Holiday with a Vampire

by Maureen Child

  “Because we are both bloodsuckers, aren’t we?”

  The blood drained from Connie’s body, creating the chill of fear as she examined the demon who now stood before her.

  The dark chocolate-brown of his pupils had bled out, replaced by an eerie neon blue-green glow. Long and lethal-looking fangs had erupted from beneath the edge of his full top lip, past his pouty lower lip, down to the middle of his chin.

  She had placed her hands over his as they rested at the tie to the suit’s drawstring. Now she knew that the cold of his skin wasn’t from the weather outside.

  And then she told herself she had to be dreaming or hallucinating. There were no such things as vampires. Closing her eyes, she willed herself to wake, but when she opened her eyes again, things were as they had been before. This was all too real.

  Containing her fear and summoning every last bit of her courage, she said, “Then I guess you owe me some professional courtesy.”

  The hands resting beneath hers jumped. He shifted back to peruse her face. Arching a lush, dark brow, he asked, “Professional courtesy?”

  “From one bloodsucker to another.”

  The laughter that erupted from him was full and rich as he threw his head back. His body shook with it.

  Human mirth, she thought, since it lacked the earlier animal rumble she had heard. When he faced her once again, her perception was confirmed. All traces of the vampire were gone and what remained were the handsome features that had snared her attention earlier.

  “You are…intriguing.”

  “Let me go,” she said again even as she felt the shove of power that had compelled her to put down the bell and follow him, no matter how hard she tried to fight it.

  “I think not.”

  Beneath her hands, his nimble fingers worked the drawstring and loosened the waistband until the pants puddled at her feet, leaving her standing before him in the tight and rather revealing underwear.

  Interest flared in his gaze as he perused her body. To her surprise, she felt herself responding.

  He might be a demon, but he was a damned attractive one and he was gazing at her as if he wanted to eat her.

  But then again that was what he might truly want to do, Connie reminded herself.

  But not before some pleasure, her brain surmised, rocking her with the reality that the man standing before her could control her every thought and action.

  Fear came again as it had before. Her body trembled as he moved his hand to her neck, but all he did was pluck the lanyard with the key to the library from around her neck.

  He held it out to the side and said, “George.”

  A man scurried from the shadows behind him. Connie hadn’t noticed him standing there before.

  “Yes, Hadrian,” he said with an obsequious bob of his head.

  Hadrian. At least the demon now had a name. An interesting one at that.

  Hadrian jiggled the lanyard up and down. “Please take this key and put Miss…”

  He paused, waiting for her to answer.

  “Connie Morales. And it’s Ms. Morales.”

  A glimmer of a smile flashed across his lips before he said, “Please put Ms. Morales’s things away, would you? And do something about that Santa suit.”

  “It is rather rank, isn’t it?” George quickly took the key, but had to wait for her to step from the puddle of the pants before he scurried away to do Hadrian’s bidding.

  “Do you always get what you want?” she asked, intrigued despite the danger of the situation.

  In a millisecond the human disappeared and the vampire emerged, his movements so swift they were a blur. And then she felt the sharp edges of his fangs at her neck.

  “Always,” he said and then pain swept her away as he sank his teeth deep into her flesh.

  Full night was upon the city, calling to Hadrian to come out and play. To savor the delights found in the dark, only…

  Hadrian looked away from the window and to the woman he had lashed to his bedposts. Her arms were spread wide and her head hung downward as her body rested against some pillows and the ornately carved wood of his headboard. Her ass, plump and deliciously smooth beneath his hands as he had carried her up to his room, pressed onto the mattress.

  Maybe he had made her too comfortable, he thought. Maybe a little more punishment would soothe the too smart tongue that had surprised him the night before.

  Or maybe it was a bit of professional courtesy, he thought with a smile, recalling her words.

  He couldn’t see her face since the downward position of her head had brought her chestnut-colored shoulder-length hair cascading forward to hide the bulk of her features. A bit of the straight slash of her patrician nose peeked out from the wealth of hair, along with a hint of her full lips, glossy still from whatever women applied to their lips these days.

  But what he couldn’t see rose up in his memory. Blue-gray eyes that revealed a sharp wit. High cheekbones pink with the flush of life. Her mouth again, full and mobile as she dared to defy him.

  He imagined silencing that mouth with his lips and need slammed through him, awakening desire. Bringing forth a human arousal such as he had not experienced in quite some time.

  Taking a deep breath, he clenched his hands at his sides and wondered what she had awakened within him. Wondered how he would satisfy that need without losing a bit of himself. Despite all that he had done in the many years of his existence, he still considered himself a man of morals.

  So why did you kidnap her? his inner voice demanded.

  The truth of it was, he didn’t know why.

  In his many millennia of undead life, he had never taken a woman without asking—sexually or otherwise. The feeding he did afterward—he considered it payback for the pleasure he brought his conquests.

  Taking someone in anger or to control them was generally not his thing.

  So what do you plan to do with her now? his inner voice—his rusty conscience, he realized—asked with more purpose.

  But before he had a chance to consider it further, he noticed the slight movement of her head. It sank forward for a second before jerking backward, the movement sending the spill of her dark hair shifting with the motion.

  She groaned and shook her head as the daze from his feeding fled her body.

  He walked to the edge of the bed and anxiously awaited the moment when full consciousness returned to her. Preparing himself for when she saw him once again. For her reaction.

  What would it be like to see pleasure slip into her gaze?

  Her head shifted from side to side before she sensed him and looked his way. Her blue-gray eyes—slate blue he decided—were unfocused at first, but they soon honed in on him. Then her gaze skittered to either of her wrists.

  She tugged at them, but he had done a fine job of securing her with the soft bindings he had fashioned from one of his silk robes.

  “Is this what you plan to do? Keep me around as a private buffet?”

  As she had last night, she dragged a smile to his face with her daring. He decided in that instant that what he wanted to do more than anything else was to see just how far that daring would last her.

  Sauntering to the bed, he sat on its edge and cupped her cheek. “A buffet? You don’t strike me as being so pedestrian.”

  Connie scanned the large bedroom, appointed with luxurious furniture and sensually rich fabrics. Far from her pedestrian and simple tastes. Clearly designed for decadent pleasures, which made her muse, “So if I’m not dinner…”

  A small smile came to his lips and, as she had thought the day before, his smile was devastating. Of course, thinking that had her wondering if she was either crazy or under some kind of vampire thrall, considering he had her tied to his bedposts and had already made her a meal.

  “Am I dessert? Is that what you do with your visitors?”

  The smile evaporated faster than dew in the morning and he pulled his hand away. “I don’t have many visitors.”

  Connie recal
led something from a class she had taken years earlier—establish a connection with your captor. Make him see you as a person rather than an object.

  “So you do a lot of take-out I guess,” she said, hoping humor would reach whatever humanity remained in him.

  One side of his mouth quirked upward. “We seem to be employing a lot of euphemisms for my needs.”

  “Your needs? You mean bloodsucking, right?”

  He cradled her cheek again and asked, “Do you think that’s the only thing I need?”

  “You’re a vampire, right?” she asked, though she was still struggling with the fact that vampires were real.

  In response, he traced the outline of her lips with his thumb and as he did so, heat spread from that point outward, awakening her body. As the heat washed over her, her nipples tightened in anticipation and then need slammed into her center, yanking a rough gasp from her.

  Her nether lips swelled, heavy with want. Inside her an emptiness arose, begging for fulfillment.

  She sucked in a shaky breath as he said, “Man does not live by bread alone.”

  Her need was so strong it was nearly painful. She clenched her thighs tight, fighting the demand. Fighting him, she realized as she met his dark gaze.

  “Is this what you give to all your conquests?”

  “I give them satisfaction.”

  The tones of his voice were pitched low, stirring to life the pleasure points in her body. They were vibrating with desire as he said, “I can give you fulfillment.”

  Her breath rasped raggedly in her chest, rough with want. Between her legs she was drenched, all her parts swollen and demanding a touch. A stroke to release the painful tension.

  Just ask me to touch you.

  “No.” She yanked at the bindings and writhed against the bed, but that accomplished nothing.

  Make him realize you are not just an object, she reminded herself. “Why are you doing this, Hadrian? I haven’t done anything to you.”

  He abruptly rose from her side, paced back and forth for a few angry strides before he stalked back to the edge of the bed. “Why? Does there have to be a why?”

  Even as she battled the passion twisting her body into knots, Connie realized that this was a question he’d asked himself countless times. If she was going to become Hadrian’s meal ticket, she wanted to hear his answer to that question.

  “There has to be a why for the way you are, Hadrian.”

  Chapter 5

  December, 307 A.D.

  Rome

  H adrian examined with pride the hundreds of amphora filled with rich wines and oils. He had finished his accounting just minutes earlier and shortly the loaded barge would be going down the Tiber to Ostia to await transport to Carthage.

  Life was good, he thought, handing the paperwork for the shipment to his slave, who would accompany the load downriver and then return once it was safely onboard the larger galley to Carthage. Hadrian had already made arrangements with a dealer there to sell his goods and then send the galley back loaded with cotton and papyrus from Egypt.

  His man jumped onto the barge. It pulled away from Aventine Hill and the Forum Vinarium as dusk fell, spreading brilliant fingers of crimson and indigo through the sky.

  Hadrian smiled, pleased with all that he had accomplished that day. Business had been thriving, cementing his position among the equestrian class. Glancing down at the gold ring that identified his status to those he met, pride filled him once again.

  Pride and anticipation. Now that he had established himself, he could finally approach Alexandra’s father and ask for her hand. But before he did…

  It was the first night of Saturnalia. He intended to savor the fruits of his success before binding himself to his beloved. His childhood friend, Maximillian, was waiting for him by the Temple of Saturn so they could join the festivities marking the beginning of the celebration of the Winter Solstice.

  Maximillian had supposedly arranged for some splendid entertainment for later that night and as Hadrian walked from Aventine Hill toward the temple, he hoped that his friend had restrained his proclivity for the unusual.

  He moved quickly toward the temple, caught up in the excitement of the many Romans who filled the streets, also on their way to begin festivities. The homes along the way had been decorated for the season, with bright boughs and wreaths of greenery along the doorways and arches. Golden ornaments in the shapes of suns and stars adorned many a small bush or tree, along with bright red and purple ribbons.

  Small children tugged on the hands of their parents as they walked, aware that the holiday meant that they, together with the Lord of Misrule and the servants, would be in charge during the celebration. Sounds of gaiety filled the air as some families had already started exchanging gifts of small candles and earthenware toys.

  With a smile, Hadrian remembered his own childhood and how his parents had doted on him and his siblings, presenting them with gifts and playfully following their commands and those of the household servants. Even the slaves would be free to rule for these few days, allowing for a sense of relaxation for all during the holidays.

  His recollections spurred him onward, but the closer he got to the western end of the Forum, the denser the crowd grew. He was forced to slip and slide his way past until he could no longer move forward. The people were packed shoulder-to-shoulder to watch the ceremonies ushering in the Saturnalian festivities. Many wore simpler garments than the toga in which he still dressed.

  While his head was bare, felt and paper caps adorned the heads of many, and as he exchanged a glance with one reveler, the man handed him a cap to wear. Hadrian thanked him and passed the man a small coin in exchange.

  He searched the crowd for any sign of Maximillian, who was supposed to be waiting by the Temple of Vespasian. Sure enough, halfway up the stairs to that building was his friend, wearing a felt cap gaily embroidered with red and purple ribbons. Beside him were two attractive women. One of them leaned close to Maximillian and draped more ribbons around his neck.

  Hadrian worked his way to his friend, while on the steps of the Temple of Saturn a gathering of senators waited. Beyond the six pillars along the portico rested the statue of Saturn, whose feet were bound with linen splints. Shortly they would be released to begin the festivities.

  He had barely reached Maximillian when the cry came from the temple steps, “Io Saturnalia!” The cry was repeated by the crowd below and people streamed forward to partake of the feast that would be available in the temple.

  The rush forward cleared the way for him.

  Within a few minutes he was at Maximillian’s side, but he realized now that the woman who had been artfully decorating his friend with ribbons was actually a man. A slender feminine youth who was taking advantage of the holiday liberation to cross-dress, a common practice.

  “Maximillian, I see that you’re ready for the season,” Hadrian teased, well aware of his friend’s fascination with young men. He glanced in the direction of the other person with Maximillian and his friend. Relief flooded him as he realized it was a woman. A rather attractive one at that.

  Her alabaster skin seemed almost translucent. Her sable black hair was swept back from her face with ornate silver combs inlaid with mother-of-pearl. The severe look emphasized her classic features. A strong line of kohl added an Egyptian cast to her almond-shaped eyes.

  She smiled and tilted her head in welcome. “I’m Stacia…and you?”

  “Hadrian.”

  Maximillian wrapped an arm around each of them. With a boisterous greeting, he said, “So good that you know each other now. It’ll spare you so many unnecessary niceties.”

  Which meant that Maximillian wanted to skip the feast in the temple and find a place where they would begin the Saturnalian holiday with some carnal pleasures.

  He met Stacia’s gaze and found amusement there, rather than upset. A paid courtesan? he wondered, but didn’t stop to question it further as Stacia shifted quickly from Maximillian’s sid
e and slipped her arm through Hadrian’s.

  Together they strolled away from the temple, heads bent close as Hadrian tried to find out more about his beautiful companion.

  “How do you know Maximillian?” he asked and inhaled deeply as her scent teased him. She smelled of orange blossoms, fragrant and fresh.

  A coy shrug shifted the simple white robe she wore, exposing the enticing slope of her full breast. “I don’t really know him, but Gaius does.”

  He sneaked a peek over his shoulder to where Maximillian and the man he assumed to be Gaius strolled behind them, already kissing and caressing one another. Coughing, he earned a disgruntled sound from his friend.

  “Seek your own pleasures, Hadrian.”

  His own pleasures, he thought, examining his companion again from his greater height. Bending his head close, he whispered in her ear, “What is your pleasure, Stacia? Shall we dine first?”

  She surprised him by facing him and slipping her hand beneath the edge of his toga. She cupped his pectoral muscle and rubbed her thumb across the tip of his nipple. It beaded instantly and between his legs arousal slowly flared to life. Looking up at him from beneath half-lidded eyes, Stacia said, “I know a place where we can dine and…become friends.”

  A playful tweak of his nipple completed the job of bringing his erection to full arousal, and in his mind, he could picture them dining together. Feeding each other as they satisfied other needs, as well.

  “Lead the way,” he said.

  The building to which Stacia led them was a richly appointed villa. As she walked to the door, a servant stepped from within and bowed at Stacia’s approach.

  “Mistress,” the young woman said.

  “Bring a meal to the baths,” Stacia replied, taking the lead and keeping a hold on his hand, pulling him along behind her.

  The home was lusciously appointed and clearly that of someone belonging to the patrician class. She must have noticed his gawking since she said over her shoulder, “My father was a senator.”

  “Was?” he said even as they stepped into the room for the baths. Colorful mosaic tiles adorned the walls, floors and the assorted pools. Wisps of steam rose from the waters and the smell of oranges was strong—the aroma that had clung to Stacia’s skin, enticing him earlier. Pots with neatly trimmed orange trees, some of them ripe with fruit, were placed at regular intervals along the walls.