by Virna DePaul
A VAMPIRE’S SALVATION
BY
VIRNA DePAUL
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A Vampire’s Salvation
Copyright © 2011 by Virna DePaul
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All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
License Notes
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Many thanks to Tina Folsom, Susan and Cyndi for their outstanding crits and friendship.
EXCERPT OF THIS NOVELLA, A VAMPIRE’S SALVATION
Frankie touched her lips as she remembered the kiss Jake had given her just before he’d dropped her off last night. It hadn’t resembled a first kiss, at least not one she’d ever received. It had been a claim on both their parts. It had been all tongues, teeth and racing hands. A no-holds-barred message that the dinner and conversation they’d had beforehand had merely been something to get through so they could get to this point in the evening. And what had come afterwards.
As she watched her reflection in the mirror, her skin turned a rosy color, and her chest began to skitter up and down as she struggled for breath. Her eyes looked wide and dazed, her mouth red, her nipples hard. Dear God, she was ready to orgasm just remembering that kiss. She whimpered and squeezed her thighs together, trying to ease the ache that had begun to throb there.
She was sure if she’d let him into her apartment last night, he would have been inside her in ten seconds flat. As it was, he’d had her pressed against the door and her legs wrapped around him before she’d even known what she was doing.
That’s what had made her stop—the fact that anyone could have come by and seen them, and she hadn’t cared at all. As much as she ached to invite him in and fulfill every fantasy she’d ever had, she’d felt too out of control to let it happen. She’d spent the night getting her control back and thinking about how to proceed. Part of her was willing to take a risk, but a calculated one.
They’d have sex tonight, but on her terms. When she was ready. And in a way she was ready for.
She’d touch his body. Kiss him everywhere she’d dreamed. She’d relish every moment with him while it lasted, knowing that it was safe. That they both had the same expectations.
Sex, not love.
Pleasure, not commitment.
She’d slake her desire with him while never jeopardizing her heart.
END OF EXCERPT
PROLOGUE
Reporters jostled for position behind the security barricades, firing questions and shooting pictures in a frenzy of lights, sounds, and motion. For a moment, the sea of bodies parted, giving Ronald Lassiter, who stood in a building across the street, an unimpeded view of the cool redhead with the distinctive name—Francesca Marie Stewart. With her fitted Armani suit, stilettos heels, and Chanel sunglasses, most people would guess she was an actress or the governor’s mistress before they’d guess she was—at heart, anyway—a tree-hugging environmentalist who just happened to have the Midas touch.
Oh yes, Ms. Stewart was amazingly good—and thus made an amazingly good living—at raising funds for whatever green cause she deemed worthy. In this case, her cause was the California governor’s reelection campaign.
He had no doubt she’d work her fingers to the bone making sure she raised enough money to ensure victory.
It was just one of the things that he loved about her. Despite what had happened to her face, she was beautiful enough to have found twenty men to support her, but she’d clawed her way up the ladder with sheer determination rather than sex appeal. She worked hard. Had always worked hard. Harder than a woman with her background should have to.
Ron smiled and, since he was alone, he didn’t even bother trying to hide his fangs. His throat felt parched, his lips chapped and, even though he’d drunk human blood less than twenty-four hours ago, his stomach ached with the need for more. His hunger was insatiable of late, and he knew he should be concentrating on that—on stocking up on humans to feed from before the chaos started—but he was hoping there was another way.
This way.
His shirt and tie rubbed against his neck, making him feel suddenly claustrophobic. He loosened them, then immediately breathed a sigh of relief before settling his sights on Frankie again.
He knew everything about Francesca Stewart. How much money she had in her bank account. What kind of birth control she used and the name of her last lover. Where she jogged. Where she shopped for her groceries.
Even what kind of perfume she liked – cruelty free, of course.
His surveillance told him she was proud and ambitious. Smart. A survivor.
So did the scar on her face.
Ron focused his gaze on the thin white line that ran from the inner corner of her right eye, down her cheek and toward her ear. Aside from a light layer of makeup, she did nothing to hide the scar. In fact, she almost always wore her hair pulled back, a gesture of defiance rather than a fashion statement.
He knew exactly how she’d gotten that scar, and admiration filled him once again.
She’d suffered tremendously, but this woman had depth. She had substance.
And she owed all her success—her very life—to him.
Now it was time for her to return the favor.
CHAPTER 1
For the first time in her life, Frankie Stewart seriously considered lying or buying her way into a man’s bed. It went completely against her moral code, but she’d never wanted anyone or anything as badly as she wanted Jake Rios. Unfortunately for her, Jake had never indicated he could be coerced or bought into anything, let alone sex with a woman he barely even noticed.
Still, she could fantasize, couldn’t she? She could go home, climb naked into her bed, and touch herself the way she imagined a man like Jake Rios would touch a woman. She could lick her fingers and tug at her nipples, then rub against her wet slit again and again. Then, when her pussy was clenching and her legs shifting restlessly, seeking something thick and hard to fill her core, she could dip her fingers into herself and make herself come.
There would be nothing wrong with that.
She was, after all, in her sexual prime. She was independent and successful. Her to-do-list was down to manageable single digits and it was her favorite kind of night: warm but with a hint of a breeze that would tease her hair when she walked to her car. Sexual release was a human need; masturbation often a woman’s only way to take care of that need.
The problem was, Frankie had already “taken care of herself” the night before. And the night before that. For weeks. Months. Even years. She hadn’t had sex since she was seventeen years old. She hadn’t wanted to. But suddenly she was tired of fantasies. She wanted more.
Something warm, real and unapologetically male to hold.
Was there a chance she could get it tonight?
She glanced outside at the night sky dot
ted by twinkling lights, not stars but the illumination from other buildings against the windows of the Capitol.
The governor was a night owl who conducted business at all hours. Dylan Cook supervised his security during the day; Jake worked night shift. Frankie worked whatever hours she had to. Now that she thought about it, she couldn’t remember ever seeing Jake Rios during daylight, so maybe that’s why he featured in so many of her naughtier dreams. He was a nocturnal creature; why wouldn’t she think of him in terms of black satin sheets, candlelight, and moonlit carriage rides?
A lazy heat coursed through her body as she once more shifted her gaze to Jake.
He stood approximately ten feet in front of her desk, talking to the governor and two men on his security team and, as always, he appeared oblivious to her gaze or her thoughts. So did the other men. Jake held their full attention, and it was easy to see why.
From the top of his closely shorn head to the tips of his polished shoes, he exuded authority and power. He was big—a broad, six-feet-four-inches—but he moved with the speed and grace of a cheetah. He’d been offered the job as the governor’s head of security almost six months ago, right after he’d calmly walked up to the governor during an evening fundraising event and informed him his security measures sucked. Nobody had known who Jake was, how he’d gotten into the secure banquet room, or how he’d approached the governor without any of his bodyguards seeing or stopping him. If he’d wanted to, Jake could have assassinated the state’s most promising politician in seconds.
Thankfully, he’d seemed to want just the opposite. He’d asked for a few moments to speak privately with the governor. Ever since his request had been granted, he’d virtually been given free reign over the governor’s protective detail.
He intimidated most people, and sometimes even the governor had a hard time speaking up when Jake said something should be done a certain way. It wasn’t simply that he was physically imposing, but that his eyes glimmered with intelligence and his deep voice held a dark, persuasive allure that made everything he said sound so reasonable.
Half the time, Frankie had to forcibly stop herself from clicking her heels together and saluting the man. The other half of the time, she had to force herself not to jump him and rip his clothes off.
If she was looking for warm and real and unapologetically male, he definitely fit the bill.
He was hands down, unconditionally, undeniably, the sexiest man she’d ever met.
What she couldn’t figure out was why. What about him was so compelling? She tilted her head, trying to be objective.
Like always, he wore a dark suit and tie, and the fine material strained against the broad width of his shoulders. Frankie knew by having seen Jake in running clothes that his arms and legs were pumped enough to put a gladiator to shame. He used the governor’s private gym every night a couple of hours before dawn, sprinting and lifting weights, so it was no wonder he was so fit. But despite being built, the guy wasn’t gorgeous, not by any stretch of the imagination.
While not unpleasant, his features were all hard lines and sharp angles, with a prominent Roman nose that appeared to have been broken several times. Even the pale green of his eyes failed to soften his appearance and instead added to the image of a predator. Far too dangerous to ever be classified handsome. He also didn’t seem to sleep well during his off hours; often he came to work with shadows under his eyes, his skin pale, a look of fatigue and hunger edging his expression.
It was during those times that Frankie was most drawn to him. She wanted to hold him. Rock him. Take care of him.
Feed him and nurture him.
She’d always been a sucker for men who needed her. Which made her the biggest kind of fool. The last man who’d needed her had almost killed her.
Besides, men, particularly men like Jake, typically didn’t want —let alone deserve— such tenderness. They took what they wanted, when they wanted it, and any woman would be an idiot to forget that.
Jake nodded at something the governor said, and Frankie suddenly realized she’d never seen him laugh. He’d never even smiled as far as she could remember. The same could be said about her, but the reason she didn’t smile was obvious—at least to her: when she smiled, her scar puckered slightly, calling even more attention to itself. What in the world held Jake back? She refused to believe he was joyless or humorless, but what did she know?
She knew nothing about his personal life or his personality. She’d never heard him talk about a girlfriend. She’d never heard him crack a joke. All she knew was that he commanded respect, that he treated his men as if they were just as important as the governor, and that he took his job very seriously. And while all those traits were admirable ones for the governor’s head of security, they certainly didn’t explain why she thought—no, knew—that he would be a first-class lover.
Frankie’s mind flooded with months’ worth of familiar fantasies. She imagined Jake naked, tied to a bed, and at her complete disposal. Then she imagined him standing up, his hard body pressing into hers as he overwhelmed her senses with heat and passion. Finally, she imagined a simple kiss. An open-mouth, tongue-twining, soul-wrenching kiss that lasted for days.
A shiver ran through her body.
Whatever the reason, the man had it. Call it chemistry. Call it animal magnetism. Or call it sheer madness on Frankie’s part. Whatever it was, it called to her like a siren’s lure. Making her blood heat. Making her body ache. Making her ready to do all kinds of unspeakable things just for the chance of tasting or touching that chiseled face and body.
Too bad it was never going to happen.
Suddenly, Jake’s gaze flickered in her direction, making Frankie’s breath seize. For one moment, he seemed to stare into her soul, seeing every thought, every fantasy she’d harbored over the past six months. Something hot flashed in his eyes just before they went blank, and he looked back at the governor.
Frankie wasn’t fooled. He’d seen her. Had caught her staring at him like a bitch in heat. Shame flushed her face and she cursed under her breath. She spun her chair around until her back was to Jake. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, taking several deep breaths.
What was she thinking? She didn’t go for arrogant, macho guys. Not anymore.
Besides, she needed to concentrate on what really mattered.
Her job.
Her emotional safety.
Neither was worth jeopardizing for a few hours of wild sex with a relative stranger. Not even hot, incredible, make-you-think-you’ll-die-from-the-pleasure kind of sex.
After several minutes, Frankie heard the men conclude their conversation, walk out of the room, and shut the door behind them. She gave a sigh of relief and spun her chair back around. Her legs bumped into something hard, and she immediately saw a pair of dark trousers blocking her path. She moved her gaze up powerful thighs, a trim waist, and a strong neck, where his vein pulsed strongly with his life force.
Her gaze connected with Jake’s. He stared back at her silently, causing Frankie’s own pulse to skitter out of control. Heat traveled a slow, sinuous path from her toes upward. And her body seemed to soften in places she only consciously registered when Jake was around. She struggled to appear indifferent to the fact that they were alone, and that she was warm and wet between her legs.
But then something happened. Something that had never happened before.
Jake smiled.
At her. A broad, close-mouthed grin that softened the hard planes of his expression and caused deep creases at the corners of his mouth.
If she hadn’t been sitting, the sight of his smile would have brought her to her knees.
***
Jacob La Costa Rios watched color stain Francesca’s cheeks and felt a deep sense of satisfaction. Not because he’d flustered her, although he had to admit that was a charming sight, but because he was tired of waiting. He wasn’t a man normally prone to patience. Not when it came to getting what he wanted, and he most definitely wanted
her.
Besides, he was no ordinary man. He was a vampire. An immortal being. He’d lived on this Earth for almost two hundred years, and during those long years, he’d begun to fear he’d always be alone. That he’d never find the life mate that would bring fulfillment to his body and peace to his soul. Even worse, a vampire who reached two hundred years without his mate wasn’t just an unhappy camper, but a vulnerable one—one who’d slowly but surely begin to lose his strength and, ultimately, his immortality. If he reached his 201st year and still hadn’t found his mate, his decline couldn’t be reversed.