Much Ado About Vampires do-10

by Katie MacAlister

  “Patsy? Ah, my former neighbor. I’m Alec. How did you know I was a Dark One?”

  “Dammit!” she snapped, looking irritated.

  “Pardon? ”

  “‘Alec’ is one of my favorite men’s names! Now you’ve gone and ruined it for me.”

  What a very strange woman she was, not at all like a tormentor. Those big eyes, and that delicate face, and a mouth that was starting to hold an unholy fascination for him . . . and then there was the rest of her. He grew hard thinking about the rest of her. With an effort, he focused his attention on the maddening, desirable woman before him. “You’re deranged, aren’t you?”

  “Not quite yet, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you pushed me over the edge,” she answered darkly, adding, “Alec what?” Dear god, you’re sexy. You’re a vampire, but you’re so incredibly sexy. I just want to ... what on earth am I thinking? You’re evil!

  Not particularly, no.

  You’re undead!

  Not since you fed me.

  You’re a murderer! A vampire murderer! A seductive, sensual vampire murderer with gorgeous eyes and perfect hair and oh, holy mother, you can hear me, can’t you?

  Yes.

  Grah! Stop reading my mind!

  “Darwin,” he said.

  She looked like she was the one who was being driven insane. “What?”

  “My name. It’s Alec Darwin. I do hope I haven’t ruined Darwin for you, as well.”

  She just looked at him as if he were speaking in tongues.

  “How do you know me, Corazon?”

  She blinked a couple of times, and he had the oddest feeling she was withdrawing mentally. “Darwin doesn’t sound like a German name. You sound German. Do you happen to know a Scottish vampire named Avery?”

  “Sins of the saints, woman!” His temper snapped, in no little part due to her scent, which was driving him wild with need. “Answer my question!”

  “Don’t you touch me, you murdering bloodsucker!” she screamed, clawing her way up the rock until she stood clutching it to keep from keeling over.

  Alec felt no real fear in her, just a sense of wariness, and something that he knew instinctively she was hiding from him. No doubt it was her connection with whoever had sent her to torment him. “What have I ever done to you? I don’t even know you, and you act like I’m some sort of leper. I said I was sorry about taking too much of your blood, but I believe the extenuating circumstances have been explained.”

  “What did you do?” she asked him, plainly agog. “What did you do?”

  “That’s what I asked, several times now, as a matter of fact.” His irritation at her faded with the knowledge that he was enjoying himself. Talking with her might be frustrating, but it was also stimulating, serving to eliminate the boredom that hung so heavily over him while he was being completely and utterly miserable.

  She stomped over the three steps to where he stood, poking him on the shoulder. “You killed a woman!”

  “So you said. Which one?” He wondered whether if he kissed her right then, she would kiss him back, or slap him. Perhaps she’d do both.

  She poked him again. “Who knows? She was driving an oxcart.”

  “A what?” Those lips were meant for kissing, even when they were tightened into a line, as they were now. He felt himself grow harder as her scent wrapped itself around him. He wished her legs would do the same.

  “Oxcart. You know, a cart . . . with oxen. And she ran over me and cut off my head, and then you came along, and—”

  “What the hell are you talking about? ” he interrupted, distracted almost to madness by the hot need that swelled inside him. It was tied to the hunger, part of it, yet separate. He stood watching her as she spoke, her hands waving in the air, her mouth—oh, that mouth—singing a sweet siren lure.

  What was this strange sense of want? he wondered to himself. He had felt hunger for blood before, of course. He’d felt the need for sex, as well. He’d even indulged himself with human relationships whenever the loneliness got to be too much to bear. But this strange sense of possession tied to her was all wrong. He didn’t want her, not really. He wanted her blood, nothing more.

  She poked him again and he took her hand, the touch swamping him with the knowledge that he was lying to himself.

  “It was a long time ago, all right? Like . . . at least a couple of hundred years ago. The ox lady was dressed in some sort of a brown skirt and leather bodice. And there was a town, and some sort of a castle on a hill, and you were wearing . . .” Cora bit her lower lip, hiding her thoughts from him.

  I like your Adam’s apple.

  Well, not hiding those thoughts. You truly are the strangest woman I ever met.

  I know. Why do I want so badly to kiss you even knowing you killed that woman right there in front of me?

  Instantly, his gaze dropped to that sweet mouth. I have an even better question. Who the hell are you?

  “My name is Corazon Esmeralda Ferreira, and I am a secretary with my ex-husband’s real estate agency. I am thirty-two, have a sister who’s married to a vampire, and I saw you kill a woman.”

  “An ox woman, yes, I know. What is the name of the Dark One?”

  “Avery Scott. Why did you attack her, Alec? Why did you bite her and bleed her dry?” She wrapped her arms around herself, moving away from him, the faintest hint of horror filling her eyes. “Why did you take what you wanted from her, and just leave her body there on the road like she was nothing?”

  “I don’t know what it is you’re . . .” He started to shake his head, then suddenly stopped. From the depths of his memory, he drew forth the scene she had described. He felt again the heat of the sun on him as he went to woo his Beloved, the scent of the newly turned earth, the sound of cattle lowing peacefully in the distant town where Eleanor lived. It was all idyllic, pastoral . . . until he came across the woman who had just killed his salvation. Slowly, he said, “A woman with an oxcart.”

  “You attacked her.” Cora stared at him, clearly willing him to make the horror go away.

  “How do you know what I did?”

  “I had a . . . for lack of a better word, a vision.”

  He said nothing, just closed his eyes, pain swamping him. He was aware that Cora had moved toward him, but stopped, making a little sound of frustration. He acknowledged it, but the bone-deep anguish the memory of that time stirred still held him tight in its grip.

  “She killed my Beloved,” he said, swaying slightly at all he had lost. Sorrow, agony, and pain burned deep in him, spilling out onto her, but he was unable to stop it. She didn’t run from him, however. She moved forward, wrapping her arms and her scent and the light of her soul around him, cradling him as if he were a hurt child. “She killed her before we had Joined, leaving me behind. She took everything from me, my heart, hope . . . life. All that was left me was suffering.”

  Concern washed over him like a soothing balm, her warmth touching all the dark places of his heart, and even though he knew she kept a little piece of herself back from him, he was stunned with the realization of what she was giving him.

  She gave him compassion, heartfelt human compassion, the sweetest of all gifts that he could have received. He accepted it, acknowledging what it cost her, knowing she didn’t want to feel emotions for him, but also knowing they shared a bond, even if it was only one of blood.

  It was too much for him. He turned his face into her hair, his arms sliding around her to hold her body tightly to his, needing to feel her, needing to taste her . . . just needing her. His mouth was hot on the flesh of her neck, of her shoulders, his mind filled with the satisfying knowledge that she wanted him with the same need. How can you taste so good? No other woman has tasted this way. You drive me wild with hunger.

  Vampire, she said, trying to rally a resistance in her own mind, but that faded almost instantly into awareness of him. Bloodsucker.

  Tormentor. Temptress.

  You killed that woman, she accused, trying one last at
tempt to convince herself.

  She killed everything I was.

  She bit gently on his ear, her lips caressing his jaw. I can feel what she did to you. I can feel the agony. How can you live with so much pain inside you?

  I don’t live. I merely exist. Christ, you are so sweet, he murmured, wanting to claim those luscious lips. So good. I want you, mi corazón. I want your heat. I want the sweetness that resides within you.

  Go ahead , she told him, her body moving against him in a way that he knew would spell disaster. If she rubbed her belly against him just one more time, he was going to disappoint them both. Take it, Alec. I want you to.

  He nipped at the skin of her shoulder, wanting more than anything in the world to drink from her, to join himself to her in the most elemental way a Dark One could experience, the hunger chewing him up inside, a fresh torment added to an already miserable existence.

  You’ve lost too much blood, he said, his mouth moving along her shoulder to her neck, moaning to himself at the temptation the beat of her pulse posed. I want it like I’ve never wanted anything, but I will not harm you again.

  She made a wordless noise of protest, her body twining against his as she clutched his back, clearly offering herself to him.

  No, mi querida, I cannot allow you to do this.

  She tensed for a moment, and he knew she misinterpreted him. Mi querida . . . “my beloved.”

  Does that word bother you? he asked. I did not mean it as you believe.

  No, it’s just . . . no. I don’t mind.

  He was mildly puzzled by the shadow of something she kept hidden from him, but the scent and feel and taste of her claimed his full attention. Christ, how I want you. You are so smooth; you taste so sweet.... God give me strength, I can’t resist you unless you make me stop.

  She hesitated but, after a moment of struggling with herself, admitted, I don’t want you to stop.

  Alec couldn’t keep from kissing her, his mouth brushing against her lips in a way that he could feel made her mindless with pleasure. Her fingers dug into the cloth of his jacket as his tongue traced her lower lip.

  “Cielito,” he said, and she melted against him, her damned hips grinding against him with urgent little movements. Mi cielito lindo, let me in. If I cannot have your blood, I must taste you again.

  I’m hardly heaven, and definitely not beautiful, she told him, but parted her lips nonetheless. He reveled in the taste of her as his tongue swept in, finding all her secrets, tasting her sweetness. Her breasts strained against him, her hips moving restlessly now, and when she touched his tongue with hers, he thought it was all over.

  I want you, she told him with a sense of wonder that had him believing she didn’t know she was projecting again. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted another man. I physically ache to have you inside me. I want to kiss you forever. I want to feed you, to give you life, and none of that makes sense! You are a vampire, but oh, how I want you.

  Christ, woman , if you keep thinking things like that . . . he moaned into her mind, so close to taking what she offered. By the saints, I want you, too. You’re making me mad with need. And if you touch me there just one more time, I won’t be able to stop.

  She wiggled against him, stroking her hand boldly down his chest.

  That’s it! You are more than any man can bear. You have no one but yourself to blame for this.

  She sucked his tongue, drawing a groan deep from his throat. His hands moved around from caressing her delicious ass to the front of her jeans, tugging the zipper and sliding his hands over those wickedly wanton hips.

  I shouldn’t be doing this. It’s wrong, so very wrong. I should stop you . Oh Mother Mary, right there! She clutched his shoulders as his fingers slid beneath her underwear, pushing it out of the way, discovering all her warm secrets.

  It may not be wise, but it certainly isn’t wrong, he said, groaning when she reached for his belt buckle, her hands stroking his fly before releasing him into her hands.

  It is wrong . . . but I really don’t care at this moment. My god, you’re hot.

  Only for you , mi corazón. His hips moved impulsively as she stroked him. Do you know what you are doing to me?

  I can feel it, she said, panting into his mind. I can feel what you feel. This is amazing. This is wonderful. This is . . . oh, you really like this, don’t you?

  His eyes rolled back in his head for a few seconds before he growled at her, deep from his chest.

  “And what of you, temptress? Do you like this?” he asked, his fingers parting her, finding areas with gentle brushes of his fingertips that he knew were driving her mad with ecstasy. Her mouth burned on his, her tongue twining around his in a way that almost pushed him beyond control. Tell me what you want, mi cielito.

  More, she demanded, I want more.

  He broke off the kiss, her eyes glazed with passion. “Do you know what you are asking? ” His voice was rough with emotion, the erotic images in her mind mirroring his.

  “Yes. I don’t care. I just want you. Right here. Right now.”

  She found a rhythm that made him grit his teeth with the need to not end it all in her hands, his pleasure spiraling wildly out of control until he could bear it no longer. He pressed her against the rock, lifting her hips to him, the hot center of her beckoning to him. He slid into her with a groan of purest pleasure, one that was echoed by her as she shifted her hips, taking him even deeper.

  Please tell me you’re close, he all but begged as she bucked against him, her legs wrapped around his thighs. I won’t last long. And if you don’t stop thinking things like that, I’m not going to last, period.

  Now! she yelled into his mind. Do it now!

  He thrust hard against her, mindless to everything but the need for completion, the burning hunger that roared out of control when her muscles grabbed him, spasming around him as she found her pleasure.

  Feed! she demanded, her fingers digging into his shoulders, her back arched against him as the tremors of her orgasm locked her muscles tight.

  He couldn’t have stopped himself if the world were ending. He bit the spot behind her ear that seemed to beckon to him, feeling her jerk against him for a second before relaxing with a sigh of rapture as he drank. He shared the sensation with her, so she could feel the power of feeding, and that fulfillment joined with his arousal until he thrust deep within her, his climax so powerful, it left him drained of every emotion but one.

  And that he refused to acknowledge.

  Chapter Four

  The moment Alec’s orgasm claimed him was the moment the truly reprehensible part of my mind pointed out two things that it felt were important—the first was that I had just had mind-blowingly fabulous sex with a murderous vampire, and the second was that I’d just had mind-blowingly fabulous sex with a murderous vampire . . . right out in the middle of the Akasha. That last point was driven home when in the distance I heard a scream of anger.

  Alec pulled back, his breath as rough as mine, the sense of shared fulfillment fading as we stared at each other.

  “Good lord. I had sex with you. Right here. Where anyone could have seen us.” The taste of him lingered in my mouth, a sweet taste, one I doubted I’d ever get enough of.

  Stop it! I yelled at my little devil. Stop pointing things out like that! For god’s sake, look what you made me do—I had sex with a vampire!

  “You don’t have to say the word “vampire” like it’s revolting. We prefer ‘Dark One,’ anyway,” he said, withdrawing from me with an audibly wet noise that had me wincing in embarrassment.

  “Sorry,” I murmured. “I was a little bit . . . enthusiastic.”

  To my utter surprise—and inner delight—he grinned as he tucked himself away. “You weren’t the only one who was enthusiastic, querida.”

  I bent to retrieve my underwear and jeans, not able to look him in the eye after my wholly irresponsible and completely uncharacteristic behavior, still a little weirded out by his choosing querida as a term
of endearment.

  It was clear he didn’t understand that I was the woman who had been killed, hadn’t put together the pieces of the puzzle I’d so disjointedly spilled. And although god knew I was physically attracted to him, the last thing I wanted was to be in Jacintha’s position—bound to him forever.

  Why not? the devil inside me asked before I hushed it up, worried Alec might overhear it. You’re here. You’re lonely. He’s in pain. You could comfort him. He’d be grateful for that. He might even come to love you.

  I closed my eyes against the pain that thought brought with it. I didn’t want to be merely a convenience—I wanted a man who would choose me because of who I was, not because of some connection that was lost several hundred years before, and certainly not because of one random act of sex.

  Oh, dear god, that was the single most erotic, most fulfilling experience of my life. But as the endorphins faded, the thought returned to me that I had had sex with a vampire. Jas would never let me live that down if she ever heard of it.

  “Who is Jas?”

  “Jacintha. My sister. And stop reading my mind.”

  “Stop projecting into my mind if you don’t want me to read your thoughts. Jacintha, eh? The one who is a . . .” I felt the brush of his mind against mine for a moment. “A Beloved? Interesting. I do not know this Avery Scott, but I do not get to Britain much.”

  “I object to you just marching into my head whenever you like,” I told him, my hands on my hips now that I was decent again. “I don’t think it’s polite at all.”

  “That fact that I’ve marked you isn’t right, either, but that doesn’t seem to concern you.” He frowned at me. “Just who are you?”

  “I’ve told you three times now!”

  “Yes, I know your name, and I know that you’re mortal, and that you hum when you orgasm, but who are you? Why are you here, and why did you revive me?”

  “I felt sorry for you, more fool me,” I said, pushing past him to glare at the gently rolling landscape of rocks, dirt, and more rocks. “I hum? Really?”