That’s illegal too. Sort of.
Instead, I tucked her into her coat, primarily to cover up the supple milky flesh that called out to me.
After a set of passing headlights from the street below moves across her room, I step inside. Her bed faces two tall windows covered in delicate floor-length drapes that probably billow softly in summer breezes. My back straightens, stiff and rigid when I see her slender sleeping body, fully clothed, laid out over the covers—a sign of extreme exhaustion. I don’t sense any lingering fear, however. Only desire. But for what? For whom? A soft step closer, I notice she’s wearing the skirt and blouse from earlier today. My scent must still cling to the fabric.
Her hair cascades off the side of the bed like a golden waterfall. It wears away my resolve and draws me closer to her. Against my better judgement, I reach out to touch the soft, silky strands. What must it feel like to be twisted around my fingers while I’m behind her, her ass pressed firmly up against me. The thought of what is underneath her skirt makes my cock throb. Not good.
An image of the two of us, fucking, forms in my mind, so quick, so intense, it rocks me off balance. I want her. Right now. I’d be gentle with her, though. I’d make love to her. At first, and then—
“Mommy!” the child cries from the other room.
I cut through the air challenging the bounds of time and space and retreat to the back of the bedroom.
Elizabeth bolts up in bed with a start. “Annie!”
“Mommy!” her daughter yells again.
In a speed impressive to even someone like me, she runs from her bedroom. The child’s room is closest to the stairs. I can’t leave. Can’t escape.
I fall back into a shadow of darkness, my back pressed against the wall. I’m trapped, feral at the moment, and fear I will lose control.
I put my head down and pray to God when Elizabeth returns, she doesn’t come near me.
Chapter 3
As vampire, I don’t need air and can stay perfectly still.
I should assess the room for an exit, but I don’t want to leave. I sink further into the shadows between two tall bureaus where the moonlight spilling in from the window can’t find me.
Elizabeth returns and sits on her bed, her head in her hands. She’s upset. Something with the child? No. Working in a hospital, I know the smell of parental worry. This is . . . loneliness. I am stung with an odd ache for this beautiful lonely woman. Her head snaps up, like perhaps she senses me.
Her head turns in my direction. I tense and fear she’ll discover me. Instead, she stands and walks toward a closet. A light from inside flickers on and glows against her body. As her fingers find the skirt’s zipper, I grasp the wall and my nails dig into the sheetrock when the fabric slides to the floor. She then slips each button of her blouse free, starting from the neck and works her way down until the silk hangs from her shoulders. When she bends to retrieve the skirt, the view would have stopped my heart if it were still beating.
After clothes are tossed in the hamper, Elizabeth reaches up and stretches. Her head flicks to the door, which she closes.
Back at the closet, she glides the straps of her bra off her shoulders and smoothly unfastens the metal hooks. Soft, plump breasts bounce gently against her chest. My God. Their curves are perfect and her skin shimmers against the light. A lace panty slides down her toned thighs and she steps out of it, leaving it on the floor. Its delicate scent eases past me and I suppress a growl in my chest. Facing me, she runs her hands through that long mane of blonde hair.
These damn bureaus next to me might contain sleep clothes. If she walks this way, I’m screwed. Before I panic, Elizabeth shuts off the closet light and steps to her bed. She lifts the covers to slide beneath the sheets and settles them at her waist. Her body is warmly bathed in a soft light from the windows in front of the bed.
She releases a long exhale and touches her breasts. Her fingers sweep across the curves, settling taut nipples between her thumb and forefingers. A breathy, almost imperceptible moan escapes her lips as she arches her back. Christ, I want to taste her skin. Those nipples beg for my mouth. Her head moves to the side and her neck lengthens as though she is presenting the pale column of her throat to me.
One of her hands slides beneath the sheet.
I am so enraptured I don’t anticipate what this will lead to. Her knees bend and her hand moves under the sheet and between her legs. I can feel her heart rate increase. Her already intoxicating scent changes to something sweeter and hits me like fire erupting in my veins, filling my body with a thundering desire.
The covers slide away, kicked impatiently aside and reveal the outline of her body, gloriously naked as she rains pleasure on herself with swirling fingertips. I never witnessed such a display. I’m rock hard and tempted to touch myself. I selfishly satisfied one desire today where she was concerned. One that can put me in danger so I must control this urge.
Elizabeth whimpers, releasing soft, yeses to the man in her head. Who is she thinking about? One hand clutches the iron scrolls of her headboard and her hips rise and fall in a slow and sensuous rhythm. Watching her like this is exquisite torture. I shouldn’t be here. This isn’t what I intended to see when I came here tonight. But now that it’s happening, I can’t look away. As she moans and sighs, writhing on the bed, her body arches. Her breasts bounce tenderly as she moves, and the air crackles with electricity from her heartbeat.
Panting, she twists around to get on her knees. What the fuck is this? I bite my tongue, tasting my own blood. This is the most incredible, most erotic thing I ever witnessed.
With the pillowcase bunched in her fingers, her knees dent the mattress while her right hand continues to slowly knead the flesh between her legs. Harder now as she rocks back and forth releasing growls of pleasure. Her body jerks under the onslaught and she flops onto her back.
The spike in her blood pressure from the building orgasm rushes through her body and hits my senses with a force that would bring me the floor if I was not already paralyzed against the wall.
“Oh God. Yes. Right there,” she cries out. “Don’t stop. Yes. Please. Alexander, fuck me. Don’t stop.”
Me? She’s calling out my fucking name.
“I’m coming. God, Alex, you’re gonna make me come so hard. Alex!”
My erection throbs in successive beats. She even brought me to completion. Except, it’s in my pants. Ugh. I squeeze at the fabric and grab at the pulsating rhythm until it stops. I can be a statue, hard and cold, devoid of any movement, yet I lost control of my body. It’s exhilarating and unnerving at the same time.
The scent of satisfaction released into the room is heavy, thick, and intoxicating. Elizabeth pulls the covers back up, this time over her breasts and under her chin. She nestles her head against a pillow and releases a low sigh. Within seconds, she dozes off and enters REM sleep.
On shaky legs, I step forward and my shadow stretches across the bed. A bed I want to be in. Staring down at her, I’m afraid of what I’ll do. I must leave before I do something I’ll regret. As I pass the other rooms, I’m unable to think straight and almost forget how I got in here in the first place.
Every step back to my car—through the basement window, over the fence, past the tangled branches in the nature preserve that scrape against my hands, and up the street, one burning thought crashes through my mind.
I have to figure out a way to give Elizabeth what she just imagined. And more.
~ ~ ~
Fridays do not come soon enough for teachers.
What a week and I need more than wine. When I heard the others in my department were taking Theresa—my closest work friend—out for her birthday to this delightful little bar, I made a quick call to see if my father could take Annie for a few hours.
Theresa clinks my dirty martini and says, “Ha
ve you been feeling all right? You seemed off this whole week.”
It took a few days to shake off that collapse in the doctor’s office and I still don’t feel like myself. As if, something invaded me. Still, I offer a simple answer. “Just having trouble sleeping.”
“They say that’s what happens when we get older.”
“I’m thirty-five.”
I have a feeling it’s from being so overwhelmingly attracted to someone I don’t know, though. Someone I can’t get out of my mind. I came so many times this week whimpering that name, even saying it in my head gets me wet. My heart spikes just thinking of him. Alexander.
A low hiss floats by from across the room. I jerk my head up, but no one else seems to have heard it. Maybe I’m losing my mind as well.
“So, what have you been doing with yourself? Any more dates with that guy from the soccer clinic?” Theresa’s eyes light up. I think she likes him.
“Handsy Randy? No. One was enough.”
Kissing him made me feel like I was wrestling an octopus. After that, no one captured my attention or interest enough to make the effort. No one, except maybe, Alexander.
“Next time, get some before you kick ‘em to the curb.”
A chilly wind sails past me and I turn to check the door. It should be wide open, but it’s closed and there are several people standing between me and the entrance. Oblivious to the change in temperature, Theresa futzes with her phone. The tips of my fingers tingle and the wisps of hair that fell out of the neat chignon I made this morning gently lap against my chin. I spin around to find out where this cool breeze came from and my drink splashes Theresa.
It draws my gaze back to her. “Sorry about that. Did you feel—”
“Did I feel what?”
I open my mouth, but my response leaves my head before I can utter it. Beyond the crowd, in the back corner, standing there watching me, is Alexander.
His icy stare is fixed on me, his lips flat, his arms crossed. Like he’s angry. I turn away and my jaw quivers. I angered a . . . Maybe what happened at the doctor’s office somehow got traced back to him taking too much blood from me.
“Elizabeth, you’re white as a sheet,” Theresa says, her voice full of concern.
The strange chill in this room isn’t the only thing giving me goosebumps and making my nipples harden painfully under my thin blouse. Alexander’s dark, predatory eyes make me bite my lower lip. A vision flashes through me: his lips stained red with blood.
“I, uh, had a blood panel earlier in the week. I still feel queasy.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t drink.”
Rethinking my martini, I realize Theresa is right. “I’m going to trade this in for some water.”
Bodies are packed tight to get to the bar. When I squeeze through, it feels like I’m crawling out of a bouncy house and I offer apologies as I go. While the lounge itself is crowded, the bar is empty and every leather stool is free. One man stands waiting for a drink, tall, light-colored hair, wearing a suit. He turns around.
Oh my God! I whip my head around in the other direction. How did Alexander get to the bar so quick, through the crush of people in-between?
The “fight or flight” sensation rushes over me and this may be suicide, but I’d rather go down swinging. I move toward him with heavy steps and throw the martini in his face. “I said, leave me alone!” My declaration should be loud enough for people to hear me.
It’s best to make a scene and be memorable. So when my lifeless body is found hours later and they trace my steps, witnesses can identify him.
After a series of claps and catcalls, I pull my coat from a nearby chair and without even saying goodbye to Theresa, I fly out the door. I wondered if Alexander would come after me. I’m only surprised it took this long.
Don’t look back, a voice in my head says. Walk, just walk. The parking lot is well lit and I have a good head start. Just a few more steps and I’ll be locked safely inside my car. With desperate fingers, I press my key fob and hear the glorious beep of my Camry.
“Oh my God.” I skid to a stop, sending gravel flying into my shoes.
“Well played, Mrs. Lockspier.” Alexander leans against my car and glares at me.
His voice is different from what I remember, less clinical. It’s deeper. More intimate.
The only response I have is to correct him. “It’s not Mrs. It’s Ms.” My eyes leave his perversely attractive face. “Elizabeth is fine.” My voice threatens to give me away, so I take a deep breath and marshal my confidence to hide the fear swimming inside me. “I’d like to leave now. Can I please get into my car?”
“I want to explain what you think you saw, Elizabeth.” Alexander softens his stance as though saying my name has an effect on him. Like the syllables roll off his tongue and taste sweet.
The change in his demeanor catches me off guard, but I focus on what really matters. Getting him to see I’m not a threat so he leaves me alone. “You don’t owe me an explanation.”
He takes a cautious step closer and oddly, I don’t back up. “I was uncharacteristically distracted when I stepped into your exam room.”
Indeed. He forgot the basic rule of medical hygiene, gloves. But was there something else?
“Distracted by what?” I ask, anyway.
“I see so many patients that they’re all a blur.” His gaze sweeps over me and holy cow, I felt it. He can caress me with a look. “You . . . were not what I expected that afternoon.”
“If you’re attempting to flatter me, you needn’t bother.” My voice is steady even though I’m a wreck inside. I shouldn’t have spent so much time fantasizing about him. Confronted with reality makes me light-headed again. “And I have no idea what I saw. Or rather what you were really doing in that lab with the . . . blood. But if I said something, I’m pretty sure I would sound like a lunatic.”
“I hardly think you’re a lunatic.”
“Either way, I have no intention of repeating anything that happened that day. You have nothing to fear from me.” I reach into my bag and click my phone alive to show him the picture of me and Annie from last Christmas at my dad’s house. “I’m not a meddler or a hero, Dr.?” In all the excitement, I forgot his last name.
“Manning,” he responds.
My gaze locks on his. “Dr. Manning, when it comes to my daughter I will bury my head in the sand in a heartbeat.”
He’s still for a moment, his eyes on mine, assessing. The moment he relaxes, it’s like the air is breathable again. “You can call me Alexander, or Alex, if you so desire.” The tone of his voice turns even more intimate as though me calling him Alex has some kind of hidden meaning; an inside joke I’m not a part of. “You have nothing to fear from me either, Elizabeth.”
I want to take him at his word. “Besides, I suspect no one would believe me anyway.”
“True, it would sound somewhat bizarre. Why would I drink your blood?”
“So it was mine?”
~ ~ ~
I step back and force my eyes away from Elizabeth even though I don’t want to.
She cornered me.
I’m too caught up in the exhilaration of being close to her again to explain myself properly. I pull at my shirt collar to loosen this damn tie. Is it possible I’m tired? I impersonate a human. Day in and day out, I tell lies to survive and the charade is exhausting.
Elizabeth hasn’t moved and I still block her car. Now is a good time as any to get what I came for. “What are you doing on Wednesday nights?”
“I’m busy.” Her sharp denial is so quick, she’s waved a red cape in my direction.
My body rumbles responding to the challenge. “You’re busy every Wednesday?”
“Excuse me, I missed the plural.” She smiles and that tantalizing curve of her lips speak
s louder than words.
Before I tango back with another response, her fingers crawl into a beautiful twist of corn silk sitting at the base of her neck, loosening a few tendrils of hair. The scent, coconut, escapes in a potent burst I can practically see, it’s so strong.
The desire to unravel that intricate shock of gold and feel it in my hands again obliterates what’s left of my resolve. I close the distance between us in a blink. Her stunned gaze drops to the finger I placed across her lips, but she doesn’t pull away. She should pull away. If she had any idea what kind of monster she’s dealing with, she would run from me, screaming.
Instead, she remains perfectly still. Maybe she knows on some instinctual level if she moves my urge to chase her will be overwhelming. Her lips are so soft, lush and warm against my cool skin. Not to kiss her is unbearable. I fought to control these urges for more than a century, but around her the power to fight slips from me.
“Before you tell me no . . .” I say slowly. “Let me explain what I’m after, er, interested in.”
A quivering jaw dips in agreement and despite the pull I feel toward her, I lower my hand and drop back a step.
“I teach a biology class at Princeton University with a number of mathematical applications. You’re a math teacher, right?”
“How did you . . .?” Her dazed expression fades but she crosses her arms. “Clearly, if you figured out where I do happy hour, finding out where I work wouldn’t break a sweat for Sherlock Holmes, let alone an anxious doctor.”
I bite the inside of my mouth. I thought she’d say the word we’re both obviously thinking. And avoiding. An unexpected relief, but strangely disappointing.
“Your chart. I have the right to access every patient’s information. In case you wonder if I violated any rules.”
“I’m pretty sure making it easier for you to stalk your patients isn’t what they had in mind when they gave you clearance, Doctor. But please, go on.”
Drawing Bloodlines (The Princeton Allegiant Series Book 1) Page 3