A Vampire for Christmas

by Laurie London

  She leaned down and whispered in her lover’s ear, “It is a Holy Night, you know. The Devil may take you for such wicked thoughts.”

  Damien chuckled, wrapping his arm around her and teasing back, “The Devil can have me if it means being in your arms later.”

  The Devil must have heard them for he chose that moment to interrupt their happiness.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE THICK OAK DOOR of the tavern flew open and rebounded against the wall as Ramirez, his first mate and one of his sailors entered. The vampire crewmen flanked their captain’s back as he strutted into the tavern. His waddling gait and aggressive demeanor were painfully familiar.

  Aware that danger approached, Damien patted her side, handed her his mug and said, “Why don’t you get me another drink?”

  Since his mug was still nearly full, she understood he just wanted her out of the way. Because her role here was not to intrude, as she had last time, a fact the Archangels had reminded her of repeatedly before allowing her to return, she stepped away, hoping that this time Damien would make the right choice.

  She walked to the bar and, from the corner of her eye, kept a distant vigil.

  Damien turned his back to Ramirez and hunched over his bowl of chowder, clearly attempting to pay no heed to the other vampire. He picked up his spoon and began to eat, ignoring his foe until Ramirez walked right up beside him.

  The other men at the table, sensing that there would be trouble, grabbed their plates and mugs and moved away.

  “You cheated me, amigo,” Ramirez said, spreading his legs and jamming his hands on his hips. The action brought his hands dangerously close to the weapons on his belt.

  “First, I’m not your amigo. Second, I paid you what was agreed upon,” Damien said and then scooped up another spoonful of the chowder. He never once looked at the vampire captain, but instead of appeasing Ramirez it only seemed to incense him.

  The vampire captain reached down and with a swing of his arm, sent the plates and cups in front of Damien flying.

  Damien finally looked up at the man and his two friends. She prayed for him to act carefully. Prayed for him to appease the other man rather than incite further violence.

  Disappointment sank in as Damien replied, “You’ll not get another dime from me.”

  I didn’t have the money to return, Angelina heard the Damien of the present mutter and finally understood. He had paid every last cent of what he had made to the grocery store owner.

  “Have you forgotten already, mi amigo? I never take no for an answer.” Ramirez leaned close, his pale and pockmarked face barely an inch from Damien’s.

  “I guess there’s a first time for everything,” Damien replied, the slow rise of anger apparent in his voice.

  “Son of a bitch,” Ramirez growled and grabbed hold of the collar of Damien’s woolen peacoat.

  Angelina understood Damien’s burst of pain and anger at the mention of his sainted mother. Much like hate for his father had driven him a century ago, now love for his mother and her memory caused Damien’s violence to erupt.

  Before Ramirez could do anything else, Damien was on him, battling the smaller man to get free of his hold. Throwing punch after punch, which finally caused the vampire captain to release him. But instead of stepping away as she hoped, Damien launched himself at Ramirez, tackling him to the ground and pounding his face, overwhelming the other vampire.

  Seeing that their captain had lost the upper hand, Ramirez’s two goons jumped into the fray and so did some of the other men in the bar. They knew Damien well, and he had helped them on more than one occasion. But Angelina worried that the men were no match for Ramirez and his vampire crew.

  She was not mistaken. One local man after another was flung around the room while Ramirez and Damien continued to fight. The damage to the locals only seemed to cause more violence as the remaining sailors and fishermen joined the fight. The very air grew electric, charged with aggression and hate.

  But even with dozens of men engaged in the brawl, they failed to overcome Ramirez and his men, who seemed to delight in the escalation of the violence. While Damien and Ramirez wrestled and beat each other, blood pouring from their mouths and noses, Ramirez’s men decimated the town folk, gouging eyes and slashing razor-sharp nails across the other men as the crewmen watched their captain’s back.

  Angelina rushed forward, urging the men she knew away from the quartet fighting in the center of the bar. They had families who needed them and could ill afford to lose a breadwinner. She laid a calming hand on one man after the next, imparting peace to them, urging them away from the fray. Eventually, she’d made her way to Ramirez’s vampire crewmen.

  They were large, imposing creatures filled with such malevolence that she could feel it beat against her. But she tried to reach them anyway, hoping for peace before Damien and Ramirez killed one another.

  “Please let me pass. There has been enough blood shed tonight,” she urged the vampires.

  The one crewman threw his head back and laughed, almost braying like a jackass, but to her surprise the second vampire gave ground. He stepped away, giving her enough space to move toward Damien and Ramirez.

  She was no more than a step from them when Ramirez wildly swung his arm around and walloped the middle of her chest.

  A sharp gasp escaped her. The distressed sound pierced the violence, bringing a halt to the fight.

  Damien’s eyes went wide and he was quickly at her side as her knees weakened and became rubbery. Only then did the pain register.

  As he slowly lowered her to the ground, she looked down and saw the hilt of the knife protruding from her body. Felt the warmth drain from all her extremities, leaving behind cold and weakness.

  You should not have interfered, Raphael’s voice boomed, chastising her again, much as he had upon her return to Heaven after the failure of her first mission.

  I was wrong to do so, she admitted, and this time she finally understood that by her actions she had denied Damien the opportunity to save his soul.

  With that understanding came a dense feeling in her center that gathered into a heavy ball and burst from her. It dragged her forward, sending her on a wild ride and dropping her back into the present. Her heart raced as she found herself beside Damien again.

  He raised his face and the anguish there had darkened his eyes almost to black. She tightened her hold on him and together they watched the remainder of the vision play out.

  Damien lowered a mortally wounded Angelina to the ground and cradled her in his arms.

  “No, Angelina. Please don’t die,” Damien whispered. His blood and tears fell on her face as she struggled for breath. Each inhale more labored and less forceful. Life failed her until darkness claimed her.

  Darkness likewise swept away the images in the room, leaving her and Damien bathed only in the moonlight streaming through the windows of his bedroom.

  Damien was still huddled on the ground with her embracing him. Their bodies shook from the emotions they had been forced to reexperience. From the lessons they’d both had to learn.

  But then something seemed to course through Damien. He shuddered and rose, taking hold of her hand to urge her upward. His resolute, determined gaze met hers.

  “You’ve shown me the past and the present. What of the future?” he asked, gripping her hand tightly, almost as if fearing what she would show him.

  “I do not know the future, Damien. Only you can decide what it will be.”

  His generous lips thinned into a tight line. His silver-blue gaze grew hard, like polished stone. “I will not risk your life again. I will not face Ramirez.”

  Her gut twisted, the pain so great she pressed her free hand to her middle as if she had been struck.

  “I’m not sure that’s possible,” she said, fearing what she would tell him next.

  He searched her features, seeking some clue to what she meant, and then shook his head when he could not. “I don’t understand. Are we fated to meet
again? Is that the punishment for the life I’ve led? To suffer the hell of losing you over and over?”

  Sadly, she knew this was the last Christmas Eve they would share. “If you do not learn your lesson, I must leave and never return.”

  He laughed harshly and dropped her hand. He laid his arms across his chest defensively and stalked away from her, to the window, where he stood for long moments, peering out at the storm, clearly deep in thought.

  Finally, he faced her, the lines of his face looking gaunt beneath the silvering of the moonlight. “And if I learn my lesson? What then?”

  She walked back to him, laid a hand on his shoulder, willing peace into his soul. “My task is to guide you to the path of what is right. If I succeed, I move on. If I fail…”

  She didn’t really know what would happen if she failed. She supposed she’d go to Heaven, but just not as a Guardian Angel. It had never occurred to her that she might go elsewhere….

  “You must confront Ramirez,” she said, dreading what might happen if the two men came together once more, but understanding that it was fated. It was an unavoidable battle in the war for Damien’s soul.

  “Why? What is so important that I would risk my immortal soul and yours for that piece of slime?” he argued.

  Angelina girded herself, drawing in a shaky breath, preparing herself for what she would ask of him.

  “Ramirez took my wings and I must get them back.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  DAMIEN WAS PUZZLED, unable to understand why this visit of hers was so radically different. Why had he not noticed that she was not human during their earlier encounters? Why hadn’t her inhumanity occurred to him, given her reappearance in his life?

  “The first two times you came to me…you didn’t have wings.”

  She dipped her head to confirm his observations. “Not when I came to see you, but when I first arrived in the mortal realm I did. To hide our presence here on Earth while we’re on a mission, our wings disappear almost as soon as we land.”

  “Then what happened this time? What changed?” Damien asked, narrowing his eyes as he searched her features for any sign that she was different from the Angelina he had met in his two other lifetimes.

  “When I came back to Earth this time Ramirez was there, waiting. It was almost as if he knew I was returning.”

  Understanding dawned as he recalled the injuries he had tended earlier in the night. “Those wounds on your back…”

  “Before I could become fully human, his men grabbed me and Ramirez sliced off my wings.”

  Damien shook his head and then dragged a hand through his hair in frustration. Some had said Ramirez had made a pact with the Devil. Maybe it was true. Maybe that’s how he had known where to be so that he could ambush Angelina.

  But regardless of how Ramirez had captured her wings, Damien intended to help her retrieve them. He reached out, tenderly wrapping her in his arms. Bending his head, he rested his forehead against hers. “Why does he want your wings?”

  “They are the key to my immortal soul. If I do not get them back soon—”

  “You go to Hell? Never. No just God would allow someone as good as you to go to Hell,” he said, digging his hands into the thick masses of her dark hair. Cradling her head gently, he tried to reassure her.

  Angelina worried her lower lip, and the glint of her tears shimmered in the moonlight. “I do not know what will happen if I don’t get them back. All I know is that as long as he has them I am bound to this mortal plane.”

  “Which is a good thing, right? That means you can stay with me.” He massaged her scalp with his hands in an effort to ease her obvious distress.

  “I wish I could stay, Damien. But that is not why I was sent here. I’m supposed to help you see the right path so you can save your soul…remember?” She looked up at him, the tears subsiding and determination taking up residence on her face.

  Damien laughed harshly and shook his head. “You forget that I’m not worth saving, my love.”

  Angelina knew he wanted to believe that. Had convinced himself of it, maybe as a way to deal with his father’s rejection and his mother’s loss. But she had seen his actions as he helped others, as had the Archangel Raphael. It was why Damien had been chosen for salvation.

  And he had grown during her past two visits. He had become capable of love. But she also understood that he could not fully love another until he was ready to love himself.

  “You only think you’re not good enough. You’ve hidden your real self so that you won’t be hurt again.”

  He pushed away from her and stalked to the window. He repeatedly dragged his hands through his hair in frustration, as if wanting to pull it out. When he turned he was in his vampire form, eyes blazing and long deadly canines exposed.

  “I’m a demon, remember. Evil,” he argued and stalked back toward her, the rumble of the animal in his voice.

  Angelina stood her ground, tilting her chin up at a defiant angle. Showing no fear of what he was. “Demon or human doesn’t change the true nature of your soul. Of who you really are inside.”

  “And who am I?” he said, continuing with his defiance.

  “A good soul. One who will make the right choice this time,” she urged and ran her hand across the sandpapery beard on his cheek.

  “And if I do? What then? You go back to Heaven?”

  “If I have my wings, I can return to Heaven,” she confirmed with a curt dip of her head.

  Damien morphed back to his human form, processing all that she had said.

  Without her wings she was doomed to remain in this mortal realm, but at the risk of her soul. But to get her wings back he would have to confront Ramirez yet again. And if he did so, would they play out the same scene they had played out twice before?

  Not if he had any role in it. This time it would be different. Even if it meant losing Angelina again once her angelic mission was over, he would do it to save her soul. He would do it to be the kind of man she believed he could be.

  “We will make things right. Together,” he urged, truly convinced that with all that he had learned he would make the right choices this time.

  A brave smile came to her lips, although tears did finally slip from her lids and down her face. “Together,” she whispered.

  He stroked his thumbs across her cheeks and pulled her close, offering solace with his embrace. But they had too long been denied the pleasure of being together and comfort soon gave way to desire.

  Angelina could feel the passion rising in his body, from the very obvious jut of his erection along her belly to the tension filling his arms and shoulders. He was restraining himself for her, yet another indication of his growing measure as a man.

  But if this was to be their final time together, the last thing she wanted was restraint. And although she knew the Archangel Raphael might be angry, she could not deny her love for Damien no matter the price to be paid in Heaven for such a transgression.

  Easing away from him slightly, she raised her hand and laid it flush along the center of his chest. Beneath her palm came the faintest hint of a heartbeat. A vampire heartbeat, not that it mattered to her. It was a good heart. One that knew how to love.

  She shifted her hand over to cup the swell of his pectoral muscle and lazily ran her thumb over his hard masculine nipple. A tiny shudder crossed his body and spoke of the pleasure that her simple action brought him.

  Glancing up at him while she continued with her caress, she said, “Will you touch me like that?”

  His low guttural groan stoked desire within her, which burst into flame as he cupped her breasts and gently fingered her tight nipples. His actions dragged a sharp gasp from her.

  “Have I hurt you?” he asked, worry evident in the deep furrow marring his brow.

  She offered him a smile, reached up and brushed back the errant lock of ebony hair that had spilled forward when he gazed down at her. “No, my love. It’s just that I’d forgotten how wonderful it feels to have you
touch me.”

  “Sweet Lord,” burst from his lips, and he swept into action. Bending, he lifted her into his arms and strode the short distance to his bed, where he gently laid her on the silken comforter, mindful of her earlier injuries.

  Before she could do a thing, he had slipped between her legs as they draped over the edge of the bed. His erection was poised at her center, creating a pool of heat and wetness. She waited for his entry, but he smiled and cupped her breasts again.

  “I can feel your need. Down there,” he said, his voice a low tone that vibrated through her body. That made her shudder as he moved his erection along her swollen lips, but didn’t enter.

  “Damien,” she said, half plea, half question.

  “I want to pleasure you,” he replied and bent, trailing a line of kisses along the edge of her mouth and jaw until he was at the shell of her ear.

  “Only you,” he whispered before kissing her just behind the ear.

  He continued tweaking the sensitive tips of her breasts. Each little pinch and tug sent a burst of need between her legs.

  Then he began a slow descent down the edge of her collarbone. Butterfly-light kisses, which had her grasping his shoulders and urging him closer, until he finally closed his mouth on the peak of her breast.

  Angelina arched off the bed at the heat of that kiss. She threaded her hands through the silk of his hair and held him to her, lost in the sensations he was creating with his mouth and hands.

  Damien nearly came at the way she cried out his name, but held back, wanting her to experience every pleasure, every bit of joy he was capable of giving her. Over and over he suckled her breasts, licking and tugging at the sweet caramel tips. Alternating his hands and mouth from one breast to the other until she was shaking beneath him and bumping her hips upward in a plea for more.

  He chuckled then and raised his head, smiling at her abandon. “If all Angels are as tempting as you, why would any fool choose the Devil?”

  She returned his smile, but it had a bittersweet tinge, as did her words. “Because the Devil fools those who think desire means anything without love.”