The Bite of Winter

by Lauren Smith

  A cool breeze drifted over her skin and with it she returned to some semblance of reality. She was lying naked on a couch in a house with two men she barely knew, and she’d had sex…well…sort of…with one of them. And she couldn’t forget the most ridiculous part of it. They were vampires. That part never seemed to get less strange, and yet she questioned so little about it.

  “You should go back to Ian’s room, lass,” Connor said. His voice forced her to look at him again. He was standing there, arms crossed, still completely naked, watching her.

  Zoey rubbed her eyelids. Maybe this was all some strange dream. Maybe she was still dying in that alley and this was all some hallucination as her body shut down. The thought made her shiver and not in a good way. But this couldn’t be a dream because everything felt too real.

  Maybe I should just accept this for what it is. Any woman would kill to be in her place right now with two gorgeous men…er…vampires, interested in her.

  It was the second time she’d given in to Connor’s seduction. Shame should have weighed her down, but instead there was only a melancholy fatigue. She forced herself to get up and retrieve the torn white shirt from the kitchen floor. She slipped her arms into the oversized sleeves and tugged it back over her body, thankful for even the minimal cover it provided. The buttons were gone, but the shirt was large enough to wrap around her like a robe. Connor stayed still, studying her with his honey-brown eyes, no longer black and the pupils not wreathed with fire anymore. Human eyes. Not the eyes of a predator.

  Under the weight of Connor’s stare, she dared not raise her own eyes. She fled down the hall back to the sanctuary of Ian’s room. She slid back into his arms, glancing at the glowing red numbers of the clock on the nightstand. It was already after four in the afternoon. She’d slept most of the day away, which didn’t really matter, given that she was now apparently on a vampire time schedule.

  In a few more hours Ian would probably be awake. Why had Connor been up? Was he less affected by the sun than Ian? She’d have to ask one of them later. She was curious enough to risk that. She pulled the thick down comforter higher up on her and the movement woke Ian. He shifted, tightened his hold around her waist, brushed his lips over her cheek in a sweet sleepy kiss and then dozed off again.

  Guilt filled her with an extra helping of self-loathing. Twice now she’d been pleasured by one man and run straight into the arms of another… God, was she that easy? There wasn’t another way to see it. She despised herself, lusting after two men. One who clearly intended to use her, and one who clearly wanted a relationship. She kept giving herself over to the wrong man. It should have been Ian, the man who’d professed to care about her, that she should have been with. Shouldn’t it?

  What had happened to make her this way? Was it losing her parents, or was it when her life had crumbled around her and she’d realized she would do anything for food and a warm place to sleep? She’d never sold herself. She’d escaped that fate…so far. Was staying with Ian and Connor the same thing? Did it matter that she hungered for them and the passion their touch inspired in her?

  Ian shifted next to her, nuzzled her neck and grazed his teeth along the sensitive skin leading up to her ear. She sighed and stirred restlessly as tingles of fresh arousal burst inside her like a flash-bang. Her body should have been too tired to respond with any interest, but here she was, hungering for Ian.

  “You okay?” Ian murmured.

  She rolled over to face him, curling into him as he pulled the blankets up to her chin.

  “I got thirsty.” The half lie fell bitter on her lips.

  Ian’s nose touched hers, rubbing in an Eskimo kiss that had her blush. She melted when he put his lips to hers. The kiss was fire and honey combined. The need for more was there, but he controlled it, even though he settled a hand on the flare of her hips, pushing the white shirt up past her stomach. The sensation of him being naked there, his hand so close to the apex of her thighs had her quivering all over again. He dug his fingers into her with the barest hint of a bite and she arched into him, capturing his lips as her own need made her lose her grip on her control.

  When she broke the kiss, he gave a smile that made his eyes crinkle. “I was thinking, when we get up later, we could go Christmas tree shopping. Connor and I don’t have one but since you’re here it would be nice to do things properly. You’ll stay here with us for Christmas, won’t you? I know you want to get back on your feet, but jobs will be scarce until after the holidays.”

  Zoey’s fingertips traced the strong line of his jaw as she considered his offer. She wanted to stay, but should she?

  “Do vampires celebrate Christmas?”

  “Connor and I do. We’re Catholics and haven’t been struck by lightning entering a church yet, so I’ve got to believe we’re not creatures of evil. Connor threw a vial of holy water at me once, claimed it was for test purposes, but I knew he was in a foul mood that day. Nothing happened of course. Just got wet.” He chuckled.

  Zoey pondered that. She hadn’t even considered that Ian or Connor might be evil. She knew they were vampires, but neither of them had made her skin crawl like the man who’d attacked her in the alley, who had been all too human. Perhaps vampirism wasn’t religious but scientific, like their bodies evolved, or were affected by a virus in the blood of another vampire, rather than anything supernatural. Theories about vampires in popular culture seemed to welcome every possible explanation these days. She wished she knew what the truth was, but it seemed even Ian and Connor didn’t know what they really were.

  Turning back to their conversation, and Christmas, she grinned hopefully up at him.

  “You’d really buy a tree just for me?”

  His lips curved in a boyish smile. “Absolutely. Wouldn’t be Christmas without one.”

  “Okay. I’ll stay.”

  “Good. I would hate to have to vampire voodoo you into staying,” he teased.

  She punched his chest. “No more of that, thank you very much.”

  “Very well,” he sighed. “Go back to sleep, I’ll wake you in a few hours when it’s evening.”

  Content enough to agree, she tucked her head under his chin and snuggled closer. His skin was cold, but it warmed where she touched him and falling asleep was all too easy.

  She prayed the nightmare wouldn’t return.

  Chapter Seven

  Connor leaned against the kitchen counter, palms spread on the granite. He was still naked and aroused as hell. The residual guilt he normally felt when finding any level of satisfaction since Lara’s death hadn’t surfaced. Another sort of guilt did. He’d just taken Zoey—or rather, almost taken her—seduced her with her own desire as he’d done to countless others. She’d enjoyed it, of course, but that didn’t mean what he’d done had been right, regardless of why he’d done it.

  It was the dream. He’d been unable to stand looking into her eyes and seeing the remnants of the nightmare that had woken her up. He’d been there with her through every silent scream, every panicked second of the night that had changed her life.

  He hadn’t meant to get inside her head. Ian had the power to influence and manipulate mortals, but Connor’s immortal gift was different. One minute Connor had been lost in the darkness of his own dreams, and the next he was caught up in Zoey’s mind. Invisible, yet experiencing her fear as she lost control of the car and went over the cliff’s edge. He’d felt the impact that had killed her parents, yet she’d somehow survived. He wasn’t sure how she’d escaped the car; she’d jerked awake before he could see the rest. He’d woken as well, body shaking as though he’d been hit with a shot of adrenaline.

  It had taken every ounce of his self-control not to march into Ian’s room and steal the scared little woman away and offer her the comfort she needed. But he’d waited, listening to the padding of her bare feet on the kitchen floor and the creak of the faucet as she got a glass of water.
But soon he couldn’t resist any longer.

  When he ventured into the hall and saw her in the shirt and nothing else, rational thought fled and his libido had taken over. He had to touch her, taste her, tease her, please her. Anything to erase the wounded shadows in her eyes.

  He hadn’t intended to sate himself as well, but she’d been so deliciously wild in her release that he’d come all over her delectably round backside. It had shamed him as much as it had embarrassed her. He’d cleaned her as best he could, but she’d still turned tail and ran from him. Straight back to Ian.

  He cursed and pounded a fist against the granite counter. The stone cracked. There was no going back to sleep, not while he was on edge like this. He was able to shrug off the daylight easier than Ian and had little trouble staying awake when he had to. In an hour the sun would be low in the sky. He needed to get out, breathe the fresh air, restore his sanity.

  Connor went back to his room, pulled his clothes on and stepped back into the hall. There were soft murmurs in Ian’s room again. Talk of Christmas trees…

  Conner snarled silently. Well, there was only one way he could think of to compete with Ian and his damned romantic side. He could offer Zoey things she needed, practical things, not just trees and nostalgia. A woman needed clothes to stay warm in this weather. And if it so happened that he was able to help her in and out of those clothes…well, he’d show her just what else he could offer once she was flat on her back beneath him.

  Connor returned to the kitchen, found his wallet and keys and left the house. His Land Rover was parked in the driveway, a light bit of snow dusting the windows and car roof. The evening sun drooped over the treetops to the west. Lethargy struggled to take hold of him, but he’d always been strong. With enough rest, he could resist its call. It was a pity that a strong cup of coffee wouldn’t help, though. His vampiric metabolism didn’t allow caffeine or alcohol to affect his body.

  Christmas lights adorned the rooftops and lined the sidewalks. Only their house lacked any such merry twinkle. He’d never bothered with lights before, but now he wished he’d had. Perhaps he should.

  Connor shook his head and headed for his car. He brushed the snow off the windows and got inside. There was a mall nearby and he could get what he needed there.

  The sun’s fading UV rays didn’t penetrate his Land Rover’s tinted windows, and the rush of energy that came from the darkness of his car was a relief. Connor had learned to love the heavy cloak of darkness and the power that came with it. Zoey was like the night, a clear midnight with a bright moon. She enveloped him, energized him, made his every dark desire writhe in the shadows of his heart. She made him long for tangled sheets and sweat-soaked limbs twining in the erotic movements of wild sex.

  The images had his body rioting with arousal once again. No. Zoey needed sweetness and soft wooing, the sort of things Ian would give her.

  Connor navigated the streets, driving carefully, never more aware of the danger of ice-slickened roads. He couldn’t erase Zoey’s memory of her car shooting off the edge and crashing in the snow.

  Holiday shoppers packed the sidewalks when Connor reached the mall. Parking was hell, but Connor waited until a spot opened. Patience was just one of the few perks of being immortal. A mother passed by his car as he pulled into a spot, towing her three children in a line. They toddled after her in marshmallow-shaped winter coats sporting a rainbow of bright colors. The last little boy, who looked to be about four years old, stopped and stared at Connor from beneath a ski cap and scarf up to his nose. Connor shut his car door, locked it and slid the keys into his pocket, watching the boy with the same interest.

  The boy tilted his head back to stare up at Connor.

  “Are you a giant?” the boy asked in the way children always did when they noticed something obvious that no adult would ever consider saying out loud.

  “I am, and you’re quite the wee lad, aren’t you?” he replied. He’d had plenty of siblings when he’d been alive and knew to answer a child with an answer akin to what they’d asked. It made them feel more grown up, which was quite important to children.

  “Yup!” The boy agreed. “Merry Christmas, Mister!” His muffled exclamation had Connor’s lips tug up in a reluctant smile.

  “And to you,” he echoed. He didn’t like to think about his own family, the one he’d had to kill when the need for blood had taken over and he’d been locked inside the house with them. They’d been starving, on the verge of death, but it hadn’t mattered. Both he and Ian had murdered their own kin because they hadn’t known how to control their bloodlust. But that was the past, a very distant one. He focused on the happy memories, the ones that made him smile—it was that or feel his heart bleed again and again for the rest of his eternal life.

  He turned to face the monstrous mall and squared his shoulders. If mothers with children could survive the frenzy, he could as well. Surely it couldn’t be as bad as the wars he’d fought in over the last two centuries.

  The throngs of people would surely have suffocated him, if he’d needed to breathe. Thankfully he did not. His body still drew breath, out of habit more than anything, but it was unnecessary. Long ago he’d been dumped in Dublin Bay with iron boots on because of a bad debt—it had taken him two days to walk back to shore to find a blacksmith to remove them.

  The first stop he made was a department store. A nice-looking woman in her mid-thirties, wearing a nametag that read “Candace” smiled knowingly as he took in the endless clothes racks.

  “Overwhelming, isn’t it?” Her eyes were warm and her smile genuine.

  “A bit.” His voice dropped low as he made sure no one else could hear him admit it.

  “Who are you shopping for? I can help,” Candace offered, a bright smile warning him that he ought to control his effect on her before she gave him her phone number. Connor was ready to refuse but then realized he did need help. He willed himself to be less desirable. It was strange to think that a physical affect like the glamour could be controlled through his will alone, but that was how it worked.

  “It’s my woman. She needs clothes…underthings…shoes…everything.”

  “New relationship?” A twinkle of amusement danced in Candace’s eyes.

  “Very new.”

  “Well, tell me about her. What does she usually wear? Do you know her size?” Candace led him over to an area with casual clothes.

  “She’s small…but with curves that could kill a man,” he replied without thinking and held out his hands to show Zoey’s hip size. Candace’s cheeks reddened but she studied his hands and nodded.

  “Size eight, perhaps? How short?”

  Connor tapped his hand to his chest. “Comes up to here exactly.” He’d never forget that, not when she’d tilted her face up to look at him. The wariness and arousal warring with her past pain all there for him to see in such lovely eyes.

  “Five-foot-four then?” Candace started pulling out pairs of jeans, checking sizes. She handed him a light and dark pair of jeans, then waved for him to follow her to a sweater rack. “You really should get her proper measurements, but I assume this is meant to be a surprise?”

  “Yes.”

  Over the next hour, Candace helped him gather several pants, tops, a couple of coats, sneakers, boots and even a few strappy heels and a couple of fancy black dresses. Everything a young woman would need. She’d just informed him of their return policy in case the measurements were off when he remembered Zoey needed undergarments.

  “What about…underclothes?” he asked Candace.

  “Oh! I forgot.” She ushered him to the lingerie section.

  Connor’s eyes nearly bugged out when he’d stared at the lacy thongs and sheer lingerie hanging on the mannequins. There were also flannel and silk pajamas as well as robes and slippers. His eyes kept drifting back to the see-through items.

  Since when did women wear such�
�� Christ, the last time he’d been with a woman such lacy, strappy things hadn’t been nearly as enticing as these newer more revealing creations.

  “Men usually buy the more revealing items, but…if I may give you some advice?”

  Candace paused and Connor nodded.

  “Keep your girlfriend warm. Buy something thick and soft for her.”

  Connor admitted the woman had a point. Zoey would look delicious in lingerie, but she’d freeze when she slept.

  “Better go with the flannel,” he said.

  Candace smiled and started gathering a robe, slippers and flannel PJs before turning back to Connor.

  “And the…sexy stuff?” She tried to hide a smile. Connor grinned back at her and pointed to the little red see-through garment that had a fringe of white fur on the edges of its short skirt.

  “I want that.”

  “Lovely choice. The Christmas babydoll is always popular this time of year.”

  Connor could see why. The top part was practically transparent and would cup Zoey’s breasts nicely, while the small red bikini bottom would reveal more of her glorious backside—a backside that he still ached to cup and mold and, Lord help him, smack it. Hard. She’d made such a sweet little moan when he’d done that last night.

  His cock swelled at the thought, pressing against the front of his black wool pants. The damned thing seemed to have a mind of its own, thanks to Zoey.

  He let Candace take him back to the checkout station and handed over his credit card. It had been ages since he’d had such a good time. Shopping for his woman had been entertaining. And she would be his woman. He stilled. His woman, but Ian’s too. There was no way he could separate his friend from Zoey. They would share, like before with Lara. An old ache, one he so often tried to deny, burned a hole in his chest when he thought of Lara.

  “Thank you, Candace. You’ve been very helpful.” He took the three large bags and winked at the shopping store clerk.