Tall, Dark & Dead

by Tate Hallaway

  I could have sworn I saw the hint of a blush color his cheek. “Yes, well, in case of… emergency.”

  Were we talking hormonal emergency or something else? I assumed he meant if the Order somehow followed me here or if the ghost tried to kill me. “Do you honestly think Benjamin is that dangerous? Maybe I shouldn’t stay here at all tonight.”

  “Oh, no. It’s safe. Really,” he said quickly. Sebastian put another log on the fire, replaced the screen, and stood up.

  “Benjamin can’t come inside unless I allow it. He can stay outside tonight.”

  I glanced at the rain-spattered windows and thought about an angry ghost shuffling around outside. “Aw,” I said. I felt weirdly guilty for putting an evil spirit out in the cold. “This is his house. I mean—”

  Sebastian put up a finger up to shush me. “This is my house. And you are my guest for the evening. Benjamin doesn’t mind the cold. Weather doesn’t bother him. Besides, if he doesn’t like it here, there are places he can go.”

  Like Hell? I wondered, but I didn’t really want to start a discussion about the transmigration of souls with a dead guy, so I fluffed my pillow and said, “Okay.”

  “Well, good night, then,” Sebastian said.

  “Good night,” I said, waiting for him to head upstairs before settling down.

  Instead, he stood there, staring at me. I knew that look. He wanted me. But he’d decided to play the gentleman, and now he was stuck in the role. I suppose I should have said something inviting, but I couldn’t think of anything other than “Hey, so, you wanna… ?” And while that might be effective, it could also completely turn Sebastian off.

  Besides, part of me really wanted him to be the one to make the first move.

  “Right, then,” he said finally. “I’m off.”

  “Yeah,” I said, adjusting the blankets, wondering if I could stroke them seductively enough for him to get the idea that it would be more than okay to stay.

  “Eh,” he said, and marched determinedly up the stairs.

  With a defeated sigh, I pulled the covers over my head and tried to sleep.

  * * * *

  It’s never easy to sleep in a strange place. Add to that a restless ghost and some serious sexual frustration, and it was nearly impossible. I spent a lot of the night listening to the mantel clock ticking softly, wondering if I should creep upstairs and quietly slip into Sebastian’s bed. If nothing else, being snuggled up to him would be warmer. More importantly, I’d be spared the image of Benjamin’s pale face pressed against the glass window and the occasional rattle as he tried the doorknob. The wind sounded very frustrated as it moaned through the gables.

  Man, this house was freaky. I hoped Sebastian got it cheap.

  Which made me think of the Vatican agent who claimed to be his real estate agent. I didn’t think I’d impressed upon Sebastian the seriousness of his situation. He seemed pretty blasé about having a Witch hunter after him. Of course, the man had a murderous ghost for a roommate.

  As though on cue, Benjamin rapped his knuckles on the window again, making me twitch. I’d be a nervous wreck if I lived here. It made me wonder if Sebastian had many lovers stay over. I mean, how did you explain the ghost roomie to a mundane? Or did they usually have some kind of signal system on the nights Sebastian wanted to bring someone back to his place? Benjamin didn’t seem very tolerant of women in general. I had no idea what happened with Vivian, but it didn’t seem good that she’d died in bed.

  Benjamin tried the doorknob again, and I put the pillow over my head. Maybe sleeping in the dead woman’s room was better than this.

  Honestly, I’d rather be sleeping with Sebastian.

  I wished I’d been more forward. It’s not like I’d never been the aggressor in a relationship before, but, other than my previous vampire, I tended to bag the weaker members of the herd. The sick, slow ones. Okay, it wasn’t that bad, but Mercury Crossing wasn’t exactly happy hunting grounds for alpha males. The kinds of guys who came to my shop fell under the classification of safe, even for Madison, which I’d discovered produced more than its fair share of SNAGs, otherwise known as “sensitive New Age guys.” In fact, the majority of the men I dated were more than safe, they were feminists; they respected my Goddessness. Which was all well and good, but I’d gotten out of the habit of dealing with a man like Sebastian.

  I’d forgotten how complicated things could get. Especially since Sebastian sincerely intrigued me. I wanted to know more about him. How was it he came to have power over Benjamin? Why could he walk around in the sun? Was he really a thousand years old? Was he ever married? Who was he before? How did he die?

  My interest gave him power over me. If I wasn’t so fascinated, I would be able to think more clearly. I’d be able to control the direction of the relationship better. As it was, I watched the flickering shadows of the firelight elongate the cracks on his ceiling, trying not to be bothered by the insistent tapping on the window.

  Above me, I heard the floorboards creak. Sebastian was awake. Would he come down? Should I pretend to be asleep? Act more frightened of Benjamin than I was? I seriously considered playing the helpless female and cowering in the corner—maybe even whimpering—but I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want Sebastian to lose respect for me. Not even if it meant getting into his bed.

  How I got into his bed that first time really mattered to me.

  Man, I was in deep. Or I needed to get some serious sleep. Probably both.

  I heard the toilet flush, and more creaking boards. Damn. Sebastian hadn’t been thinking about me at all, just getting up for a midnight piss.

  After ruminating on that depressing thought for a moment, I fell asleep.

  * * *

  * * * *

  I woke up to the smell of frying bacon. I absolutely adored that smell. It was such a fucking shame I was a vegetarian.

  Sebastian looked even more gorgeous in the morning. When I let myself into his kitchen, I found him busily chopping up red peppers, his back to me. And what a beautiful, broad back it was. I could inspect every inch of his muscled frame because he had no shirt. The only thing he wore was a pair of light cotton pajama bottoms covered with cartoon pictures of cherry-red Volkswagen Bugs. The radio was on and tuned to a country station. Sebastian hummed along to Johnny Cash as he washed mushrooms in the sink.

  Man, but he was cute. I had this crazy desire to tickle him. I snuck closer as quietly as I could; Johnny helped cover the sounds of my bare feet on the linoleum. I was within striking range when he turned to toss the veggies into a frying pan, and the sun highlighted a nasty scar that ran from his shoulder blade to his butt. I must have made some noise, because he turned to face me. We were inches apart. Which is how I came to be staring at the second, even uglier scar near his sternum.

  “Holy Mother, Sebastian,” I said, touching the rough skin just under his heart, “at some point you were, like, Swiss cheese.”

  Absently, his fingers rested lightly on mine, as though protecting the wound. “Alas, ‘twas the killing blow.”

  I looked up, startled. “You were killed?”

  He gave me a you-silly grin and put a finger on my chin as though to chide me. “That would be the part before my reanimation.”

  “Well, yeah, I mean, I knew you died. It’s just that, I guess I thought, you know, another vampire was involved.”

  “No.” His jaw muscle twitched, as though this were some kind of bone of contention for him.

  “Not at all?”

  “Not at all.” He turned away from me, back to the frying pan. Pulling a spatula from a drawer under the counter, he stirred the vegetables. The pleasant odor of onion and peppers filled the air.

  Clearly there was something about this I wasn’t getting—something important, something that bothered Sebastian. Frowning at his back for a moment, I tried to puzzle it out. I didn’t know that much about the Awakening or whatever vampires called the moment they woke up dead, but I knew Parrish’s story. He’d been out on som
e English highway robbing a coach when one of his intended victims tried to make a meal out of him. Parrish said he’d have died except that, in a moment of fear-inspired chutzpah, he bit her back. She’d been impressed and took him under her wing.

  Truth was, vampires were relatively rare. I had no idea if Parrish’s story was typical or not. He made me believe it was, but then, he had that whole charm/glamour thing going on generally. Hell, he’d made me believe he was a nice guy for a while, too, and that had turned out to be a lie.

  So no vampire had been involved in Sebastian’s reanimation. How did that work? I supposed there had to be a first, but even if Sebastian was as old as he claimed to be, he didn’t give off übermaster vibes.

  But then, what did I really know about it? Although he had sort of implied he was Dracula earlier…

  Ugh. I needed coffee if I was going to think this hard. So I gave up. Slipping my hands onto Sebastian’s shoulders, I leaned around him to look at the sauté.

  “Smells good,” I offered, by way of an apology for whatever had so clearly distressed him. “I hope your eggs are organic,” I teased, giving him a playful poke in the ribs.

  He laughed. “Free range, nest laid. Only the best for you, darling.”

  And without even thinking about it, he leaned down to kiss me. I think it was meant to be a friendly sort of playful peck on the cheek, but I turned into it with my mouth open, ready with a witty retort. Which I think had been going to be the stunningly clever “Yeah, right,” but instead it came out a smooshed “Yum.”

  His arms slipped over my shoulders, and I let my hands do what they’d ached to do since the moment I saw his naked skin. My fingertips discovered strong muscles and a few more scars and that oh-so-slender waist and a firm, tight—

  Then he broke the kiss.

  “Oh, now what?” I said, digging my fingernails into the cotton of his pajama bottoms, just to let him know I wasn’t letting go without a fight.

  His eyes registered a bit of surprise, then a wolfish smile spread across his face. “I just thought I’d better turn off the stove.”

  Even I had to admit that was probably a good idea. “Okay,” I allowed, “but hurry back.”

  Reaching around me, he clicked the gas off. I pressed myself closer and raked my fingernails over his ribs, just to make the job harder. “Knock it off,” he said half-seriously. “You’re going to get us killed.”

  Of course an admonishment like that just encouraged my misbehavior. I kissed his chest and ran my hands down the length of his back, slowly. I let my fingers caress the shape of him, taking in muscle and bone like a blind woman exploring a statue. My hands paused when I reached the drawstrings of his pajama bottoms, and I looked into his eyes. Sebastian stared back intently. Sunlight reflected an amber starburst that encircled his pupils. Witch’s eyes, I thought. Then, No, a wolf’s.

  His body had gone preternaturally still, as though he’d held his breath in anticipation and simply forgotten to start again. I started to ask him what was wrong when I saw them. His fangs had descended.

  Well. At least I knew he was in the mood.

  Stretching up on my tiptoes, I kissed him again. I let my tongue slide across the sharp tips of his fangs, purposefully cutting myself just a little. Blood mingled in our mouths.

  That got him moving again.

  Sebastian’s arms encircled my waist, suddenly, crushingly. With his superhuman strength, he lifted me up, closer to him. I loved the power and strength of his arms as they enveloped me. The fingers that reached under my shirt were rough and calloused from hard work.

  I threw my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist and started nibbling at his ear. He smelled like breakfast; the scent of onions and peppers clung to his hair. He tasted of salt. Despite myself, my stomach growled.

  He let out a little predatory chuckle and murmured into my shoulder: “That’s supposed to be my line.”

  I shivered but returned my attention to his earlobe. I was distracted again when he started walking. When he used my back to push open the kitchen door, I stopped my ministrations entirely. “Where are you taking me?”

  “You have your choice, my darling,” he said. I noticed that, although he carried me in a very awkward position, he didn’t strain at all. His breath wasn’t even short. “The couch or the bedroom.”

  “Which one’s closer?”

  “I like the way you think,” he said with that dark, vaguely evil chuckle.

  I found myself reconsidering the wisdom of getting naked and vulnerable with someone who, under different circumstances, considered me food. “Uhm,” I started.

  Then all the air rushed out my lungs as he tossed me onto the couch. I caught my breath in a little gasp. I braced myself for what I thought would come next. I assumed he’d throw himself on top of me and the ripping off of clothes would commence.

  Instead, Sebastian stared. He stood at the foot of the couch, looming really, hungrily taking in the sight of me struggling to catch my breath and regain my composure. Sebastian cut quite an imposing figure. I’m not sure I’d registered just how big he really was. Somehow, without his shirt, he managed to appear taller and broader. Maybe he looked so strong because white-hot sun pooled in the hollow of his collarbone. Blazing strips lay along the line of his taut stomach muscles and continued down the sharp angle of his hip. Meanwhile, he smiled at me, showing fangs.

  The whole look in his eyes was very predatory… very metahuman… very masterful. All I wanted to do was blush and squirm under his intense scrutiny, like some helpless harem slave, but the part of me that had merged with Lilith would not allow it.

  I pulled my shirt off. Slowly. Teasingly. As if to say, You want something to look at, boy? Here I am.

  The cold air and his gaze sweeping across my skin teased my nipples into stiff peaks. While Sebastian continued to stand there, I stroked my thumbs across the tips, giving myself a hot spike of pleasure between my legs.

  His eyes registered a hint of surprise, but the expression on his face seemed to me to be one of cool amusement, as if my exhibition were some kind of pleasant distraction. It didn’t help matters that, standing as he was, Sebastian looked down his aquiline nose at me, dark black hair framing strong, aristocratic features.

  I ran my hands along the swell of my breasts, down along the soft curves of stomach and hips. Hooking my thumbs in the elastic of my sweatpants, I lowered them just enough to expose a little more skin.

  Sebastian grabbed the cuffs of the pants and gave them a good yank. I stopped what I was doing long enough to help wriggle my legs free. Now I was naked, and he still had on his pajamas. A situation that would soon need correcting, in my opinion, but at least he’d become an active partner once more. Sebastian caught my ankle and bent to kiss my foot tenderly. His lips tickled the skin of my sole and, involuntarily, my foot jerked. He held it firmly, and purposefully, deliberately spread my legs.

  I felt a little like a doll being moved into place, so I attempted to show my disapproval by giving Sebastian a playful nudge with my free foot. Before my toe even touched his stomach, he caught my ankle. Meanwhile, he’d begun to work his way up my inner thigh with his tongue. Each kiss caressed my skin lovingly. His breath tickled warmly and sent a shiver of pleasure up the length of my leg.

  His progress was maddeningly slow. I twisted and squirmed just like I swore I wouldn’t do earlier. I was, in fact, this close to begging him to speed things along, and I had to bite my lip to keep from uttering any words I might regret later like, Oh, master, please.

  Attempting to sit up, I made a grab with the intention of dragging his head up to the part of me that was burning for his attention. Expertly, he lifted my legs into the air, over his shoulders, so my back flopped hard against the rough upholstery of the couch. I would have felt defeated except that his mouth found its way exactly to where I most needed it. His long hair tickled the inside of my thighs as his tongue and teeth slid hard against me.

  The section of my mind
that was able to form coherent thoughts kept worrying about those extra-pointy canines being so close to my tenderest parts. The sharp tip of tooth shot an intense wave of pain/pleasure deep into my core.

  “Oh, Sebastian, no.” I’d meant to say something a bit wore comprehensible like, Actually, what you’re doing is great; just don’t draw blood, okay? but apparently that kind of complex sentence structure was beyond my current abilities.

  Unfortunately, he took me literally. He stopped what he was doing entirely. I tried not to sob, but a whimper escaped my throat anyway. His golden eyes watched me over the mound of my belly as if to ask, no, what?

  I didn’t want to say, because I wasn’t entirely sure what I wanted at this point; I just wanted him closer, a lot closer. So my hands clutched his hair, and I pulled him closer for a kiss. As he crawled upward, I could feel his body slide on top of mine, strong, solid, and very, very hard. That made me smile. Dead guys could be tricky in that department. Parrish had always been able to perform, but he hadn’t been dead nearly as long as Sebastian.

  What I wasn’t expecting was the heat. The warmth from Sebastian’s body enveloped me, and the spot where my flesh met his pajama bottoms fairly burned.

  Great Goddess, he still had his pants on.

  My hands moved to quickly remove the obstacle, but the feel of hipbone and smooth, firm buttock distracted me. As my hands moved, so did my own hips, arching up to grind against him. At that he let out a frustrated growl. With a jerk, I undid the string on his pajamas.

  “Is there something you want?” I teased him.

  His answer involved pulling down his pants and reaching down to guide himself into me.

  Despite evidence to the contrary, I still braced myself for the shock of the cold, dead flesh. When his heat filled me, I gasped in surprise. I kissed him full on the mouth, lest he misinterpret my noises.

  We began rocking together, slow at first. Sebastian grew more urgent with each thrust, and I responded in kind. I clutched at him, pulling him deeper into me. I wanted more, harder, faster. The smile he flashed me at that moment, especially with the fangs showing, made me feel at his mercy. The pounding tempo he set didn’t help matters.