How to Marry a Millionaire Vampire las-1

by Kerrelyn Sparks

  She groaned. What a strange dilemma. She had locked the door after Connor had brought up a tray of food, but it wouldn't stop Roman from trying to enter her brain. A very satisfying experience, he had said.

  She put the empty tray on the floor and grabbed the remote control. She didn't want to think about sex anymore. Or his harem. On the DVN channel, she saw Corky Courrant standing in front of a blown-up section of Romatech and reporting on the latest details. Shanna hardly heard her, for she spotted Roman by the crater. He looked tired and strained. His clothes were gray with dust and grime.

  The poor man. She longed to touch his handsome face and offer words of encouragement. Just then, the DVN reporter started a series of flashbacks, chronicling the highlights of the Gala Opening Ball.

  Shanna gasped when her own picture filled the screen. There she was, discovering vampires for the first time. My God, the horror on her face. My face.

  She watched herself throwing the glass of blood to the floor. Then Roman grabbed her, flung his cape around her, and she disappeared. The whole thing was digitally recorded so vampires could enjoy watching it over and over.

  With trembling fingers, Shanna turned the television off. The full weight of her situation bore down on her. A vampire assassin wanted to kill her. Another vampire wanted to protect her. Roman. She wished he were with her now. He didn't frighten her. He was kind and caring. A good man.

  Radinka, Connor, and the others agreed. Roman was a wonderful man. He just couldn't see it. He was too haunted by awful memories, memories too atrocious for one person to bear.

  If only she could help him see himself as she did. She lay back on the bed. How could a relationship with him ever work? She ought to avoid further contact with him, but she knew in her heart she couldn't resist. She was falling in love with him.

  Hours later, in the deep, dreamy moments before sunrise, she felt a sudden chill and snuggled deeper under the covers.

  Shanna.

  The cold seeped away, and she felt warm and cozy. Desired.

  Shanna, darling.

  She blinked her eyes open. "Roman? Is that you?"

  A soft breath tickled her left ear. A low voice.

  Let me love you.

  CHAPTER 19

  Shanna sat up and peered about the dark bedroom. "Roman? Are you here?"

  I'm upstairs. Thank you for letting me inside.

  Inside? Inside her head? It must have happened while she was asleep. An icy jab of pain shot from one temple to another.

  Shanna, please. Don't push me out. His voice faded till it sounded like an echo coming from the far end of a cave.

  She rubbed her aching temples. "Am I doing this?"

  You're trying to block me. Why?

  "I don't know. When I feel something coming at me, I just push back. It's a reflex."

  Relax, sweetness. I won't hurt you.

  She took a few deep breaths, and the pain lessened.

  That's better. His voice sounded closer. Clearer.

  Shanna's heart raced. She wasn't at all sure she wanted Roman in her head. How many of her thoughts could he read?

  Why are you worried? Are you keeping secrets from me?

  Oh God, he could hear her thoughts. "No big secrets, but there are some things I'd rather keep private." Like how incredibly handsome and sexy he—You're an ugly old toad!

  Sexy?

  Darn. She wasn't good at this telepathy stuff. The fact that he could read her mind made her want to produce strange thoughts just to throw him off track.

  An air of amusement surrounded her like a warm cocoon. Then don't think so much. Relax.

  "How can I relax if you're in my head? You wouldn't make me do something against my will, would you?"

  Of course not, sweetness. I won't control your thoughts. I'll only give you the sensations of me making love to you. And as soon as the sun rises, I'll have to go.

  She felt something warm and moist against her brow. A kiss. Then, soft fingers caressing her face. They rubbed at her temples till the last vestige of pain slipped away. She closed her eyes and felt the fingers tracing her cheekbones, her jaw, her ears. She wasn't sure how he managed it, but it felt so real. So wonderful.

  What are you wearing?

  "Hmm? Does it matter?"

  I want you naked when I touch you. I want to feel every lush curve, every deep hollow. I want your breath shuddering in my ear, your muscles tensing with passion, tighter and tighter—

  "Enough! You had me on the first sentence." She pulled off her nightgown and dropped it into a silken puddle on the floor. Then she nestled into the warm sheets and waited.

  And waited. "Hello?" She gazed at the ceiling overhead, wondering what was happening on the fifth floor. "Hello? Earth to Roman—your bedmate is naked and ready for launch."

  Nothing. Maybe he was so tired, he fell asleep. Great. She'd never been good at holding a man's interest for very long. And Roman—he could be around forever. How could she be more than a passing fancy to him? Even if their relationship lasted a few years, it would be like a blink of an eye to him. With a groan, Shanna rolled onto her stomach. How could this ever work? They were polar opposites, as in alive and dead. When people said opposites attract, they didn't mean it in such an extreme way.

  Shanna?

  She raised her head. "You're back? I thought you'd left."

  Sorry. Business. His fingers gently kneaded her shoulders.

  With a sigh, she lowered her head onto the pillow. Business? "Where are you exactly? You're not at your desk, are you?" The thought that he might be doing paperwork on the side really irked her. The man was so brilliant, he could probably give her a mental orgasm while answering his email.

  He chuckled. I'm sitting in bed, having a bedtime snack.

  He was drinking blood while he mentally massaged her shoulders? Ugh. How romantic. Not.

  I'm naked. Does that help?

  Oh Lordy. She visualized his gorgeous body—ugly old toad.

  He stroked her back with feather-light caresses. She shivered. This was wonderful. He applied pressure with the heel of his hand, burrowing into her with slow, sweet circles. Correction—this was heaven.

  Can you hear other vampires?

  "No. One is quite enough, thank you." She felt his presence looming larger, swelling with emotion.

  Pride. No, fiercer than that. More like… possessiveness.

  You are mine.

  Right. Just because she could hear him, it gave him ownership rights? Alive for more than five hundred years, and he still thought like a caveman. Though his hands did feel absolutely delightful.

  Thank you. I aim to please. His hands roamed her back, his long fingers seeking out knots of tension. Caveman, huh?

  Damn, he could hear too much. She could almost see him smiling. It was a good thing he didn't know she was falling in—ugly old toad, ugly old toad.

  You're still not comfortable with me in your head.

  Bingo. Two points for the mind-controlling demon. She felt a light smack on her rump. "Hey!" She lifted her shoulders, only to be pushed back down. "You're manhandling me." Her voice was muffled by the pillow.

  Yes, I am. He had the gall to sound pleased with himself.

  "Caveman," she muttered. With a whole harem of women. "You said before this was impersonal. It seems very personal to me."

  It is right now, because it's only you and me. I'm thinking only of you. His presence felt heavy around her, heavy and hot with desire. Her skin tingled in response. He skimmed his fingers up her spine to her neck. There he brushed her hair to the side.

  She felt something hot and moist on her neck. A kiss. She shivered. It was so weird, getting kissed by an invisible face. His breath warmed her ear. Then something tickled her toes.

  She started. "There's something in the bed."

  Me.

  "But—" It was impossible for him to kiss her ear and reach her toes at the same time. Unless his arms were six feet long. Or he wasn't quite human.

&nbs
p; Bingo. Two points for you, sweetness. Roman nuzzled her neck and tweaked her toes. On both feet.

  And he continued to rub the skin between her shoulder blades.

  "Wait a minute. How many hands do you have?"

  As many as I want. It's all in my mind. Our mind. His thumbs dug into the arches of her feet. He massaged her back with the heel of his palm, dragging the circles down her spine. And still he continued to kiss her neck.

  She sighed dreamily. "Oh, this is nice."

  Nice? His hands stopped.

  "Yeah. Very nice, very—" Shanna tensed, aware of a simmering irritation inside her head. It was coming from him.

  Nice? Sparks sizzled around him.

  Oh dear. "I'm enjoying it. Really, I am."

  His voice hissed through her head. No more Mr. Nice Guy.

  He seized her ankles and pulled her legs apart. More hands curled around her wrists. She wiggled, trying to get loose, but he was too strong, with too many damned hands. She was pinned down and helpless, her legs spread wide open.

  Cool air wafted against her most tender flesh. She waited, tense and exposed. Her heart pounded loud in her ears.

  She waited. The room was quiet, except for the labored sound of her breathing. Her nerves coiled, sensing an imminent attack. Where would he strike first? There was no way to tell. He wasn't visible to the eye. This was terrible. This was… exciting.

  She waited. Four hands still gripped her wrists and ankles. But he had an infinite number of hands and fingers, as many as he could imagine. Her heart raced faster. The muscles in her buttocks contracted in an attempt to squeeze her legs together. She was so exposed. So open to him. Her skin began to tingle. He was doing this to her. Making her wait. Making her ache with anticipation.

  Longing. Desire.

  And then he was gone.

  Shanna raised her head. "Hello? Roman?" Where did he go? She sat up and glanced at the clock radio beside the bed. It would be just her luck if the sun was rising and he was officially dead for the day. But it was too early for sunrise. Had he just run out on her in the middle of a date? Minutes ticked by.

  She rose onto her knees. "Dammit, Roman, you can't leave me like this." She considered throwing something at the ceiling.

  Suddenly she felt hands encircle her waist. She gasped. "Roman? That better be you." She reached behind her where she thought he should be, but felt nothing but air.

  It's me. He skimmed his hands over her ribs, then cupped her breasts. His mouth nibbled at her shoulder.

  "Where—where were you?" It was hard to carry on a conversation while he was stroking her with his thumbs.

  I'm sorry. It won't happen again. He played with her nipples, gently tweaking the hardened buds between his thumb and forefinger. Each tug seemed to pull at an invisible cord connected to her soul.

  She crumpled onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. "Oh, Roman, please." She wished she could see him. Or touch him.

  Shanna, sweet Shanna. His voice whispered in her head. How can I tell you what you mean to me? When I saw you at the ball, it was as if my heart started beating again. You lit up the room, bright in an ocean of black and white. And I thought—my life has been nothing but a dark, endless night. Then, you came like a rainbow and filled my black soul with color.

  "Oh, Roman. Don't make me cry." She rolled onto her stomach and wiped her moist eyes with the sheet.

  I'll make you cry with pleasure. His hands trailed slowly up her legs, while two more of his imaginary hands skimmed down her back. He reached her thighs and the small of her back. Soon, soon all hands would converge on her sex. Her buttock muscles tensed. Moisture pooled between her legs. The hunger grew sweeter, hotter, more desperate.

  She felt his mouth on her bottom, kissing her. The tip of his tongue slipped across one cheek, dipped into the crevice, and continued across the other cheek.

  "You're driving me crazy, Roman. I can't stand it."

  Is this what you want? His fingers brushed against the curly hair guarding her sex.

  She jolted. "Yes."

  How wet are you?

  The question alone elicited another warm gush of liquid. "I'm dripping. Soaked. See for yourself."

  She rolled onto her back, expecting to see him. It was disconcerting to lie there, her legs open to welcome him, and no one was there. "Roman?"

  I want to kiss you. His breath wandered over her breast, then he sucked the nipple into his mouth.

  His tongue swirled around, then flicked the hard tip.

  She reached for him, but there was nothing there.

  He moved to her other breast.

  "I want to touch you, too. I want to hold you." She jolted when he cupped her between the legs.

  His fingers began to explore. You're drenched. You're beautiful.

  "Roman." She reached for him again, but found nothing to hold. This was more than disconcerting.

  It was downright aggravating. With nothing to hold, she clenched the sheet in her fists.

  He skimmed along the slick folds, then gently parted them. He dipped a finger inside and stroked the inner walls. Do you like that? Or do you prefer this? He circled her clitoris, then teased the tip.

  She cried out. She twisted the sheet in her hands. She longed to hold him, run her hands through his hair, feel the muscles on his back and buttocks. This was so one-sided. But so damned good.

  He inserted two fingers inside her. At least, she thought it was two fingers. Maybe three. Oh God, he was torturing her from the inside out. His fingers circled and stroked, plunged and withdrew. She had no idea how many thousands of nerve endings she possessed down there, but he seemed determined to set each one on fire. He rubbed the hard, swollen nub of her sex faster and faster. She dug her heels into the mattress, tensing her legs and pressing her hips into the air. More. More.

  He gave her more.

  She panted, gasping for air. Tension mounted, sweet and strained. She burned with need. Harder.Harder. She pushed her sex into his hands, writhing against him. He grabbed her buttocks and took her with his mouth.

  One flick of his tongue and she shattered. Her inner muscles clenched his fingers. She cried out.

  Spasms throbbed from her inner core, shooting ripples of sheer pleasure to her fingers and toes. With each wave of release, her breath caught in her throat, her fingers twitched at the sheets. The tremors went on and on. She pulled her legs up, pressing her thighs together, reveling in the glorious aftershocks.

  You were beautiful. He kissed her brow.

  "You were fantastic." She pressed a hand against her chest. Her heart was still beating rapidly, her skin still hot.

  I must go now, sweetness. Sleep well.

  "What? You can't leave now."

  I must. Sleep well, my love.

  "You can't just leave. I want to hold you." A jab of cold pain pinched the bridge of her nose, then disappeared. "Roman?"

  Silence.

  She searched for his presence within her. He was gone.

  "Hey, caveman!" she yelled at the ceiling. "You can't just love me and leave!"

  No answer. She struggled to sit up. The bedside clock glowed with the time. Six-ten. Oh, that was it. She collapsed onto her back. The sun was rising. Time for all good little vampires to go sleepybye. That certainly sounded nicer than the truth. For the next twelve hours, Roman was dead to the world.

  Shit. For a corpse, he made one hell of a lover. With a moan, she covered her eyes. What was she doing, having sex with a vampire? It wasn't like there was any future in this. He was stuck forever at the age of thirty. Condemned to be young, sexy, and gorgeous for all eternity, while she would grow old.

  Shanna groaned. Their relationship was doomed from the start. He would stay the beautiful, young prince.

  And she would be the ugly old toad.

  Early in the afternoon, Shanna woke and had lunch with Howard Barr and a few of the daytime guards. Although trained in security, the guys were also paid to clean house during the day. After all, the soun
d of vacuum cleaners wasn't going to disturb the dead. Shanna spent a boring afternoon washing her new clothes and watching television. The Digital Vampire Network was on, but most everything was in French or Italian. It was nighttime in Europe. The slogans still appeared in English. On 24/7 because it's always nighttime somewhere. DVN—if you're not digital, you can't be seen. Now the words made a lot more sense.

  She took a hot shower before sunset, eager to look her best for Roman. Back in the kitchen, she ate supper and witnessed the changing of the guard. The Highlanders arrived. Each one gave her a smile before heading to the refrigerator for a bottle of blood. They waited their turn at the microwave, while they smiled at her and exchanged knowing looks.

  Did she have a piece of lettuce stuck in her teeth? Finally the Scotsmen left to take up their posts for the evening. Connor remained behind, rinsing out bottles in the sink. She recalled seeing him do that before, but at the time, the significance hadn't registered.

  "Why is everyone so happy?" Shanna asked from her seat at the kitchen table. "After the bombing last night, I thought a war was about to break out."

  "Oh, aye, it will," Connor answered. "But when ye live as long as we have, ye lose a sense of urgency about it. We'll take care of Petrovsky soon enough. 'Tis a shame we didn't kill him in the Great War."

  Shanna leaned forward. "There was a Great Vampire War?"

  "Aye, in 1710." Connor closed the dishwasher, then leaned against the counter. His eyes grew hazy with memories. "I was there. So was Petrovsky, though not on the same side, ye ken."

  "How did it happen?"

  "Roman dinna tell you?"

  "No. Was he involved?"

  Connor snorted. "He started it."

  Was that what Roman meant when he said he'd committed terrible crimes? "Will you tell me about it?"

  "I suppose there's no harm in it." Connor wandered toward the kitchen table and took a seat. "The vampire who changed Roman was a verra nasty character named Casimir. He had a pack of vampires at his command, and together they were destroying whole villages, raping and murdering, torturing for the pleasure of it. Petrovsky was one of Casimir's favorite minions."