She stepped aside, motioning for the man to enter her bedroom, realizing at the same time what a lunatic she must seem. He was a stranger she met off the street. And if he was who… or what… she thought he was, then realistically she should be running far away from him, not inviting him into her bedroom.
Yet, she couldn’t run.
She had to know the truth.
Her skin tingled with anticipation and the possibilities the truth might bring her.
He gasped at the sight of the paintings covering the walls of her small bedroom. Some were framed. Some were just pinned to the wall. Each one posed an erotic scene involving two or more individuals. In some, the lovers were inside a bedchamber, panting, writhing, thrusting, covered in a sheen of sweat on a hugely ornate four poster bed with deep burgundy bed curtains. In other scenes, the lovers lay together in an open field, their naked limbs entangled and twisted as they made love under a blanket of stars.
One thing tied each painting together. The same two figures; Miranda and an image of this man.
These paintings she’d chosen to keep as her own. They were too erotic, too intimate to sell. They meant more to her than money.
His image was much more discernable on these canvases. Josie had several scenes of his unobstructed face as he gazed adoringly at the woman beneath him.
Comparing them now… there was no mistake.
The man standing in her room was the same man in her dreams. The same man portrayed in her paintings.
He stood frozen as he gazed upon them. She didn’t even think he breathed. She couldn’t tell what he was feeling for his face had become a mask set in stone.
Yet, his eyes…
Dark, fathomless eyes that almost appeared black. Josie knew from the time spent painting those eyes that they were indeed the color of slate. A deep, dark blue gray that held passion and pain. Hope and regret.
“Your name is Antonio, isn’t it?” Her timid voice sounded squeaky to her own ears. She coughed gently to clear her throat. “I know who… what you are.”
Those unfathomable eyes narrowed as his gaze roamed across the paintings to settle on her face. Her heart skipped a beat, then thumped wildly in her chest as she forced herself to meet his intense stare. The same gaze in her dreams. Those same eyes she had witnessed darken with passion and heat and hunger.
“Oh?” He tilted his head, his lips twisting in a thin smile. “And what am I?”
It took Josie three steps to reach the bed. In a flash of imagination, she pictured herself on the bed with him, limbs tangled as they made love.
She shook her head to clear it, then knelt to slide out the paintings she kept hidden beneath. Once uncovered, she set them on the mattress for his view.
These were the visions that kept her awake most nights.
The man took hesitant steps until he reached her side, his neck bent as he inspected the scenes.
They were all of him.
Fangs descended. Blood dripping from mouth and chin. Eyes narrowed in a beastly, animal-like way as he devoured his prey.
The prey being a naked and youthful woman.
Three separate scenes of his hunting activities. Passion and blood hunger. Three different victims. He left none alive; Josie knew from her dreams.
And there were more. More images flashed in her mind. More lovers. Victims. Corpses.
She hadn’t painted them all. Some were too grotesque, too mutilated. He had ravaged them, draining them of every drop of blood.
“You’re a vampire.” Josie spoke the words softly, but they reverberated in the sudden quiet of the room.
At first, Josie didn’t think he dared speak. He stared at the paintings for an intolerably long time. Then, at last, he backed away, confusion and horror flickering across his face.
“I’ve seen what’s happened to you,” Josie whispered after taking several deep, fortifying breaths to gather her courage. “I’ve seen what Miranda did to you. I know you what you are, Antonio.”
“Impossible.”
She shook her head, her gaze never leaving his face. “It’s the truth.”
“You’re mad.”
“You’re a vampire. I’ve seen it.”
In a blur of movement, the man grabbed Josie tight by the arms and pushed her against the wall by her bed. One of the paintings shook from the vibration of her back slamming into the wall.
The tip of his nose nearly touched hers as he used his body to pin her. His hands on her shoulders kept her unmoving, although she didn’t try to escape. Why would she wish to? The mysterious man from her dreams had walked into her life. She wanted to find out all she could about him. Find out if what she already knew about him was true. Was he as compassionate as her dreams portrayed? Yes, he was a vampire, but he was no beast, aside from those early days of learning to control his hunger. He’d spent decades mastering it. He did not let the hunger consume him as it once did. As a vampire, he’d chosen his victims carefully, not only to protect the reality of what he was, but also to help those who could no longer be helped.
“Who are you?” He whispered hoarse words that barely registered in her sensory overloaded brain. She couldn’t quite focus with the sensations of his hard body pressed so tightly against her.
He leaned back a fraction, staring at her fully, as if expecting to see some answer on her face to another unspoken question.
Josie focused on Antonio’s lips, those kissable lips that she’d seen devouring Miranda and others, both men and women in the past. Those lips had caressed hardened nipples of voluptuous breasts, as well as wrapping around men’s cocks to suckle the seed out of them and then their life.
Josie wanted to taste his lips. To feel them pressed against her skin. To devour her. Consume her.
But he killed them. Those lovers of his past. He’d lain with them, bringing them all to ecstasy before draining their bodies completely, leaving their empty shells behind.
He never turned them. Not like Miranda had done.
“Who are you?”
That was the question, wasn’t it? She closed her eyes, uncertain how to answer. Until this evening, she hadn’t truly known who she was.
“I’m yours,” she murmured, raising her eyelashes to unveil the hunger that had grown within her. She moved her hands to her chest. He didn’t try to stop her. Slowly, she undid the buttons of her magenta form-fitting blouse revealing the curve of her breasts cradled within a white lacey bra.
His heated gaze set fire to her skin, igniting her further as he took in the sight of her breasts.
“How do you know about me?” Antonio’s voice was deep, husky.
Josie shrugged. “I have these… headaches. Horrible migraines. That’s when I see visions. About you. About Miranda. I know things. I’ve seen them. I’ve seen you.” She swept her hand toward the walls of the room as evidence to prove the validity of her words.
“How can this be? Magic? Are you a witch?” He was still fighting it, both the truth and his nature. He resisted. Always resisting what should come naturally to him.
“I’m not a witch,” Josie said with a small smile. “What I do know is that you’re hungry.” She tilted her head slightly to the left, exposing the curve of her neck to his view. “And I’ve been waiting a long time for you. I didn’t realize it until I recognized you in Jackson Square. I had no idea you were real. I thought you were just my imagination. An infatuation. But you’re real…” Her voice broke over her words, her emotions swelling deep within her as she gazed at him. Her vision come to life. “I can’t believe you’re real… It’s really you.”
She licked her lips, snatching his gaze with the movement of her tongue. To encourage him further, she slid her hands along the muscular forearms still restraining her body against the wall. Slowly, she let her hands slide over his arms then drop to his hips. Without thinking twice, she slid one hand to caress his cock. To her delight, she found it hard and thick. She stroked him through the denim of his jeans.
He groaned
.
“You don’t understand what you’re asking of me.”
“Of course, I do. I’ve seen what happens. I know what you can do.” She lifted her free hand to stroke his clean-shaven cheek before offering her wrist to his mouth.
Again, he groaned. “You play a dangerous game, Josephine.”
“I want what you have,” Josie said, steadying her gaze with his. She’d been dreaming of this possibility for so long. Even before the migraines forced her to seek medical help. “Make me yours.”
Chapter 4
It had been centuries since he had a companion such as Miranda to lend him company during the long days and lonely nights. He’d been on his own since her death, vowing to never turn as many victims as Miranda was wont to do. He’d tried a few times, but it had gone wrong. The turning wasn’t successful. For him, they died ravaged and bloody. How could he put another creature, human or vampire, through such a process?
Miranda had guided them. She knew the way of turning humans into vampires, ancient spells that eased the transition. Those secrets had gone with her to the grave.
Josie kissed him, tender, inquisitive lips seeking admission… approval. She leaned her body against him, pressing her hand harder along the length of his cock. He couldn’t deny wanting her. He deepened the kiss as he slid his hands down her body, his fingers pushing aside her blouse so he could touch the silk of her skin.
When his hands encountered the lace of her bra, he slipped one finger beneath the fabric to taunt a hardened nipple. She gasped against his mouth.
Wanting… needing to hear her sounds of pleasure, Antonio released her breasts from the bindings of her bra and replaced his hands with his mouth. He flicked his tongue over her nipple, and she arched her back against the wall, whimpering.
Enjoying the sound immensely, he pleasured her breasts with his tongue and teeth until she trembled with need.
His hands trembled, too. With hunger.
“Antonio…” She whispered his name, then tilted her head to the side. “Make me yours.”
The sight of her vein pulsing with blood just beneath the skin nearly sent him over the edge. Her scent marked him, an overpowering aroma of lilac, soap and desire.
He was so hungry.
She must have seen his hesitation, because her hands cradled his head, one thumb stroking his cheek. “It’s okay. Take my blood. I’m giving it to you.”
He needed no further encouragement. His fangs descended and he sank them gently into her neck. She stiffened slightly, gasping at the sharp piercing pain, but he worked his tongue over the wound, and she relaxed. The sweet nectar of her blood pooled into his mouth.
Antonio’s eyes closed. He wrapped his fingers into the short strands of her hair, tightening into a fist to hold her head still as he drank. Vaguely, he was aware of her body writhing against his, her hands touching him, stroking him. Her fingers squeezed his cock as he sipped from her neck.
The blood filled his throat, revitalizing him, bringing him strength and awareness as if he’d been asleep for weeks only to awaken now. His senses grew sharper. He could hear laughter on the street as if the couple who walked below Josie’s apartment window stood in the room with them. The pungent aroma of lilacs intensified as he breathed the clean scent of soap and shampoo. His skin pulsed, the hairs on his arm rose and he shivered.
He didn’t know how she undressed so quickly, but she shifted her position lifting naked legs to wrap around his hips. She pressed his cock against her entrance. He slid slowly into the slick heat of her body and groaned against her neck.
“You’re so tight,” he murmured against her skin as he moved his hips. “You taste so sweet.”
“Make me like you,” Josie whimpered, clutching her hands on his shoulders, her fingernails biting into his skin.
“I can’t,” he admitted. “I don’t know how.”
“Of course, you do.” Her breath caressed the skin of his cheek, whispering into his ear. “Give me your blood. Let me taste your soul.”
“I have no soul.”
“Blood is not only food to a vampire; it’s part of your soul. You’ve tasted mine. Now, let me taste yours. Feed me as I’ve fed you. Let us become one.” Josie’s passage tightened around his cock, squeezing him. His eyelids fluttered closed again.
“You’ll die,” Antonio moaned. He couldn’t lie to her. He had to tell her the truth. “I’ve never been able to turn anyone. They all die in the end.”
“You can do this. Sex and blood. It’s the way of the vampire.”
His eyes flickered open. Sex and blood. He’d heard that expression before. Miranda had spoken those words to him long ago.
Josie’s rosy cheeks had grown pale from loss of blood, but her eyes remained a vibrant blue.
“How do you know?”
“Because,” she said on a breathless sigh. “I am Miranda.”
Antonio’s body froze, his cock buried deep within her. She wriggled, urging him to continue, but he remained still.
“What?”
Josie blinked. “I know how to turn humans into vampires. I know because I am… I was Miranda de Neville.”
After surviving for hundreds of years, shock did not come easily to a century’s old vampire. It had been many decades since someone had said something to bewilder him. This was perhaps the most perplexed he’d been a long, long while.
“How?”
Josie shrugged. “I don’t know. Really, I don’t. But when I began having those dreams I… I knew. I am Miranda de Neville. Reborn. I just didn’t know how real those visions were until I saw you. When I spotted you in the square, I knew... It was real. All of it. Those dreams were memories. Everything I saw really happened.”
Antonio understood. It made sense. How else could this woman know to paint those scenes? Not only images of his life, but specifically his life with Miranda. His life had continued, but Josie hadn’t painted anything after Miranda’s death. None of the sights he’d seen in the centuries he spent alone wandering the world.
“Miranda?” Antonio’s chest ached and his vision blurred. “Is it really you?”
“I remember you,” Josie said, smiling. “I remember us. Together.”
Antonio rocked his hips again, thrusting into her with mad, desperate strokes. He kissed her, pouring all his want, need and love into that kiss.
Miranda. Beautiful and deadly Miranda. She had been his heart and soul. She had been a monster, too. How could she be back? Reborn into this sweetly, innocent young woman?
A thought occurred to him then, sickening and chilling.
“Do you remember… everything?” Antonio gasped, pulling away from their kiss to gaze on her face with wide, wary eyes.
Josie’s fingers wrapped into his hair, bringing his forehead against her own.
“Yes.” She said with a slight nod. “I remember the night you killed me.”
Tears escaped the corner of his eyes. How many centuries had he regretted that night? How many years had he longed for her presence? He’d loved Miranda. And despised her just the same. Her passion, her madness.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, emotion nearly blocking the sound of his voice. “But you had to be stopped.”
“I know. You were right. Miranda went too far. She killed too many people. Turned too many into vampires. She exposed the rest of you. You were hunted. Those villagers that night would’ve killed you, too, my love.”
Antonio blinked away the tears, then swallowed hard. “It’s really you…”
Josie shook her head. “It is… but it isn’t. I have Miranda’s memories… I remember life being her… but, I don’t have her hatred… her hunger for revenge against people who wronged her. Miranda de Neville’s life was brutal. She lived during a time when it was a struggle to survive and women… Well, women were not treated well. My life as Josephine Drummond has been a good one. I’m happy. I’m at peace with myself.”
Antonio licked his lips, still tasting her blood on his mouth. “I’ve mi
ssed you. But I couldn’t let you continue.”
“I understand, Antonio.” She caressed his cheek, letting her finger trace his high cheekbones. “It will be different this time. I promise. Make me yours, Antonio. I want us to be together again. I love you.”
“Josephine…” Antonio spoke her name slowly, savoring the sound, wondering if he should call her Miranda instead. “To become a vampire… you must die as a human. You are too full of life and sunlight. As much as I desire the companionship, I cannot take what you eagerly offer. I will not make you a vampire.”
“Please,” Josie whispered. “I want to live. If becoming a vampire is the only way to do it, then make me one. I want to be with you.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying—”
“Yes, I do.” Her hands caressed his cheek again, the softness of her fingertips running along his jawline. “I’m dying, Antonio.”
“What?” His body stilled with horror. The thought of this vibrant light being extinguished forever brought physical pain to his chest. He couldn’t allow that to happen.
“I’m dying,” she repeated. “These headaches I have, these migraines… It’s a brain tumor. Inoperable. I’ve gone to so many doctors and specialists. They’ve done tests and tests. There’s nothing they can do.”
He blinked, absorbing this new information, calculating the many possibilities of what could be done to help her. Could he help her? Was it possible?
“How long?”
“The doctors said three to five years. That was nearly four years ago.”
He took a long moment, breathing evenly as he thought of what might be done. In the end, he knew there was only one way to save her.
“Blood and sex,” Antonio whispered. “You are sure this will work?”
Holidays Bite: A Limited Edition Collection of Holiday Vampire Tales Page 56