He smiled and raised the wine menu. "White or red?"
She appreciated his smooth change of subject. As she was sitting down, she returned his smile. The two of them lingered over dinner and wine then sampled each other's desserts like lovers. After almost three hours of talking about everything from road construction in Denver to Broadway shows, he walked her to her car and said goodnight, not knowing himself why he didn't press for an after dinner drink. So to speak.
When Helene Romescu had inherited family money and a famous, worldwide hotel chain, she had relocated the offices to Denver for no other reason than that she loved the mountains and wanted to be close enough to spend recreational time there.
The company took over the seventeenth floor of an office building on 16th Street and she snagged a corner office with a panoramic view of the Rockies from Cheyenne in the north to Colorado Springs in the south. She knew she spent more time looking at the mountains and longing to be there than she should when she was supposed to be working, but truthfully, the company would probably run fine if she didn't do more than attend quarterly board meetings.
She ended up buying a smallish, rustic one room cabin style house outside Aspen. She could have afforded anything, but fell in love with the little place and felt that it was a clear case of less is more. It would be remiss to fail to add that, while the cabin was the picture of rusticity, she created an interior that had graced the pages of "Architectural Digest's" Mountain Retreats Issue.
The pioneer rusticity of wood log walls were offset with the antiquity of old, museum quality Persian heriz rugs. The blood-hued leather furniture was softened with pillows covered by cuts from priceless Persians and tribals that blended with the overall theme of luxury as modern mountain chic. The resulting red, brown theme was a paradox: comforting, soothing, and exciting all at the same time.
Whenever she could get away, she chartered a small plane to fly her up. She kept a Range Rover at the airport by special arrangement with the hangar owner. There was no shortage of beautiful ski towns within driving distance of Denver, but she thought Aspen was worth the extra trouble and expense was a non-issue. The town was a good fit for someone in her situation because it was a magnet for people with money, some of whom would think the Romescu bank account inconsequential. Hell, she might as well have been Aspen's vacation home version of middle class and that made it a perfect place to fade into the surroundings and be the closest thing to invisible.
When she wanted good food, it was there. When she wanted spa treatment, it was there. When she wanted world class shopping, it was there. When she didn't want any of those things, she could sink down into the stress-free environment of her mountain getaway and relax.
At six o'clock the next night there was a knock on the cabin door. Helene never had surprise visitors. In fact she never had any visitors, surprise or otherwise. Her eyes slid to the loaded shotgun standing in the corner.
"Just a minute," she called. She brought the shotgun with her to the door. "Who is it?"
"Flower delivery."
A quick look through the peephole that had been installed when she moved in confirmed that the caller did indeed have flowers - a mountain of them obscured the body of the deliveryman. She opened the door to the biggest arrangement she had ever seen. Even the one on the round center lobby table of the Waldorf Astoria wasn't bigger than this. It was wide, dense, and over the top.
"Good grief," she said. "Are you sure that's for me?"
"Helene Romescu?"
"Yes."
"Would you like to take these or would you like to show me where they should go?"
It looked heavy. The vase was almost as big as a half rain barrel. "Okay. Come in and put it over there."
Behind the flowers the vampire smiled as he stepped across the threshold. He had just been issued an invitation to enter.
"Where is over there?"
She led the way to the sturdy library table she used for everything: eating, jigsaw puzzles, online activities, everything that required a good solid surface plane. The vase was transferred to the table and the deliveryman stood up straight. Stefan Balkan in jeans and a black sweater.
"Surprise," he said.
"It certainly is." She was a little miffed about being taken in, but she was a lot delighted. Her body was unused to surges of excitement and her brain wasn't quite sure how to process the feelings that were dancing throughout her nervous system.
Of course the vampire noticed that her nipples beaded beneath the red silk blouse. His eyes drifted downward, but didn't linger. He didn't want to alarm her or make her feel uncomfortable in any way.
"Don't worry. I'm not staying. I'm just thanking you for the company last evening and inviting you to have dinner with me again? Pizza maybe? Did I mention that you look really good in red?"
She laughed. A few leaves had broken away to cling to his sweater and his hair. She reached out to pick them off not realizing beforehand that such familiarity implies affection as well. "Here. Let me get these."
She pulled the strays from his sweater and then his hair while he stood statue still.
He hadn't intended to touch her. His plan was to take her to dinner, spend time with her, get to know her better, let her get to feel comfortable with him. But pulling fern frond pieces from his sweater and hair was intimate in a way that suddenly felt like foreplay.
Helene realized the same thing when she looked up into Stefan's face and saw his eyes darken. Her heart rate and breathing sped up which is a powerful aphrodisiac to a vampire, particularly one who has become enamored with his prey.
Pulling her into a kiss seemed so natural, as if he done it many times before. She never considered resisting. Those darkened eyes of his were hypnotic. Kissing Stefan was exactly what she wanted to do.
Within minutes she found herself stretched on top of the down comforter that covered her bed, her body clothed only in ecstasy as Stefan created the most delicious friction sliding his naked body against hers. She didn't remember the details of getting out of their clothes and she would have liked to have savored that.
When had they built such a big fire and stoked it into a blazing roar? The bed was close enough to the large hearth to feel the warmth. As Stefan rose over her his eyes were bright and his face was flushed. She hoped that flush was from a desire to possess her body and not just from the heat of the apple and pinion flames. She hoped he was feeling everything she felt - desperation to be loved.
No. Wait.
Her brain clicked into gear. She didn't mean desperation to be loved. She meant she was desperate to be fucked. She was a big girl who knew better than to expect an emotional connection. This was just sex. Good, hot, juicy, mouth watering, breathless sex that made her insides quiver and "jones" to be filled with something she couldn't even name.
When her eyelids drifted open, the first thing she remembered seeing was one of the thick and elaborately carved bed posts. The bed was an antique from the Black Forest in Germany. It had been lovingly handcrafted during a time when families would spend an entire winter carving a piece of furniture as a project because the weather prohibited being outside.
The wooden murals told an intricate story as people and animals both real and mythological wound round the post, across the headboard, down to the footboard, and back again.
She had thought for a moment that she had seen some of the figures move, but blinked rapidly and decided it must have been a trick of the light or too much red wine. Wait. Was there wine? There must have been.
Stefan was watching her reaction while laving one taut, dusky nipple. Their bodies behaved as if they knew each other. The intimacy didn't have the feel of a first act of lovemaking. It was more like the heady culmination of a long and mutually desired reunion.
He inched his way down her body so slowly and with such titillating thoroughness that it was painful in the most delicious way: nuzzling, licking, nipping. Just a single well placed touch near the little swollen pearl that was trying
to get his attention would send her into oblivion. When he reached the patch of honey-colored curls, he brushed his lips in random light nibbles and she bucked hard in response.
Grabbing her hips to hold her steady, he looked up and smiled. For a minute she thought his teeth looked long and sharp, at least two of them.
What was wrong with her? She was losing chunks of time, seeing bed carvings come to life, and now her lover was a vampire?
The opportunity to follow that thought through all its ramifications was lost to the moment as he found that well placed touch with his very talented tongue and sent her into a scream that may have lasted a full minute. The orgasm occupied her body, mind, and soul. It was so powerfully potent that she didn't even register the moment Stefan slid his fangs into the plumped and welcoming lips of Helene's core. He drank sweet blood with his mouth while smelling the nectar of her essence. It was as close to heaven as a vampire can get.
Helene was experiencing such an altered state of euphoria that she would never think to mention protection. He was grateful that she was so susceptible to suggestion. He didn't have to wear a condom, or explain why vampire don't need them.
He fucked her with leisure and frenzy. He fucked her playfully and with an intensity that made her heart ache. He fucked her longer than would be "humanly" possible. And, no matter how many times she forced herself to use the word fuck as a reminder not to take it seriously - that it was just casual sex, her heart refused to listen.
Stefan wouldn't have been happy to know she was struggling to repress feelings that were welling up. He wasn't kidding himself that this was a seduction, a vampire seduction, and that he had used every supernatural tool at his disposal. There should, after all, be some advantages to being a vampire because, the Fates know, the gig comes with enough disadvantages.
So, yes, it was a seduction and a fine one at that, but it was not casual to him either. After he left Helene at her car the night before, he hadn't been able to think about anything else. He pictured bringing her flowers, being invited in, laying her across a cool silk coverlet and having his way with every inch of her. What he didn't picture was that somewhere between the disrobing and the climax, she ceased to be the combo special, food and a sex toy, and started feeling like life. Something he didn't anticipate ever feeling again.
As he lay staring at her, head in hand leaning on his elbow, she asked about the pizza. He was feeling so perfectly sated and at peace he couldn't imagine needing anything more, but she needed food.
"Delivery," he said.
She laughed. "They don't deliver pizza up here. Or anything else for that matter."
He looked like he didn't believe her. "One of us is going to make the call. Who do you want it to be? You or me?"
"You. No. Me."
He got up and walked across the room to retrieve her phone without the slightest self-consciousness about his body.
As he walked back toward the bed she said, "Maybe you could do that again as an after dinner show?"
"Walk across the room?"
She shook her head. "Walk across the room in your magnificent buffness."
"Magnificent is a heady word and that's what you'll do - turn my head." She caught the pun when she saw the teasing in his eyes and licked her lips. "I'm pleased you like what you see."
She tore her gaze away to look up a number online then called and asked if they would deliver where she was. The guy who answered the phone at Grimaldi's Pizze laughed. Stefan heard it and took the phone away from her.
"Let me speak to the driver." The delivery boy came to the phone. "Do you use your own vehicle to deliver?"
"Yeah?"
"That sounded like a question. Are you uncertain?"
"No. It's my car."
"Good. I'm going to give the phone to someone else who is going to give you an order for pizza and directions on how to get here. When you arrive there will be a nice crisp one hundred dollar bill with your name on it. If you can get here within half an hour, there will be two."
Helene followed directions, closed the intelliphone, and looked at Stefan as if she was seeing him for the first time.
"What is it?" he asked.
"That's the sort of thing my father might have done."
Unsure whether she meant that in a good way or a bad way, he decided to stay neutral.
"Negotiating is a recreational pastime for men. It doesn't mean I have anything other than masculinity in common with your father."
"Good."
"I would have given the kid who's running your pizza up the mountain ten times that much so that I could stay in with you tonight. Just like this. No clothes. No going out. No other people."
"Antisocial much?" She gave him a smile he hadn't seen before, one that looked like genuine affection and it warmed him all the way to his ice filled soul.
Can a vampire be loved?
"Not exactly. Just super selective."
While they waited for pizza, he in jeans and she in a plaid robe, they sat at the table and he told her about the flowers he had brought. He explained that the entire arrangement was made up of Rocky Mountain greenery and wildflowers.
He told her how much he had loved the wildflowers of Romania when he was younger and that, while the blooms couldn't be matched exactly, there were many local plants that were similar to the ones he grew up with. Blue Columbine could be substituted for Alpine Columbine, Fringed Gentian for Violet, Foxglove for Primrose, and Skypilot for Bellflowers.
As he pointed out the blooms and talked about the differences without the slightest fear of homophobia, she watched him and realized there might be more to Stefan Balkan than great sex and creative pizza manipulation.
"Romescu is Romanian. Did you know that?"
"I did. Yes."
***
CHAPTER_16
For several hours the contractions had seemed to be all over the place. Two that were an hour apart would be followed by another in twenty minutes. Finally the birthing process settled into a regular rhythm of thirty minute intervals.
For the hundredth time, she replayed the conversation with Ram about packing up and moving to be near the clinic - just to be on the safe side of things.
"Great Paddy, Ram," she said softly. "If I live through this, I swear I'm going to be more careful. I bet you're worried out of your mind. I'm so sorry."
Blackie raised his head to see if she was talking to him, sighed, and went back to dozing.
By midnight Ram knew he had pushed his mare as far as she could go. She was lathered even with the cold temperature, a thing he would never have done if it wasn't an emergency, if he wasn't out of his mind with fear and worry. He and the horse were both cold to the bone, tired to the bone, with muscles stiffening up like rigor mortis. It was time, past time, to ask for help.
He left his horse in her stall with the saddle still on her, threw some oats in the shallow trough and some hay at her feet, telling himself he'd be back to remove the tack and rub her down. Just as soon as he made a call.
He hurried back into the cottage. Nothing had changed. He didn't know why he thought, or hoped, it might have. He relit the lamp, grabbed the sat phone, and called Storm. His fingers were so numb he had trouble dialing.
Storm was just coming out of the shower. It was his night to do dinner and, instead of cooking, he was going to go pick up pasta primavera. That was their deal. When it was your night to provide dinner, you didn't have to cook, you just had to have something hot and yummy on the table on time. Litha usually cooked. He usually got take out.
When his phone rang he didn't recognize the number and no name came up. He put the phone down thinking whoever it was could leave a message. Probably an opinion poll or somebody wanting to sell carpet cleaning.
Two minutes later the phone rang again. Same number. He picked it up, ready to express extreme displeasure. Then he heard a voice he would recognize even if it was a whisper in a hurricane.
"Stormy?"
Litha came into t
he bedroom and started to smile appreciatively at Storm standing there in just a towel fastened at his waist, stray droplets of water wandering aimlessly down his torso toward man candy. Then she saw his face.
"Rammel. What's wrong? This is not your phone."
"Sat phone." Ram's voice was shaking. "Can no' find her. She and Blackie, you know they can travel so fast... They could be anywhere."
"You're not making sense, Ram. Are you telling me that Elora is missing?"
"Aye. I went to the new place to meet the electrician. When I got back it was dark and..." Storm could hear that Ram was wheezing like an asthmatic. "I've been ridin' in the dark for hours. I can no' find her on my own."
"You're in New Forest?"
"Aye. I need your wife to find mine. Please."
"You want Litha to track her." Storm looked directly at Litha as he said it. She looked both curious and concerned. "We'll be right there."
"Right here? You're twenty-four hours away. At least."
"Trust me, Ram. Give me coordinates where you are."
"Just a minute." Ram lowered the phone, pressed the icon for compass then repeated the results.
"Stay where you are. We'll be there in less than an hour. Have you called Simon?"
"No."
"I'll take care of it right after I call Kay."
"Aye. Brin' a sat phone. Cells do no' work here. And dress warm. It... "Ram made a sound Storm couldn't place. "...snowed tonight."
It was plain enough that Ram was barely holding it together. Storm wished Kay was on the phone. He was the one of them who was good at nurture. Storm lowered his voice. "Ram. This is going to be okay. Your mate is resourceful and resilient. Get warm. Have a tea. Litha and I will be there before the kettle cools."
"Aye." Ram couldn't think of anything else to say. Storm would be insulted if he thanked him. So he pressed the rocker switch off and set the phone down.
A Summoner's Tale - The Vampire's Confessor (Black Swan 3) Page 19