Venom & Vampires: A Limited Edition Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Collection

by Casey Lane

  Rod’s smile flashed at my response, but then my eyes fluttered closed when his warm mouth covered mine. Feeling the lazy lick of his tongue along the seam of my lips, old instincts kicked in and I parted my mouth to let him in. His soft, full kisses were flavored by the whiskey he’d been sipping. He tasted spicy and lovely. I missed the taste of a man’s mouth.

  Large hands followed the curves of my body upwards and began to stroke the hair away from my face. I pulled the hands back down and placed them firmly on my ass. I didn’t want any more drugging kisses or tender touches, and I really didn’t want Rod running his hands through my hair-sprayed helmet head. They might get captured forever, and I wanted those fingers doing things to my body that his talented tongue was currently doing in my mouth.

  Kissing him back harder, I thought, “Oh save me, am I really going to do this man in an elevator?”

  My hands were playing with his fire while Rod’s skillful hands worked my mini up over my hips. I didn’t even have time to worry if Rod thought my butt was too big, instead of my dress being too tight, before he swept my panties down past my knees.

  Apparently, according to the volatile stick of dynamite in my busy hands, I really was going to do this man I met only minutes ago, and in an elevator.

  Our softly clinging mouths exploded into thrusting, hot, wet kisses. A hand ran up, parted my thighs, and stroked me boldly with no show of tenderness for me to complain about.

  Rod raised his head from our passionate kisses, raised my body up against the elevator wall, and razed my last defenses with his dazzling grin.

  He draped my legs over his forearms and the silver CFM heels sparkled when he moved in between my spread thighs. He cupped my ass in his hands and I watched him watch us down there as he slowly entered me. My last coherent thought wasn’t one of worry we’d get caught, if he used protection, or even if there were security cameras. No, my last thought was I hoped Lawson watched me from wherever he was because this was all his damn fault for being dead.

  Way too soon, my knees were knocking now from a different emotion. Rod kept squeezing and caressing my ass, but finally gave me a last, lingering kiss before smoothing my dress back down over my hips. Thankfully, he made me respectable because I was hanging onto the metal railing at my back to keep upright when the elevator arrived at his floor.

  We hadn’t taken more than a few steps out of the car when he cursed under his breath and laughed a little sheepishly. I had no idea a sheepish man could look so adorable.

  “Would you believe in all the excitement I forgot to get my room key from Ray Dean?” Rod turned and caught the closing elevator doors. “I’m sorry, but he checked us in tonight while T-bone and I…”

  I slunked after him and waved off his apology. “Hey, no need to explain.” A wet noodle had nothing on me right now. I yawned behind my hand. “We can go back to the bar, no problem.”

  Rod pulled me towards him and put an arm around my waist. “Mary, stay here while I run down. There’s a bench over there to wait on.” His glance lowered to my breasts and a finger slowly traced along the curves revealed above the neckline of my dress. “Mmm, your skin is so soft here.” He nuzzled my cheek, murmuring, “While I’m gone, why don’t you think about what it’ll take for me to persuade you to give up second base.”

  I laughed. That answered my question whether or not Rod was trying to ditch me after the elevator road test. Now I needed to make up my mind. I was no party girl, so I had no clue what the proper protocol was when you picked up a young, gorgeous man in a bar to have sex, but didn’t make it further than the elevator.

  If I wanted to leave, did I just shake hands and say, “Thanks for the ride, but I’ll be getting off on floor two now instead of you?”

  I was undecided. “Thanks, Rod, but I’d rather come down to the bar with you.”

  Despite my post coital bliss, reality, and yes, some guilt, already had me twisted up a little. I was thinking I might excuse myself to use the ladies room and escape. Going with Rod back to the bar would give me the extra few minutes I needed to make up my mind. Part of me was disgusted at my wanton behavior and wanted to leave, another part wanted more. Elevator sex had been undeniably hot, but also very fast.

  Stepping into the waiting car, I raised a brow questioningly at Rod where he stood with a considering expression while still holding open the door. He let the door slide close, and without speaking, leaned against the wall across from me.

  We stared at each other on the short ride down. The silence was charged. I couldn’t tell what Rod was thinking, but I was leisurely stamping the tiny details of his handsome image permanently into my mind while I had the opportunity. I was a woman of many lists, but one list I had never needed before tonight was a bucket list. I would enjoy pulling Rod’s image out from the deep recesses of my mind when I needed a moment of remembered pleasure to lighten up a dark day, but I wished I’d seen him bare-assed naked. That had to be a gratifying sight for sore eyes, based on the gratifying size of what I had seen and touched.

  It seemed like a century, but we’d been gone from the bar for maybe ten or fifteen minutes max. Rod’s friends were all still at the table as we approached through the crowded aisles. Miss Perky saw us coming and sat up, beaming at Rod. Perhaps she thought he was finished with me and her number was up. Her face grew hard when Rod walked behind Bubba without noticing her smiles. She glared over at me and I raised my brows back coolly, thinking this little woman needed to grow up and get over herself.

  The room key card switched hands. The giant man with the orange mullet said something I was glad I couldn’t hear. Rod laughed softly, but only shook his head in reply.

  Rod came back to my side, took my hand, and smiled down warmly. I was flattered by his show of affection, but it was decision time. Did I stay or did I vamoose?

  Chapter Four

  “The hypothalamus is one of the most important parts of the brain, involved in many kinds of motivation, among other functions. The hypothalamus controls the “Four F’s”: fighting, fleeing, feeding, and mating.” -Marvin Dunette

  Behind us, a shrill, piercing scream erupted above the hum of voices and soft music. We both whirled to see Miss Perky pointing a finger at us.

  The small woman cut off her screaming to cry out, “Oh my God! Gross! What is wrong with him?”

  I’d let Rod field this one since she was his friend, but this whole table of jokers was really getting on my last nerve. For God’s sake, Rod had to be around thirty and an adult. I was older than Rod but not disgustingly so, and certainly not worth a public outcry from Miss Perky, regardless if she was jealous. It wasn’t like he wasn’t coming back. They could all still do whatever it was they all did together -I glared at the grinning Bubba- probably some kind of rootin’-tootin’ hillbilly orgy.

  I was confused when Rod didn’t look at Miss Perky, but swung us around to face the entrance. His large frame tensed. I was behind him a step and couldn’t see past his wide shoulders.

  Angling slightly to the right, Rod moved us closer to the table and out of the direct path of the aisle.

  “Don’t panic, Mary.”

  Somehow I heard his soft command despite the rising babble of voices around us. It took a second to realize he meant me, but it was an unnecessary warning. Through the sudden movement of the crowd, I’d caught a fleeting glimpse of the bar entrance, too. The brief sight held me transfixed. Swaying back and forth, James Franco’s evil twin was back.

  I could have sworn Gary Knutson said the guy would be detained. I couldn’t believe hotel security had cut the freak loose after his violent attack on Karen.

  I saw the man standing in the darkened entrance for only a split second, but something was off.

  Behind me, Bubba turned his bulk to the entrance. “Hey, what’s goin’ on?”

  Miss perky squealed, “Oh, that poor man! He’s so cute, too!”

  Medusa stood up slowly. He had no problem seeing over the heads of the crowd. “What the fuck.
” Full lips topped by a thin, black mustache blew a silent whistle. “Ram, you seein’ what I’m seeing up there? Ray Dean, check out that groovin’ cat at my one o’clock.”

  At first, I was confused why Miss Perky pointed and cooed in sympathy while Medusa and Rod reacted with instant caution, or why there was a swell of rising voices of customers closer to the entrance. The crowd shifted again, and I got a good, long look at the violent man from the parking ramp.

  His dress shirt was completely unrecognizable as ever having been white. Tie-dyed in streaks of pale pink to the thickest black, his shirt was now covered in blood. His blank expression, matted hair, clothes; all of it looked as if he’d just come from a remake of the movie, “Carrie.” Blinking so rapidly I could see it from where I stood, he was swaying to a private beat while his clenched jaw was slowly moving open and closed. Whatever he was saying couldn’t be heard over the escalating volume of the bar patrons around us.

  Bubba stood up, and so did all the other women at the table as they exclaimed they wanted to see as well.

  “Huh. You think he’s dancin’ or what?”

  Rod didn’t turn away. “Or what. Keep it cool, everyone.”

  Medusa’s voice was a deep rumble behind me. “I hear that. We’re tight, brother.”

  I was too far away to see the eyes of Karen’s attacker, but in spite of the blinking and jaw clenching, his face was oddly flat and lifeless. I couldn’t see any obvious wounds to account for the copious amounts of blood on him, nor did he appear to be in pain. I didn’t know if he was drunk, high, a psychopath, or a choirboy, but what I did know was that this freak was wrong.

  Not taking my eyes off the entrance, I tugged urgently on Rod’s hand. I kept my voice calm because men have a tendency not to take hysterically raving women seriously. “I saw that guy attack a woman in the parking ramp earlier. Security was supposed to be taking care of him. I don’t understand what he’s doing here, and you don’t know me well enough to trust my gut, but this is bad. I’m getting out of here. Care to grab your friends and join me?”

  I glanced up at him quickly, not quite sure why I was asking Rod, instead of simply running out of the back of the bar. Perhaps it was my antediluvian female instincts kicking in to keep me safe. It never hurt to have a best friend on one side and three huge men made of muscles on the other. I had no intentions of staying in this hotel a minute longer, but I wouldn’t mind an escort to my car.

  Hard eyes stopped scanning the bar long enough to look down and meet my gaze for a beat. There was no trace of the lazy, smiling player in Rod’s alert expression.

  Nodding my head towards my free left hand resting on the top of my open purse, I went back to keeping a close watch on the swaying man and the two white shirt women near him.

  I said out of the corner of my mouth, “Little brother, meet my little best friend.”

  Another beat later. “This could be love. Is that a gun, Mary?”

  “Why, indeed it is, Rod. A compact Glock 19, my preferred weapon for concealed carry. Is that a yes?”

  I was anxiously leery of James Franco’s double and his whole group. Wired, my wet noodle bliss a distant memory, I almost screamed when Miss Perky interrupted us with a jab of her pointed elbow in my back. “Move out of the way! We’re going to help him!”

  “No, don’t go up there. Stay here!” I called out, but it was to their backs. Miss Perky and the blonde I assumed to be a beauty went rushing by us towards the swaying, blood-coated man.

  Miss Perky shot me an evil smirk over a shoulder and mouthed, “Fuck you!”

  “Okay, she’s definitely uninvited.” I was hopping from one high heel to the other in agitation to get out of this place, but my conscience won. “You’d better stop them…”

  Rod was already shouldering through the crowd after the two women. The initial panicked reaction of the bar patrons was settling down. Some customers were patting Rod’s back and greeting him by name. He must be a regular here because he was very popular. Some customers were taking pictures with their cell phones of James Franco’s evil twin doing the hinky hula. I ducked my head when a few phones pointed our way. I noticed Bubba hamming it up and doing body builder poses.

  Raising my head, I froze. Two more men from the not-so-white shirt group stumbled jerkily into the bar. They were also tie-dyed from head to toe. It was hard to tell if it was deliberate because they looked so out of it, but they stood blocking the entrance.

  They exhibited signs of the same strange behavior -the swaying, the rapid blinking and lifeless faces. Both their mouths were held out in a stiff underbite that revealed their bottom teeth. The clench of their jaws reminded me of a great barracuda I saw once while snorkeling in Grand Cayman with Law. That aggressively predatory jaw was creepy enough on a fish; on humans it was scary as hell.

  I flashed on the violent attack in the parking ramp. The blood all over James Franco’s double and his friends came from somewhere in the hotel. My guess was not from ordering their steaks rare from room service and being messy eaters.

  I backed up a couple of cautious steps and ran into a wall. It was Medusa T-bone. He steadied me with two hands on my shoulders. A reassuring squeeze did nothing to lessen my instincts shouting that I run right now. RIGHT NOW!

  Everything after that happened all at once. I saw what went down in jumbled bits and pieces through gaps in the mob of panicking people, but that view was terrifying enough to scar me for life.

  In unison, as if a switch clicked off, the three swaying, bloody men at the entrance stopped rapidly blinking. One of the white shirt women started violently convulsing while gurgling and snarling. Reddish foam began erupting from her mouth. The second woman did the same. Stunned, I couldn’t take my eyes off their macabre, jerking dance and the spewing vomit.

  Rod had reached the blonde beauty first. She protested, so he spent a moment saying something before forcibly pulling her back towards his table. Miss Perky had eluded Rod and reached her goal of the poor, cute guy needing her help. Rod had his back to her, but Miss Perky gleefully stuck her tongue out at the struggling blonde beauty and me.

  James Franco’s evil twin welcomed the tiny Asian girl with widespread arms and picked her right up off the floor. Holding her tight, he burrowed his face into her neck. She immediately started screaming and slapping at his thrashing head, the toes of her pointed shoes drumming against his knees. He wouldn’t let go and I saw drops of liquid flying every time he thrashed his head from side to side. This time her piercingly shrill wails were agonizing. I cried out in comprehension that he was ripping into her neck. I lost sight of her after that in the resulting uproar of panic throughout the cocktail bar.

  Right as James Franco II started biting Miss Perky, the two other men at the entrance attacked the nearest customers, slashing at people with fingers held as if claws.

  I didn’t see the white shirts who had been ordering beer earlier at the bar convulse like the women did seconds ago, but they were dripping with red vomit and looked rabidly crazed now. They went for the young women in the huddle I’d overheard gossiping a few minutes ago. The girls were viciously clawed and bitten in a tangle of pummeling fists, teeth, and snarling moans.

  I saw a bartender hit one of the white shirt attackers over the head with a bottle. It did nothing to stop the crazy madman. The crazy finished tearing a hunk of flesh with his teeth from the crying girl’s cheek and threw her violently aside. He then turned with a screaming howl on the bartender swinging the bottle, dragging the man over the bar while biting him repeatedly. I lost sight of them amidst the stampeding mass of screaming customers. For as long as I live, I will never forget the dying shrieks of those poor girls begging for help while they were ferociously chewed on like free chicken drummies fed to a group of starving drunks at happy hour.

  Standing by the bar, a burly man’s genial round face was paralyzed with horror at the wholesale slaughter taking place at his feet. Unfortunately, he was barring the direct path of anybody trying to he
lp the girls. He started backpedaling away with his arms raised in disbelief, but that momentary hesitation was his downfall. One of the convulsing white shirt women lurched forward and buried her face in the man’s ample belly. She held him around the waist, brought him down, and ravaged him like a starving lioness on a downed water buffalo.

  A heavy woman, probably his wife, jumped on the crazy woman’s back and pounded with her fists. She was crying and shouting while pulling out clumps of the attacker’s long hair in the attempt to raise her head from tearing into the screaming man’s stomach. Not appearing to feel pain, the crazy cult woman lifted her red smeared face briefly from the man’s guts, as if wondering what could be disturbing her meal, and then got back down to her grisly business.

  The second white shirt woman came from behind and tightly embraced the heavy woman. The fat woman screeched and pleaded, but couldn’t buck her off. The unnaturally distended jaw repeatedly bit down and dug deep into the bloody meat of the heavy woman’s shoulder. As they tore apart the man and his wife, the white shirt women keened guttural groans that raised the hairs on my arms.

  Stunned by the brief, horrifying glimpses I caught of the bloodbath around our table, I gripped my gun helplessly because I had no clear targets.

  In less than a few seconds, gore was being flung everywhere from the crazy white shirt’s raging, cannibalistic attacks all around us. Bright red blood from torn jugulars squirted above the heads of screaming, running people only to come down, splattering indiscriminately over the crowd, tables, and the bar. The closest people were getting directly hit with flying pieces of bloody skin and tissue. I saw yellow globs and gray globs of slimy I couldn’t say what, and then even worse, pieces of body parts I could identify.

  Situated next to a support pillar, our sturdy table was in the middle of the bar. We were out of the direct pathway of the hysterically fleeing customers. Most were running to the back of the bar hoping to escape the killers in the crowd at the front. Terrified people were blindly running and tripping over others, ruthlessly knocking them down or being knocked down themselves.