A Vampire's Honor

by Carla Susan Smith

  So how could a man who was so wonderfully sensitive about my beat-up car, and who recognized my need for a place of my own, be so brainless as to replace all my underwear? “This is different,” I continued, “it’s more personal. I can’t believe it never crossed his mind to talk to me about this first. What if La Perla reminded me of an old boyfriend or something?”

  “Does it?” she asked curiously.

  “No, of course not.” I shook my head. “But he doesn’t know that.”

  Hmmm, I wouldn’t be so sure . . .

  “Ah dahlink, sometimes I forget how it was in the beginning with Aleksei.”

  I hesitated a moment before asking, “How did you and Aleksei meet?” She gave me an odd look, one that said she’d been waiting for me to ask, and blew out a sigh. I couldn’t tell if this was because she really didn’t want to answer, or because she was concerned what my reaction would be. I apologized, “If it’s too personal—”

  “No, it’s not that. I was a different person back then.” A slight frown crinkled her brow, and she gave me a hesitant smile. “My mother and father, the ones who run this restaurant with me”—she waved a hand in the air—“are not my real parents. They are good, kind people who took me in and saved me from what could have been a very different kind of life.”

  “They adopted you?”

  She shook her head. “Not formally, but as far as I am concerned, they are my parents. I never knew my real father; he died when I was very young, and so my mother remarried. I was thirteen the first time my stepfather got into my bed. When I was fifteen, I told my mother what he’d been doing. She called me a liar. Somehow it was easier for her to believe I had seduced him. So she threw me out.”

  “Oh my God—how could she do such a thing?” Although I knew it happened, I still found it hard to believe a parent would turn against a child in this way. “What did you do?” I asked.

  “Took money from her purse and ran away. Like a lot of girls, I went to Budapest. I thought I would become a model.” She snorted in disgust at her own naïveté. I thought she was being too hard on herself. “Anyway,” she continued, “I met a girl who had a boyfriend, and pretty soon I was doing drugs and selling myself for the next high.” She leaned back and folded her arms across her chest. “You understand what I am telling you, Rowan, about what I was doing?”

  I nodded. Yeah, I understood, but it was in the past, and I wasn’t going to condemn her for it. Realizing that, Anasztaizia relaxed her arms. “Is that how you met Aleksei?” I asked. “When you were on the streets?”

  She nodded. “It was in an alley behind a nightclub. The man I was with decided he wanted his money back. Of course I refused, so he hit me a couple of times, and then suddenly Aleksei was there. I remember the man started to cry and pissed his pants, he was so scared. Aleksei took me to a café, got me something to eat, and asked if I wanted to be a prostitute all my life. I was only sixteen, but I’d already seen too much. Not many girls made it to nineteen. I didn’t want to be one of them. So Aleksei took care of me. When I was clean, he sent me to live with my new parents, made me promise to go back to school . . . and became my boyfriend.”

  “He was your boyfriend? At sixteen?”

  “It’s not like you’re thinking.” She smiled at me. “It was all very proper. Aleksei is very old-fashioned. He wouldn’t even kiss me until I was twenty-one.”

  Seeing how lovely Anasztaizia was now, it wasn’t hard to imagine how she must have looked at sixteen. I had to admire the big guy’s restraint. “Is that when you found out he was a vampire?”

  “That was when he told me, but I think I always knew what he was. You must remember, Rowan, I grew up hearing stories about vampires.”

  “And it didn’t scare you?”

  She smiled and toyed with the diamond ring on her finger. “A little, but by then it was too late. I was already in love with him.”

  “And the heart wants what the heart wants,” I said softly. Her eyes shone brightly as she looked at me. Oh yeah, I could absolutely understand what it was like to fall, and fall hard. “So what do I do about Gabriel?”

  “Easy!” Her smile was dazzling, and filled with relief at knowing her past made absolutely no difference to me. “You set boundaries, Rowan. You tell Gabriel what is acceptable and what is not. And wanting to dress you like a high-priced hooker is definitely not acceptable—unless, of course, it’s something you want to do. But that decision has to be yours, not his.”

  Her reference to the hooker was because I’d told her about the Lady Gaga outfit. “The only thing missing was the spike heels,” I muttered glumly.

  “Oh, I’m pretty sure they were there, you just didn’t find them. He’s a vampire,” Anasztaizia reminded me softly, “one of the most possessive creatures ever created.”

  “I know, I know,” I muttered, trying my best not to sound irritated, “but if you’re saying that to make me feel better, then I gotta tell you it isn’t working.”

  “I don’t know about making you feel better, dahlink, but perhaps when I say possessive you are thinking one thing when I am meaning another, hmmm?”

  She tilted her head and, resting her elbow on the prep surface, cupped her chin in her hand. The huge diamond Aleksei had given her twinkled in the overhead light. Perhaps she was right; maybe my definition of everything was completely different when applied to a vampire, although how many different definitions of possessiveness could there be?

  “Anasztaizia, I’m not some teenager straight out of high school having her first love affair. I know Gabriel has had other women, and for all I know, they welcomed this type of possessiveness, expected it even. Maybe they were happy at not having to make decisions for themselves. But I’m not one of those women, and I don’t want Gabriel thinking he can just make decisions for me. Please don’t misunderstand me,” I said, quickly seeing the alarmed look on her face. “I love his attentiveness, but it’s easy to blur the line between consideration and obsession.”

  “Perhaps the problem is not just his,” Anasztaizia said, looking thoughtful. “Perhaps the problem is with you also.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re not just another woman to him, Rowan.” I opened my mouth to protest, but she held up her hand. “Please let me explain. Vampires are not by design solitary creatures. They live a solitary existence for the most part because it is in their own best interest to do so, but there is always a part of them that craves connection with another human being. And yes, being able to feed freely is a big part of it, but that isn’t all a vampire wants from a human. If they are able to form a bond, then it is as if a huge weight has been lifted, and they have the freedom to be exactly who, and what, they are with that one person.” She paused, and this time her smile looked sad.

  “Can you imagine how it must feel to spend every waking moment always in fear of discovery?” she continued. “Making sure every move, every word, every gesture does not betray you? For a vampire to know the need for blood will not be refused is nothing compared to being able to talk openly and frankly about his life. How the world has changed, lovers that have died, discoveries they have witnessed.” She gave a little laugh. “And of course being able to drop their fangs without making anyone scream is quite wonderful—or so I am told!”

  Now I knew why Aleksei had been so pleased when I didn’t keel over the first time he showed me his fangs—and why he continued to do so every time he saw me.

  “But in the back of their mind is the knowledge that this will not last forever. A human life span is so short, and that fact alone is responsible for how their possessive instinct manifests itself. I can’t tell you that all vampires fall in love with their human companions, but a very real affection does exist. They do what they think is necessary to protect their human companion, and also to show their appreciation for what is being given, even if it is sometimes a little overwhelming.” Putting her hand on my arm, Anasztaizia squeezed gently. “I understand completely why you feel the
way you do, but I don’t believe it was Gabriel’s intention to deliberately belittle or objectify you in any way. He just wants to give you . . . everything.”

  “But I’ve never asked him for anything—”

  “It doesn’t matter. To him this is no less than you deserve.”

  “Well, I’m not sure how high heels and kinky underwear fit into that category.”

  She shrugged. “He’s male—what can I say?”

  I sighed and carried my dirty mug and plate to the large sink. “This is going to happen again, isn’t it? Oh, I don’t mean replacing my underwear,” I quickly clarified. “I mean Gabriel doing stupid things.”

  “Probably,” Anasztaizia agreed, “but it’s up to you to make him listen whenever he does something you don’t like. This may not be your first love affair, Rowan, but in many ways it is Gabriel’s.” It was every bit as much my first love affair too, but I didn’t tell her that. “If it makes you feel any better,” she continued, “Aleksei’s stupid moment was to fill my closet with fur coats.”

  “What?”

  The lovely Magyar nodded. “Yes. More than twenty full-length coats. Mink, fox, rabbit, chinchilla, wolf. I burst into tears when I saw the leopard skin.”

  “What did you do?” I asked, shuddering at the number of lives lost to make so many coats.

  “I threw him out, which was a little embarrassing because he was naked at the time, and we were staying at the Hotel Imperial in Vienna.” That I would have liked to have seen—or maybe not. “He thought I might want to thank him for his generosity by making love on them.”

  “Oh Jeez,” I muttered under my breath.

  “Exactly. It took him two days to realize I wasn’t going to speak to him again until he got rid of them all.”

  “I’m surprised it took him that long,” I blurted out.

  “So was I, but thankfully he did. And then he explained that this was how he had pampered the last woman he had been with—”

  “The last one?” Despite what she’d just told me, I’d assumed Anasztaizia was the only woman in the big guy’s life. The only one with any meaning at least.

  “Aleksei is over three hundred years old,” she said softly, patiently. “He had other women before me. This particular one was a dancer at the Moulin Rouge. I think she might have been painted by Lautrec, or maybe he wanted to paint her. In any case, Aleksei became jealous, and they almost broke up.”

  “And you’re okay with this?”

  “Rowan, dahlink, she was a can-can dancer who’s been dead for over a century. What can she do to hurt me?”

  I sat back down and looked at her. She was lovely and wonderful and had fully accepted that however much time she was going to have with Aleksei, she would make the most of it.

  “If it’s important to you, Rowan, then it’s important to Gabriel.” She reached over and patted my hand. “But remember, he’s a vampire, not a mind reader, and while he may be incredibly intuitive, even he needs to have things spelled out for him every now and then.”

  She was right, and I knew it. Anasztaizia made me see my problem with Gabriel from a different perspective. One that was going to let me put down some ground rules without being confrontational. “You really are the best!” I said, giving her a hug.

  “I’m happy to help,” she replied, handing me the rest of the Esterházy torte, which she’d boxed up.

  I had parked the Charger close to the brick wall at the far end of the alley behind the restaurant, only now I was blocked in. A black delivery van was parked behind me, and so close I had zero maneuvering room. Freaking moron! Clutching my car keys, I opened the restaurant’s back door and called Anasztaizia’s name. “You know whose van this is?” I asked as she came down the hallway, her pointy-toed Manolo Blahnik pumps clicking on the tiled floor.

  She frowned as she looked at the van and then shook her head. “Sorry, dahlink, I’ve never seen it before.”

  “You think someone’s getting a delivery?”

  “On a Sunday?” Her face told me that was a big no. “It’s probably someone having lunch.”

  “But why park here? It’s kind of out of the way.”

  “Perhaps that’s reason enough. Why don’t you take my car?”

  “Oh, I can’t do that,” I said, turning down her generosity.

  “Why not? I’m going to be here for at least another two hours. By that time the van will probably be gone and I can drive your car home. If not, I can get a ride with one of my guys.” One of her guys meant any of the kitchen staff who would be working in a few hours.

  “You sure you don’t mind?”

  She grinned. “Didn’t you already tell me I was the best? Let me get you the keys.”

  Chapter 5

  Anasztaizia drove a red Mazda MX-5 Miata with a retractable hard top that I would have loved to have put down, but an unfamiliar car always makes me nervous. Especially when it’s someone else’s pride and joy. I thought perhaps I might indulge myself when I returned the car to her later, but right now I needed to familiarize myself with the dashboard. Leaving the hard top up was probably the reason my injuries weren’t more extensive, because I never saw the truck that hit me.

  The green light said I had the right-of-way, which meant the truck that crossed the intersection at the same time I did obviously ran a red light. Who does that at 2:00 p.m. on a Sunday afternoon? One minute I’d been having a lively dialogue with my inner bitch about the art of compromise—tell him the thongs have got to go, but you’ll keep the bras and the Lady Gaga number—and the next my world was a cacophony of screaming metal, screeching tires, and crunching glass.

  I ricocheted forward and hit my head on the steering wheel, realizing, in a moment of absolute clarity, that the Miata’s air bag had failed to deploy. Thankfully the seat belt kept its part of the deal, and stopped me from taking a header out the windshield. The strap, cutting across my chest, was agonizing, but it was, all in all, a fair exchange.

  Anasztaizia’s sexy little sports car came to a stop in the middle of the intersection, and, from what I could tell in a dazed glance out the driver’s window, it was now facing the wrong way. The force of the impact had popped the hood open, obscuring my view through the windshield, telling me I owed the seat belt more than I realized. The smell of gasoline and burnt rubber filled the car along with the faint aroma of something citrus that had to be the air freshener plugged into the air vent.

  The passenger side of the Miata had taken the brunt of the collision, which resulted in the door buckling to create a noticeable gap. I figured the only way it was going to open was with some help from the jaws of life or some similar device. A soft plopping sound startled me as a big dollop of cake fell from the ceiling to the floor. Apparently Esterházy torte didn’t survive a violent impact too well.

  I needed to get out of the car. The smell of gasoline was getting stronger, and I didn’t want to wait around to see if anything was going to blow. The driver’s-side door appeared to be intact, a detail that was confirmed a moment later when it was wrenched open. A hand reached toward me, and I gave an involuntary shriek as the blade of a very large knife was waved in front of my face.

  What? Couldn’t kill us with your truck so you’ve come to finish off the job by getting up close and personal?

  The idea that the accident was anything but what it seemed was preposterous, and I can only blame the absurdity of my thought process on the blow to my head. At least I was spared the embarrassment of voicing my accusation, but only because my tongue seemed to be bigger than normal. In that same second I tasted blood and realized I’d bitten it. The knife danced in the air before slicing through my seat belt in a single, easy swipe. And then it magically changed into a syringe. I turned my head and forced myself to focus on the figure squatting next to the open door. Dressed in jeans, boots, and a wife-beater, he didn’t strike me as being qualified to give me a shot of anything. At least nothing that was legal.

  “Call . . . nine . . . one . . . one . .
.” I mumbled awkwardly through lips that were swollen and a tongue that was getting decidedly thicker.

  Ignoring me, the man grabbed my arm and pulled it toward him. There came a sharp pinch, and then I was being lifted out of the driver’s seat as the rest of the world turned black.

  * * *

  I came to with a violent, full-body spasm that banged my head and hands against something with a hard edge. Disoriented, I sucked in a breath and almost choked. There was some sort of covering over my head. A bag or hood that, judging from the scratchy feel against my skin, was made of a type of rough sacking. It smelled foul. A mix of stale sweat, dried vomit, and old blood. The smell of fear.

  My mouth was dry. I was so thirsty I could easily drain one of those water cooler bottles and ask for a refill. It had to be a side effect of whatever shit I’d been injected with. My tongue had been replaced with 200-grit sandpaper. Panic began to rise, and I had to stomp it down before it could escalate and run wild. If that happened, I had no chance of getting out of whatever hell I was in.

  Yeah, well, you’ve gotten out of this kind of shit before.

  Call me crazy, but I was pretty sure my departure from the Dark Realm was more a result of being thrown out by a demon than anything I’d done on my own. Still, it was kind of nice to know my inner bitch was still with me, even if her advice wasn’t exactly helpful.

  I decided to check for injuries from the car crash, but this was difficult because not only was I hooded, I was also handcuffed. And who knew handcuffs were so heavy?

  Anyone who ’s ever flirted with the idea of kinky sex, I imagine.

  Yeah, well, that isn’t me.

  I know.

  Gabriel had definitely expanded my knowledge of sex with some experimentation that could qualify as borderline kinky, but we hadn’t gotten around to using restraints. And it wasn’t like anything we did required a pre-agreed “safe” word. Besides, my idea of kinky was probably everyone else’s normal, but I made the decision right then that no matter how many orgasms Gabriel promised me, I was never going to wear handcuffs for him. Not even fur-lined ones.