V is for VampWoman

by Kerrelyn Sparks

  With a gasp, she stepped back.

  She was tinted pink, along with her surroundings, a sure sign that his eyes were glowing red. There was no need to write a sonnet in her honor or woo her with fine gifts. No need to say a word. He could simply let the fire in his eyes blaze the message to her soul.

  Yes, I want you. I lust for you. Deal with it.

  He could hear her heart racing. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. For the first time in centuries, Lady Pamela Smythe-Worthing had been rendered speechless.

  Chapter Two

  “WE’RE DONE!” JACK ran up to them, followed by J.L. and Zoltan.

  Mikhail turned away, so they wouldn’t see his eyes. He gazed at the forest while he attempted to force his vision back to normal. “I originally spotted about fifty.”

  Pam gasped. “Fifty? Malcontents?”

  Mikhail nodded. “Ready to attack.”

  “I think the blast killed about half of them,” J.L. reported. “Most of the survivors teleported away, and we took care of the rest.”

  “Oh, dear,” Pam whispered. “We were terribly outnumbered . . .”

  “Any mission can suddenly become dangerous,” Zoltan told her. “It was ill-advised for you to come here.”

  “I disagree,” she replied with a stronger voice. “You should be thankful I came here so well equipped.”

  “Oh, yeah.” J.L. chuckled. “Thank God for the holy hand grenade of Antioch.”

  “Actually, it came from Yorkshire,” Pam explained. “It’s amazing what you can find on e-Bay.”

  “My lady, the Malcontents could return any second,” Zoltan insisted.

  “I believe we are safe for the moment.” Mikhail turned to face her, his vision now back to normal. “They’ll think twice before risking another of milady’s hand grenades.”

  She gave him a shy, grateful smile. “Thank you.”

  “So we have time for a few questions,” Mikhail continued. “How did you find out about our mission?”

  Her smile withered. “Does it matter?”

  “Yes. You’re not an employee at MacKay Security and Investigation, so you shouldn’t have known—”

  “You mustn’t blame Lara,” she interrupted, turning to Jack. “She worries so much about you. I went to see her at your villa in Venice, and I encouraged her to call you, knowing that I could use your voice as a beacon.”

  “How did you find out about our mission?” Mikhail repeated.

  She fiddled with her glove and avoided looking at him. “It’s a rather long story—”

  “Then make it short. Pam.”

  That made her look at him again. Her eyes flashed. “That’s Lady Pamela to you—I mean VampWoman.”

  His mouth curled up, and she turned away from him with a huff. “It all began when Maggie and Darcy went to Scotland to film Angus MacKay’s castle and interview Emma for their show, Real Housewives of the Vampire World.”

  Jack groaned. “I can see where this is going.”

  “Yes.” Pam frowned at him. “Your wife was quite devastated when you postponed your appearance on the show.”

  “I told her I could do it after we destroyed this human-trafficking ring,” Jack mumbled.

  “And that was six months ago.” Pam glowered. “Maggie and Darcy have been waiting forever. After they finished up in Scotland, they dropped by to see me and the old harem girls in London. They told us how frustrated they were, waiting for you to complete your mission in Albania, and that’s when I thought you might appreciate some help.”

  “From you?” Mikhail asked dryly.

  Her chin lifted. “You weren’t complaining when you needed one of my hand grenades.”

  “We do appreciate your help,” Jack muttered. “But you should return home now.”

  “I think not. We may have defeated some traffickers, but where, pray tell, are the humans?”

  She made a good point. Mikhail scanned the area, wondering where the human captives were being held. Scarface had regained consciousness and was attempting to sit up. He flopped about, groaning, his lips bloodied and both eyes bruised and swelling.

  Mikhail zoomed over, grabbed his shirt, and hauled him to his feet. “Where are the humans?” he asked in Albanian.

  Scarface sneered. “Why should I tell you?”

  He pulled back a fist.

  “Wait!” Scarface gasped. “Don’t hit me again. There’s a road through there.” He waved at the forest behind them, then teleported away.

  Mikhail drew his sword. “Let’s go.”

  They ran through the forest. With his longer legs, Mikhail could have easily outdistanced his companions, but he held back, making sure Pam remained safe. You fool, it’s happening already, an inner voice chided him. He was becoming vulnerable. Over another vain and selfish woman. He shoved those thoughts away.

  After half a mile, they emerged on a dirt road, where a dented and rusty old camper truck was parked. Mikhail quickly circled the truck. No Malcontents in sight. He returned to the back door, where Jack was hacking at the chained padlock with his sword.

  “I’ll do it.” Mikhail smashed through the chains with his battle-axe, then opened the door.

  They were greeted by a dozen pair of terrified eyes. The girls, tied up and gagged, attempted to squirm farther back into the filthy recesses of the camper. Mikhail guessed their ages to be somewhere between twelve and twenty. More years than his daughter had lived. He pushed that errant thought aside. At least he hadn’t failed these.

  He climbed into the camper, and the girls cowered on the floor, whimpering behind their gags.

  “You’re frightening them.” Pam quickly followed him into the camper, then knelt in front of the girls. “You poor dears, there is no need to be afraid. We have come to rescue you and deliver you safely home.”

  “My lady,” Zoltan whispered to her. “These are humans. We should leave them to the human authorities. I’ll call the local police—”

  “And what?” Pam looked up at him, aghast. “Make them endure hours of questioning when we could easily take them home to their families? Haven’t they suffered enough?”

  “Our first imperative is always to keep our existence a secret,” Zoltan whispered. “If we teleport them—

  “They have bite marks,” Mikhail interrupted, motioning at the girls. “The Malcontents were feeding off them. They already know about vampires. We should teleport them home, then wipe their memories.”

  “I agree.” Pam gave him a grateful smile that made his heart squeeze in his chest.

  He ignored it and moved closer to the girls, who were huddled together, trembling.

  “There, there.” Pam patted a girl on the shoulder. “I know he looks like a huge brute, but he won’t harm you.”

  A huge brute? Mikhail winced inwardly. Even so, it seemed like a good thing that Pam was here. Her presence was comforting the girls. They had grown quiet, the terror on their faces melting into hope.

  He leaned over one of the girls, and, using his psychic power, he delved into her mind to locate her home. Then he grasped her arm and teleported her back. With a happy squeal, she turned to thank him. He removed her gag and ropes while he wiped her memory of the last few days. When her face turned blank, he teleported back to the camper truck.

  With all five of them working, it took only a few minutes to return the captives to their homes. After delivering a third girl, Mikhail reappeared at the camper to find it empty. He sauntered around the truck, making sure no Malcontents had returned. As he approached the back, Pam materialized.

  She glanced into the camper, then, with a satisfied smile, turned away. “Not bad for your first night,” she murmured to herself, then peeled the spandex cap off her head. Her blond hair slipped free, and she shook it out, the golden tresses falling in waves around her shoulders.

  Good God, she is beautiful. He must have made some kind of noise, for she spun around to face him.

  “Oh, you—you’ve returned.” She glanced around. �
�The others haven’t made it back yet.” She winced. “I’m sure you already know that.”

  “Yes.” He stepped toward her.

  She brushed her hair back over her shoulder. “The cap was rather hot. Stifling, actually. I might have to reconsider my costume design.”

  He raked his eyes down to her boots, then back up to her breasts. “It looks good to me.”

  “Do you mind?”

  “Hmm?”

  “You’re ogling my chest.”

  “There’s a red mark there. It draws a person’s attention.”

  She gritted her teeth. “That’s a ‘V.’ It stands for—”

  “Voluptuous?”

  She scoffed. “Hardly.”

  “Viscountess?”

  She winced. “No. VampWoman.”

  “I would never have guessed.”

  She gave him a dry look. “You may mock me, but I much prefer my new identity.”

  “What was wrong with your old one?”

  She ducked her chin and fiddled with her gloves. “I’d rather not discuss it.”

  He stepped closer. “Why are you doing this? Why are you risking yourself?”

  A pained look crossed her face. “I’d rather not—”

  “What was wrong with Lady Pamela? I always thought she was beautiful.”

  “No!” She glanced up. “She’s . . .”

  “She’s what?”

  “She’s . . . shameful.” Her eyes glistened with tears, and she turned away.

  His breath caught. She didn’t sound as vain as he had expected. “Why do you say that?”

  She sighed. “So many reasons. First, I married a vampire without realizing it. There were rumors about Maximilian. Plenty of clues. I never saw him eat, never saw him during the day. But like a fool, I ignored it all. I was too enamored with the notion that a viscount could love me and want to marry me.”

  Mikhail frowned. “That wasn’t your fault. He should have been honest with you.”

  She waved aside his attempt to defend her. “I was young and foolish. A few weeks after the wedding, Max asked me if I would like to wear beautiful gowns and go to lovely parties forever. I said yes.” She brushed away her tears with an angry swipe. “Can you imagine giving up mortality for such a ridiculous reason?”

  “Did you know he meant to transform you?”

  “No.” She gave Mikhail a wry look. “It was a bit of a shock when he attacked me.”

  Mikhail gritted his teeth. It was a good thing the bastard was dead.

  “I was so foolish. I gave up my chance to ever have children.”

  Mikhail’s heart squeezed as the memory of his daughter swept across his mind. “You wanted children?”

  She nodded, and another tear rolled down her cheek. “Then I made the mistake of complaining to my father. I didn’t go into any details, but it was enough to make him suspect that the rumors were true.”

  Her shoulders slumped. “I was a coward. I knew my father hated Max, but I did nothing to dissuade him. Max trusted me, and I let him down.”

  “So it was your father who killed your husband?” Mikhail asked.

  “Yes. He staked Max while we lay beside each other in our death-sleep. Father left his ring in the ashes so I would know it was he. I feared that Max’s vampire friends would avenge him by killing my father, so I begged him to flee to America. He asked me to accompany him, but I was too afraid to go. I abandoned him when he was in danger.”

  She sniffed. “I joined the Coven Master’s harem in London, where I would be safe. Then later, when the Germans were bombing London, I fled to New York. As usual, I took the cowardly way out.”

  “That was self-preservation. The underground lairs were no longer safe.”

  “And then my friend, Vanda, was in danger. The Malcontents blew up our nightclub and wanted to kill her, and I left her. I went back to London.” She turned to face him with tears running down her cheeks. “Don’t you see why I’m ashamed? I’m a coward who fails the people who count on me. I abandon them when they need me the most.”

  Mikhail stared at her, stunned by the ferocity of her self-recrimination . Was she trying to earn redemption as VampWoman? She’d be lucky if she wasn’t rewarded with an early death. “I can understand the need to make up for past mistakes, but what you’re doing now, you’re putting yourself in danger—”

  “You don’t approve.” She dried her cheeks with an impatient swipe. “I shouldn’t have confessed everything to you.”

  “No! I’m glad you told me.”

  “But you could never understand how I feel. You’re so incredibly huge and fierce. I doubt you’ve ever lost a battle or ever let anyone down.”

  He flinched.

  “Do you even know what it’s like to be filled with guilt and regret?”

  He pinched his eyes shut to avoid the memories that flooded his mind. “Enough.” He opened his eyes to find her staring at him.

  “You do know,” she whispered. Her hand lifted toward his face, but before she could touch him, she blinked and withdrew her hand. Her gaze dropped to his chest. “Then you do understand.”

  “I understand that each time you endanger yourself, it will scare the hell out of me.”

  “But you hardly know me.”

  That much was true. For almost two hundred years, he’d assumed she was selfish and vain. And why wouldn’t she be, when she was the most beautiful vampire in the world? But instead of feeling superior, she had actually been ashamed of herself. She’d used the snooty image of an arrogant viscountess to hide her self-doubt and vulnerability.

  With a small shock, he realized that Lady Pamela had been the masquerade. VampWoman was the true Pam.

  “You’re . . . Mikhail?” Her gaze lifted back to his face. “From Moscow?”

  “You know of me?”

  She blushed. “Everyone knows who you are. You’re a full head taller than the other men, and they’re rather large. Of course, the rumor is that you’re some sort of fierce medieval Viking and that you came to Russia centuries ago to pillage and plunder.”

  “Is that what they say?”

  Her blush deepened. “Well, I was in a harem for years. There wasn’t much to do other than gossip about the men.”

  “I’ve always thought you were beautiful.” He touched a lock of her hair. Now he realized she was just as beautiful on the inside. And he’d been a fool to avoid her all these years.

  He moved closer.

  Her eyes widened. “What—?”

  He touched her cheek and wiped the moisture of her tears with his thumb.

  “I-I should be going.”

  “So soon?” He grazed his thumb over her lips. They were as soft as he’d imagined.

  She gulped. “I believe our work here is done.”

  He slid his hand around her neck and leaned over till his mouth was a mere inch from hers. “Pam.”

  “Yes?” Her rapid breaths puffed against his skin.

  “Prepare to be plundered.”

  With a gasp, she teleported away.

  Chapter Three

  “COWARD!” LADY PAMELA yanked off a boot and threw it on the parquet floor of her bedchamber.

  How could she have behaved so cowardly? Six months of planning and practicing to be a stronger and more fearless person, and what had she done? She’d run away just like she had in the past. With a disgusted groan, she tossed her other boot on the floor.

  Perhaps it wasn’t too late. Less than a minute had passed since she’d fled in fear. She could teleport back and . . . what? Allow that huge barbarian to kiss her?

  A shudder skittered down her spine.

  “Coward,” she muttered. Instead of running away, she should have slapped the brute soundly. Or better yet, she should have used some of her newly acquired martial-arts skills to fling him over her shoulder.

  Her breath caught. Was it even possible to fling such a man? He was so enormous. As immovable as a giant boulder.

  And his eyes had turned red.

/>   Her hands flew to her cheeks, and she felt the heat of a blush. His eyes had turned red.

  When she’d first spotted him, she’d been shocked by the sheer strength of his presence. It felt like he had swallowed up her entire field of vision, so she could hardly even see the other men. Or hear them.

  His eyes had turned red. Because of her.

  Why, oh why had she told him so much about herself? What had possessed her to confide in such a huge brute? Although he had seemed rather attentive and understanding for a barbarian.

  She chased that thought away. He was a barbarian. He had attempted to kiss her. Prepare to be plundered. The gall of the man!

  She jumped when a loud pounding shook her door.

  “Lady Pamela? Is that you I hear?”

  That accent could only belong to Miss Cora Lee Primrose—a Southern belle, transformed just prior to the American Civil War, and one of Pamela’s friends who shared the London townhouse.

  “Yes, I have returned,” she answered.

  “Well, land sakes, come out of there and tell us how it went. We’ve been worried sick about you.”

  “I’ll be down shortly.” Pamela removed her utility belt and set it carefully on her bed so the various knives and ninja stars wouldn’t snag her pink satin coverlet.

  With a sigh, she unzipped the front zipper on her costume. Perhaps she shouldn’t be overset by the night’s events. After all, she did assist the men in defeating the traffickers and delivering the captives back home. The blast from the hand grenade had frightened her but not enough to make her run away. Apparently, the prospect of a kiss was more terrifying than an explosion.

  She removed her cape, then peeled off her latex costume. No doubt he had imagined undressing her. How dare he ogle her like that?

  His eyes had glowed red. How could a man’s passion flare so hot so quickly?

  “Posh.” She slipped on a silk wrapper and tied the sash around her waist. The man was a barbarian. He probably ogled a dozen women nightly and leered at them all with glowing red eyes. Prepare to be plundered, indeed. Who did he think he was? A Viking warrior who ravished innocent women?

  What if she had stayed? Where would he have touched her? And kissed her? No doubt a barbarian did wicked things a gentleman would never do. Goose bumps prickled her skin.