by Scarlet Blackwell, J. L. Merrow, Josephine Myles, Erik Orrania, Nix Winter, Stevie Woods
Just One Bite
Volume 1
eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement of the copyright of this work.
JUST ONE BITE
Volume 1
Copyright © 2010 Respective Author
Cover art by Amanda Kelsey
All Romance eBooks, LLC
Palm Harbor, Florida 34684
www.allromanceebooks.com
This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events, or locales is coincidental.
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever with out written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First All Romance eBooks publication: November 2010
Table of Contents
1 The Unlikely Vamp by Scarlet Blackwell
11 Sacrifice by J.L. Merrow
21 One Last Wish by Josephine Myles
31 Mayan Time by Erik Orrantia
40 Fire Can Make Rain by Nix Winter
49 The Hunter & the Hunted by Stevie Woods
The Unlikely Vampire
by Scarlet Blackwell
“Dinner is served, sir,” Maxwell said.
Zachariah Sayle was like Pavlov’s dog. At the mere mention of food, his fangs snapped out involuntarily and he salivated profusely. He ran his tongue over the sharp points and turned towards his manservant, his gaze straying eagerly across the room, in search of his victim for the evening.
“Here he is.” Maxwell seemed particularly pleased by this evening’s coup.
Zachariah stared at the six feet something of muscular masculinity posed carefully against the wall, grinning lazily. He grabbed Maxwell by the arm and pulled him aside.
“What are you doing? I don’t…do men.”
“Why not, blood is blood isn’t it?”
“Yes but…” The vampire blushed, casting a glance at the stranger. “When I drink, often times I become aroused and like to…”
A loud voice interrupted him. “Humans aren’t as deaf as you two boys might imagine. Now what’s going on here?”
Zachariah’s victim had a drawling Californian accent and the tan to go with it, dark-haired with piercingly blue eyes. He wouldn’t have looked out of place on a catwalk and he knew it.
“There’s been a mistake,” Zachariah said quickly, nervously.
The stranger stepped away from the wall. “Now, if there’s one thing I don’t like, it’s being jerked around. I’m a busy man. I’ve been handsomely paid for tonight and while it’s not my bag…” He shrugged. “Whatever floats your boat, dude.”
He peeled off his jacket and threw it over the back of a nearby couch, revealing a black T-shirt which emphasized every muscle of his impressive torso and black jeans which neatly showcased his finer attributes.
“Let’s go, vamp.”
Zachariah swallowed. He cast an anxious glance at Maxwell. Zachariah was an old-fashioned English gentleman who had been more at home in Victorian times where it was titillation just to see a lady’s ankles. These days it was all drugs, pornography and iPhones and modern life bewildered him. He was too shy to court his own blood. Too polite to kill. He paid for it instead and if he got extra off the lady during it that was fine by him. It was perhaps disturbing that there was no shortage of volunteers. Men had never entered the equation though. Being the weaker partner was worrying and clearly on this occasion he would be, some inches shorter than the man standing in his apartment and rather more lean.
He shook his head. “I’m sorry, you’re not my type.”
“Yes, he is,” Maxwell interjected swiftly. “AB negative. Your favourite.”
Zachariah glared. “That’s not what I meant.”
His potential meal looked decidedly pissed off. “Hey you’re not my type either, Goth boy but a deal’s a deal. Let’s get on with it.” Zachariah regarded the pushy stranger stonily. Paying for blood usually put him in the driving seat. He was unused to having his meal walk in the room and start making demands. He was unused to men.
In the mean time, Maxwell had obviously decided he’d had enough. He sidled out of the door, leaving Zachariah and his paid-for meal alone.
The stranger smirked, clearly enjoying Zachariah’s discomfort. “What’s your name, Goth boy?”
“Zachariah Sayle,” Zachariah said between his teeth.
“Well, I’m Andrew. Nice to meet you. How do you want to do this anyway?”
There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Andrew sighed. He pulled off his T-shirt and threw it on top of his coat. “Want to bite me on the neck or the wrist? I’m guessing you prefer the neck. Much more…intimate.” He almost leered.
“Put your clothes back on, sir,” Zachariah protested, frightened by the acres of hard flesh exposed but Andrew had tilted his head back and the sight of the heavily pounding pulse at his throat caused Zachariah’s mouth to almost drip.
He stepped forward, stifling an involuntary whimper of need, a slave to his passion as always.
Andrew regarded him with an amused smile quirking his sensual mouth. “Your eyes have turned red,” he remarked. “You’re into me after all.”
Zachariah shook his head. “I’m into your blood, that’s all.”
“We’ll see.” Andrew smirked. “I like a challenge.”
Zachariah frowned, confused and unsettled. Was Andrew flirting with him now? Hadn’t he told Zachariah he wasn’t his type? This was deeply unfamiliar territory. Zachariah had not once touched a man in his two hundred year life, unless one counted the vampire who had killed him and taken extreme liberties with Zachariah while he did. A night he tried to block from his memory. He took a deep breath. He couldn’t afford to wait any longer. He was almost faint with need.
“Sit down on the couch,” he said in as authoritative a tone as he could muster. “Relax back. I’ll take a quick drink, then you can go.” He found himself almost trembling with nerves but put it down to the blood lust.
Andrew did as he was told. As Zachariah moved over to him, Andrew grabbed him by the wrist, his strength punishing. “Sit on my lap.” He pulled Zachariah firmly astride his thighs, despite his protests.
Andrew tilted his head back. “Go on then.”
Zachariah hesitated. Andrew’s hefty belt buckle dug into his groin. The naked torso was pressed against his, the heat of Andrew’s skin scorching Zachariah through his thin shirt.
Zachariah felt suddenly dizzy. He leaned forward, lips seeking Andrew’s neck and caught a whiff of cologne. He took his time, his tongue first coming out to lick the skin lightly, unsure of this rough masculinity beneath him when usually it was all yielding femininity.
Andrew shuddered a little as the tongue touched his skin. His hands suddenly gripped Zachariah’s hips hard and his head fell back further in complete invitation.
Zachariah gave a little gasp. His lips pressed against Andrew’s throat in a kiss. Andrew’s large hands moved deliberately to cup the cheeks of Zachariah’s bottom. Zachariah drew in his breath and let it out in an involuntary moan.
“You like that don’t you?” It was a whisper against his ear which set the hair on the back of his neck standing on end and his cock thickening in his pants.
Zachariah tried to ignore Andrew’s comment and the hands which squeezed and massaged. He continued the foreplay of Andrew’s neck, kissing, licking, sniffing the aromatic skin the way he always liked to do before he feasted. It was, in a way, something to tease himself with, despite his hunger. Often it told hi
m if the victim’s blood was poisoned by chemicals or disease. Here he smelled nothing but pure, vigorous health. It sent him almost insane with desire.
“I lied about this not being my bag,” Andrew whispered. “You are very much my bag.”
Zachariah nearly moaned in surprised delight. He pressed closer to Andrew, bracing himself on the couch with his arms by Andrew’s head.
Andrew pulled him flush with his chest. “I can feel you hard for me,” he whispered. “Ever had a man before, vamp?”
Zachariah shuddered. He was so aroused that the blood lust had almost started to take second place. When he replied, he stammered, like that shy human he had once been. “N-no.”
“No, I didn’t think so. That’s okay though.” Andrew’s hands slid under his shirt and up his back and Zachariah shivered and shook. “Because I can teach you.”
“I don’t…”
“You don’t what? Want me? This says different.” Andrew put a hand between Zachariah’s legs.
Zachariah almost cried out, such was the thrill that went through him. Nobody had been this sexually aggressive with him since his creator. He stared into the ocean blue eyes and their heavily dilated pupils.
Andrew rubbed Zachariah’s cock firmly through his pants. With his other hand, he took Zachariah by the hair and pulled his face into his neck. “Now bite me, vamp.”
Zachariah hissed in supreme pleasure and sank his fangs into Andrew’s neck, piercing the skin. The reciprocal groan and the way Andrew’s hands tightened on him left Zachariah in no doubt as to Andrew’s arousal. He bucked up at Zachariah, erection pressing against him.
The blood flooding Zachariah’s mouth was like liquid fire. Scalding hot, it was honey and nectar and all pure sweetness he had never expected to taste from a man. Now he knew better and now he was done for. He rocked uncontrollably against the hand in his groin as he drank.
Suddenly his belt was unfastened, his pants peeled undone and Zachariah tried to fight the large hand which reached inside but the fingers were around his shaft quickly, jerking him off firmly, surely and oh God, Zachariah was in paradise.
He panted for breath, spilling blood which ran down Andrew’s neck.
“Careless,” Andrew said into his hair and nipped Zachariah on the neck in turn. His victim was breathless, his pounding heart giving up his blood to Zachariah ever faster. He let go of Zachariah’s cock to unfasten himself and then their two shafts were together, hard and thick and leaking and Zachariah was bucking forward insatiably while Andrew clutched his ass, grinding himself against him.
Zachariah took his mouth from the wound. Andrew immediately attacked his neck in turn, kissing, biting, sucking blood to the surface before grabbing Zachariah and kissing him hard on the mouth.
Zachariah shook and trembled. He tried half-heartedly to pull away but Andrew held him ever firmer, his mouth demanding, commanding, plundering.
Zachariah submitted. He let Andrew’s tongue find his. He pressed a tentative hand between their bodies, wrapping it around Andrew’s shaft. Andrew growled in pleasure. His hands yanked Zachariah’s pants and boxers down and then they spread him open, touching that secret place no one had been near since his creator.
Zachariah squirmed. He caught his breath and bit Andrew’s lip as Andrew stroked him with one finger. Andrew laughed and drew back. “Easy tiger.”
Zachariah surged forward and lapped the blood from his mouth, groaning, possessed, and Andrew carried on with that stroking, pressing lightly at Zachariah’s entrance until Zachariah felt himself give, felt the tip of the finger swallowed and himself penetrated.
“Mmm…” was the appreciative murmur in his ear before Andrew let Zachariah go and reached for his jacket, withdrawing two items – condom and lubricant.
Zachariah stared. What was going on here? Andrew had not just come here to be prey. He had come here to seduce. How did he know Zachariah was worth seducing or did he sleep with any vampire who paid him, regardless of what they looked like?
He didn’t ask. His mouth wasn’t capable of formulating adequate words. He was too interested in watching Andrew unwrap and roll on a condom and cover it thickly in lube. Too interested in feeling the coldness of lubed fingers on him, touching, stroking, spearing.
“Oh God.” His head fell back.
Andrew bit him on the neck, pressed at the bruised skin with his tongue. “You’re so perfect. God, I knew you would be.”
Zachariah stiffened. He pulled back to look down at Andrew, who gazed up at him with those ocean blue eyes large with need. Zachariah wasn’t sure he had ever seen such desire on a partner’s face before and it made his dead heart clench with a thrill he hadn’t felt in years. Was it crazy to consider that maybe this was it? Maybe this man was the one Zachariah had searched for all his immortal life?
Zachariah wanted to ask so many questions. But it wasn’t easy to keep on track with fingers in his ass. And first and foremost he was a man before a vampire. A man who had never considered this. But not once had he forgotten the way he had responded to the touch of his creator, even if he had tried to suppress the memory.
He let his head fall onto Andrew’s shoulder, nuzzling his neck, licking at the lazy trail of blood.
Andrew took his hand away. Hard flesh slid between Zachariah’s buttocks, pushing, seeking. Zachariah’s hands dug into Andrew’s shoulders. He let out a cry as Andrew thrust up into him, pulling Zachariah down to impale him.
“Oh God, oh my God…” he gabbled almost hysterically, as he remembered this feeling. When he had died. When the ecstasy of being drank from while being made love to, overwhelmed the knowledge that he was being murdered.
He turned his mouth to Andrew’s neck as Andrew held his hips and thrust deeply into him. He parted his lips, seeking the still bleeding wounds he’d left behind. And as Andrew struck a spot inside him which made him almost scream, Zachariah’s fangs pierced the tender skin once more.
Andrew groaned loudly. He held Zachariah even harder and moved him up and down, forcing Zachariah to ride him, which Zachariah did, with abandon, drinking with renewed thirst, a cloud of lust consuming him whole.
A hand went around his cock. Andrew jerked him off swiftly in time to his thrusts. Zachariah strained and bucked and cried out. Blood trickled down Andrew’s neck.
Zachariah lost all sensation of surroundings and time. There was only this. The focus of his world. For sure, he was bewitched.
He screamed as he came and Andrew held him hard as he fell back, losing consciousness.
Zachariah blinked, looking around, recognising his bedroom. He was in his bed, naked, and beside him was his naked meal, looking a little pasty around the gills but very much alive. Zachariah’s mouth worked like a goldfish, unable to speak. He thought he might have dreamed his male AB negative meal. The first meal ever to fuck Zachariah into oblivion.
“Do you always pass out when you make love?”
Zachariah shook his head. “Never. But sometimes I pass out when I drink too much. It makes me giddy.” It was a lie and they both knew it.
Andrew smiled but didn’t challenge him. “Hmm, don’t I know,” he said dryly. “I’m not sure there’s much left.” He leaned down over Zachariah, fingertips trailing over his cheek. “Us AB negatives, we’re the best. Don’t you forget that.”
“I don’t think there’s much danger of that.” It was a hoarse whisper. Zachariah had lost his voice along with everything else. “Did you…know me before this?”
Andrew grinned, showing perfect teeth. “Sure I did. I’ve seen you in that vamp club you go to. You never once looked at me. I swore I was going to change that. Make you see what you were missing.”
Zachariah swallowed. “I see all right.”
“Good. Glad we understand each other. I’d ask that you be a bit more careful next time though.” He indicated the wounds on his neck.
Zachariah blushed with shame. “I’m sorry.”
Andrew smiled. His blue eyes glittered. He pressed clos
e to Zachariah, torso against his, a hard thigh pushing between his, so Zachariah shuddered with sudden renewed arousal. “Because it’s you, you’re forgiven.”
Zachariah returned the smile hesitantly. “Perhaps I can make it up to you?” He couldn’t believe his own boldness. Where was this coming from?
Andrew rubbed his nose against his and planted a kiss on his mouth. “I’ve never met a more unlikely vampire than you before, Mr. Sayle,” he declared. “I think I’ll have to give you lessons in being a real one. Real vampires don’t apologise and don’t offer to make up for their bad behaviour. They take what they want and to hell with the lot of you.”
Taken aback, Zachariah said in a small voice, “But I’m not like that. My mother brought me up to have good manners.”
Andrew laughed loudly. “Oh I like you Zachariah, I like you a lot. You’re a breath of fresh air. Don’t ever change.” He pulled Zachariah into his arms and kissed him breathless.
Sacrifice
by J.L. Merrow
Damien had been eleven years old when his parents took him to the stone circle at Castlerigg. He’d been enchanted by it, by the way it had looked so jagged and uneven, quite unlike the orderly arrangement of building blocks at Stonehenge. “Like dragon’s teeth,” he’d whispered to his mother, who’d smiled at him and said, “Yes, exactly like.”
Had he been just a little bit younger, Damien would have run around the circle, threading the stones like a needle, whooping in his still-unbroken voice. But he was old enough, now, to know his father’s moods. His father would soon tire of the place, as he did of most things that brought him neither money nor prestige. Best to stay quiet and watch the setting sun bathe the hills around them with uncanny warmth.
“They used to perform magic rituals here,” his mother said, in a tone that meant she was teasing him.
“What for?” Damien asked.