Vampire Siren: Real Men of Othercross

by Kyle, Celia

  Cora’s cheeks burned, but Deo nudged her with his shoulder.

  “It’s okay,” he said softly, with a hint of sadness. “Do you suppose there’s anything that would make her approve of me? Maybe a change in my social status?”

  She squeezed his arm tightly to show him that her mother’s opinions would never color her own. “You probably already know the answer to that. I don’t know where my mother gets her prejudices, but she looks at vampires as trashier than witches.”

  “And that’s saying something,” he grumbled, opening the front door of the OCAJ building for her.

  “My hero,” she said, grinning as she curtseyed at his small courtesy.

  Deo didn’t return her smile. “I would be if you’d only let me, Cora.”

  “Deo—”

  Before she could finish, he took her hand and lifted it to his lips. The brush of soft skin and the whisper of his hot breath on her flesh nearly killed her resolve. When he spoke again, his voice was hoarse with emotion.

  “This is where I take my leave. See you soon, beautiful.”

  In a blink, he was gone, leaving Cora aching and alone. As she would always remain.

  Chapter Four

  Deo paced back and forth, wearing tracks in the carpet. He’d have to have it ripped out and replaced with durable wood floors.

  “Just storm the castle, man,” Tate Campbell said. “Take my sentries and enforcers. They’re wolves. They’d love the chance to infiltrate a prissy fae mansion and make off with the main girl.”

  “We’d start a clan war.”

  The alpha jerked his shoulder in a shrug. “Meh. A new one pops off every few years anyway. About due for a good clan war.”

  Deo collapsed onto his couch, scowling at his best male friend. Tate pushed a bottle of blood wine across the coffee table toward him.

  “Here, take the edge off.”

  “I invited you here to strategize, not get me blood drunk.”

  “If you want diplomacy, get a bloodsucker. Wolves bring the crazy.”

  Deo took a long swig of his drink. “If I don’t do something, her parents will marry her off tonight.” He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “That can’t happen, Tate.”

  “Kill the groom? Then she’d be a rich widow. They might thank you.”

  Deo glared at Tate, who blinked innocently. “Be serious, man.”

  Tate sighed. “Okay, fine. Look, you only need to stop her from picking someone to wed, right? So just go to the party. Clean up fancy like one of their princes and remind her why she wants you and not one of them.”

  “I don’t have an invitation. I’d get stopped at the gate.”

  “Sneak in. Wouldn’t be the first time. Right? Remember when we crashed that witch’s rave a while back?”

  “Not very well,” Deo chuckled.

  But Tate had a point. Sneaking into a party was really about timing. Aquaria and Terrus had no doubt hired the very best caterers, sound techs, and event staff, all of whom would be milling about freely in the hours leading up to the gala. He could nab some livery and go in the back way.

  “I think I have a plan.”

  Tate saluted him. “Good, now go get the girl!”

  * * *

  Deo ducked behind a massive marble pillar as Aquaria passed by the other side, scolding one of the servants as she went. Deo sneered and then smoothed his face back into a blank expression and held the dry-cleaning bag that contained his tuxedo high enough to obscure his identity if she happened to catch a glimpse of him.

  He’d managed to procure a clan mate’s dry-cleaner’s truck and uniform before heading over to the ó Murchadha mansion. Good thing too because every worker on the grounds wore some kind of uniform, as pretentious and snobby as that was. Who made their staff wear traditional garb to scrub toilets and wash floors?

  Aquaria Murphy, of course. He was vaguely shocked she didn’t package up her own shit and sell it as premium garden fertilizer. Next time he had to endure her presence, he’d drop a hint and see if she took the bait. Cora would kill him, but it would be well worth the amusement.

  He avoided being seen by Aquaria several times while he re-familiarized himself with the mansion. It had been a couple of decades since he’d snuck in, not since he and Cora were in their twenties, shortly before he’d been turned. It was better he stayed away. Too many times he’d had to strangle the urge to march into her father’s office and demand an alliance—sealed through marriage, of course.

  As it turned out, the route to Cora’s room was imprinted in his brain, and once Aquaria was out of view, he managed to make it upstairs to the family wing. He smiled bitterly at smell of the shampoo the staff used on the carpets, a floral scent chosen by Aquaria. It hadn’t changed after all these years. Even the artwork and tchotchkes in the halls were the same—all pieces carefully chosen for the value and prestige they brought for owning them.

  Cora and Aquaria had a long-running battle over the decor of her bedroom. She’d always preferred simple and sentimental over gaudy and pretentious. It never made much sense to Deo. As long as the sheets were clean and the drawers had clothes in them, who cared about decor? It was meant for sleeping. And fucking, but it had taken him a few more years to get to that stage.

  Despite Aquaria’s reaction the one time she’d found him in Cora’s room, he’d been a rather slow bloomer. He’d never made a move on Cora, even though he’d desperately wanted to. Aquaria wouldn’t believe it. When she’d barged into Cora’s room, she’d found them sitting on the bed playing a game of chess. As innocent as the scene had been, she went ballistic, going so far as to forbid Cora from ever slumming with a bloodsucker again.

  Of course, any mother knows that forbidding her teenage daughter from doing anything was a sure-fire way to make sure she did that very thing, and with great relish. She’d never turned her back on Deo, though she never had him back to the mansion again. Still, their friendship survived, even though he’d always wanted more.

  Craved more.

  Sometimes he went out-of-his-skin crazy wanting more.

  Over time he’d been weak, taken a brief lover or two just to relieve his physical aches, but they’d never meant anything to him. He always ended those relationships when the women started to feel too strongly for him, and they always left him feeling empty and shallow.

  “Why are you upstairs?” a voice demanded. “Where’s Synthia? She always delivers the prince’s clothes.”

  Oh shit.

  Deo turned to find a stern-faced woman exiting a room and shutting the door crisply behind her.

  “Uh… she called in sick, so they sent me.” It was a wild improvisation and just as likely to blow up in his face as work, but the woman didn’t call his bluff.

  “Did they even bother telling you all dry-cleaning deliveries get hung in the closet downstairs?” She huffed. “Never mind. Since you’re already up here, might as well put it in his room. Fourth door on the left. Oh, and remember, if you see any of the family, stand to the side, lower your gaze and don’t speak. The new ones who talk always get fired.”

  “Great. Thanks for the tip. I really need this job.”

  He walked away slowly, hoping the woman would disappear before he reached Terrus and Aquaria’s bedroom. When his keen hearing caught her footfalls on the stairwell, he backtracked to Cora’s room.

  All he wanted to do was make sure Aquaria didn’t have anything more sinister planned than an evening of shoving males into Cora’s face. The Murphy matriarch was getting desperate for her daughter to wed, and people did strange things when their daughter’s life was at risk. He could understand it, but he also wanted to ensure Cora’s safety and happiness.

  His fangs ached as he slipped inside her bedroom. Blood would spill if any male laid a hand on Cora without her permission. He wanted her, loved her, would do anything for her… including let her go if, after this last-ditch effort, she still refused him.

  Her old room hadn’t changed much since he
’d last been here. Same big bed with a floral cover, though the stuffed animals had been exchanged for throw pillows. Lots and lots of throw pillows. What any woman needed with so many pillows was beyond him, but if it made her happy…

  But more than that, the room smelled of Cora. He breathed deeply, letting her scent fill him. Sweet, soft, silky, it nearly brought him to his knees. Getting caught kneeling on the floor smelling the carpet might look funny—worse, if the wrong person walked in with her—so he decided he’d better hide. At least until he could confirm she was alone.

  Voices in the hallway alerted him to the fact she wasn’t, so he quickly ducked behind nine-foot tall velvet drapes, holding his garment bag tightly to his body. Seconds after he’d adjusted the fall of the cloth to cover his feet, the door opened and Cora entered, an entourage of staff with her.

  “Guess there’s no time like the present,” she was saying. “What did Mother tell you to dress me in?”

  Deo took the risk of leaning far enough to the left to catch sight of her as her ladies in waiting—or whatever they were called—cast sly glances at each other.

  “Come on,” Cora said as she shrugged out of her blazer and kicked off her work shoes. “I know she instructed you not to let me choose my own gown. So, what did she stick me with for tonight?”

  Seeing her in her room, people surrounding her to fulfill her every wish, reminded Deo of exactly who she was. A princess. Lovely, gracious, with a sense of humor and egalitarian attitude—but still a princess.

  One of the maids hurried behind a privacy screen and returned with a ridiculously ornate dress. A surprisingly appealing pale gray at first glance, the dress sported a corset bodice with pale flowers appliquéd across it and the cascading tulle ruffles that poofed out at least four feet at the bottom. Cora sighed and shook her head but then shrugged.

  “Well, better get to it then. That thing looks like one helluva puzzle.”

  The women giggled as they surrounded her, obscuring Deo’s view completely as they undressed her. The moment he caught himself edging closer to the drapes’ opening to get a better view, shame washed over him.

  He shouldn’t be here. Not now, not like this. As much as he wanted to lay eyes on Cora’s body, he didn’t want to sneak a peek. He wanted to stand over her and drink her in as she waited for him to claim her.

  Drawing back into the shadows of the drapery, Deo closed his eyes and waited. Hopefully it wouldn’t take her helpers long to finish their task and leave her alone… with him. But he’d caught a glimpse of her gown and he couldn’t stop himself from imagining every step it took to get her into it.

  Blood shot straight to his groin, and he groaned quietly in response. He was too busy visualizing Cora to notice the chatter had stopped until it was too late. Before he knew what was happening, the curtains whipped open, revealing him to the room full of shrieking ladies.

  Deo’s eyes flew open in surprise but then he was lost in her. Cora stood in front of him with her hands on her ample hips, anger flashing in her eyes. Something else flashed in them too, but his eyes dropped before he could confirm the emotion. Plump breasts spilled over her brocade corset, cupped by lace-covered satin. It was one of those contraptions females used to push everything up and wave it in a man’s face. Devious, devastating contraptions.

  “Quiet,” Cora snapped at the women over her shoulder. When they finally died down to hushed murmurs and the occasional snicker, she turned back to him, mouth tight. “You have thirty seconds to convince me not to turn you over to my mother.”

  Deo cringed. “The punishment doesn’t fit the crime.”

  “What are you doing here, Deo? And how the hell did you get in here?”

  If he kept her talking, she’d calm. She always did when he pissed her off. Stepping out from the draperies, he pulled away his garment bag to show off his uniform and then gave her a charming, boyish smile. He hoped.

  “Happy birthday?”

  Cora’s hungry eyes roved up and down his body for a little longer than it should have taken before she shook her head. “Poseidon hear me. If my mother finds out how easy it was to infiltrate her staff, she’ll spout a geyser.”

  “Princess,” a woman began, edging toward the door “would you like us to—”

  “No, I would not, Melisandra. Not a word of this to my mother.” She pinned him with a hard look. “I’ll find another way to punish you. We aren’t teenagers anymore, Deo. You can’t just break into my room like this. Please tell me you weren’t just trying to get your jollies.”

  Deo coughed. Inhaled the wrong way and coughed some more. When the fit was over, he wheezed, “Of course not, Cora. That would be ungentlemanly.”

  Someone snorted.

  Cora turned. “Please excuse us, ladies. And I hope I can count on your discretion.”

  There was a general murmur of assent as the women made for the door, some eyeing him as if they just knew he would be the latest bit of juicy gossip. Deo flashed his best smile, lowering his lashes. Might as well make it a good story.

  The moment the door closed behind them Cora stomped away toward the closet. “Alright, Deo, start talking.”

  She touched a panel next to the closet door, which sent it sliding sideways automagically. Lights switched on inside, allowing her to find her robe easily so she could cover her beautiful, sumptuous curves.

  Shame.

  He cleared his throat. “You know, women wear less clothing on the beach. You’re perfectly modest. You needn’t bother with the robe on my account.”

  “Nice try.” She wandered to the foot of her bed and sat down with a sigh. “I suppose I shouldn’t be angry with you. This is my fault, after all. I wondered how you’d make an ass of yourself.”

  Deo scowled. “What are you blathering about, woman?”

  “My song.” Resignation crossed her face. “I knew it affected you somehow, but maybe it just takes longer to kick in because you’ve spent so much time around me. You might have partial immunity or something.”

  “Partial… You’re not a communicable disease, Cora.”

  “I might as well be.” She stared at her feet, a subtle slump in her shoulders. “I lured you in.”

  He really shouldn’t laugh or roll his eyes when she was so dejected. Deo settled for a sigh and joined her on the bed, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “I wouldn’t worry about it, gorgeous. Do I appear to have suffered any harm?”

  She dug her big toe into the plush carpet, clearly not ready to believe he hadn’t been affected by her song. Maybe a different tack was in order.

  “Well, since the damage is done, you might as well be mine forever. Cat out of the bag and all that.” He smiled winningly, letting his fangs drop a fraction of an inch to make his point. “Don’t waste me.”

  Her head lifted and she glared at him, but then her lips twitched and she laughed. “If I was a little more ruthless, I might take you up on that.”

  “Be ruthless, Cora,” he purred, staring deeply into her eyes.

  She swallowed hard, her gaze never wavering from his. She might have glamour, but vampires had their own charms and he knew how to use them.

  “My mother would rather die.”

  “Then it would be well worth it.”

  He stared at her.

  She stared at him.

  “You know, it probably would be.” Her head tilted to one side, just a little bit, but then she blinked like she was waking up from a dream. “Ugh, how easily you distract me. Talk, Deo. Why were you hiding in my curtains?”

  “Accident, I swear. I heard all of you coming and hid so your mother wouldn’t find out. Guess that was a big, fat failure.”

  “But why are you here?”

  He shrugged, arm sliding off her shoulders. “Who’s on your mother’s list of suitors?”

  Cora crossed her arms. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

  “Yes, I would. That’s why I asked.”

  “You can’t do anything about it, Deo. I know you.” />
  He held up two crossed fingers. “No mischief, I swear.”

  She rattled off a list of elite names as she moved to where her gown hung on the privacy screen. Deo pulled a face.

  “Ugly, stupid, not as well-off as he seems… and that last one has a rep for bathing three times a month. Aquaria sure knows how to pick ‘em.”

  Discarding her robe, Cora pulled the ballgown off its hanger and slipped it over her head. Under the lights and aligned with her curvaceous body, it shimmered an iridescent blue-green. When she moved, shades of yellow, fuchsia and teal shimmered like thousands of tiny scales. Perfect for a princess of the sea.

  “Yeah, well, they wouldn’t be my first picks either, but maybe my mother’s right.”

  He crossed the room and helped her button up the back of the dress. It only had about ten thousand tiny buttons that his big fingers had trouble working, but since he’d scared off her lady’s maids, he figured he might as well help her. Besides, any excuse to touch her…

  “Your mother is never right, Cora. You don’t have to marry a man you don’t love.”

  “Love can grow. Maybe it’s time I made a future for myself.” She moved away from him, away from his touch, and sat at her dressing table. “And if you intend on trying to sabotage any of them, I want you to stay away.”

  He froze, the best friend façade evaporating. She avoided looking at him.

  “I know it’s going to be hard since I accidentally whammied you, but you’ve got to let go already. We’re just friends, Deo, and we both know that’s for the best.”

  “Cora.”

  She looked at him then, shoulders straightening and mouth thinning to a tight line. “Go, Deo. I need to finish getting ready.”

  Her tone sounded so final, no room for argument. He wanted to respect her wishes so he bent his head and left the room, but damned if he’d leave the mansion. Cora needed his help, and by the Blood, he was going to help her. That’s what friends did, after all.

  Chapter Five