The Vampire Pendant

by Sheri WhiteFeather

  Tessa leaned against the headboard, her limbs akimbo, rose petals scattered on the bed. Somewhere in the midst of their naughty escapade, her corsage had lost some of its life.

  He glanced at her thigh. “That’s probably going to bruise.”

  She smiled, shrugged, still stoned, apparently. “Sometimes I bruise after getting blood tests.”

  This was no test. This was the real deal. He finally put his fangs back where they belonged. He had the urge to feed again, which would be unthinkable.

  Instead, he drew her into his arms and eased her down, holding her as if his immortality depended on it.

  Chapter Eight

  The first week went by in a whirlwind. Each day Tessa spent with Anthony was absolutely amazing. On this bright and beautiful day, they kicked back by their private plunge pool, soaking up rays.

  She glanced over at her companion. “Who knew that I would be tanning with a vampire?”

  “I’m not a vampire. If I was, I would have exploded in the sun by now. And technically, I’m not tanning. The pigment of my skin isn’t going to change, no matter how much time I spend out here.”

  “Details. Details.” She streamed her gaze along his body. They were both sunbathing in the nude, draped over lounge chairs on their stomachs, with their bottoms in the air.

  He returned the exchange, checking out her nakedness, too. “Let me put more lotion on you. You’re getting pink.”

  She went smug. “Heaven forbid, I should burn.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Was that a joke?”

  Mercy, she thought. It was. “That’s even weirder than pretending to tan with a gen-vamp. Me, making cracks about the fire.”

  “I’m glad you’re learning to be flippant. But you’re still getting pink.” He picked up the sun block. “Now keep still and let me rub this on your butt.”

  “Is that the pinkest part of me?”

  “It’s the most inviting. But I’ll put it on the rest of you, too.”

  She closed her eyes while he applied the lotion. He massaged her skin with strong, capable hands, kneading her muscles. She moaned her thanks.

  “What are we going to do tonight?” she asked.

  “We’re going to get wicked.”

  She popped her eyes open. “Like the BDSM stuff you do with Simone. I don’t think—”

  “Don’t worry. That isn’t what I meant.”

  Her breath rushed out. “Then what did you mean?”

  “We’re going to see the show. “Wicked. The musical,” he clarified. “It’s playing at the Pantages, and I got tickets.”

  “Oh, that’s awesome. Way better than getting chained to the bed with a whip across my back.”

  “Or your butt.” He smacked the area in question, albeit it softly.

  “Ha. Ha.” She rolled over to look at him, her mind cluttered with curiosity. “Do you like getting rough with Simone?”

  “She likes it.”

  “Yes, Anthony, but do you like it?”

  “It wouldn’t be my sex of choice. But it’s important to play those types of games with Simone. Otherwise she would be bored. I’d rather not play them with you, so it’s okay that you don’t want to engage in rough acts.” He flashed his signature grin. “Not that you’re a total innocent. Not anymore.”

  “The blow job feeding pushed me past that.”

  “You have no idea how badly I wanted to keep drinking.”

  “But you held back.” She sat forward and looped her arms around his neck. “The man has restraint.”

  “Oh, yeah?” He stood up and scooped her over his shoulder.

  “Don’t you dare!” She protested, sensing that he was going to toss her, head over pink-tinged ass, into the pool.

  Sure enough, he did. She went sailing and hit the water like a bomb. But she managed to latch onto him, forcing him to fall in, too. Together they made an even bigger splash.

  They came up for air, laughing and spewing the taste of chlorine. Then they went for the taste of a kiss. Then the flavor of each other’s bodies, until they couldn’t take another minute of foreplay and went full bore.

  Fucking good and wickedly hard.

  When Anthony and Tessa returned from the play, they went for a walk in the garden outside their bungalow. It was a lovely evening, Anthony thought. The show had been brilliant, the kind of entertainment that charmed you long after it was over, and now he and Tessa were immersed in scattered moonlight and tropical plants.

  “It seemed real,” she said.

  “The play?”

  “Yes. But that’s because I know that magic actually exists. Do you think that the realm Mathieu is from is as enchanted as Oz? That his castle is paved in gold?” She clutched her necklace. “Or dappled in rubies?”

  “The only part of his castle I saw was the jewelry room, so there was plenty of gold and precious stones around.”

  “I can only imagine.”

  “He’s extremely rich and powerful in his world. When he swooped down to save us, the air swirled around him. His energy was electrifying.”

  “Is he young and handsome like a storybook prince? White-haired like a wizard? Or something in between?”

  “He appears to be in his twenties, and he’s handsome. But he’s a king, not a prince, and he’s thousands of years old. If Simone had her way, she would slice his throat and let him bleed to death. But it takes a Jinn dagger to kill a genie, and those types of daggers are nearly impossible to find. In Muslim and Islamic cultures jinn is another name for genie, and Jinn daggers are protected by Allah’s angels.”

  “Why would Simone want to murder Mathieu? He saved your lives.”

  “Because she thinks that being imprisoned in jewelry is worse than death. She would have preferred to be staked.”

  Her voice turned quiet. “I understand how she feels.”

  “Why? Because having your face damaged was worse than death? What happened to the flippant attitude you had earlier?”

  “It’s gone, I guess.” Silence, then. “So tell me, what does Simone look like?”

  “She’s a fair-skinned brunette with blue eyes and a lilting accent. I was quite taken with her on the night we met. But she proved to be too temperamental for my tastes. I’m not saying that I don’t care for her. I do. But she’s explosive.” He laughed at the irony. “Like Mathieu. They would probably make a good match. He could handle her temper, I’m sure.”

  “Gosh, don’t tell her you said that.”

  “Believe me, I won’t.” He glanced over at Tessa, concerned for her future. “I wish you felt differently about yourself. That your appearance didn’t dictate how you lived your life.”

  She stopped walking and turned toward him. “Promise me that when this is over, you won’t ever try to see the real me. I want you to remember me this way.”

  He frowned, caught in the guilt of his lie. Now he wondered if he should have told her from the start that he’d already seen her true appearance. That he knew exactly what she looked like behind the veil of magic. Or that whenever he chose to see the real her, he could.

  “Promise me,” she insisted.

  “I promise,” he replied, not having the heart to admit the truth. But still, he went ahead and changed her in his eyes, so he could look upon her scarred face. He reached out and caressed the damaged skin, too. If she knew what he was doing, she would cringe with shame. “Let’s go inside.”

  “What for?”

  “To make love.” He wanted to be with her while she looked this way. He wanted to mate with the true Tessa.

  And remember every passionate moment.

  Tessa stood beside the bed as Anthony removed her clothes. He’d already stripped down, and he was aroused. She couldn’t stop looking at him. He couldn’t seem to stop looking at her, either.

  They tumbled onto the covers and kissed as deeply as they could. His hands were everywhere, giving her glorious goose bumps. He put his tongue along the shell of her ear, intensifying the feeling.

&
nbsp; “I still need to feed tonight,” he said.

  “You can do it now. Or after you’re inside me. It’s up to you.” She would accept his bite however he administered it.

  “I’ll do it before. I want us to be our true selves when we’re mating. I want the euphoria to come from the sex, not the taking of blood.”

  Could he be any more romantic?

  When his eyes turned red, she started. The color seemed stronger tonight, brighter, and far more dangerous. Then she realized why.

  She was falling in love with Anthony.

  Tessa fought her next breath. She should have known it would happen. She should have been prepared for her attachment to him to turn into something deeper.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Your eyes are redder than usual.”

  “I can’t control them when I’m feeding.”

  And she couldn’t control losing her heart to him. “I know.”

  His fangs popped through his gums, gleaming in the light. Every lamp in the bedroom shined bright. Anthony had wanted to leave them on.

  He lowered his head and sank his teeth into her neck, piercing her like the kiss of a viper. She thrived on being fed upon, on giving him nourishment. But why wouldn’t she? Considering that she loved him.

  As he took what he needed, the drugged sensation flowed through her body, making her moan. It also made her feel sexual, as it had from the beginning. She rubbed against his leg.

  “Fuck me,” she said.

  “Not until it’s over.”

  Damn, he was stubborn. She had no choice but to wait. He drank quickly and efficiently, pinning her to the bed.

  After he was done, he rolled away from her, but not so far that he couldn’t continue to hold her hand.

  They both lay, side by side, gazing at the ceiling.

  He seemed to know when she was no longer stoned, because as the sensation faded, he turned toward her.

  “You’re beautiful, Tessa.”

  “So are you, Anthony.” His eyes were back to normal and filled with tenderness.

  “Men aren’t beautiful.”

  “Some men are.”

  “People didn’t say that in my day.”

  “People say it now.”

  They reached for each other, and she pulled him close. She had no idea what she was going to do about loving him, except suffer through it in silence.

  He entered her, and she arched her hips. He moved, hard and sleek, creating a sinuous rhythm.

  Their gazes locked. So did their hands. They rolled over the bed, their fingers intertwined. Tessa held on, as tightly as she could, trying to stop time from running out.

  A week later, on their final full day together, they explored Hollywood like a couple of anxious tourists. Tomorrow morning, it was all coming to an end.

  Tessa glanced over at the man she loved. He was behind the wheel of a rented convertible, and she rode shotgun, with a scarf tied around her hair, ala Audrey Hepburn.

  As they cruised through the city, she recapped their day so far. They’d already strolled down the Walk of Fame, reading the names of the TV and movie personalities on the sidewalks. They’d done every goofy thing vacationers did, right down to comparing their handprints and footprints to the impressions at Grauman’s Chinese Theatre. Of course Anthony had actually known some of the people who were featured there. Tessa would be forever fascinated by his Old Hollywood roots.

  She would be forever fascinated by him, too. Should she go ahead and tell him that she loved him? Maybe tomorrow, before the ax fell, she would summon the strength to profess her feelings. Not that it would change anything. But to walk away without saying anything was starting to seem worse. She ached so badly, she could cry.

  “So, what’s next?” she asked, trying to sound cheery about the rest of their sightseeing schedule.

  “I want to show you some of the houses I designed.”

  “That’s a brilliant plan.” She leaned back in her seat, the tails of her scarf trailing in the wind behind her.

  He headed for the Hollywood Hills, and she asked, “What happened to your house?” She added with trepidation, “Was it burned completely to the ground or was it salvageable?”

  “It was destroyed.”

  The bodies that been torched inside of it still gave her an uncomfortable chill. The vampire who’d lit the match crowded her thoughts, too. She hated picturing Anthony returning to Simone’s bed. It actually made her stomach retch. It didn’t matter that Simone wasn’t who Anthony would have chosen for himself. She was still his vampire maker, his lover, the woman he’d been sleeping with since his supernatural inception.

  After tonight, Tessa would be losing Anthony. He would be nothing more than a desperate memory forged in the achy recesses of her heart.

  He turned onto a narrow street and parked in front of a driveway. “That’s one of mine.”

  She gazed at the little vine-covered house. Instantly, she imagined living there, holed up inside, like the recluse she was sure to become once again. It looked like an enchanted cottage. A bit haunted, as it were. “It’s captivating.”

  He shrugged. “It was a common design back then. In those days, this neighborhood was Hollywoodland, not Hollywood. It wasn’t as costly as the other side of the hills. But I designed mansions on the other side, too.”

  Continuing the tour, he took her to the mansions. Some of the sprawling estates he’d designed had been modernized, but others remained true to the original architecture, with renovations that preserved their history and vintage style.

  “Your work was exceptional,” she said. “I’m thoroughly impressed.”

  “Thank you.” He drove away from the hills. “I’m just glad I was able to leave my mark on the world.”

  “You’ve left your mark on me.”

  He smiled, looking as dapper as ever, his hair catching the breeze and his button-down shirt rustling against his chest. “My bite marks.”

  It was more than that, she thought, as her heart continued to fall. So much more.

  Chapter Nine

  In the morning, Anthony watched Tessa pack her bags. He noticed how carefully she folded the ball gown, treating it with reverence, almost as if it were a wedding dress. He needed to tell her that the gown would disappear after she returned the necklace. That anything connected to his magic would be gone. But he couldn’t find the heart to say it.

  But then she glanced over and caught on, without him having to mention it. His expression had probably given away his concern. Because she said, “I’m packing this for no reason, aren’t I?”

  He nodded.

  Regardless, she didn’t remove the gown from her suitcase. She kept everything as it was, gently packed. Even the petal-damaged corsage had found a spot in her luggage.

  “Would you like me to order breakfast for you?” he asked. It was early and she was still wearing a robe. He was, too, courtesy of the hotel. “Or I can whip up something.”

  “I didn’t know you cooked.”

  “I was going to fix you something magically. But I can cook for you, if that’s what you’d prefer. It won’t be anything fancy, though. I’m not a chef.”

  “I don’t care. I’d love a home-cooked meal by you.”

  “How about scrambled eggs? I used to make them myself when I was human, with toast and jam. I can fry a slab of ham, too.”

  “A slab?”

  “Some slices.”

  “It sounds perfect.”

  While she finished packing, he proceeded to the kitchen. He was tempted to cheat and use his magic, but that wouldn’t be fair to Tessa. So he went through the mortal task of cooking.

  He whipped the eggs in a bowl, added a touch of milk, and seasoned them with salt and pepper. They came out rather fluffy, and he was proud of the end result. The toast and ham came out nice, too. The kitchen was a mess, but he would leave that for housekeeping.

  He set the table and used a bud vase for the centerpiece, plucking a daisy from t
he garden to fill it.

  He returned to Tessa and saw her sitting on the edge of the bed, looking lost and alone.

  His chest turned tight. He held out his hand, beckoning her. “Come eat.”

  She perked up and followed him to the table. He sat across from her and watched her consume her meal.

  “I forgot the juice.” He jumped up and took the carton out of the refrigerator and poured a tall glass for her.

  “Thank you.” She smiled up at him.

  He adored her smile. “Do you want to make love before we leave? Do you want to be together one last time?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  “You could have asked me.”

  “I wanted it to be your idea.”

  “Hurry up and eat.”

  She laughed. “I’ll get indigestion.”

  “Okay, take your time.”

  She hurried anyway, and apparently she felt just fine afterward. She even told him it was the best breakfast she’d ever had, simply because he’d prepared it.

  He swept her to bed and peeled off her robe. He ditched his, too. He kissed her all over, worshiping every part of her.

  As soon as he was inside her, she clung to him, holding him possessively close. She looked into his eyes, and he noticed how desperate she was to remain close. She wrapped her legs around him. He moved his hips, thrusting warm and deep.

  Then she said, “I need to tell you something.”

  “What is it?”

  Her voice broke. “That I’m in love with you.”

  Dear God. The room seemed to shift, like a house of cards, falling one by one, and crashing in on him. Clubs, spades, diamonds, hearts...

  ...lots of hearts.

  “Say something, Anthony.”

  He fought the very idea. The lurching pain. The utter impossibility. “You can’t love me. There’s no logic in it.”

  “I can and I do.”

  “I can’t stay with you, Tessa. This is the end for us.” An ending that had begun to make his head spin. He was still moving inside her, making incredible love.

  “I’m not expecting this to make a difference in the outcome. I just wanted you to know how I feel.”

  “I shouldn’t have let it happen.”