Blood of the Maple mg-1

by Dana Marie Bell

  She was trembling. Why was she trembling? “So do you.”

  She’d swear he was laughing at her, but when she started to glare up at him, his expression was solemn. “Thank you.” He lifted first one hand, then the other, placing soft kisses on her fingertips, and her knees damn near gave out. “Are you ready, my sweet?”

  She nodded before she could stop herself.

  “Good. I look forward to seeing the movie. Do you know what’s playing tonight?” He reached over to her coatrack and wrapped her favorite sweater around her shoulders.

  “The Howling. The weres insisted, since last month was The Haunting of Hill House and the month before that was The Craft. Next month we’re probably going to do The Guardian again, although my vote is for The Day of the Triffids.”

  “What about Attack of the Killer Tomatoes?”

  “The theater won’t show it anymore. It took forever to get the stains out.”

  He paused before pulling her door shut. He took the keys from her and locked it. “Stains?”

  “We started throwing tomatoes at the screen, the projector, each other. By the time the movie was over, the theater looked like Little Italy had puked all over it.”

  He shook his head and held out his elbow. “Shall we?”

  She took his arm and began walking. “It’s about five blocks to Main, then another three to the theater.”

  “A lovely stroll with a lovely woman,” he whispered in her ear. She’d have thought he was just being polite if not for the fact that he nibbled on her earlobe when he was done.

  She shrugged, brushing him off. “Do I need some Vamp-Be-Gone?”

  He gasped. “I’m wounded. Again. And here I am, taking you to the theater, making sure you aren’t molested—”

  “—by anyone other than you.” She was beginning to enjoy this. He was flirting with her.

  With her!

  She couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.

  “That should be obvious.” He sniffed arrogantly, and she didn’t know whether to laugh or scream for help.

  “Tell me something.” They turned onto Main, and she knew she wouldn’t have much time, but the question had been circling in her mind ever since he’d asked her to movie night.

  “Anything.”

  “Why me?” When his steps faltered, she continued. “I’m curious. I mean, most vamps take one sniff, wrinkle their noses and move on to the O-positive set. You have to know I’m not human, so why me?”

  “Will you answer my question if I answer yours?”

  She nodded. Everyone in town knew who and what she was, so it wasn’t like he couldn’t find out, now that he’d been accepted by the council.

  “What can I say? To me, you smell divine.” She opened her mouth to protest his lame answer, but he placed his finger over her lips. He halted and gently asked, “What are you?”

  She huffed out a breath. “I’m a dryad.” Another dryad saw her coming and, as usual, crossed the street without acknowledging her. She hid her wince and hoped Parker hadn’t noticed.

  His eyes grew wide and wild. “Really,” he breathed. It was like she’d handed him Christmas, his birthday and an all-you-can-eat porn star rolled into one. From the way he swallowed, he might have started drooling.

  I am in big trouble. “Yes, really.”

  “Well. That explains quite a bit.” He started walking forward again, a curiously satisfied expression. “I was cursed by a witch to drink only green, leafy blood.”

  This time she was the one who drew to a halt. She ignored the man behind her who muttered “Freak” before walking around her, instead focusing on what Parker had just said. “That’s…different. How did she manage that, and why aren’t you dead of starvation?”

  “Long story, one I promise we’ll go into after the movie.” He stared into her eyes. “If you’ll allow me, that is.”

  She swallowed hard. “I should warn you. I’m slightly more than a dryad.”

  He nodded. “And I’m a freak among monsters.” He smiled and threaded their arms together again. He didn’t seem to notice the unfriendly stares they were attracting. “I think we’ll get along fine.”

  There was a brief moment at the concession stand where Parker thought he would have to fight a werewolf over Amara’s popcorn. The were had snarled at her, and only backed away when Parker snarled back. Amara’s apprehension had him pulling away before a real fight could begin. The were let it go also, joining his friends with a sneer.

  He didn’t get it. The popcorn didn’t smell that good, and Amara hadn’t done anything to deserve such a reaction. When they took their seats toward the back of the theater, several people got up and moved away, giving them wary looks. Parker kept his arm around Amara, eager to show her at least one person in the theater was happy to be with her.

  The movie, on the other hand, turned out to be incredibly fun, especially when the werewolves decided to howl at totally inappropriate moments and hurl insults at the screen. Watching the on-screen werewolves shape-shift with crackling bones and melting faces while their terrified victims screamed seemed particularly amusing to them. A few of the real weres growled at that part, but Parker didn’t want to know what that was about.

  He always wondered why the victims didn’t run. Who would be that dumb? If Parker was faced with something that could easily kill him but took twenty minutes to change shape in order to do it, no way in hell would he stand there screaming. He’d haul ass and get as far away as he could. He shook his head. You might as well carry ketchup packets in your pocket in case the monster wanted some condiments while he gnawed your face off.

  There was a mock fight in the audience between one of the werewolves and a woman who smelled like a clean, crisp waterfall. The werewolf won by the simple argument that when your tongue is busy dueling with someone else’s, you can’t yell anymore. “Mates?”

  “Mm-hmm.” Amara snuggled close, giggling when the werewolf slung the woman over his shoulder, saluted his friends and strode out of the theater. “She’s been dealing with some pollution in her pond, and it made her cranky. This was a good way for her to get some of that out without hurting her mate.”

  Parker’s head tilted. “Her pond?”

  “She’s a naiad.”

  “Oh. That explains the way she smells.”

  Her eyes literally lit up, the green glow startling him. “You like the way she smells?” The rumbling tone of her voice startled him even more.

  “It’s refreshing, but it isn’t you.” He licked a long line up her neck, enjoying her shiver. “No one is you.”

  The glow died down. Amara smiled, one of those satisfied, mysterious smiles that went right to Parker’s cock and perked it up in the best of ways. He shifted in his seat. He didn’t want her to notice how badly he wanted to strip her down and have her right there and then. He didn’t want to scare her off, but he also didn’t want her thinking the only thing he wanted from her was an occasional date.

  He was beginning to think he might want everything.

  “Ice cream after the movie?”

  Parker stared at his date. She’d forgotten he was a vampire for at least one moment in time, and he was tickled pink. “Does it come in A-positive carnation-maple-walnut?”

  Her expression was completely serious. “I don’t know. We can check the menu.”

  It was Parker’s turn to be startled. “You’re kidding me.”

  She smiled. “Nope. Your…unusual difficulties are probably all over town by now. I’m sure some of the merchants have already taken it into account.”

  He blinked. “Shit.” He wasn’t sure if this town creeped him the hell out or if he’d found his special slice of American pie. “That’s—” he noticed the looks some of the audience were giving him and changed his answer accordingly, “—neighborly.”

  The weres smiled and turned their attention back to the movie. Parker sank in his seat and prayed none of the furry set took it into their heads to teach him the true m
eaning of neighborly, were-style. While he could take on a few of them, he had no desire to take on all of them.

  Amara hid her face in her hands. Even over the howling wolves and screaming idiots on the screen, he could hear her giggles.

  “It’s not funny.”

  “Yes, it is.” She lifted her head and looked at him. Her eyes were dancing, her lips curled, her cheeks flushed. She looked beautiful.

  Could anyone blame him for stealing a kiss? He didn’t think so. He couldn’t remember ever being tempted by a woman’s lips this badly. Kissing the laughter from those full lips almost took top priority. First, of course, was getting a taste of Amara.

  And damn if she didn’t taste delicious, as he’d expected. Whether it was her dryad blood, her “something more” or the fact that he was kissing Amara, he wasn’t sure, but he could easily become addicted.

  The best part? She hadn’t frozen up on him, hadn’t tried to stop the kiss. No, she parted her lips, inviting him inside the lush warmth of her mouth, dueling with his tongue until the only thing he could hear was the beating of her heart. She grabbed his biceps and pulled him as close as the theater seat would allow. He followed where she led, more than ready to move with her.

  “Go, Parker. Go, Parker. It’s your birthday. It’s your birthday.”

  Parker froze. His eyes flew open. Oh no. No way. They couldn’t be.

  “Be nice, Greg.”

  Fuck. They were.

  He ripped his mouth from Amara’s and glared over his shoulder. Brian sat with his arm around an empty seat, his attention seemingly riveted to the screen.

  “Parker?”

  He turned back to Amara. “Ah. Brian and Greg are behind us.”

  She waved. “Hello, Brian.”

  “Amara. How are you this evening?”

  “Fine. You?”

  “Good. This is my, um, friend Greg.” Brian pointed toward the empty seat, an adorable blush staining his cheeks. His normally pristine hairstyle was mussed, and his lips were swollen. Parker had to wonder what they had been up to before Greg had made their presence known.

  “Greg?”

  Parker’s head fell back against his seat. “My Casper.”

  “Hey!”

  Brian’s laugh was almost as loud as the howl the weres sent up as the bad guy was finally defeated.

  “Oh. Nice to meet you, Greg.” She held out her hand to the empty seat, pretending to shake someone else’s hand.

  “Parker? What the hell is she doing?”

  “Shaking your ectoplasm.”

  “That’s my job,” Brian muttered, but there was laughter in his voice.

  “Well.” Parker clapped his hands loud enough to make some of the surrounding audience jump and grinned weakly at Amara. “Not that this isn’t humiliating or anything—”

  “I’m having a good time.”

  “—but would you like to get out of here?”

  Amara stood and grabbed her purse. “Have fun, Brian.” She waved goodbye to the empty seat, stealing a bit more of Parker’s heart. “Nice meeting you, Greg.”

  “You too.”

  Parker shook his head and followed Amara out of the theater. So much for our first date. He hoped she’d be up for a second, and a third.

  Was it too soon to ask her to move in?

  Amara pointed toward the ice-cream parlor. “It’s open late on MM Night. So is the candy store. Sometimes we leave hungry despite the free popcorn.”

  “Hmm. I’m not certain they’ll have anything for me.”

  “What’s the worst that can happen? You go home without ice cream?” She grabbed his hand and dragged him inside. “Quick, before everyone else gets here.” She did a goofy victory dance when she saw the place was empty. “Yes! We’re first in line.”

  Parker sighed but allowed himself to be danced along. She got the impression he was used to leading.

  “Evening, Ken.” Amara smiled at the teenager behind the counter. The Madisons were one of the few families around town who treated her as if she were like everyone else, and for that they had Amara’s undying loyalty. “Can I have Chocolate-Covered Cherry, please?” Amara bounced at the counter. She loved ice cream; it was a special treat for special nights. Even after Glinda’s death she’d continued the practice, rewarding herself with the creamy delight when something good happened in her life.

  Tonight was special, and she deserved her special treat.

  “Got anything both bloody and green and leafy?” Parker didn’t sound very enthusiastic, but Ken nodded.

  “Dr. Hollis, right? I’ve got something you might like. You’ll have to let me know if we can improve it, though.”

  Parker’s expression was comical. “You actually have an ice cream you think I can eat?”

  “Well, it’s technically not ice cream per se, but…well. You’ll see.” Ken disappeared into the back room and returned with a cone with one scoop of something swirling with colors. Reddish-brown, dark green and tannish-gold warred with one another. The scent had Amara wrinkling her nose, but Parker practically salivated. “My Goddess. That actually smells good.”

  Ken looked relieved. “Thanks. My dad came up with the recipe. We modified the standard How Green Is Your Love? by combining it with Here’s Blood in Your Eye. Oh, and there’s some Maple Madness in there too.”

  Parker gaped, his expression reverent. “It’s the supernatural Ben and Jerry’s.”

  Ken laughed as Parker got down on his knees and prostrated himself before the counter. “Thanks! I’ll tell my dad to keep it in stock.” He rang them up, and he waved goodbye when Parker paid. “Enjoy your ice cream, Dr. Hollis. Amara.”

  Parker waved his cone. “You can call me Parker.”

  The kid nodded and waved to the next person in line. “Hey, Mr. Wulfenbach. What can I get you?”

  Amara was careful not to bump into the werewolf alpha. He didn’t snarl and snap at her like some of the others, but she’d hardly call him warm and fuzzy either. And he’d never done anything to make the rest of the pack back off when they took it into their heads to get really annoying. “Hair of the Dog, kid.”

  “Coming right up.”

  Parker held open the door for her. “Wow. You guys take your ice cream seriously.”

  Amara licked her cone. Yum. “You have a problem with that?”

  “Hell no.”

  She didn’t understand his rough tone. She licked another side of the ice cream, allowing the rich flavor to burst on her tongue. She moaned at the rich, creamy goodness. “Mmm. This is delicious.”

  “Remind me to buy an ice-cream maker.”

  She looked up at him. His gaze was glued to her mouth. His cone was beginning to drip down his hand. “Lick it.” He blinked, and she realized what she’d said. She could feel her cheeks heating. “Your ice cream—it’s melting. Lick it.”

  He did, moving his tongue along his hand and back up to the ice cream, circling the creamy tip. His eyes never left hers. Amara’s nipples were rock hard by the time he was done.

  “You’re right. This is incredibly good.”

  Somehow she knew he wasn’t talking about the ice cream.

  “Uh. Yeah.”

  He smiled, the look so smug, so male, she wanted to kick him. “So. The curse. Greg. The idea that dryads are tasty morsels. Inquiring minds want to know.”

  He cleared his throat. For the first time since she’d met him, he looked uncomfortable, and she had to wonder why. “Let’s finish our ice cream first, shall we?”

  “It’s going to take a while, I gather.”

  “You gather correctly.”

  They walked in silence, each concentrating on their cones. Okay, Parker was concentrating on his cone. Amara’s attention wavered between her treat and Parker’s mouth.

  She was really coming to like his mouth.

  He finished first and tossed the cone into one of the trash cans that lined the streets, then licked the sticky mess from his hand. “That was good. Thank you for taking me there
.”

  She blushed in pleasure. “Make sure you let Ken know if you think it could be better.” She looked up at him from under her lashes, shy now that they were almost home. “And you’re welcome.”

  “I will.” He stretched, the fabric of his shirt pulling taut over his chest, and Amara’s heart rate sped up again. “Are you all right?”

  “Mm-hmm.” She devoured her ice cream, barely tasting it before it was gone, and tried to ignore his slow grin. They walked up the steps to Amara’s home. “May I come in?”

  “Will you explain everything to me? And I mean everything.”

  “I’ll do my best.” His thumbs were hooked in his belt loops, and his sexy grin morphed into an embarrassed one.

  “You’d better.” She didn’t know why, but damn it, she not only wanted him, she trusted him. He intrigued her, and she was determined to find out why. She unlocked the door and led the way. “I’d offer you a drink, but—”

  “That’s all right. I’m full.” Parker gestured toward the couch. “Perhaps we should get comfortable. The tale of my rampant stupidity might take a while.”

  She sat and waited for him to settle next to her. “All right. You have my attention.”

  “Long ago, during the age of hippies and free love, I was an idiot.”

  Amara did her best not to smile.

  “Why do I have the feeling you’re wondering what’s changed?” He held up his hand. “Don’t answer that. Please. Greg is more than happy to point out my flaws in perpetuity. I believe it might be why he decided on an afterlife after death, so he could continue to tell me I told you so.” Parker ran his fingers through his hair. “During a bonfire in the desert I met a woman, a young hippie named Terri. And no, she hadn’t changed her name to something like Moonflower or Starlust or anything like that.”

  “Starlust?”

  “You’d be amazed how many people ask me that. Like all of us went around calling ourselves Moonpuppy or something. Anyway, she was pretty, she danced like a dream and she thought my accent was groovy. Greg disliked her from the first, but I found myself watching her more and more, until eventually we wound up sleeping together.”