Her Vampire Obsession

by Richardson, Lesli

“Has a window. Frosted glass, but still, we’re facing east. I don’t have any way of blocking the window. For someone as old as you are, you’re really bad at this vampire stuff, you know that?”

  Now his composure cracks. “How can you not have any curtains?”

  “How can you not have an app on your phone to tell you the times of sundown and sunrise based on a GPS fix of your current location, and which sets off an alarm to let you know it’s close to fricking sunrise?”

  “They have those?”

  O. M. Fricking GEE. I’m losing my shit. The guy’s adorable, but how the hell can he be so damned old and rich if he’s this fucking stupid?

  I guess the old adage of guys getting stupider when they think with the little brain even applies to vamps.

  “My closet.” I walk over and yank the door open to my large walk-in closet. “In.” I turn on the light and grab a T-shirt to sleep in, and clothes to wear for my shift later, so I’m not waiting for Fangster Hunkadoofalus to wake up from his beauty nap before I can start getting ready for work.

  I turn, and he’s standing in the closet doorway and evaluating it. “Is it light-proof?”

  “It will be when I give you a blanket to wrap yourself in and shove towels under the door so there’s no light leaking in that way. It’s either this, or you curl up in the cabinet under my kitchen sink. Personally, I think this’ll be more comfortable.”

  “Right.” He tucks his hands into his pockets and seems to consider his lack of other options.

  “And go use the bathroom. No peeing in my closet.”

  “Ah. Good idea.” He does. When he returns, he’s carrying his blazer, leaving him in his vest and shirt.

  I still can’t get over how he looks like Ianto.

  Le sigh.

  Why’s he got to look so fricking yummy? And in such a delicious way?

  Why do I have to feel…attracted to him?

  I’ve never felt attracted to one of the vamps before, or the shifters. Not like this. I mean, yeah, I banged the cheetah shifter, but he wasn’t really even boyfriend material. And, yes, the vamps are fucking hot.

  I can think they look hot and not have my lady bits sudsing up like a freaking junior varsity cheerleader car wash.

  But Dexter Van Sussex is different.

  Why’d he have to be so damned different in such a good way?

  I grab the blanket for him and give him a healthy shove. “Inside. You said you’re used to roughing it. Think of it like camping.”

  He turns, holding the blanket. “Other than my unfortunate logistical snafu, how was our second date?”

  I start laughing when he smiles. “Dude, I don’t know what to think about you.” I brush a kiss across his lips. “You need a keeper.”

  “Interested in the position?” He waggles his eyebrows at me.

  “I’m sure I’ll be interested in a lot of positions with you, if you keep up the good work with me, and you remember to not burn to ashes.”

  I step back and grab a couple of towels. While I’m thinking about it, I snag a pair of shorts and a tank top from the closet, to wear before I have to get dressed for work. At least the closet door is on the same wall as the bathroom door, meaning perpendicular to the big fricking wall of windows. By eleven or so, this wall will lie in shadows.

  I start to close the door. “Hey, do me a favor.”

  “Yes?”

  “Please text your guys, so they don’t think I killed you or something. Let them know what’s going on.” Left unsaid, in case the worst-case happens and he does die.

  When his smile fades, I sense he knows exactly what I mean. “I will.” He drops his blazer on the closet floor and leans in for a kiss. “Oh, here.” He hands me the key fob to the Audi, his hotel key card, and his wallet. “Please, do me a favor and pick me up a few things for tomorrow night, so I don’t have to go back to my room later.”

  I stare at the items. “You…just handed me your wallet.”

  “Yes, I did.” He smirks, toes off his loafers, and starts to unfasten his cuffs so he can roll up his sleeves. Holy fuck, that’s sexy, watching him do that. “I trust you.”

  “This is…your wallet.”

  “Yes.” His smile widens. “Use the black Amex. It’s a corporate card. Buy yourself something pretty, sweetheart. Anything you wish. Dress, shoes, engagement ring, Porsche, a house.”

  He’s smiling, but his eyes have darkened in his intensity.

  I smile. “Nice try. Mojoing doesn’t work on me, buddy.”

  “Dammit,” he mutters. Then he sighs. “Can’t blame me for trying.”

  I chuckle and lean in for yet another kiss. “I’ll go after I’ve slept. Tell them it’ll be probably one or two in the afternoon.” What I leave unsaid is that I want to stay here this morning and pray my walk-in closet is safe enough.

  Because it’ll fucking destroy my heart if it’s not, and I don’t even know when he slipped in there.

  Into my heart, that is.

  Sneaky, fanged fuck.

  He nods. “I will.” We stare at each other for a long moment as the sky continues to lighten. “Please, don’t panic when I stop responding. I can usually stay up a while after dawn, but eventually, I do succumb and have to sleep.”

  “Like the dead.”

  “Yes.” He unbuttons his vest. “I’m sorry I miscalculated.” He smirks and starts unbuttoning his shirt. “I actually carry a black body bag when I go on road trips, just in case.”

  “Just in case?”

  “It’s a heavy, rubber one. Light proof. In case there are any light leaks in my hotel room. Unfortunately, I don’t have one in the Audi.” He nods to the key fob in my hand. “Please, drive that today.”

  “You’re dying to buy me a new car, aren’t you?”

  “Duh.”

  I take a deep breath. I really need to close the door. “I did have a good night. Thank you.”

  “Here’s hoping I make it to date number three.”

  “And a home run.” I smile, earning me one in return. This kiss sweetly lingers and is filled with longing.

  It’d be so easy to try to blame this on him using his thrall on me, except that’s not the case.

  He can’t.

  This is me, and him, and it’s scary as fricking hell because it’s real.

  Nothing ever works out for me. Why should this?

  Why can’t this?

  I shut the door, make sure it’s securely closed, and then stuff towels all along the bottom of the door. I don’t even have tape or anything I can run along the doorjamb.

  Please let it be enough.

  I stand there with my forehead resting against the door. I hear him texting, the little tic-tic-tic keyboard sound, the sound of texts being sent and received, and then it goes quiet.

  “I told them.” It sounds like he’s standing right there, on the other side of the door. I mean, right there.

  “Don’t lean on the inside of the door,” I warn. “Don’t accidentally push it open.”

  “I’m not.”

  I lay my hand on the door and I instinctively know his hand is right there, opposite mine.

  Blinking back tears, I try to focus. I really want this to work. A relationship, I mean.

  Well, and him hopefully not dying.

  I don’t know how this is supposed to work, but it’s like he gets me. There’s no braggadocio, no bullshit posturing, no assholish arrogance on his part.

  I want to hope things work out between us.

  Except I learned a long time ago that I don’t get a happily ever after.

  “Sleep well, love,” he says.

  He called me love. “Yeah.” I sniffle. “You, too. Sorry it’s not better.”

  “It’s better than dying. And it smells like you in here, too, so that’s a lovely benefit.”

  Aww. “What do you want me to bring you to wear?”

  “Whatever you select for me. Surprise me. My shower kit’s in the bathroom. My phone charger’s on the nightstand.�
��

  I sit down, leaning against the door. I know he just did the same thing, except for not leaning.

  I know it.

  Our heads are separated by nothing but the wooden door. “Sounds like Robert was blessed to have you in his life.”

  There’s a pause. “I was the blessed one. He brought sunlight into my life. He would stay in bed with me in the morning and hold me. Then he would arise later. He would tell me about his day, sometimes come back to bed and join me after he’d been outside, if he knew I was awake, so I could smell the heat on him. He knew how much I missed sunlight. He always tried to find little ways to bring joy and warmth into my life, any way that he could, to make up for that.”

  Dammit, my heart’s breaking for him. “It sounds like he loved you very much.”

  “I honestly never knew true, romantic love, until I met him. He fell in love with me honestly. I didn’t compel him when we first met—he was instantly attracted to me as a man, not because I made him feel it. I never had to compel him to do anything. Ever. Never wanted to, either. I only wish I could have saved him. I feel like I failed him.”

  “Were you there when he died?”

  “I held him in my arms the whole time. Even long after I knew turning him hadn’t worked and he wasn’t coming back to me. I couldn’t let him go. I laid there with him for three days, crying, begging him to return to me. I didn’t eat. I slept wrapped around him, in case he awakened. Until I was forced to accept the truth. Then, I dug his grave with my own hands and buried him. I almost sat there and greeted the sun, until I remembered that he wouldn’t have wanted me to do that.”

  Even through the door, I hear his weighty sigh. “I take comfort knowing the last thing he heard was me telling him how much I loved him. And he told me how much he loved me. That if it didn’t work, he didn’t blame me. That he wanted me to go on and be happy.”

  When my vision blurs, I realize I’m blinking back tears. “Did he suffer?”

  “Not from what I did, no. His body was apparently too weak from the disease, or my blood wasn’t powerful enough at that time, or maybe both, for the virus to fully take hold and turn him. I held the disease at bay for years longer than he could have ever survived otherwise. We made love one last time, I fed him again…and then I did it. He simply slipped away. It didn’t hurt. I made it feel pleasurable. For him, anyway. It felt like my soul was ripped from my body.”

  I wipe the tears from my cheeks. “Still say it doesn’t sound like you’re a sadist. He sounds like he was a very lucky guy.”

  “Sadism and pleasure and pain and love are not mutually exclusive, sweetheart.”

  I sniffle again. I feel his grief, just below the surface, still bubbling even this long since. “You’ve never loved anyone else?”

  “I…don’t know how you want me to answer that.”

  My pulse skips. “Honestly.”

  “It might frighten you.”

  “Try me.”

  There’s a long pause, and I’m starting to wonder if he fell asleep when he finally answers. “I didn’t think it was possible, until I met you.”

  I close my eyes, willing my pulse to slow because I know he can hear it, hear the way I’m breathing. Hell, he can sense me crying.

  “I can’t make you any promises, Dex, except that I’ll try. I’m scared.”

  “I know, love. All I ask is a chance.”

  “I’m trying.”

  “I know. And I appreciate it.” I hear him moving around inside the closet. “I’m going to settle in. Please, try to get some sleep.”

  “Sleep tight.”

  “You, too.”

  I look down and spy a couple of his hairs on my dress. It’s silly, but I smile and pluck them off, carrying them over to the windowsill, where I carefully lay them. At least part of him can experience the sun.

  The sun hasn’t quite peeped over the top of the mountains yet when my cell phone rings.

  Amber.

  “Hey, chica,” I answer. I know why she’s calling this insanely early.

  “Soooo? How’d things go last night?”

  “Long story.” I don’t want to admit he’s in my closet. I know shifters can scent him, but why possibly invite trouble? He has Garrett’s permission to be here. That’s all that matters. “Was very promising. We’re getting together again tonight at the club.”

  “Excellent. Did he upgrade your ride?”

  “What do you mean? Besides the tires?”

  “No, silly. The Audi.”

  My face heats. “It’s a rental. He asked me to drive it today.” None of that, technically, is a lie. “How’d you know about the Audi?”

  “I wanted to cook breakfast. Garrett ran out to buy us eggs because I fumbled the dang carton getting it out of the fridge and dropped and broke them all. He saw it parked out there.”

  Well, scented it, is more likely. He probably picked up Dex’s scent in the elevator or lobby and tracked it back to the vehicle. “Things are going well between me and Dex.” I remember he’s in the closet, and I don’t know if he’s still awake or not and can hear me. “Anything else about my father?”

  Okay, that’s playing dirty, distracting her like that, and I know it.

  She goes quiet for a moment. “No, sorry. I just know he’s alive.”

  Greeting the sunrise is something I’ve done frequently since living here. I glance down just as the sun peeks over the…well, peaks to the east. As the brilliant orange rays cascade into my apartment and over my skin, my focus is on the hairs.

  Which promptly incinerate with soft, audible poofs as the light hits them, making me gasp.

  “Connie? Are you all right?”

  “I-I’m fine, sorry.” My pulse pounds. “Just heard a door shut across the hall, and it startled me, that’s all. I’m tired.” There are two fine lines of ash, barely dust, where the hairs were.

  Shhiiit!

  “Garrett said, and I quote, ‘For a leech, Dexter seems okay. I won’t stake him. Yet.’” She giggles.

  “Thanks.” I blink, but the two lines of ash are still there. “Hey, listen, I’m exhausted, and I need to get to bed. I have errands to do later before work. Please tell Garrett I appreciate him extending an exemption to Dex and his guys for territory access.”

  “Sure thing, hon. I’m looking forward to meeting him.”

  “Yeah, he’s looking forward to meeting you, too. Maybe we can go out to dinner together one night this week.”

  She laughs. “You wanting to go out to dinner? Holy hellballs, he really is a good influence on you.”

  I blink—the ash is still there. “I trust him.” That’s absolutely the truth. “I’ve never met anyone like him.” I hope he can still hear me. “He hasn’t lost his humanity, like so many of them do. He’s not interested in doing anything except living his life and getting along. He’s a good man with a good heart.”

  “I know, sweetie,” she gently says. “I already told you—I see you two together. Go get some sleep.”

  “Thanks.” I end the call and slowly squat to get a better look at the ash, but just that simple act creates enough of a draft that it blows it away.

  Squinting against the sunlight, I stand and turn, staring at my closet door. I don’t know what to do with him beyond just getting through today.

  He gave me his danged wallet. The key fob to his rental.

  His hotel room key.

  He trusts me.

  He’s a vampire, and I’m at a crossroads in my life. I don’t want his life endangered because of my crazy shit—including oh, now it looks like my dad’s still alive—but I don’t know how to not be afraid or how to accept this chance that he’s freely offering. He literally has everything to lose, including his life.

  I have…well, nothing. Just me.

  Forcing myself away from the window, I grab my clothes and head to the bathroom to change and brush my teeth. Unlike after a shift at work, I don’t want to take a shower.

  I don’t want to wash his s
cent off me.

  Once I’ve changed, I stop by the closet door. “Dex?” I softly call. “Are you all right?”

  I hear nothing in reply.

  Please let him be okay.

  19

  Eilidh

  I sleep like shit.

  My dreams are filled with nightmares. Of Dex bursting into ash in my living room. Of the massive dog-phantom attacking him and rending him into pieces. Of a band of renegade shifters bursting in and staking him while I beg them to leave him alone.

  I startle awake several times in terror, gasping for air, my heart pounding.

  Around 11:30 a.m. I give up trying to sleep and walk over to the closet. “Dex? How are you doing?”

  Nothing.

  No, I am not tempted to peek. After that little example of what could happen, he’ll be lucky if I don’t wedge my comfy chair under the doorknob and keep him hostage until it’s well past dark, just to be on the safe side. I mean, I’m certain he’s plenty strong enough to punch through the door like it’s tissue paper, but I don’t want to take a risk with his safety.

  Oh, and my hair’s still black. So, I have that going for me, at least.

  I have two texts on my phone, from Dexter’s guys John and Mark, making sure I have their room numbers and both their cell numbers, in case I have any questions or can’t find something. And they both assure me it’s okay to call them and wake them up. They’re in the same larger suite Dex is, comprised of several suites behind a main door. Apparently, he has that whole section of the floor to himself.

  I reply to both of them and then debate taking a shower. I kind of want to wait until Dex is up.

  I can still faintly smell him on me.

  Except, I really need a shower.

  Hell, I can always take another one with him.

  I shower quickly and send Dexter a text that I’m going to go run errands, just in case he wakes up. I opt for the shorts and tank top because it’s fricking hot as balls. I mean, it is Tucson. And I don’t want to get my jeans and T-shirt all sweaty and have to do laundry early next week. Plus, I don’t like to wear my Club Toxic shirts when I’m not on my way to work.

  I wonder what the weather’s like in Atlantic City?

  Stop. Bad girl. Don’t get your hopes up.