Taming the Vampire: Over 25 All New Paranormal Alpha Male Tales of Contemporary, Military, Shifters, Billionaires, Werewolves, Magic, Fae, Witches, Dragons, Demons & More

by Mandy M. Roth

  As their bodies met, he lowered his head, almost burying his face in the side of her neck. “You smell delicious,” he whispered. His other hand caught the back of her neck as he tilted her head and ran his nose along the curve of her throat. The feathery touch made her neck tingle, and the sensations spread like ripples in the water, heating up her core, driving up her desire. “Delicious.”

  “I—” That was as far as she got before his lips were pressing against hers. They were firm, and cool thanks to the night air. He kissed with the experience of a man use to having women bend to his will. At the exquisite taste of his mouth, Sage knew why they did. He was the one who was delicious. Tasting of something deep, dark, and sinful. Good heavens, she thought laughingly, he tasted better than chocolate.

  “Let me in.” His breath was a hot demand against her lips and one she couldn’t refuse. She opened to him and immediately he thrust inside, tangling his tongue with hers. He stroked and caressed, plundering her mouth, possessing her.

  She returned the sexual play, learning him as he learned her. While she might be less than confident around men and shy at times, she was not a wilting flower by any means. And when a man was holding her in his arms as Marcus was now, his mouth warm, his body rigid with need, she knew she was wanted. That, more than anything, boosted a woman’s confidence. While men could fake attractiveness… well, they really couldn’t fake a hard-on.

  The clouds seemed to burst open as they continued to kiss. The wind picked up, blowing a chilly mist onto the porch. Sage shivered as the dampness seeped into her clothing, but refused to move. Her front was more than warm enough to commensate. As the need to breath overcame them, his mouth left hers, traveling down her throat, kissing the jaunt of her collarbone before nuzzling aside the collar of the long-sleeved shirt she wore. His exploration was stopped by the edge of her utilitarian white bra.

  Another sharp gust of wind blew around them. He raised his head and for a moment she could have sworn she caught a bright glow of copper in his eyes this time. That wasn’t possible, she told herself. It was too dark out for her to see anything. Just a reflection of the light like she’d seen before.

  “Damn. You’re getting soaked.” He stepped backward, dragging her further under the protection of the porch. He bent his head again, devouring her lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck, standing on tiptoes to get closer. The move forced her body fully against him, and they both moaned. His hands, also chilled by the night, pushed under her shirt, the palms smooth against her flesh. She frowned. She would have expected his hands to be rough to match his appearance. It was evident that his job included hard, physical labor. His boots had been splattered with mud. His jeans faded white from so many washings. Plus, the clothes carried the faint scent of the sawdust and oil.

  All coherent thoughts fled as he pushed her shirt up, bunching it above her breasts. Impatient, his fingers edged under the cups of her bra, pushing it up and freeing her breasts without bothering to undo the fastener.

  She moaned, throwing back her head as his hands cupped her aching flesh, kneading her, driving her crazy with want. He strummed his thumbs across the centers. “You are so damn pretty,” he growled.

  “Please,” she whispered, “your mouth.”

  “Anything you need, sweetheart,” he answered. Then, he pulled her nipples into his mouth, sucking them, flicking the hardened buds with his tongue. She let out a low keening sound when his teeth bit into her flesh, nibbling before pulling away, scraping the reddened peaks between his teeth. Over and over again, he tasted her, her huge breasts pressed together as he buried his face against her chest.

  She felt the first stirrings of her body. The ones she usually had to bring forth with the touch of her fingers between her legs. They grew stronger and stronger the longer he bit and suckled. She placed her hands on his shoulders, gripping the taut flesh beneath her hands, digging her short nails into his flesh beneath the fabric of his flannel shirt.

  “Marcus, I’m, I’m.” Her voice was a breathless confession of what was about to happen.

  Instead of answering, he renewed his efforts, his touch hardening, giving her that sharp edge of pain that—sweet, sweet, heavens above—sent her spiraling over the edge.

  Marcus’s breath came in long gulps as he reluctantly pulled his mouth away from Sage’s body. Her eyes were closed, her head thrown back, revealing the sweet, white flesh of her throat. If he concentrated, he knew he could hear the sound of her blood pounding through her veins. His fangs ached to sink inside that delectable skin, savor the taste of her blood as it flowed over his tongue and down his throat.

  Of course, he wanted to taste the other delicious juices seeping from her body.

  Another cold sweep of the wind had his head clearing.

  It had taken only one look, one waft of her sweet scent to know what she meant to him. But, she had no idea. She thought he was just a helpful stranger on a dark, lonely night.

  Little did she know she’d almost been claimed by a vampire

  No, would be claimed.

  It was simply a matter of timing now. Her fate had been sealed the moment her car had stalled on the side of the mountain.

  “Let’s get you inside.” He gently rearranged her clothes, smiling to himself at her continued labored breathing—and the adorable way she was refusing to meet his gaze. Would her shyness wear off after, say, a decade or two of him loving her body every which he could imagine? He hoped not. And something inside him said it wouldn’t. That shyness was a part of her. A part he always wanted to see.

  He grabbed her hand and walked the few steps to the front door he’d already unlocked when he’d set her suitcase inside. He flicked his finger across the switch and the area flooded with bright light. He’d had the house built when he’d first settled in the area. The bones of the structure were strong and solid. He’d had the interior updated at least twice since then and it was probably time to do it again, he realized. Only this time, his mate could oversee the renovation.

  “Oh, Marcus, it’s beautiful.” He was happy to note that she didn’t try to pull away from him once they were inside. Instead, she stepped closer, their hands still entwined, and leaned against his shoulder, her other hand encircling his bicep.

  “I’m glad you like it. It needs updating just a little.”

  “Maybe a little.” She smiled up at him, and his heart did a flip-flop. How could this happen so quickly? Nothing had prepared him for this moment. It was as if, he was finally in the presence of the sun after walking so many years in the darkness.

  How did he know she was his? The day he became a vampire, he’d lost more than his soul—if myths were to be believed that was. He was certain he still had his soul. But something inside him had withered up. Now, with this woman—this perfect stranger—he felt a heightened sense of awareness. The color around him was more vibrant and he felt an interest in something, someone, for the first time in a hell of a long time. Even though he had bedded plenty of women in his lifetime, suddenly he was nervous as hell. And with his mate to boot.

  “It’s past dinner time. I’ll fix us something to eat.” He strode across the room towards the kitchen, uncaring of the muddy marks he was making on his hardwood floor. He needed to get away from her, if only for a second, in order to gain his control.

  “Can I help?” She hadn’t moved from the doorway, and her voice sounded low and concerned.

  Yeah, he was acting a little foolish, especially considering the lip lock—okay, almost full on sex—they’d just shared on the front porch.

  “No, I’m good.” He turned to the refrigerator, grabbing the first thing he could find, a couple of steaks. He didn’t have much time to cook when he got home. Most of his nutrition came from plastic bags and not meat and potatoes. Realizing the blood he’d had delivered yesterday was sitting on a shelf in plain view, he hurriedly gathered in it up, placing it in the vegetable bin out of sight. He rarely had company over so had never had a need to keep it hidden.<
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  “Would it be possible for me to freshen up, please? I got, um, a little wet outside.”

  He turned around, realizing she’d moved closer. He hastily closed the refrigerator door. Immediately, Marcus’s mind went there. To the place where he knew she had gotten wet. Her pussy. Even now, trying not to breathe in her delicate scent, he knew he’d aroused her. Hell, he’d made her come with his mouth on her breasts. No woman had ever responded to his touch so easily, so readily and he was a damn good lover.-

  He turned and walked back to the door, getting her suitcase before leading her up the staircase at the side of the room. This house had been his first attempt at building when he’d decided he wanted to start working with his hands. He’d held every conceivable job there was in his long life. Soldier, farmer, nobleman, banker. It was as a banker after the Second World War that he’d made his fortune. It was here, in this place surrounded by the forest that he’d discovered his desire to create something more permanent in his life and in the lives of others.

  There was no greater satisfaction than creating something from nothing. Taking bricks and stones, timber and mortar, and building a place for someone to start their life or allow their family to grow.

  His bedroom lay at the top of the stairs, but he had to take her to the guest room on the other side of the hallway. For tonight, he promised himself. It wasn’t much. A bed, a chest of drawers. It was the first time he’d set up house on his own, so some of the amenities were missing. It was, he realized, missing a woman’s touch. A mate’s touch. It did have a nice bath, however, almost as nice as his.

  All species, including vampires, had revealed themselves about half a century ago. Vampires still tended to live alone. It was difficult, after centuries of being hunted and killed, to trust so easily. Marcus was old enough now that the sun didn’t affect him. He could spend hours in the bright sun, sleep when he wanted. Act like a regular man. He thought that until the hunger gnawed at his gut when he forgot to consume blood. Forgot, until a beautiful woman walked into his life, whose blood called to him on his most primitive level.

  Drink, the insidious monster that dwelled inside him whispered. Drink.

  “Take your time.” He turned abruptly on his heel, refusing to give into his dark desires. The images of his mouth on her throat, his cock pistoning in and out of her body almost overwhelmed him. He could make her bend to his desires, obey his each and every demand.

  He could, but he wouldn’t.

  Sage stood in the middle of the room for long moments after Marcus left. Had she upset him somehow? Did he already regret the kisses they had shared? Lifting her suitcase, she placed it on the bed, suddenly realizing how chilled she had become. The back of her clothes were damp, and she hesitated just a few seconds before deciding to take a shower and chase away the cold.

  Pulling a clean pair of jeans from her suitcase, she rummaged until she found some clean underwear. She hadn’t brought another bra, never expecting an encounter of the sexual kind to happen to her. The one she had on was damp and uncomfortable. Dare she go without it?

  Deciding this would be her one and only chance at a no-strings-attached, one-night affair with a man who made her body burn—and one who appeared to be as drawn to her as she was to him—she pulled a lightweight sweater from her bag and headed towards the bathroom. Humming softly to herself, she fantasized about what the night might hold.

  Chapter 3

  Marcus managed to put the steaks on to grill and put together a decent salad. He also microwaved some potatoes. It wasn’t a steakhouse quality meal, but it would be satisfying. As he waited for the food to cook, he forced himself to drink two bags of blood so he wouldn’t be tempted by Sage.

  He took the steaks off the grill and wrapped them in foil to keep them warm. Then, he’d headed back upstairs to change his own clothes. That’s when he heard the water in the guest bathroom running. He stopped, hesitating about which room to enter. It would be so simple to push open her bedroom door and join her in the shower. His mind’s eye filled with images of her naked, water flowing down her gorgeous, curvy body.

  He scoffed at man’s view of what beauty should be in this century. Thin, underfed, almost sickly looking women seemed to excite them. But then, men of this century were hardly men anymore. They allowed women to take care of them. A woman was meant to be taken care of, spoiled, and held in the highest regard.

  Not the one to bring home the bacon so to speak. No, he wasn’t entirely chauvinist. But, if a woman worked, the money she earned should be hers, not shared with her man. A man…

  A man needed a woman for so many other things than earning a living.

  A man needed a woman in his home, his heart. His bed. And Sage was the perfect woman to warm his. She was plump and pretty. Rounded hips, thick thighs, and a stomach that wasn’t painfully flat. She was made to cushion a man as he took her, offering a soft, safe, welcoming heaven between her legs. Full breasts to knead and enjoy. Taste. He licked his lips, thinking about the taste he’d already had.

  He forced himself to go to his own bedroom. There, he stripped off his work clothes and stepped into the shower, relishing the almost frigid temperature of the water. In minutes, his body was back under control.

  Pulling on a pair of jeans, he strode back down the stairs. The microwave beeped, signaling the potatoes were done. He took a few minutes to set two plates on the counter along with steak sauce, butter, sour cream, and salad dressing. He didn’t have a huge selection, so he hoped she liked Italian.

  Looking at the clock, he realized Sage had been upstairs a long time. Had he scared her with his earlier show of lust? Just thinking about the taste of her breasts had his cock turning into another hard bulge of need. So much for the damn cold shower.

  He retrieved the potatoes from the microwave, putting one on each of their plates. Next, he unwrapped the steaks. As he was doing that, he realized she’d entered the room.

  “That smells wonderful.” Sage’s soft voice floated through the air as she made her way to him. He realized why she’d taken so long. She’d washed and dried her hair. Or partially dried it. It was so thick, he knew she would have been gone longer if she’d completely dried it. He would do it for her next time.

  She’d left it down so it hung in a dark river half-way down her back. His gaze roamed over her, taking in all the details he’d failed to notice before. Her face was soft and round, her eyes almost the same color as whiskey. She was fair-skinned compared to him. He’d been born to a race of people whose skin had darkened from years of labor under a hot sun. He did not look anything like the vampires of legends and myths.

  He forced his gaze beyond her full lips. Lips that called to him. She wasn’t very tall, barely coming to the top of his shoulder. Her body was the perfection he’d imagined earlier. He groaned silently when he caught sight of her nipples pushing against the fabric of her sweater. They were big and firm, almost the size of the end of his finger. And their taste. Hell, he just might have come too, if he’d kept sucking on them.

  “Come eat before it gets cold.” His desire to simply pick her up and carry her to his bed was overwhelming him. As was the sweet, underlying aroma of her blood. Damn it, when was the last time he’d even been tempted to bite a human?

  He was no newly created fledging who needed to be locked up until he could control his appetites. He had complete control since he was so old. Sometimes he felt older than life itself.

  But not now. Now, he felt young and free, dare he say happy for the very first time in his life? And why? Because this woman—his mate—had stumbled down a hillside and straight into his heart.

  She sat down on the chair he indicated and picked up a fork. She had to push back the sleeves of her sweater before she could eat. It was big, but not bulky. His eyes narrowed. Was she wearing the discarded clothes of a lover?

  He inhaled, trying to ascertain if she carried the scent of a male.

  No. Just the tantalizing scent of her arousal and blood th
at were bringing his beast to the forefront.

  For several moments, silence fell over them as they dug into the food. Marcus more by rote than with any real appetite. She ate several bites before speaking. “I really appreciate you giving me a lift.”

  He grunted in response, taking a bite of his steak to keep from blurting out something he shouldn’t. She looked up at him through the thickness of her dark lashes as if trying to get a read on him. Good luck with that, he thought. He’d learned that wearing a passive expression could mean the difference between life and death. He’d learned to be a very, very good liar. How many times had he stood before a horde of men, mad with power, denying the very existence of himself and his kind?

  Of course, his ability to mesmerize others had helped keep the secrets of supernaturals safe for centuries. He did not want to mesmerize this woman. No, he wanted her to come to him fully aware of what she was doing.

  “Would it be possible for you to drive me into Rosman?”

  “No.” His answer was quick and decisive. She was not leaving his house until morning.

  “Oh.”

  Her eyes widened with a hint of alarm, and he dialed back the ferociousness of his feelings. “I mean there’s no reason for you to leave. You can spend the night here. I have plenty of room.” He laid down his fork, tired of pretending the food held any appeal to him.

  “But—”

  “No, buts. It’s better this way.” He stood up and carried his half-eaten meal to the sink. “Would you like something else to drink?”

  “No, I’m good.” She took a few more bits of her food before laying down her fork. A drink of water and she was finished. He berated himself, knowing she’d stopped eating because he had. Not the best way to start out caring for your mate.

  “Here, let me take that.” She had risen from her chair with her plate in her hand. Their fingers touched as he took the ceramic dish.

  “What can I do to help?”

  He directed her to put away the leftovers as he scraped their plates clean, then ran warm water in the sink. With quick, efficient movements, he washed the plates and the skillet he’d used to fry the steak before handing them to her to rinse and dry. Their movements were coordinated as if they had been working together for years.