“I can’t believe I’m here with you,” Amelie said as she looked around the suite.
“Why is that?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. It was like the night we met. I would have never guessed you’d want a book on astrology.”
“But I did.”
“I know. Now we’re here in this club together. A Goth vampire club just doesn’t seem like you.”
“You don’t think vampires enjoy clubs?”
Amelie didn’t catch the way he phrased his question and knelt down in front of him. “If you were a vampire, I don’t think you would hang out in a place like this.”
He tousled her glossy hair. “I might.”
“If you were really a vampire, you would be like their king. A king wouldn’t hang out with club kids.” She giggled.
“A king needs a queen,” he said before he pulled her up in his lap.
“Eamon,” she said softly as she put her hand on his chest. “I love you.”
He took her hand from his chest and kissed it. “I love you, too.” Eamon held her close as he replayed the past few minutes in his head. He needed to find a way to tell her what he was, and soon. While he was lost in thought, Sasha appeared on the stage. The crowded dance floor settled and the lights dimmed. He reached out for Lauryl’s presence, but only felt the mix of several vampires downstairs.
Amelie touched his cheek. “What are you thinking about?”
“I’m thinking about how I can’t imagine my life without you.” He kissed her fingers as they passed over his lips. Eamon cupped her face between his hands. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. Eamon kissed her, his tongue playing with hers as she closed her eyes and traced her hands down his chest. She slipped her hands underneath his shirt and lightly raked her nails across his skin. Reluctantly, she broke away.
She pulled off his shirt and kissed his chest softly at first. The kisses turned into delicate, little nipping bites as she moved from his chest to his neck. His skin tingled in anticipation just before each gentle bite and he smiled. Eamon’s hands found her thighs and massaged the skin under her skirt. Amelie removed her shirt and unhooked her bra, unconcerned that they were in the club. He slipped her skirt further over her thighs and opened her legs wider for him. Her hands pushed through his hair and clasped behind his head. As he kissed her, he reached down, unzipped his pants, and flicked open the button open. Her hands dropped down from behind his head and descended to his pants. She lifted her eyes, which now burned with desire, to his.
All the things he could see in her eyes, desire, love, devotion, happiness, sliced at Eamon’s control. He could smell blood in one of the adjacent rooms, which further assaulted his composure. He caressed her breasts. Her heart thumped underneath his hand. Amelie rolled her head back and her eyelids drooped. Each caress over her skin brought a fleeting pass of her perfume to him. It was the same provocative, floral, earthy scent from the night they met. He lowered his head to her neck and licked it. He took deep breath of her body and lowered his mouth to kiss her but Lauryl’s unexpected marker jarred his thoughts.
Eamon’s eyes fixed on the darkened dance floor and traveled along the spotlight lit stage. In a chair down stage, a young man Amelie’s age took an uneasy look around. The same ominous synthesizer music as before began and Lauryl skulked out of the darkness like a cat stalking a bird. Tonight, she wore a white lace nightgown torn from the hemline up to her waist all the way around the garment, turning the skirt into strips of fabric. The gown, decorated with bloodstains and dirt, made it seem as if she had crawled from a grave in it. She wore the same black wig, but this time she didn’t have her eyes covered with black makeup. The boy in the chair watched her as she snaked her way up to him. Silent alarm rang out from him but died away as soon as she glamoured him. When her hand grabbed, his ankle, he moaned in anticipation and his fear vanished.
Amelie’s needy touch brought Eamon back from the spell Lauryl was weaving over the crowd and the boy in the chair. Her naked body pressed firmly against him, and her hand tried to free him from his pants. With a smooth motion, he guided her hand into his pants and placed it on him. Her eyes stayed fixed on his lap as her hand emerged with what she wanted. Amelie rocked up on her knees and seated herself on his length. A desperate little moan passed over her lips as she started to rock her hips back and forth over him. Eamon pulled her against him and thrust deeper inside of her. As he thrust, he looked back down to the stage and saw Lauryl had assumed a position behind the boy, and while her hands ran feverishly over his chest, her gaze remained fixed on the window of their suite.
Eamon stared directly down at Lauryl. He slid his hands under Amelie’s round buttocks and continued to thrust. Amelie grabbed a handful of his hair, writhing and twisting as he drove deeper into her. He kissed her shoulder, desperately trying to smash the urge to take her blood, and looked back at Lauryl. Their eyes locked, each frozen in what they were doing. Lauryl broke first. She smiled slightly and winked at him before she straddled the boy and bit him. The spotlight snapped off, leaving the club dark while the club erupted in applause. Eamon felt Lauryl disappear like the spotlight. With a wink and a taunting smile, she was gone.
He shook his head and returned his attention to Amelie. From what he could feel, her thoughts were running crazy with love and absolute desire for him. He could hear her giving herself to him in her mind, pledging everything to him. Thinking of that, he pushed Lauryl from his mind and focused entirely on Amelie.
“Amelie, I need you so much,” he whispered in her ear.
She grabbed the back of his neck. “I’m yours, Eamon. Always.”
Amelie’s statement drew his eyes to her pink, flushed neck again. He kissed her neck and nipped and pulled on the tender skin with his teeth. The salty taste of her skin only fueled his desire for her blood. He let his fangs graze over her skin. A trail of goose bumps appeared on the path where his fangs had skimmed over it. The teasing, raking sensation caused her to sigh and drop her head to the side. His tongue traced over her neck, tasting her. His desire for her and her blood was approaching the point where he wouldn’t care about anything but consuming her. Eamon buried his hands in her black hair, holding her so he could look into her eyes.
“I can’t fight this,” he breathed, wanting her blood. The intensity of his desire for her blood was stunning to him. He hadn’t wanted anyone like this. Ever.
“I don’t want you to,” she answered, burying her face in his neck. She opened her mouth and bit him, her teeth connecting with an eerie precision to where he would bite a human. As she started to climax, she let up from the bite. “Do it, Eamon. Bite me!” she begged as her body quivered.
She wanted him to bite her. Even though she didn’t know what she was really asking for, he tentatively bit her. He quickly withdrew his fangs before her blood poured into his mouth. She cried out briefly. The sensation of his fangs piercing her skin brought on another orgasm, but soon quieted down to gasps and whimpers. The fleeting taste only teased him. The teasing turned to torment as the tiny bit of her blood circulated through his body. He had to choose and quickly. With a supreme effort, he pulled back. Amelie’s body settled from vivid spasms to a fine trembling. The bite on her neck closed and healed immediately. He leaned her back and kissed her lips.
Eamon held her against him and felt her heart rate slow to a normal pace. He closed his eyes and savored the little portion of her that was now his. The soft sensation of her tongue sliding across his chest brought a deep chuckle from him. “Amelie, I’ve never loved someone like I love you.”
She turned her face to his. “I’m yours, Eamon, body and soul.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
You’re for Real. You’re Really a Vampire
The candles dotting the coffee table flickered, distorting the shadows of the living room of Eamon’s house. Amelie took a sip of wine and stared out of the large windows in the living room that faced Tampa Bay. A med flight helicopter approached and landed on the pad
at Tampa General Hospital.
“My father died at Tampa General.” She nodded her head in the direction of the enormous red brick complex across the water on Davis Island. “Three days before my college graduation in May.” Amelie closed her eyes. “He was only sixty,” she continued. “Yeah, I know you’re doing the math. I was a late-in-life baby for my parents. Dad was just about to turn thirty-nine when I was born. My mom was thirty-seven.”
“Lots of couples wait to have kids,” Eamon said softly. He felt the depth of her sorrow but was unsure of what to do for her. So he just listened.
“He was my whole world growing up. I miss him,” she added quietly.
“I can imagine.” Eamon wanted to do something to ease her pain. He even thought about glamouring her to help Amelie get through the grief of losing her father, but knew that would be unfair. Her sadness tugged at him and he felt helpless.
“I’m all alone now. I don’t have any family. If I were younger, I guess that I’d be an orphan.” She turned around to Eamon. “I wish you could have heard the people at his funeral. Whispering, thinking I couldn’t hear them. ‘Oh, poor Amelie, she’s all alone in the world. Poor, poor Amelie. Pobre Amelie. Que lastima.’ I hated their pity.” Her fingers tightened on the bowl of the wine glass. Her chin quivered for a second then stopped. “The firm that my dad worked for was nice except for one of the partners. He came on to me at the funeral.” She snickered and drained her glass.
Eamon shifted his position and narrowed his eyes. “Oh, really?”
“Well, not at the funeral, but after. Talk about gross. He didn’t want to take no for an answer.” she said as she placed her glass down on the table.
“Who was it?” He would make sure whoever it was would not live to see many more days.
“Oh, one of the partners. He gave up.” She scratched her stomach and stretched her arms over her head, shaking her hips as she did.
“His name?”
She hesitated. “Tyson Costello.”
Eamon mentally noted the name. His tense expression dissolved when Amelie walked over and knelt in front of him.
“What’s wrong? You look mad.”
He shook his head. “Not mad. Well, yes, mad. I can’t stand the thought of anyone hurting you.” His finger traced along her cheek to her lips. “Especially at a time when you were so vulnerable.”
She slid into his lap and laid her head on his chest. “He’d been doing it for years.” She shifted her position some. “You take care me. I like that”
“I enjoy it.” Eamon’s hand traced along her lower back. “You need to get used to me doing it”
“Really?” She touched his face.
“Darling, I don’t understand why you’re surprised. I’d like you to be my wife one day.” He kissed the palm of her hand, enjoying the taste.
She smiled and nodded.
“You won’t mind our age difference? No more worrying about people thinking that you’re my daughter or a professional girlfriend?”
“No. As long as we’re together, nothing will matter.”
Eamon dropped his head for a moment and wrestled with the idea of telling her the truth about what he was. They had joked about vampires so many times that she probably wouldn’t take him seriously or would think he was crazy. He definitely didn’t want to tell her the same way he did with Lauryl. Turning her and forcing her to adjust wasn’t a good idea. He couldn’t have Amelie grow to hate and resent him too. He closed his eyes and sighed. His eyes opened when her fingers played in his hair. He kissed her fingers.
“I like it when you do that. We’re going to have to talk about some very serious things, though. In order for us to be together all of the time, there are going to have to be some changes.” His expression became more serious.
“You mean like you having to get a divorce from Lauryl?”
That hadn’t crossed his mind. Since their marriage wasn’t real, there were no legal issues for him to deal with. “No, not that.” He thought for a second. “Amelie, if you decide that you want to stay with me then you’d have to make some…adjustments.”
“Like personality adjustments? I don’t understand.” Her dark brows drew together in confusion.
“Oh no,” he said, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Nothing like that. But there would be some changes.” He had yet to think this conversation through all the way. His gaze wandered around the room as he decided whether or not to pursue this any further.
“You seem far away.” She touched his cheek. “Do you want me to go?” She tried to move, but he caught her and shook his head.
“Do you want to play vampire?” she offered in a seductive whisper as she leaned over and sucked his neck lightly. His expression softened. She pulled her shirt over her head and unfastened her bra. With a slight movement of her head, she shook out her hair so that it lay over her pale breasts like black satin. She posed for him and smiled.
Oh, my dear, that’s the wrong question.
Her body was a beautiful contrast to Lauryl’s. Amelie’s body was soft and generous with well-defined curves and contours. What Amelie thought of as fat or dumpy, Eamon thought was feminine and inviting. His hands always found their way to her. He also loved to watch her, especially when she was unaware. He loved how she arched her back when she stretched and pushed her breasts forward. He loved the way she tipped her head slightly to the side, unintentionally displaying her neck to him, when she was deep in thought. He also loved how her hips swung with a graceful seductiveness when she walked, a seductiveness she underestimated.
“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” He brushed the hair from her neck. Her delicious pale skin was now flushed pink in excitement. His desire for her burned hotter now. She would be beautiful forever, and he’d love and protect her forever. Together, they’d live the life he had wanted; a life of love and companionship.
Amelie’s cheeks turned pink. She dropped her head to the side and closed her eyes. “Eamon.” Her hands trailed over his stomach and down his thighs. A startled gasp escaped from her when his hand grasped her shoulder by the base of her neck.
“I want to give you everything you want. Make you happy. Take care of you.” His hand dropped back to her lower back and embraced her. He couldn’t wait anymore. “I love you,” he added before he buried his fangs into her soft skin.
“Oh God!” she gasped. Her eyes fluttered open and then closed. She squirmed against him, tightening her arms around his neck. “This is…different. It…Oh…” Her voice melted into a purr and she ground herself against his thigh. “Hurts…” she cooed as she rose to her orgasm.
As soon as he tasted her blood, he was satisfied. Eamon closed his eyes and delighted in it. The teasing sample earlier in the week was nothing compared to this. He could taste her beauty and spirit, something he never tasted in Lauryl or anyone for that matter. She was more than worth the wait. Part of her flowed into his body and strengthened it. More than that, her blood completed him. He would do everything he could to turn her but he had to think of how to accomplish it. Amelie opened her eyes and shook her head.
She reached up to her neck and gingerly touched the wound. The wet, sticky spot intrigued her. Her fingers touched together and slipped back and forth on the blood. Her eyes were unable to focus but the liquid on her fingertips smelled like blood. She looked from the blood to his face.
“You’re for real,” she said. “You’re really a vampire.”
Eamon smiled and nodded his head.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Eamon Must Have Put a Little More Energy in Playing Vampire Last Night
Amelie opened her eyes and rubbed her temples. She remembered talking, red wine, and she and Eamon making love. The rest was gone. And she was in Eamon’s bed. The sun was up, but she had no idea what time it was. There was no reason to get out of bed though. Another thing she remembered; Eamon would be in New York for a day or two and she’d be alone. She pulled the sheets up over her head and went bac
k to sleep.
The next time she woke up, she turned over and glanced at the little clock on his bedside table. It was after ten. She felt better. Her hangover was gone now. Amelie noticed the note that Eamon had left for her. It was a brief mash note, which brought a smile to her face. She snuggled back into the bed, wishing he were here with her.
Amelie got up and got dressed. She pulled her shirt over her head and saw the two small bruises on her neck. Eamon must have put a little more energy in to playing vampire last night, she thought as she examined the bruises.
She padded down the stairs and stopped outside the door to his library. Centered in the office was an Empire desk facing of the windows to the back garden, and behind the desk was a credenza with his laptop. Books filled the bookcases along two of the walls. On the other wall was a large portrait of a beautiful dark-haired woman with ice-blue eyes. The woman was dressed in eighteenth century clothing, and by the style of the painting, she guessed it to be a Gainsborough. Next to it hung a painting Amelie knew to be a Degas. The two paintings didn’t fit together. In fact, the Degas looked as if it was an afterthought.
Amelie leaned across the desk. On the corner was a picture frame. She turned it around. The picture was a black and white headshot. It had to be Lauryl. It seemed odd that Eamon kept her headshot on his desk. Actually, it was odd for him to have any pictures of her. Then she remembered that Lauryl was still his wife. Amelie placed the picture face down and walked out of the room.
It amazed her how her energy level had improved since she woke up. She’d read the last half of a book, surfed the Internet, and watched the noon news. Now she was bored and restless. Eamon had left another note in the foyer with the alarm code and his black Centurion American Express card.
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