Bewitching the Vampire

by Selena Illyria

  This time Lana did look toward her, a big grin on her face, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  Bridget sighed. “Not everything is a plot for an erotic romance.”

  Lana winked. “Says you. Now go on before I lure you into a game of Monopoly. And remember, last time I whooped your ass.”

  “Cheater.”

  “Bad loser.”

  Bridget dismissed the accusation with a wave of her hand. “Get out the game. We’ll play when I get back.”

  “If you get back. Who knows what that vampire will make you do?” Lana wiggled her eyebrows.

  “Bitch.” Bridget stomped out the door, hating that her attraction to Joe was that obvious. As she wove through the crowds of costumed children and their harried parents, she tried to find a sense of peace. It was no use arriving at his door out of sorts and pissed off.

  The night was cold but lacked the bite of oncoming winter. Jack-o-lanterns were lit along the sidewalks and the night sky was clear with stars sparkling in the sky. The moon was a little over half full. The air was full of screams and the howling of werewolves—recordings being played at various Halloween houses around the neighborhood.

  As Bridget walked, doubts began to assail her. The five-inch heel of her cherry-red Mary Janes clicked on the pavement. The sound alone made her pause. She was wearing a black pencil skirt with a slit up the back and a black corset with lace-top stockings. Would he read something into that? Would he think she dressed up for him? She tugged on the sleeve of her cropped motorcycle jacket.

  As she passed by her home, she stopped and looked at it. The frosted-glass hurricane lanterns hanging on her porch flickered in a slight breeze. For a second, she pictured Joe standing on the porch holding that bouquet of lavender, her favorite flower. Once again, she found her mind flooding with fantasies. She saw herself pushing him against one of the columns of the porch and kissing the daylights out of him, stripping him naked and having her wicked way with him. She swallowed as her body flushed with heat.

  She reached out to unlock her gate. Maybe she should just go home and spend the evening in, or at least change into something more conservative. But no. She refused to second-guess herself. If he read anything into how she was dressed, then that was his problem. She smoothed her palms over her skirt and let out a sigh. Her breath fogged the atmosphere. With a smile, she continued on her way until she reached Joe’s street.

  A sense of trepidation filled her as she made her way down the darkened road. Why the hell did he have to live on such a creep-tastic street? She had the feeling that there were eyes watching her every move. In the distance, an owl hooted and the sounds of Halloween faded behind her as the houses gave way to a densely wooded area.

  Leaves rustled and a cold wind blew in her face. When she arrived at the walkway that led to Joe’s house she was freezing. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her coat and stood there, staring up at a house worthy of the Addams Family.

  Warily, she made her way up the worn, cracked cobblestone walkway.

  Chapter Three

  Joe settled into his wingback chair. It had been a long day of meetings and he was on edge. Vampires became superstitious on Samhain. With the veil between the living and dead so thin, they thought long-gone loved ones or enemies could rise again to harm them. He didn’t put any credence in such superstitions—and yet there was something in the air. It skittered over his skin and tingled at the nape of his neck. He tried to shake it off but it refused to go. Like the delicate, sticky strands of a spider’s web, it clung to him. He rolled his shoulders and shuddered.

  He had to regain control. If he were the sort of man who let himself be affected by feelings like these, he’d have been dead several times over by now. One didn’t become Liege of Evenfall by playing nice. He gritted his teeth and went over the report given to him by his gargoyle bodyguards, Flynn and Matthias. There was only one thing that concerned him tonight: Bridget. If any of his enemies found out how important she was to him he’d be in a deep shit storm without a paddle.

  Bridget. He hadn’t meant to become attracted to her. In fact, he’d tried to avoid the hell out of that feisty little witch. But she got under skin, made him think about shit he didn’t need to think about. Unlike other lieges, he didn’t have a harem of lovers to turn to. No. There was only Bridget. He couldn’t even picture himself with anyone else. His patrons had tried. Goddess, how they’d tried to pair him up with every available Blood Princess and Sanguine Lady in the area. They’d even stooped to Bite Freaks. But no one compared to Bridget. There was something about her wide, brown eyes that held secrets even he couldn’t fathom. There was the fact she was immune to his hypnotic gaze. Not all witches had that ability. She had power, that one.

  Then there was the energy flare whenever they were together. Maybe she didn’t feel it, but her magic seemed to increase in strength when they were near. It was subtle, but enough that he sensed his own energies charge. After an encounter with her, he didn’t need to feed for hours.

  What was she up to tonight? She had turned down his poker invitation. Maybe she was at one of the parties around town, but he doubted it somehow.

  The leather creaked as the overstuffed cushions of his chair accepted his weight. As Joe settled in and relaxed, his senses became alert. The sound of boot heels tapping on his cobblestone walkway came to his attention, even through the wood framing, insulation, and drywall. He counted out the steps and recognized the speed of the gait. No one else walked like that. The pace implied that the woman making them had somewhere important to be and was just on the verge of running to get there.

  Joe smiled as he rose up out of his chair and down the long corridor that led to the entryway. He passed several large rooms, most of which were empty. He hated setting down roots. As a vampire liege, he could be deposed at any moment, which could mean going on the run. You had to travel light in this line of work. All he needed was his Sanctuary bed. If it happened, maybe he’d kidnap his little witch and bring her with him.

  With each step, anticipation flooded his body. His blood heated as his body temperature increased. He’d fed earlier that day and with that blood came the abilities of the living. If he touched her, she would feel the warmth of his touch. He could smell the ghost of her perfume. Lavender and sage. Something to soothe and something to heal and banish evil spirits. Did she think he deserved banishing?

  He tried to ignore the need that flooded his body as he approached the door. Flynn was already there but Joe waved him off. He wanted to spend every moment he could with her. Who knew when she would run off on him?

  Without a word, Flynn nodded and headed back to the billiard room on the other end of the foyer. Rather than unlock the door, Joe waited for her to ring the bell. Her enticing perfume was spiced with magic. It floated from a crack under the door, grabbed him by the balls, and filled his belly with desire. The little curvaceous witch had been avoiding him of late. Why, he didn’t know, but if she was here, she was in need. His fangs extended a little farther out of his mouth and needled his bottom lip, just touching the dual piercings. He detected her nervousness and wariness through the thick slab of oak. Her footsteps paced back and forth on the stonework of his porch. He heard her whisper “Fuck this” and move toward the door once more.

  He opened the door without waiting for her to ring the bell. The hinges creaked ominously and he winced, making a mental note to get them oiled.

  He took her in from head to toe and back up again. She was encased in black and red, his two favorite colors. She was decked out in her usual outfit, from the pencil skirt to the sexy heels and stockings. She wore a jacket so he couldn’t see her top fully. He could only guess that she was wearing a corset. He imagined it hugging her curves like a second skin and pushing her full breasts up. Her wavy hair was pulled up in a messy top bun, loose tendrils falling around her heart-shaped face; stick-straight bangs brushed the tips of her eyelashes. Black liner rimmed her eyes, and her
lips were painted in their usual crimson gloss. They seemed to beckon him, asking him to lean forward and kiss her. The pink tip of her tongue flicked out, wetting her plump bottom lip.

  He held back a groan and managed to say her name. “Bridget.” He winced internally at how deep and rough his voice had become.

  He watched her throat work, his gaze falling on the pulse point on her neck. The steady beat consumed him, bringing up more lust. The blood monster rose, sure and swift, his fangs extending to their full sharpness. Joe barely noticed the pain or the pulsing of his gums. He only saw Bridget and the sweet blood just under her skin. His vision hazed in red and he moved forward. He wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her to him. He lowered his head, his breathing becoming labored as he tried to take in enough air to think clearly.

  Bridget pushed his arm down, shoving him off of her and slapped him. Pain burst in the side of his head and he drew back with a hiss.

  “Get a fucking grip. I need your help.” She snapped.

  His stomach clenched and his cock thickened as she pushed past him into the room. A dull ache began in his balls.

  He shut the door, locked it, and turned to look at her. Yes, his little witch was a dangerous woman. For a second, he’d lost his steel control and given in to his more basic desires. At least he hadn’t torn her clothes off or done something even more extreme.

  Anger painted her face. Her dark brown eyes flashed, and her lips thinned. She lifted her hand again, the palm red and splotchy from slapping him, but he held up his own hand, his palm facing out to her in a gesture of peace.

  She lifted a well-shaped eyebrow. “Well? Are you going to behave?

  “I’m okay. What do you need?” His voice came out as a rasp, with the hint of a lisp due to his fangs still being out. It took effort to bring them back to their normal shape and size. His gums still pulsed, hot and tender.

  “First, for you to get your head in the game. And second, I need information about a possible unauthorized vamp in your territory.” Her tone brooked no nonsense or seduction attempts. She dug into her purse and handed him a file.

  She needed information, but he wasn’t about to give it to her for free. The slap had awakened something in him and he wanted to pay her back for it in the most delightful way possible, preferably over his knee or chained to a Saint Andrew’s cross. An idea formed in his mind and he knew how he would give her what she wanted while getting something in return.

  He waved away the folder. “I don’t need that.” He crossed his arms over his chest and watched emotions flow over her face. Her button nose twitched. Her signature tell. “How about this? We play a game of poker for it. The winner of each round gets to ask one question and the loser must answer truthfully.”

  “I don’t have time for this.” Bridget tried to move past him. “I can find that vampire on my own.”

  “Do you really want to go through all those vampire manors, waiting for permission to enter each time? Do you want to search all through the night? You won’t get anywhere. This will be much quicker. And I’ll make it worth your time, I promise.”

  “Fine. But you’d better give me more than the basics. I want his exact location and when he last fed. Understand?” She jerked her head left and then right, her gaze skittering all over the entryway.

  Joe could feel her nervousness fluttering in the air between them. His own gaze snagged on her pulse point again and he saw the excited beat just below her skin. He dragged his stare away from that spot and looked into her eyes.

  He grabbed her hand and held it, savoring the softness of her palm against his, the warmth of her skin. Their gazes met. For a moment, he forgot how to breathe, unable to do anything but look at her. He ate up her nearness. She was a few feet away and yet it seemed like the Grand Canyon was between them. He wanted her closer, needed her to break that distance, to be the one to make the first move.

  His stare zeroed in on her pulse point once more. His thirst became a low simmer, increasing his desire for her. He brought her hand up to his lips and brushed it against his mouth, relishing the rare contact.

  “Right this way,” he murmured against her flesh. One way or another he had to get her to trust him. Tonight she was his and he would finally get answers to the questions that burned within him. Samhain had given him a gift, one he wasn’t going to squander.

  He led her down the hall and the predator in him rose. He grinned and glanced back at her. Tonight she needed him. Tonight, there was no escaping him.

  Chapter Four

  Bridget was drowning, completely lost with no lifeboat in sight. She threw a few chips into the center of the table and turned down more cards. Even though she didn’t know a thing about poker she was determined to bluff her way through the game. Her skin was itchy. The seat, though well padded, was hard and uncomfortable. She tried to squirm as little as possible and yet couldn’t seem to stop herself from moving. Her gaze refused to settle on anything and anyone and yet his stare was like warm oil on her skin, slipping under her clothing, caressing places he had never seen. She crossed her legs at the ankle and squeezed her thighs together. It didn’t help. Her clit continued to throb for attention and her body temperature continued to climb. She wanted to peel off her jacket. Maybe sneak off to the bathroom to wipe the perspiration away from her forehead and her chest. She regretted wearing a corset and her leather jacket. In fact, she regretted coming here at all.

  “Would you like something to drink? I have some vodka if you’d like.” Joe’s voice was smooth and warm with a hint of roughness, like whiskey on a cold night.

  She could use a whiskey or something even stronger. Maybe that would help her calm the hell down.

  “Or maybe you’d like a soda?”

  She could lose herself in his voice. She could spend hours just listening to him speaking in that rich tenor. She found her muscles loosening and her spine sinking against the backrest of the chair. Her legs fell open and her fever climbed. Her magic skittered along her skin and flow out through her fingertips to dance on the air between them. Her face flushed with heat and her ears prickled. Her eyes wanted to find his and study the expression on his face to find out if her attraction was reciprocated. Vampires used lust against their victims to devastating effects. She had to make sure she didn’t become so infatuated with him she fell under his thrall.

  With great effort, she resisted the urge to look up at him and instead focused on her hand. She still had no clue if her cards were any good. Vaguely, she remembered that Lana was damn good at card games. The pixie always took in a huge haul whenever she played against clients in the waiting room.

  “You can’t just keep pushing away cards. Call or fold.” A spark glinted in Joe’s deep azure eyes, like the sky at midnight. Her favorite time of day. Fuck.

  She turned away to study the worn tabletop. This one didn’t have green felt like a card table in the movies. It was a simple wooden tabletop. She liked it. In fact she liked the whole room. It appeared used, well worn, like a comfortable pair of jeans.

  “Cards on the table, Bridget.” Joe took a sip from his glass.

  She blinked. When the hell had he gotten up to get a drink? Damn vampire sneakiness. He nodded his head to the right and she saw a side table laden with bottles and glasses. Damn his mind-reading skills. Was she that obvious? She hated to think so. How much did he know about her current situation? She sighed, clutching her cards, and tried to ignore the way her nipples tightened further when he’d commanded her to show him what she had.

  “Like I said, the boys are drinking vodka but I prefer soda or tea or water. What’s your poison?” He pushed back his seat and made his way over to the side table.

  Bridget glanced up and her gaze was drawn to the way the worn denim molded around his perfect ass. Her hands tingled. She had the urge to palm the firm globes and give them a squeeze, dig her nails into the flesh and urge him to press his pelvis against hers.

  To distract herself from these urges, she placed her
cards on the table and pushed back her chair. Her legs had turned to gelatin. She stood up and groaned. Her head swam and her body shook. She sat back down and tried to get herself under control. Her magic had stopped sparking but now she was weak. She wished she could do some yoga, but in this outfit she wouldn’t be able to find her center or let go. Instead, she tensed and relaxed her muscles—first her legs, then her buttocks, then her arms and hands. Feeling a little more clearheaded, she rose and joined Joe over at the side table. The selection was sparse, just a few canned drinks, water, and a bucket of half-melted ice. She grabbed a can of Dr. Pepper and rubbed the top with the sleeve of her jacket.

  “You know you can take that off don’t you?” Something dark flitted in his sapphire gaze.

  Her stomach clenched and her sex tightened as heated moisture pooled in her pussy. She swallowed and looked away. “Yeah, I know, but it’s cold,” she lied.

  “I’ll turn up the temperature.” His voice sounded deeper, darker.

  Damn him. Moisture soaked her already wet panties. If this kept up, she’d either have to take it off or use some toilet paper as a panty liner. Her jacket was tight as her breasts swelled in size and her nipples turned to aching tips. Her palms were sweat dampened. A fever rushed through her.

  “I’m not doing this for you.” She tried not to sound whiney, but it came out like that all the same. She unzipped her jacket and shrugged out of it, then draped it over the back of her chair. “Better?” She looked up at him.

  He cocked a dark eyebrow. His lips quivered as if he were holding back a smile. “It’s not my comfort I’m concerned about.”

  “Don’t do that.”

  “You think I’m using my vampiric tricks on you? I swear I’m not. You’re a witch. Use your senses.” He took his seat and placed both his hands on the table, back straining, gaze on her. “Go on. Test me.”