A Vampire for Christmas

by Laurie London

  “I was out on the water until you arrived,” he lied, not wanting to reveal to her what he was. Afraid that if he did so, she would leave him. She had eased so much of his loneliness that he couldn’t bear the thought of her not being in his life. But he also hated that their time together was tainted by his lie.

  Can love truly exist if it’s based on lies? The Angelina he was coming to understand was the voice of his conscience intruded into his thoughts.

  It is love, he shot back, not wanting to lose a minute of the vision and the happiness he had once had.

  He inched his fingers beneath the thin cotton of her blouse and ran the back of his hand along the smooth skin at her waist. “But you’re nice and warm,” he said, trying to divert this Angelina’s attention from the nervousness she might be feeling.

  Leisurely, he shifted his hand upward until he was just beneath her breasts. Not wanting to spook her, he looked at her and softly asked, “May I touch you?”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ANGELINA WORRIED HER bottom lip with perfect white teeth and nodded.

  He eased the shirt off her shoulders, reached around and undid her bra. Slipping his hands beneath the straps, he slowly pulled it away until she was bared to his gaze. She made a motion to once again cover herself, but he murmured a protest and raised his hand the final distance to cup her breast. Its lush fullness filled his hand. Stroking his thumb along her peaked nipple, he pulled a soft sigh of pleasure from her.

  “There is much more of that to come, my love,” he vowed, slipping his other hand upward to cradle her other breast. He gently rotated and tweaked her nipples until she mewled her delight and leaned her body along his. She reached down and hesitantly explored the hard ridge beneath the fine fabric of his pants.

  He growled his own sharp delight at her innocent touch and bent to nuzzle the sensitive skin along the underside of her jaw. Tugged gently on her earlobe with his teeth and whispered, “Do you want more?”

  Her answer came in the awkward rush of her fingers undoing the buttons on his pants and parting the soft wool to free his long, hard shaft. He sucked in a breath and pleaded, “I want to feel your skin against mine.”

  His little virgin surprised him then, quickly moving her hand beneath the cotton to grasp his erection. She stroked her hand up and down, exploring his smooth length until he was almost shaking.

  “May I make love to you?” he said, aware of her inexperience and wanting there to be no tears of shame this time. He would not hurt her for all the world.

  “You may,” she said, a playful note in her voice as she took a step back toward his bed. When her knees hit the edge, she sat down and leaned on her elbows, offering him a dangerous view of her upper torso. So beautiful, he thought and bent to take hold of her skirt.

  As his hands came into contact with the cheap gray fabric, it tore slightly beneath his impatient hands.

  He restrained his need, and slowly inched up her skirts to reveal the long shapely length of her legs beneath the woolen socks she wore against the winter chill. With care, he slipped off her low-heeled shoes and rolled down her socks to reveal her lovely legs. Strong and yet totally feminine, and with that thought came a moment of guilt as he remembered their first encounter a century earlier. He hadn’t taken the time to appreciate her beauty. To pleasure her and let her know how much he valued the gift she was bestowing upon him.

  This time had been different from that first fateful Christmas Eve. He had been patient with her, inviting her to take each step in their lovemaking, the consciousness of the present Damien recalled before he lost himself to reliving the past.

  He took her skirts up along with the passage of his hand. Revealing the soft cotton panties she wore.

  “May I?” he asked again, conscious of her virginity and wishing to remove any fear on her part.

  Her shy smile was the only answer he needed.

  He grasped the thin cotton, vowing that one day he would replace it with silk and satin. Leisurely pulling off her panties, he planted a series of kisses on the sensitive inside of her ankle, then at the crook where her calf met her knee, eliciting a tiny giggle from her which dragged a smile to his lips. An unhurried brush of his mouth along the inside of her thigh made her muscles quiver.

  As he neared her core, his vamp senses immediately picked up the scent of her feminine arousal, musky and clean.

  He nuzzled the soft thatch of ebony curls with his nose, drawing a shaky breath from her. He smiled and glanced down as he parted her curls with his fingers to reveal the glistening nub at her center and the flushed nether lips along her cleft.

  “Beautiful,” he murmured before lowering his head for that first intimate kiss.

  She arched her hips with the contact and gasped in surprise before a rise of heat and damp confirmed her desire for him.

  He nearly came then, overwhelmed by emotion and the expectation of what would come next.

  His hands shook as if he was the virgin, and maybe he was. He had never made love to a woman he cared about before.

  He kissed her over and over, sucking and biting at the nub between her legs. He used his fingers to stroke and caress her until she was shaking beneath him. On the edge and pleading with him, she dipped her hand down and threaded her fingers through his hair.

  Sucking in a deep breath perfumed with her need, he rose and positioned himself at her center. The tip of him poised near her moist warmth.

  She lay before him, her lush breasts exposed. The nipples now a dark coral, flush with her desire.

  He bent and kissed the tip of one breast.

  Angelina called out his name and held his head to her. He could wait no longer.

  In one slow stroke he entered her tightness until the fragile barrier provided resistance. He experienced the tension in her body as he pressed forward.

  He skimmed one hand across her cheek as he promised, “The hurt will fade.”

  “I trust you,” she repeated again, worrying her bottom lip with uncertainty.

  He nodded and grasped her hips, the cotton of her skirt laundry-soft and care-worn beneath his hands. The drape of her skirts hid their union, but he wanted to see. Needed to see.

  Lifting the skirts high and bundling them at her waist, he watched as he withdrew with care, mindful of her state. A mistake, he realized, as the faint scent of blood mixed with that of their loving and pulled at the demon.

  He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, fighting the vampire who wanted a taste of that virgin’s desire.

  The demon he hated because releasing it brought pain and hurt.

  “Damien? Is something wrong?”

  He shook his head, but then her hand slipped up over his chest, directly above his heart. “I love you, Damien. Do not shut me out.”

  Gritting his teeth, because the pain in his jaw warned him that the vampire was about to emerge, he met her gaze with his.

  Her eyes widened with surprise as they took in the growing neon in his gaze. He could feel his humanity losing out to the demon.

  “What…what’s happening?” she asked, but there was no fear or uncertainty in her voice, which surprised him.

  “I’m not what you think I am,” he replied, the low growl of the demon threaded through his voice.

  Her easy smile calmed him as did the tender caress of her hand at the spot over his heart. “I think you are a good person.” She stroked her hand over his heart again and continued. “I know your heart is true.”

  He groaned then, with joy and pain. He had not been a good man and as a demon he had done things that sickened him. Despite all that, she still believed in him.

  Emotion rose up in him, nearly choking him and breaking the control he had been exerting. A sharp burst of pain came as his fangs exploded, erupting beyond his top lip.

  He expected her to scream. To rip her body from his and run away. But instead, she offered up another smile, a determined one this time.

  Raising her other hand, she cupped his jaw and trace
d the line of his lips and fangs. Explored them with a mix of fascination and love.

  “You are not afraid?” he asked, narrowing his eyes as he considered her reaction.

  “I’ve always sensed you were different, and no, I am not afraid. I love you,” she replied, her answer clear and without doubt.

  Inside him came a freedom and lightness of being he had not experienced in too long. Not since his mother had anyone given him love so unequivocally and so freely. As much as he feared that he did not deserve such love, because of the man he had been and the demon he had become, he would not cast such a gift aside.

  “I think I love you, too,” Damien answered, his heart filled with joy at the admission.

  No sooner had the words left him than he experienced a vicious jerk at his center. Panic replaced the happiness he had been feeling on that year-ago Christmas Eve.

  He was leaving her again. Leaving the vision filled with their joy and love.

  “No,” he shouted, but in his mind Angelina’s voice came instead, both soothing and punishing at the same time.

  Maybe one lesson learned. I think. But not another.

  Damien was painfully conscious of what would happen next.

  CHAPTER SIX

  WIND RACED PAST HIM as he once again flew from his body and departed the vision he had been reliving. Long moments idled while a whirlwind of images raced by.

  His abrupt landing on the floor before the Angelina of the present rattled his teeth and painfully jarred his bones. But Damien had only a moment to recover before the walls of his bedroom transformed once more, becoming the calm waters off the Jersey Shore. He recognized the precise moment in time and that less than a dozen hours had passed since his lunchtime tryst with Angelina.

  A schooner was sailing parallel to the beachfront during a dark moonless night that hid its passage.

  Ramirez’s ship—although Damien hadn’t known it at the time.

  Damien had been given the details for the rum pickup and the money to make the purchase. As always, he had set off down the river inlet to meet the ship, collect the liquor and return it to shore for distribution. He made similar trips once or twice a week, managing to avoid the Coast Guard and others intent on stopping the flow of alcohol to the many clandestine bars and speakeasies that had sprung up during Prohibition.

  After motoring his skiff up to the Cuban rumrunner, Damien had been shocked to see a familiar crew manning the schooner. A familiar crew with an infamous captain.

  Although the transfer of the kegs had gone smoothly, vampire strength making the movement of so many loads go quickly, Damien had understood that this would not be the last time he would see Ramirez. There was too much bad blood between them for the other captain not to take advantage of their chance encounter.

  After loading the skiff and paying Ramirez, Damien had snuck up the river inlet to the scattered sandbars where the locals and the Newark bosses would come ashore for their deliveries. Damien kept one keg for the owner of the small tavern where Angelina worked. Her boss was expecting Damien to hand deliver that rum when he came in for a bite of food later that night.

  But Damien had errands to run before that delivery. First, he had to quench his hunger. He secured the keg in his skiff before returning to the small dock adjacent to the tavern. When he came ashore, luck was on his side as one of the local fishermen stumbled from the building, clearly having had a nip too much of the bootleg liquor supplied to the tavern’s clientele.

  Damien rushed up to the man, eased an arm around him and helped him to a keg of nails sitting on the dock. The man plopped down, too drunk to continue home. He murmured his thanks, causing a momentary pang of guilt in Damien, but one that couldn’t quench his need to feed. The burst of vamp power he had used to help load the skiff had drained him. If Ramirez showed up tonight, he had to be at full strength.

  And then there was Angelina. He had lost his control over the demon earlier because he had not fed in some time. He did not want to lose control again when they met later. It was Christmas Eve after all and he wanted to celebrate it with her. As a human—not as the demon he despised.

  Bending toward the man, he held his breath to avoid the smell of cheap rum, cabbage and a body that had not seen a bar of soap for some time. Transforming, Damien sank his fangs into the man’s neck. The rush of blood brought a surge of power and painful desire. In another life he might have slaked that need on the next unsuspecting female that wandered by, but no longer.

  He was in love with Angelina and her faith in him was far stronger than such base demon desire.

  When the man moaned and slumped against him, nearly boneless from liquor and the loss of blood, Damien reared back. If he kept feeding he would kill the man. He had never done so in the century since he had become immortal and he would not kill tonight on such a Holy Night.

  Sated, he paused to draw in a few bracing breaths of sea-kissed air and drive back the demon. After lowering the man to rest comfortably against the keg of nails, he rushed from behind the tavern to the main street in the tiny fishing village. Quickly, he finished his errands, stopping by the general store and paying off not only his accounts, but some of the debt owed by his housekeeper, dock hands and Angelina. They were too proud to take the money outright, but had yet to suspect why their credit was still good at the store.

  I did not know, came Angelina’s heartfelt words in his head.

  I did not want you to know, he silently replied and buried his head against his knees, unwilling to watch the scenes from the past any longer.

  As their story unfolded on the walls of his bedroom, Angelina walked to his side and knelt behind him. She wrapped her arms around his body as the vision played on around them. Angelina understood this was meant to be his punishment: to relive her death yet again.

  But the fact that he could not escape the visions did not mean that she could not comfort him, much as he had comforted her during her last moments on Earth.

  The images around them blurred and spun until they arrived at the small tavern where she had worked during her last mortal visit.

  Damien entered, a happy smile on his face, which broadened even further when he caught sight of her.

  Angelina recalled how her heart had fluttered in her chest with his arrival. He was so handsome with his dark hair and silver-gray eyes. His body was lean and well-muscled from his many days at sea and his life as a vampire had not changed it much. If anything, his immortality had preserved his physical beauty, but Angelina’s role was to safeguard something much more important: his soul.

  She had failed that first time a century ago when she had first been assigned to protect Damien. She had not perceived just how great a threat Ramirez could be. She had been too inexperienced a Guardian Angel, having no other experience on which to rely during that first assignment.

  Nothing about Damien was easy, especially as she had found herself falling in love with him from the moment she’d first viewed his past life, a method Guardian Angels used to understand their charges.

  She had been a little better prepared during this, her second visitation. The one that was now playing before her eyes and his, and yet she had still not understood what had been required of both her and Damien.

  In the vision swirling around them, she saw their happiness and her heart swelled with the joy of it. It made her hope that this time—the third and very rare opportunity with which she had been gifted—would be the lucky one.

  At a Christmas Eve so close to the present it could not really be called the past, Damien strode toward her, a sexy smile on his lips and the promise of so much more in his glittering gaze. As Angelina’s heart sped up, she suddenly experienced a strange sensation at her core. The draw was like the one she felt when coming down from Heaven to visit the mortal plain, but not quite the same. The feeling intensified and suddenly everything around her whirled, becoming a dizzying panorama until the images jarred to an abrupt halt.

  She jerked back as Damien took anoth
er step toward her, his eyes gleaming with passion and joy. A small dimple peeked from the corner of his mouth as he headed straight to one of her tables, much as he had a year earlier.

  Angelina unexpectedly realized that she, too, was reliving that fateful night.

  Did you think Damien was the only one who had something to learn? came the voice of the Archangel Raphael in her head.

  But before she could respond, the Angelina in the vision took control, forcing her into action as Damien sat down at one of the rough oak tables along with several of the town’s fishermen, sailors and laborers who frequented the tavern. She hurried to the bar and ladled up a bowl of the day’s chowder made from a mix of clams and fish fresh from the docks to feed him. She brought the chowder over to him along with a big hunk of bread she had baked that afternoon. Although vampires had no need of food, she now knew that Damien regularly ate with his human friends as a way to be part of their world.

  Beside his plate she also placed a pint of rum-laced apple cider that was more rum than cider. The local police officers turned a blind eye to such activities, choosing to crack down on the more blatant speakeasies in the upscale parts of town.

  The police left the common folk alone, seeming to understand they needed a nip to ease the chill of the sea and soothe muscles made sore by hard labor. Not to mention the value of a small diversion from the weariness of the Depression, where work, money and food were sometimes hard to find.

  As she served him, Angelina made a point of grazing her breast along his arm. Her nipple beaded instantly from that simple contact and when he shot her a slumberous half glance that promised so much more, her sex throbbed and dampened in anticipation. Their encounter earlier that day had left her wanting him.

  Angels were not meant to love humans, much less demons, the Archangel Raphael warned, offering her yet another reason why she had been thrust into reexperiencing the past. But despite Raphael’s warning, the Angelina of that Christmas Eve smiled at Damien and did as she had a year earlier.