by Ivy Banks
The two shifted uncomfortably, and Brooks saw the shorter one’s eyes flicker over to his friend in a fleeting question of whether to admit their guilt. Without waiting for an answer, Brooks grabbed two sticks lying on the ground, and with a force as strong as a tornado, whipped the sticks into the hearts of the vampires. At once, the vampires vanished, turning to piles of dust.
Brooks rushed to Violet’s side and ripped open a vein in his wrist with his elongated fangs. He lifted her head and pressed his wrist to her lips, allowing his blood to flow into her mouth and down her throat.
Not knowing if it was too late to save her, he picked her up and walked her back to his double cab pick-up truck that sat waiting in the parking lot. He laid her down gently in the backseat and silently hoped that his blood would do the trick.
He drove down the dark winding road to his house. If she did wake up she would be hungry and confused.
Please, don’t let it be too late.
The drive home was excruciatingly long. He wanted to hold her one more time and tell her how sorry he was that he didn’t realize his coldness had sent her directly into the arms of vampires. His attempts to save her from himself ended up being the worst decision he could have made.
As he pulled into the driveway, he heard a light movement, and then a small cough. He turned off his truck and shifted his body to see Violet in the backseat.
It worked!
Violet sat up. “Brooks? Where am I? What happened.”
He had to fight to keep from yelling her name in excitement. “You’re safe, Violet. I promise, you’re safe,” he said, as gently as he could. He didn’t want to scare her and she no doubt had no idea what was going on.
After convincing her to come up and sit next to him in the front seat, Brooks relayed the night’s events. Violet looked at him without any emotion on her face.
“I’m a…a vampire? I… I don’t even know what that means. Is everything gone? Is my life over? Will I ever see my family again?”
“The first thing is just to stay calm. We’ll figure all of that out, Violet. But, don’t worry. I’ll be here to help, every step.”
“You don’t even like me,” she said with disgust in her voice. With the dust of the recent trauma settling, her emotions returned to the last couple weeks and the pain Brooks had caused her.
“Of course I like you. I like you too much. Don’t you understand now? It’s why I had to pull myself away. I couldn’t be with you because you’re a mortal, and I didn’t want to complicate your life.”
“And now I’m not,” said Violet, taking it all in.
“When I first met you, I was drawn to you. I didn’t want to be, but I couldn’t resist. And tonight confirmed what I’ve been suspicious of these last weeks. I believe you’re my mate. I don’t know what this means for either of us, but I do know that I want to make this work. I want to be with you, more than you can imagine. I can’t promise you we will be together for all of eternity, but I can promise you that I want nothing more than to be with you and I hope this feeling lasts forever.”
Violet was silent as she stared up at the millions of stars illuminating the sky.
Finally, she spoke. “You’ll teach me what to do and how to act?”
He nodded his head, sensing that she wasn’t done talking.
“I have so many conflicting feelings coursing through my body. And I don’t know how else to say it, but I’m scared.”
“I promise you, I’m here to protect you.”
Violet crawled across the front seat and straddled Brooks. “Everything feels so intense. Even my attraction to you seems more than I can bear.”
“Every moment we are together I can feel myself falling more in love with you,” he responded as he cupped her cheek with his hand.
He couldn’t have anticipated a better response from her learning she was a vampire, and her words only served to fuel his surging passion. He kissed her lovingly, his hand gliding down her side. She kissed him back with longing bliss.
Brooks opened his door and grabbed her hand, asking her to follow him. She remembered back to what happened the last time he asked her to follow him and with a giddy smile, and eagerly obliged.
Brooks grabbed a blanket from the backseat and led Violet to the bed of his pick-up truck. After spreading the thick quilt across the hard surface, he lifted her onto the tailgate and gently pushed her down so her back was against the quilt.
When she playfully grasped his bulge, pulling him toward her, he shuddered and cracked a grin. “I’ve been thinking about you every moment that we’ve been apart,” he breathed.
He attacked her with ardent kisses while he unbuttoned her little denim shorts. Violet wrestled to get his belt off, motivated by his slow drawn out moves. As soon as her shorts were off, his hand slipped into the waistband of her panties and rubbed her mound sensually.
Violet didn’t bother waiting to pull off his pants before she reached into his boxers and formed her hand around his thick cowboy member. She stroked him carefully, feeling him grow longer and thicker in her grasp.
He gripped her ass with one hand as he pushed his finger into her. Violet groaned into his ear before kissing down the train toward his shoulder, letting her tongue lick and caress the skin of his neck. Every sensation seemed magnified.
The thought briefly flickered through her head that her heightened senses must be because of her transition, but the thought quickly dissipated as his caressing touches combined with his skillful manual manipulations made her body shudder with desire.
She rolled her pelvis upward, and his thumb moved to rub her clit. Violet’s teeth grazed against his neck, moving her hand faster up and down his erection.
He suddenly jerked back from her motions, looking deep into her eyes with a sensual intensity. He let out a low, lust-starved growl. Brooks quickly removed his pants and boxers. The night air blew coolly across their naked bodies. Turning her onto her side, Brooks laid down behind her, pulling her body to meet his and pushed himself into her slick heat.
“Brooks,” she moaned, her hand clutching the blanket next to her head.
He kissed along her shoulder and kept his hips lifted and moving into her. His body was smooth, strong, and felt so right against hers. Brooks’ hands explored her body freely as he ravished her, kneading her breasts and stroking her sides. He buried his face into her thick country-blonde hair.
Eventually, his hand found its way back to her mound. Brooks teased her clit with light, sporadic strokes. They grew more and more frequent, her sex growing wetter as she was lost in the waves of pleasure he provided.
Violet reluctantly pushed him away before rolling onto her back, and pulling him on top of her. Brooks happily followed her lead, bringing her knees to his waist and hooking her ankles around his back. Violet lifted her hips into his with each pump of his pelvis.
“I love you,” he breathed against her lips.
“I love you,” she repeated back to him, gripping his muscular biceps.
He took three slow thrusts before gaining momentum and pounding into her like a bucking bronco. Violet’s legs spread out as she lifted her hips, taking in every inch of his intensity like he was filling a deep craving she’d always longed for. Her nails scratched at his back, fighting off her climax as long as she could. It was no use, however. Soon enough, her body trembled from satisfaction; her breathing became shallow and labored. Brooks released into her, groaning and laying his head on her chest.
Brooks moved off of her and grabbed an extra blanket from behind them, draping it over top them and cuddling her close while she lay dazed by pleasure.
“Let’s lie here for a while. I want to relish this moment with you. Our first night together as mates,” he murmured softly, though it wasn’t like anyone was around to hear him.
“That sounds perfect,” Violet grinned, nuzzling into his neck and cuddling up to his side. His hand drifted down her back and lingered on her bare bottom, tucking his other arm behind his hea
d. They both looked up at the dazzling display of stars above, and as if on cue, two shooting stars trailed across the sky, crossing one another’s paths.
THE END
House Call
Even vampires can have hearts in need of intensive care.
Royal Vampire Kingdom Prologue
Many eons ago, the first vampire came into existence when a great warrior named Atticus was given the gift of immortality from an almighty warlock. But with the gift of eternal life came great responsibility. As Atticus developed a thirst for blood, he knew he had to leverage his powers wisely.
Over time, immortality became lonely, and Atticus embarked on a quest to form his own family. Choosing his “children” based on strength of character, fortitude and the ability to navigate an ever changing world for millennia upon millennia, Atticus created a clan that would be able to rule over all other vampires, creating order and hierarchy among them.
The Vampire King gave sixteen worthy humans the gift of everlasting life. The chosen soon became the fifteen princes and sole princess of the vampire world. Together they became the Hanover family.
From these original sixteen individuals, all vampires in the world were created. Though vampires now cover the Earth as rampantly as man and beast, the original Hanover clan remains the most powerful among them.
This is the love story of Weston Hanover.
Chapter 1
His body floated to that place between sleep and wakefulness where he was aware of his surroundings, but a dream was tickling the fringes of his mind.
Alexandra was there, bathing in the lake, her long black hair capturing diamond-shaped sparkles from the sunlight as she turned to catch his eye alluringly. Slowly, she extended a long finger and gestured for him to join him as he watched her from the stony shore.
Weston licked his lips, his metallic green eyes raking over her smooth olive skin, watching her trail her fingertips over her ample and exposed breasts, taunting him to follow her lead.
He stepped forward, opening his mouth to respond, a bulge growing in his pants. The erotic pulsation ached, yet sent a wave of euphoria through him.
“Dr. Hanover! You’re needed in the ER, stat!”
Weston sat up from the cot in the on-call room and peered at the panicked intern with a frustrated glance.
Rolling his neck he tried to get the blood flowing and the kinks out. He had not been truly sleeping, of course. With his schedule, it seemed like he hardly ever did. Still, he did not appreciate the interruption. Not when he had been so close to Alexandra. The dreams were so rare now, so fleeting, that he wanted to experience every single piece of them that he could grasp onto.
How long has it been since I touched her in my fantasies? How long has it been since I could smell her skin, even in my mind?
“What is it, Carver?” he asked angrily. “You can’t find the gauze again?”
Dr. Carver seemed hurt by the question, his nervous brown eyes darting about Weston’s face worriedly.
“Sir, there’s blood everywhere!”
“Carver, this is a hospital. You’re a doctor. One of these days, you must accept that blood is a part of the job.”
His irritation with the intern was reaching epic proportions and he was worried that one day he would be unable to control himself.
Perhaps today will be the day when I silence this maggot once and for all.
“Dr. Hanover, it was a huge accident. We need every available doctor!”
Sighing, Weston allowed his feet to touch the floor, stretching cat-like to follow the hysterical intern into Jackson Memorial Hospital. If it was duty that called, he could not very well devour the inexperienced doctor, tempting as it may be.
He glanced at his pager as they briskly walked toward the elevators and raised a dark eyebrow.
He had missed several pages apparently as he had dreamt of his beloved in the on-call room.
I didn’t hear it chime one time, he thought with mild surprise.
Weston wasn’t particularly shocked at the discovery; visions of Alexandra always had a hypnotic effect on him. When she came to him, everything else disappeared.
When she disappeared, everything should have disappeared with her.
“What happened?” he asked the man-child with the stethoscope looped haphazardly around his neck.
Carver was hopping from one foot to another as if he was going to relieve himself on the white tiled floor of the private hospital.
“And stop jumping around, Carver!” he snapped.
The young doctor immediately froze at the resident’s annoyed tone. It was hardly a secret that the head of surgery found him bothersome and it seemed he did not wish to further Dr. Hanover’s poor opinion of him.
“Two boats collided in Biscayne Bay – sailboat to speedboat. Ten people seriously injured and one dead.”
“I’m surprised they aren’t all dead,” Weston commented, stepping off the lift toward the C Wing where the emergency room was situated.
Boating accidents often resulted in maiming, drowning and loss of limbs. It was going to be a long few days to clean up the aftermath of this accident.
It is a blessing I don’t require much sleep.
It was only one of the dozens of reasons which made Weston Hanover one of the most successful doctors to ever grace the staff of Jackson Memorial Hospital in Miami Beach. His track record was second to none, losing less patients than any doctor in the history of the hospital.
They do not know what happens to those patients after I save them however, or else they would be less apt to think me a hero, Weston thought wryly, wetting his lips with a sly tongue.
One of the reasons he had settled on surgery as a career was his ability to have the pick of the most viable donors in the area. He was never stuck dissatisfied after a feasting because he could pick his prey easily.
As they walked through the double doors of the emergency room, Weston was almost physically slapped in the face by chaos. Doctors rushing to help those most critically injured, a sea of red-splattered lab coats hovering over gurneys, assisting one another and comforting distraught family members. Nurses offered their assistance running from one gurney to the next, each face a mask of grim concentration. The din was offensive to Weston’s acute sense of hearing and he resisted the urge to place his fair hands about his ears to block out the almost incessant screaming.
“Weston!” Dr. Fancher whipped a curtain aside and beckoned the handsome doctor to follow. “We have two girls bleeding out on beds two and three. Carver, show him!”
Like a blanket had slipped over his body, Weston was suddenly enveloped in calm, the uproar slowing to a hum. He was in doctor mode now and there was no room for distraction.
All he could hear was the unusually slow beat of his heart as everything else vanished except the path directly before him, led by the first-year intern. Weston could see his mouth moving as Carver spoke but he did not hear, nor care, what the boy had to say.
The boy could offer nothing which Weston could not do himself, and he did not have time to indulge the young man’s opinions.
He had lives to save.
Rounding the corner, he steeled himself for the inordinate mess at beds two and three, trying not to inhale the saccharine scent of plasma as it filled his nostrils.
As his green eyes poured over the scene, his mind was already forming a plan of attack. He turned to the nearest nurse and quickly surveyed her progress.
The blonde patient in bed three was bleeding from her chest and unconscious. One nurse was bagging her while another performed chest compressions. Dr. Hanover stepped in, taking the breathing bag from her.
“Get me six bags of O-neg. How long has she been down?”
“Since they pulled her from the bay. She’s in and out. Lacerations on her chest and back. Punctured left lung I think.”
Expertly, Weston’s fingers felt along the young woman’s ribcage and sighed.
“Hurry. Prepare her for surgery,” he to
ld the nurse firmly, glancing over his shoulder to where Dr. Carver stood, staring at the women in shock.
“What the hell are you doing?” he snapped, jolting Dr. Carver out of his daze. “Get on her. Clean up her face and find the puncture wound to stop the bleeding,” he ordered, pointing at the bright-eyed, yet delirious looking woman in the neighboring bed.
Her face was not visible beneath the swelling and blood yet there was something familiar about her, something he could not quite identify.
“What is your name, love?” he called out to her, eyeing Carver to ensure he was acting and not falling into shock himself.
Slowly, the woman turned her head toward his voice, her eyes uncomprehending.
“I was on a sailboat. It was nice,” she told him, a faint smile lacing her lips. “I’ve never seen the middle of a sailboat before.”
“Carver, she’s in shock,” Weston barked. “Tread carefully; if you snap her out of it too quickly, she could go into cardiac arrest. Nurse Bayer! Get me her vitals stat!”
The nearby nurse jumped to attention as Carver examined the patient.
“Can you tell me your name, love?” Weston tried again, glancing at the blonde who was waiting to be prepped for surgery.
Instinctively, he maintained his pumping in perfect time to the chest compressions being performed.
Weston smiled encouragingly at the conscious patient and she gazed at him blankly, a soft smile still touching her lips.
Slowly, Carver wiped the red streaks from her face, checking over her head as he moved. With each stroke of Carver’s hand, Weston’s emerald eyes widened. As Carver cleared her face, Weston’s hand went slack on the bag and he felt his jaw drop, recognizing the violet eyes of the traumatized woman.
Alexandra!
“Doctor!”
A swoosh filled his ears and Weston became aware of the patient slipping away under his fingers. Like a clanging of alarm bells, reality came stunningly back to punch him in the gut.