Just One Taste

by C. J. Ellisson

  He’ll want sexy, but he won’t want in-your-face come-and-get-it-while-it’s-hot sexy. There’s a difference. He craves subtle. Antonio needs to notice her and not her clothes, but those clothes should still be fine. He may have been attracted to the cheap type of Elvira style I was wearing earlier in the lobby, but that’s not the style he’d choose for a mate. I bet he hasn’t even figured it out yet. Ah, to be old and wise does have advantages.

  The body-hugging knit shows the delectable curves on Olivia guaranteeing every man in the room will notice. If I can judge a man, and damn, after 500 years I sure as hell can, then she’ll have to trust me. Good thing Rafe likes me in anything I wear, because at heart, I’m a chameleon.

  I pass on my unasked-for wisdom to the wide-eyed Olivia during her short visit. Cajoling her to confess her heart’s desire, without her discovering I already know it. I offer to share my man-hunting skills with her tomorrow over tea at eleven, which she jumps to accept. She has a good heart and appears to love Antonio. After this, I’ll see if I can get the young vamp up to snuff as well.

  For now, I look Olivia deep in the eyes to give her some parting gifts of advice and suggest with a vamp whammy she follow them. Poor thing doesn’t know she has no choice. My sly guidance requests that she arrive in the bar at half past ten, not to dwell on Antonio at all for tonight, and instead, to enjoy the company of the other male guests she’ll meet there. Little does she know what I have planned for her.

  She leaves, excited and flushed. She’s going back up to her room to adjust her makeup and hair accordingly to match the new clothes. She thanks me profusely, acting as though she’s known me for years. The fireworks later are going to be damn fun and I can hardly wait. I think teasing Antonio will be one of the best times I’ve had in a while. It would be good for the gorgeous Adonis to not get the girl for a change. Make his blood boil.

  I take a brief shower, washing my body. Rafe hates when I remove his scent, but tonight I should. He finishes up in the kitchen, coming into the bath right as I leave the enclosure. I dry off slowly while he watches me. He doesn’t say a word. His hot gaze follows as I put the towel back on the rack. I can see what watching does to him. It’s not like he can hide his reaction when he’s big.

  “Hey—no fun on your own in the shower. I need you at full mast when you’re done.”

  His face appears set and serious; he must be having some naughty thoughts. I turn to the side, bend over at the waist, and pick up my discarded stockings. His eyes take in my every move and he looks like he’d eat me up if given half a chance.

  His voice comes out in a growl, “Not to worry dear, I’ll be out of the shower in a flash.”

  While he’s wet and soapy, I get dressed and smooth my hair out making it sleek like Olivia’s. I re-apply makeup with a heavier hand, similar to how Olivia's will appear when she’s done. I broadcast the images to her and like a good little student she eagerly follows the new ideas in her mind without questioning their origin. When I hear Rafe finishing up, I lay out his clothes for the evening. One great thing about him is that he lets me dress him up.

  It’s like having my very own Americana circa 1950’s-inspired Ken doll: Full sized and anatomically correct. I love to picture the fabric hugging his firm curves and clinging to his hard lines—it makes me hot. The good news is Rafe couldn’t give a rat’s ass what he wears.

  On a day-to-day basis, or in a pinch, he can dress himself well. At least, now that is. After sixty-five years he no longer needs Garanimal-type color pictures on the clothes to show what goes with what, but it was painful in the beginning.

  Upon seeing the red corset, his grin turns sly, like the cat who ate the canary. “You look vampy-trampy and hot as hell.”

  I hand him his things, “I need you to put these clothes on then sit in the chair.”

  “Sure thing. Is this what I’m wearing tonight at the bar?”

  I nod.

  “Okay, looks comfy.”

  I watch him remove his white terry robe. Totally without guile, he’s sexier than he knows. My perusal of his actions has the desired effect. He grows firm again while I stare. Knowing me like he does, he knows the fun cannot begin until we set the stage. He pulls on the new clothes then sits where requested. On a hunch, I’ve dressed him all in black. I have no idea what Antonio will choose, but I’m guessing he’s not going to be dressed up like the guys in the Natsuhara cabin.

  “Wait,” I direct. “Stand still a moment, please. There’s another image I’d like to capture for tonight.”

  Rafe stops, then turns to face me. I close my eyes, thinking of Antonio. His dark good looks and sleek sophisticated style partner well with his internal confidence. The result—pure sex in a dark wrapper. I impose this image in my mind over my lover standing in front of me. When I open my eyes, it looks like Antonio has replaced Rafe in the room.

  “Picture me blond and project to me” I say.

  “Done.”

  When I open our connection, I can see a curvy blond in tight red clothing, coming from Rafe’s mind. This will make the images much better when I send them to a poor unsuspecting Antonio. The blond looks damn good too, if I do say so myself.

  “Am I the Adonis I saw you drooling over in the observation room?” he asks with an impish grin.

  I knew he peeked, the sneak.

  “Yes. Now keep your mouth shut and don’t ruin the moment.” I smile to soften the cut; my comment didn’t sound nice after it came out. Let’s keep the dialog internal for a bit, shall we?

  Anything for you, my corseted concubine. He follows with a low laugh rumbling deep in his chest.

  I approach him sniffing deeply. Replacing Rafe’s scent in my mind with the musky, sexy aroma of an unwashed Antonio I imagined from earlier in his room. No expensive colognes or perfumed soaps to hide the smell of his spent essence. I stand close to Rafe, then turn to give him my back. Bending at the waist, I lower my palms to the carpet. My hips nudge his crotch and rotate a bit when I feel his thick response behind the tailored pants. Thanks to his ongoing projection to me, in my mind I can see when he reaches out to grab my hips—which allows me to straighten and step away before he makes contact. The illusion of Antonio about to touch the blond woman’s hips will be intoxicating.

  I motion to the chair; Rafe reads my cue and takes a seat. He settles himself in to gaze up into my face, waiting for what will happen next. Realizing my pencil skirt won’t have the same flexibility of Olivia’s knit one, I remove the garment and drape it on the bed before continuing. I strut over to the chair, making the hip action exaggerated and difficult to miss.

  Leaning down, I run my fingers through his hair before straddling him on the seat. I bend his head back and kiss my way up his neck to his supple lips. My hips are high enough I don’t make any body-to-body contact in the pelvic region. He can’t resist my curves any longer, reaching out to touch. The warmth of his hands spreads through me. Moisture gathers at my opening and I hear Rafe’s sharp intake of air. With his sensitive nose, he can smell my arousal coating the air.

  Rafe projects to me the image of olive-skinned hands placed on alabaster hips. He slides down to the tops of my thigh-high stockings then curves around and up to caress my bottom. My position gives him the freedom to explore and I know what he’s going for next. Rafe’s an ass man at heart. Here’s to hoping his actions intrigue Antonio too. My husband’s fingers eagerly grasp, exploring my firm cheeks.

  He parts them enough for a lone finger to slip down and probe the waiting wetness. Rafe slides his moistened digit back to push inside my most delicate, tight rear opening. No matter how much I may want Rafe to continue, I pull away. The illusion needs to be a tease for Antonio and Olivia, not an intimate exploration by familiar lovers.

  When I stand, he groans his frustration into my mind. Trying to soothe his raging sexual beast, I whisper a promise in his mind: Later, my love.

  With a sudden flash of insight on Antonio, I wonder if he could be the type who puts his
needs first while having no idea of the fault with such actions? Often, good-looking men have that problem. If they love themselves the way they are why shouldn’t the women who covet them? What follows is the single-mindedness of achieving their own pleasure, with their partner’s a close second. He’s old enough to have learned better by now.

  I bend over the table in front of Rafe’s chair. My body faces sideways to him. I turn my head away from the stiffly aroused Rafe and purposely say out loud, with a deep seductive tone: “Give Olivia pleasure, Antonio. Put her needs first.”

  This verbal cue can be called up later without him seeing his vision of Olivia say the words. It will permeate his thoughts while directing his actions.

  I offer myself up with an arch to my back and push my rump out on display. The Antonio projection reaches a hand under my front to rub my hairless mound from beneath. My hips tilt of their own volition forward and backward on his firm hand. The wet slickness from my opening spreads fully from clit to pucker. I allow it to go on a few more minutes until my breathing starts to get rough. Straightening up, a bit shaky, I step away.

  This is where the projection will end. I think I have enough small snippets to drive the average man around the bend with desire. I’ve got a nice steady burn of heat building low in my middle. It would be so easy to bend over and ask Rafe to take me right here on the table. The sane part inside knows I’d rather save the lovemaking for later. He’s pleasured me so many times today it won’t kill me to show some restraint. I give a little all-over-shake then reach for my discarded skirt on the bed.

  “Whew! That was a close one.”

  “Why didn’t you let me finish, love? You were almost done.”

  “Because I want to get him hot, not drive him to completion in his pants. He’s going to be batty for her by the time I’m done.”

  I check my wrist. It’s almost ten. Time to get to the bar and set the scene. I slip my skirt back on and pull my lover to his feet. He adjusts his throbbing privates while looking longingly at our bed. I know he’s calculating whether we have time for a quickie in his head. I want him on high alert later and don’t want a diminishment of the urge.

  “Will you let me touch you behind the bar and keep your cock hard and wet?”

  I love it when he takes me and he’s barely able to control himself.

  He stares down at me, a burning heat in his gorgeous blue eyes. “When do I deny you anything, Dria?”

  God, I love this man.

  Chapter Ten

  We straighten our clothes and head off for the bar. Olivia has a little bit before she arrives so I hope Antonio appears before her. Sometimes all my careful machinations go awry because I didn’t tell the schmuck to be somewhere at a set time. We reach the third floor without coming into contact with anyone. I see a shadow detach itself from a tall mahogany bookcase. A tall male figure steps into the light, moving our way. The mental signature approaching us is the lovely, lonely Drew.

  “Good evening, Drew. So glad you could join us tonight.”

  “Yes, I said I would, didn’t I?’’

  I brush off his sarcasm—it wasn’t like he really had a choice—and wait for him to continue. After all, he’s meeting me here outside the bar for a reason.

  “Vivian, there’s something I’ve been waiting to approach you about.”

  What the hell could this be? I just saw him earlier. Why didn’t he mention it then? He certainly pumped me for enough info at the time.

  I’m glad I was able to transfer some of the extra power to Rafe. I’m a bit more myself now than when I spoke with Drew in the cabin. I still fear my emotions are close to the surface and that’s not the best way for me to face the guests, but it is what it is.

  I motion to the sitting area across from our spot on the landing. “Shall we head over to the reading parlor for some privacy?”

  Drew follows my lead without answering and soon all three of us, Rafe included, are standing around a low, hand-carved coffee table with a grouping of chairs behind us. The tension in the loft room feels high and none of us have moved to take a seat.

  This seems odd. Why the intensity? And why now?

  I’d like to get on with it and address him rather abruptly. “Okay, we’re all ears.”

  “This is private, more like…vampire-related business.” He says it innocently enough, but the glance he casts towards Rafe has my gut screaming out in angry reaction.

  “Perhaps without the human would be best,” Drew adds.

  How dare he discount my mate so easily! Who the hell does this idiot think he is?

  Rage fills my body. My vision darkens and pinpoints on Drew. In a split second, my eyes bleed black while my hands twist into claws. The skin of my face contorts into a vicious visage, pulling back from my elongated canines. Power pulses out of me in a wave to slam into my opponent.

  My movements mirror my dark thoughts when I launch myself at him across the short space between us. The red rage I feel consumes all. Instinct takes over, and the drive to protect my mate colors all I see: I will correct this insult within my territory.

  There’s a crunching of wood as the table gives way to my momentum and I’m brought to an abrupt halt. I shake the haze from my brain to realize Rafe has grabbed me by my shoulders and pulled me back before I could make contact.

  Damn, Dria, step down! He is not ‘in your territory’ for christsakes. He’s a guest!

  Drew’s mouth opens in shock then he hunches slightly away. I’m guessing a bit more of my monster came out than I’d have liked. The damn murder is messing me up. Perhaps I need a vacation when this fiasco is over—one with no other vampires nearby.

  Now I know he meant no actual harm, but instinctively, the predator within me senses something is off with this vampire. Ah, the problem is which voice do I listen to?

  “Vivian, Drew may not know you and I share everything.” Rafe’s voice sounds calm and soothing, like one might talk to an enraged pit bull. “We are not the average bonded pair in that regard, dear.”

  I relax my hands from their claw-like positions while taking a steadying lungful of air. Logic eventually trickles in past the anger. I pull in my aura of power and glance at Rafe over my shoulder. The cool force of his energy flows from his touch down my spine. It soothes the savage beast which almost got out. Stepping back out of the remains of the table, I reflect on the voices I hear in my mind.

  Dria, you’re fine, baby, and so am I. Don’t let his rude slip bring you to the edge.

  My own inner monologue is much more simplistic: Kill him. He is a threat.

  But it’s Rafe’s voice I listen to. His steady timbre inside my head, and his alone, I can always count on no matter the situation. I straighten up from what was almost a lunge while smoothing my skirt back down.

  “Please forgive my reaction, Drew.” I feel less in control than my voice sounds. “Rafe’s right. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and decide you’re ignorant.”

  Ha! Let him suck on that one!

  Drew appears to be trying to back-pedal, literally and figuratively, as he moves back from the jagged wood pieces and bumps into a leather chair behind him. He’s just insulted his host and her mate, and the same mate barely saved him from getting jumped. And make no mistake, I may be pretty, but I would’ve torn him up good.

  In an effort to diffuse my anger even more, he wisely chooses a passive sitting position and lowers himself to the seat. Smart move. Without him standing to face me, the tension level in the room goes back down to normal.

  “I meant no disrespect,” Drew begins. “Rafe’s right. My question was a personal one and I wasn’t sure how to proceed. I had hoped to ask in private, but did not mean to insult either of you with the request. ”

  Enough of the drama already, I want this finished.

  “Spit it out, Drew. I’ve got other guests I’d like to see to as well.”

  He looks really unsure of himself now, eyes downcast, shifting his weight from one hip to the other i
n the chair. Good. I move to brush past him. My patience is running out and I think he senses it.

  “I’d like to formally petition for entrance into your family, the McAndrews’ seethe,” he finally blurts. “Please consider adding my life to those who serve and protect you. I’d be a loyal addition and my previous seethe will give references on my character, if you desire.”

  Wow. Wasn’t expecting that in a million years.

  Shock registers on my face; I can see an image of myself mirrored back at me from his shiny black pupils. The reflection shows I actually have my mouth open like a gasping fish. Best to fix that now.

  I close my mouth. Open it again and nothing comes out.

  I try again.

  “Um, okay, but I don’t really have a formal seethe. I prefer not to have one. Haven’t you noticed in your week here?”

  “Yes, I have. I originally came to your inn to seek solace from an old pain. The peace of this oasis has enchanted me. I’ve been unhappy for a while and wandering for eighteen months. My family in Chicago, the Maggios, gave me permission to find a new seethe but none appealed to me. Until now.”

  The questions in his cabin combined with his roaming of the property make more sense now, but I’m still not sure I know all there is to know about this man. Call me suspicious, call it trust issues, whatever—it has kept me alive for a long time and I’m not going to start doubting those instincts anytime soon.

  My curiosity gets the best of me and I’m dying to know what his real problems are. I itch to reach out to touch him and Rafe knows it. I don’t have time to get distracted though. He grabs my hand firmly and pulls me back a bit from Drew.

  Rafe speaks again on Drew’s behalf. “I think it is worth considering, Vivian. Do not answer too hastily.”

  Shock again! I certainly didn’t expect that response out of Rafe. My head whips around and I stare into his eyes.

  What am I hearing? You want me to take on more vamps here?