A Vampire's Salvation (A Vampire Romance)

by Virna DePaul

  Gasping, she closed her eyes, reeling from the newest assault on her senses. “Are you—are you going to hurt me? When we’re done, I mean?”

  He remained silent, and she forced her eyes open. He gazed at her, his expression grim. “Never. I’d die to protect you, Frankie.”

  She studied him. Believed him. She knew she should be crying out in horror or wondering if she really had gone insane, but she’d learned long ago that reality could turn on a dime and people could change who they were faster than a person could blink.

  Her first love had turned into a dangerous criminal before her eyes—why couldn’t Jake turn into a vampire?

  She reached up and touched his mouth, pulling on the upper one until his lips parted. “Let me see them,” she whispered.

  His fangs sprang out, but otherwise he didn’t move.

  She pushed up on her elbows to inspect the sharp points. Prodded at one with her finger until he shuddered. Curious to see what would happen, she leaned closer and flicked her tongue against one fang. He groaned.

  “That feels good?”

  “Yes,” he whispered. “Very good.”

  His tone was low and husky, shivering through her like the orgasms he’d given her, dragging her further away from reality and notions of how she “should be” reacting to this startling turn of events. Eyes locking with his, she laid back and arched her hips up. Again, he groaned.

  “As good as this?”

  The heat in his gaze intensified until she expected smoke to rise off her body. He shook his head. “Nothing feels as good as his. Nothing ever will.”

  She had two choices. She could do the rational thing, accuse him of being psychotic or a monster, and flee. Or she could do what she wanted to do: stay with him, enjoy her time with him just as she’d intended, and trust that no matter what he needed to drink to biologically survive, he was still the same man he’d always been.

  She thought of her scar. Of the secrets it represented, yet how it represented nothing about who she really was deep down inside. It was just as likely that Jake’s fangs and need for blood didn’t represent who he really was.

  And if she was putting herself in danger because of her romanticism?

  Well then, she supposed nothing had changed since she was seventeen years old.

  Reaching up, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. Then her fingers smoothed over his shoulders in a contented, kneading motion.

  Nothing feels as good as this. Nothing ever will, he’d said.

  Her response?

  “Prove it,” she challenged.

  And he did.

  CHAPTER 6

  Although barely audible to the human ear, a creak outside Frankie’s door alerted Jake to someone or something’s presence. Carefully, he pulled away from her, which wasn’t easy given the way she clung to him, their arms and legs tangled intimately. She moaned softly in her sleep and pouted adorably before shifting to her side, facing him with her thighs slightly spread and her breasts pushed enticingly together.

  Instantly, his mouth watered, his fangs and shaft lengthened, and his fingers curled with the need to touch her. His sex drive had always been plenty healthy, but he’d never been this insatiable before. He’d fucked her hard throughout the night and she’d only slept a few hours. Unlike him, she needed sleep and she was supposed to go to work in the morning, then attend the big gala that evening. He needed to get his dick under control and let her rest.

  Besides, there was that sound again.

  Swiftly, he dressed—making sure he was armed with both his gun and his dagger with its solid silver blade—and padded to her front door. The closer he got, the more agitated he became.

  He sensed a threat. Not to him, but to Frankie.

  Vampires had superior eyesight, hearing, and smell. Humans smelled like citrus, while a vamp’s scent was distinctly more floral. Right now, it smelled like a fucking rose garden was moving closer and, by the sounds of it, climbing the interior steps leading to Frankie’s front door. The only question was: was this vampire friend or foe?

  Jake opened the door and stepped into the shadowed hallway. As he did, the creaks from the stairs ceased instantly. Someone spit out a curse and Jake felt a disturbance in the air as that same someone turned, swiftly moving back in the direction they’d come.

  Whoever it was had sensed Jake and had turned tail and run.

  Foe. Definitely foe. And no way was Jake going to let the bastard get away.

  He lunged down the stairs, following the sound and scent of Frankie’s stalker. In seconds, he barreled through the front door of the building, just in time to see a male figure running with vampire speed down the street. Jake went after him, his legs eating up the miles, steadily gaining ground until finally, with a powerful lunge, he launched himself at the fleeing male and brought him down.

  They hit the rough concrete and rolled before, almost in unison, gaining their feet. The vampire gripped his arm and swung him in the air, propelling him against the side of a building half a block away. Jake grunted at the impact, then flipped to his feet. He got a running head start, then somersaulted over the vampire’s head. Mid-air, he reached inside his jacket and withdrew his fighting blade. When he landed, he grabbed the male by the hair and pressed the flat part of the blade against his throat. The smell of singed flesh immediately wafted up at him.

  “In case you can’t tell, this is silver, dickhead. If you so much as breathe too deep, I’ll slice off your head.”

  The male stayed frozen but couldn’t stop himself from sucking in breaths of air. Jake pressed the blade harder against the vamp’s throat, this time turning it so it sliced his flesh and drops of blood trickled out. The vampire howled with pain.

  Gripping his hair even harder, Jake yanked his head farther back. “Who are you and what do you want with Frankie Stewart?”

  “Fuck…you…” the vampire breathed, his flickering gaze alerting Jake to the others’ presence just before he smelled them.

  Growling and making sure to keep the male in front of him, Jake turned.

  Shit.

  Three more vampires stood in front of him, their eyes narrowed and their mouths curled into mocking sneers. “Release him,” the vamp in the middle commanded.

  With a flick of his wrist, Jake plunged the blade half an inch inside his captive’s throat. The vamp screamed and clawed frantically at Jake’s arm as more smoke sizzled out of the wound.

  “Or what?” Jake said as soon as the vampire’s scream faded.

  “Or we’ll gut you with your own weapon.”

  Jake shrugged. “You’re welcome to try. Or you can just tell me what you want with Frankie Stewart and I’ll let him live. Maybe I’ll even let all of you live.”

  The three vamps looked at each other and laughed. The middle one shrugged. “Kill him then.”

  The vamp he was holding flinched. Coughed weakly, the sound phlegmy. “Bastards!”

  Jake tsked. “Your friends don’t have much loyalty. Any last words before I do as they say?”

  “Wait.” The vampire struggled weakly in Jake’s grasp. “They want both of you. They—” He screamed and jerked violently just before he went completely limp, his dead weight dragging him to the ground. Jake let him go so he sprawled out in from of him, but the knife one of the vamps had thrown stayed embedded in his chest.

  The three vamps advanced on Jake. “What’s that old pirate saying,” the leader said. ‘”Dead men tell no tales?’” He narrowed his eyes at Jake while fingering another throwing knife. “We’ve been wanting to shut you up for a long time, Rios. Perhaps now’s the—”

  “Sunlight,” one of the other vamps shouted. All of them except the vampire on the ground jerked and turned toward the horizon. The sun had barely begun to rise but Jake instantly felt his skin begin to blister beneath his clothes. Damn it, he needed to know who these vamps where. Who had hired them. “Wait,” he yelled and lunged forward, but the three vampires had already vanished, thei
r figures a blur as they fled around the street corner.

  Frantically, Jake looked around, then at the male on the floor. He needed to search him for ID and clues, but there was no time. He was miles from Frankie’s apartment with only seconds to find shelter or he’d be burned to a crisp. He saw a door to an old warehouse several feet ahead. If it was open, he’d be saved. If he had to spend even a few seconds ripping it open…

  With an inhuman roar, Jake ran, managing to grab the dead vamp as he passed him. Heat rippled along his back, shooting intense pain throughout his body. He could smell his skin beginning to smoke just as he pulled open the unlocked door and flung both himself and the dead vampire inside.

  ***

  Frankie stared at her standard breakfast of yogurt and granola. When her bedside alarm had gone off as usual, she hadn’t bothered to get up and eventually it had stopped on its own.

  She’d been awake for hours, waiting for Jake to return, hoping he’d run to the store or gone for a walk or returned to his place for some clean clothes. But if that had been the case, he certainly would have been back by now.

  Obviously, he had no intention of coming back, and his absence had nothing to do with him needing to protect his vampire form from daylight—assuming, that is, that hadn’t been a preposterous lie and the myths were right about sunlight being dangerous to his kind.

  No, Jake had left her bed and he’d done it when it was still dark out. He hadn’t left a note, and he wasn’t answering his home phone or his cell phone, which he always, always answered. He’d snuck away as if he was ashamed of having had sex with her and without even giving her the courtesy of a few answers.

  Like how often he had to drink blood to survive, how he’d become a vampire in the first place, and exactly how many “more” of him existed.

  Of course, any answers he’d have given would probably all have been lies anyway. Just like their night together had been a lie.

  Pushing away her uneaten food, Frankie stood, wincing slightly at the aches and pains her movements caused. She felt like she’d been run over by a truck, especially between her thighs; it was why she was wearing a pantsuit and flats as opposed to a skirt and heels. She hadn’t bothered pulling her hair back, but had left it flowing loose around her shoulders. She’d have to have her hair done and wear heels for the gala tonight, so she might as well enjoy being comfortable while she could. She deserved that much after Jake’s betrayal.

  Her phone rang, and she couldn’t stop her momentary flash of hope. The screen flashed with a private number. She snatched up the receiver. “He—hello?”

  “Frankie, it’s Dylan Cook, with the governor’s security team.”

  Jake’s second-in-command, a steely eyed ex-marine who headed up the governor’s security during the day. Was Cook calling to tell her something had happened to Jake? Was that why he hadn’t come back? “Yes?”

  “May I speak with Jake, please?”

  Frankie’s body stiffened. “What makes you think Jake—I mean, Mr. Rios—whom I assume you’re referring to—is here?”

  Dylan laughed. “It’s okay, Frankie. Jake told me he’d be spending the night with you. I’m sorry to call so early, but it’s important. Jake and I need to go over—”

  “Jake Rios is not here,” Frankie snapped. Her anger was a living, breathing thing, prodding all the sore spots on her body. He’d told Dylan Cook he was going to spend the night? Even though it had only been their second date? The arrogant, filthy braggart—

  “What do you mean, he’s not there?” Cook’s voice was clipped. “He’s not at his house. I’ve called his phone and cell with no answer. I figured the only thing that could keep him from answering was if…”

  “If he was getting laid?” Frankie’s sneer was so ugly, she supposed it was a good thing Dylan Cook couldn’t see it. “Is that what you were going to say, Mr. Cook?”

  “Uh no…I mean…”

  “You could very well be right, Mr. Cook. Maybe Mr. Rios is getting laid right now. Maybe he’s playing at being a vampire because he’s hoping it’ll get him laid by a horde of Goth groupies. But he’s not getting laid by me. Not now. Not ever.” Never again.

  “Frankie—I mean Ms. Stewart—I—”

  Frankie hung up the phone and pressed her hands to her mouth to stifle the sobs fighting to come out of her.

  Dear Lord, she’d lost it. Dylan Cook was going to think she was crazy. She’d certainly felt that way, imagining Jake boasting about his intentions to fuck her last night.

  Her eyes welled with tears and she ruthlessly blinked them away.

  You’re strong, she reminded herself. You’re a survivor.

  She took several deep breaths. Over and over again until she finally began to feel calm.

  Yesterday had been a mistake. An anomaly. Her career was her life, with no room for a man. No room for weakness. She’d thought she’d learned her lesson long ago, but apparently it had taken another punch in the gut to make it sink in.

  Better to be lonely than to ever be made a fool of again.

  She’d remember that if Jake Rios ever tried to convince her otherwise.

  CHAPTER 6

  That evening, about five minutes after the sun set, Jake “the vampire” Rios, walked into the office. Sitting at her desk, Frankie tried to ignore him. She really did. But her anger and hurt were so intense she could barely keep her hands from wringing his neck or her fists from pummeling him, so ignoring him seemed an impossible task as he walked toward her, a determined glint in his eyes.

  She’d barely been able to function throughout the day—she’d kept wondering if she should tell someone, anyone, about Jake’s unusual drinking habits, but she’d retained enough sense to know how insane she’d come off if she did.

  Insane enough that she’d never work in politics, let alone advance her social causes, again.

  He looked tired. As if he hadn’t slept all day. Edgy.

  Hungry.

  But that could be because the big gala was in a few hours, and maybe he and his men had been off somewhere or secretly communicating by phone—

  A horrifying thought occurred to her. Were his men vampires? Was the governor?

  She gasped and shot to her feet, knocking over several piles of paper on her desk. Instantly, she crouched down to collect them. Her hands collided with Jake’s.

  While hers were shaking, his were not.

  Her face was flushed. Again, his was not.

  She hated the way her body could barely contain what she was feeling, and how he seemed completely unaffected. He handed her a sheet of paper. “Frankie, let me explain—”

  “Thank you, Mr. Rios,” she interrupted, her tone chilly, before straightening and retaking her seat. “Mr. Cook already called me this morning and explained why he thought you’d be at my place. That and your extended absence are explanation enough.” Studiously, she avoided looking at him. Then, unable to fake disinterest a second longer, she glanced at him. He was just standing there, steadily watching her, his expression grim.

  Good. Let him feel some of the discontent she was.

  She crossed her legs and felt a small spurt of satisfaction when his eyes immediately followed the movement. Satisfaction died a slow death as heat climbed her body, centering between her thighs and alerting her to the fact that she already missed him there. Her entire body was quivering.

  Vampire, she reminded herself.

  But even worse, a prick who runs in the middle of night.

  Pressing her thighs together, she looked away and checked her e-mail a final time,

  She’d changed her mind. She didn’t want answers. She just wanted to get out of there. Away from him.

  To: Francesca Stewart

  Fr: One Who Cares
  Subject: Ryan Turner

  It’s time to return the favor. Tell the governor to deny Jake Rios’s request or everyone you love will be endangered.

  Queasiness made her stomach ro
ll, and she literally felt the blood drain from her face.

  Memories swamped her.

  She was seventeen and in love with Ryan Turner. She hadn’t cared what her parents thought: that she was too young to fall in love and that she needed to be careful of others who wanted to get close to her because of her father’s status and wealth. One night, she was pulled awake by a hand across her mouth, only to feel relief when she saw who it belonged to. She’d followed Ryan’s urgings to go outside with him, anticipating a romantic tryst like the ones she read about in her romance novels.