she�
�d written the copy on Skull Creek, calling it the “sexiest small town in Texas.” She’d e-mailed it to her editor tonight. All she needed now were a few more photos to support the text, and she would be finished.

  The river and the moonlight definitely portrayed the sexy image she was trying to project to her readers. Besides, a few pictures would give her something to do while he finished with his notes. Then he would look at her long enough for her to seduce him.

  She meant to walk to the pink chopper and retrieve the camera she’d stowed under the seat. She really did. But her feet seemed to have a will all their own. Instead of turning, she stepped forward, out onto the water. Her feet barely skimmed the surface—another vamp perk—as she made her way around in front of him.

  He didn’t glance up from his PDA.

  Doubt pushed past the determination dictating her actions, and she almost turned and headed back to the riverbank. She should wait.

  She would wait.

  If she had the time.

  But the minutes were slipping away, and Molly and Cruz were getting closer. The phone call was evidence. Enough to prompt her to finish the article and tie up that loose end. The prickling awareness that followed her around, reminding her of Washington and the ambush, was even more proof.

  It was now or never.

  She backed up several feet, putting a little distance between them while she worked up her nerve. Finally, she stopped.

  Her ears tuned to the music, and she closed her eyes for a long moment to block out the man hunkered down on the riverbank. The beat filled her head and thrummed through her body as she started to move.

  She swayed, a subtle rotation of her hips from side to side. A vision slid into her head, and the past pulled her back. To the small barn where she’d found him saddling up to ride out and join his regiment.

  One look into her eyes, and he’d forgotten all about the horse. He’d stripped them both down to nothing and pressed her down into the soft, sweet-smelling hay one last time.

  He spread her legs wide and plunged deep inside. Her eyes closed as pleasure swelled and crashed over her. Her nerve endings came alive. Her heart thundered. Her ears rang. Her blood pounded.

  She wasn’t sure how she heard his voice, but she did. The deep timbre pushed its way past her thundering heart and sizzled along her nerve endings.

  “Look at me, Viv.”

  The memory faded as she opened her eyes to find Garret—a very real Garret—staring back at her, and she realized that the voice hadn’t been her memory this time.

  She had his full attention now.

  He’d pushed to his feet, the PDA forgotten in his hand as he stared across the mirrorlike surface at her. His ice-blue eyes gleamed in the moonlit darkness. Tension held his body tight. His muscles bunched beneath his T-shirt. Taut lines carved his face, making him seem harsh, fierce, predatory.

  He was every bit the vampire she’d made him.

  At the same time, there was something familiar in his eyes.

  Passion.

  Lust.

  Love.

  She ditched the last thought. He’d never loved her. Not then, and certainly not now.

  But want…

  He definitely wanted her.

  Enough to forgive the past, forget the hurt and betrayal, and take the initiative?

  There was only one way to find out.

  WHAT IN THE HELL was she doing?

  Garret watched as she started to move to the slow, sexy song that poured from the radio. Her hips shifted from side to side in a seductive way that made his muscles bunch and his groin tighten.

  She slid her hands beneath her hair and lifted the silky curtain before letting it fall back down around her shoulders. She wasn’t as practiced as an actual stripper, but she was pretty damned good.

  Enough that his dick throbbed and hardened and, just like that, he had a massive erection.

  It’s not her. It’s you, buddy. It’s who you are. What you are.

  She arched her back, and her breasts jutted forward, her hard nipples perfectly outlined beneath her sparkly tank top. His mouth watered at the memory of the throbbing tips deep in his mouth, her skin slick and wet beneath his hands. His entire body shook with need.

  Hunger sliced through him, and his groin tightened.

  He tried to fight the primitive urges that gripped him, but instead found himself thinking that maybe, just maybe, having sex with her wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

  It wasn’t like he was falling for her all over again.

  He was stronger now. Immune to her vamp mojo because he had his own.

  No, this wasn’t about falling for her. It was about falling into bed with her. Or, in this case, smack dab onto the river bank.

  A little body-slapping, and he would see that she was nothing special. That he’d simply been mesmerized all those years ago.

  He wasn’t mesmerized now.

  He was hungry. Horny.

  He needed to press himself between her legs and drive into her slick flesh over and over until she climaxed and he drank in her sweet energy.

  Even more, he needed to shatter the illusion that had haunted him for the past two hundred years.

  Viv Darland wasn’t his one and only—she never had been—and having sex with her was a surefire way to prove she was no different from any other woman out there.

  Then he could stop fantasizing. Dreaming. Remembering.

  Once and for all.

  15

  SHE’D FINALLY GOTTEN his full, undivided attention. She just couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

  His expression was unreadable, his eyes hard and unwavering, his mouth set in a grim line as if he fought some internal battle.

  Viv trailed her tongue over her bottom lip, determined to do everything she could to tip the scales in her favor. She touched a finger to her throat. A few fluttering strokes against the steady beat of her pulse, and her own hunger stirred. Her ears prickled, sifting through the sensory overload—the buzz of crickets, the scurry of critters, the whistle of the breeze, the occasional whinny of a horse—until she heard only the thud of her own heart and the slow, intoxicating melody drifting from the speakers.

  A deep voice on the radio crooned about making love all weekend, and she slid a finger to the edge of her tank top, tracing the line where flesh met soft cotton before moving to the strap. Hooking her finger beneath, she eased the material down over her shoulder. Lifting her opposite arm, she did the same with the other strap until the cotton sagged around her shoulders.

  She gave her upper body a little shimmy. The tank top rode lower on her torso until the material caught on her bare, aroused nipples.

  Garret swallowed, and the air grew hot and shimmery between them.

  She could feel the heat rolling off his muscular body, see the frantic beat of his pulse at the base of his neck, smell the rich, musky aroma of hot, aroused male. She knew then that he wasn’t half as indifferent as she’d first suspected.

  A surge of feminine power went through her, and she pushed the straps of her shirt down until the material hugged her waist. Grasping the cotton, she eased it over her hips. She gave a little shake, and the top slid down her thighs, past her knees to puddle around her ankles. Leaning down, she caught the edge of the material and stepped free. Then with all the confidence of a sexy woman who’d been seducing men forever, she smiled. Just a faint crook to her lips that told him there would be more—much more—to come.

  Cool night air slid over her bare arms and breasts, but it did little to ease her rising body temperature. His hot molten gaze fanned the flames, heating her body, her blood, until she felt the air sizzle around her.

  She touched the undersides of her breasts, cupping the full mounds, weighing them and feeling the heat of her own fingertips against the soft flesh. All the while she imagined that it was Garret’s touch that seared her.

  She skimmed her palms over her nipples, and they throbbed in response. Her stomach quiv
ered beneath her fluttering fingertips as she moved on. Down. Around her belly button. To the zipper of her skirt.

  A few tugs, and the opening slid free, her zipper parted and the material sagged. She rocked her hips in time to the slow, sweet, twangy song that filled the night air, and the skirt slithered down her hips. Her legs. She toed the denim to the side with her high heel.

  She wore a silky red thong that matched her high heels and made her feel just as decadent. She traced the very edge before trailing her fingertips over the satin V. Back and forth. Side to side. Desire speared her, so sharp and potent, that her vision clouded, and her nipples hardened and quivered. Her eyes closed, and her need magnified.

  Anxiety rushed through her and made her entire body tremble, but she wasn’t giving in to it.

  Not just yet.

  She gathered her control and focused on his burning gaze rather than the damnable hunger that pushed and pulled inside of her. With one fingertip, she teased the elastic at the edge of her undies before dipping a finger beneath. She touched the damp, swollen flesh between her legs, and her nerves hummed. Another lingering stroke, and she pushed deep inside her drenched flesh.

  Pressure spiked through her, and she gasped.

  She’d touched herself many times in this exact same way during more than one fantasy starring the hot, hunky vampire standing in front of her. But it had never felt the way it did now.

  So real.

  So intense.

  So…pleasurable.

  Another move of her fingers, and her body swayed from the sensation rippling along her nerve endings. But it wasn’t enough to satisfy the restless need inside of her. Not even close.

  She didn’t want her own touch. She wanted his.

  Sliding her finger free of her panties, she hooked the edge and slid the material down her legs. Stepping free, she faced him, her skin bathed in moonlight, her nipples hard and inviting, her body wet and ready.

  He just stood there.

  Watching.