by Lydia Parks
“Okay, I want a straight answer. Who are you and why are you here?”
Griffin dropped his hat on the counter behind him and nodded, admitting defeat. “My name truly is Griffin, and I’m here to erase your memory of me.”
“What? Why would you want to do that, assuming you could? What are you, a hypnotist?”
He moved forward again, and the lights in the room dimmed as he neared. With his lips not quite touching her skin, he moved his mouth across her cheek.
Her throat constricted and her heart pounded. She couldn’t explain or control the erotic excitement tingling in her belly, nor did she want it to stop. She closed her eyes and turned her head, aware of his mouth following the line of her neck, still without touching her.
“No,” he whispered, his cool breath caressing her skin. “I’m a vampire.”
Chapter Two: The Truth
Serena paced the front of the living room. “You are not a vampire. Vampires don’t exist, except for those poor deluded souls who get fang implants and run around in capes. “She glanced at the cape draped over a chair, and then at the man lounging on her sofa.
Griffin smiled patiently as he slowly rotated the rain stick she kept on the end table. Inside the stick, dried seeds plinked as they tumbled from one end to the other.
“You may think you’re immortal—”
“I doubt seriously I’m immortal,” he said.
“Oh? I thought—”
“Yes, yes,” he said, waving off the rest of her statement. “I hear that one all the time. And you probably think I turn into a bat.”
She stopped pacing. “I don’t think you turn into a bat. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out you think you do.”
He sighed and rose slowly. “No, I don’t turn into a bat, and I’m not immortal, but I am a soulless creature of the night.”
As he approached, she fought the urge to back away, trying not to show her fear. The man was simply delusional, that’s all, and she had been trained to deal with delusional people.
“Griffin,” she said, in the least confrontational tone she could muster, “I’m sure you believe what you’re telling me. I understand why you don’t want to die. I don’t want to die, either.”
“Oh, but I have died. And I will again, in a fashion.” He circled her slowly, then moved to the dining-room doorway and leaned against the frame, folding his arms and crossing one foot over the other, as if posing for the part of Mr. Rochester in Jane Eyre. “I simply do not wish to end my existence yet.”
He wasn’t a typical case, chomping at the bit to prove her wrong. He waited for her to speak.
She decided the best way to handle the situation was to egg him on, then show him the error in his logic. He certainly seemed lucid and reasonable enough.
Except for the vampire thing.
She took a deep breath and huffed it out, then sat in a chair facing him. “Okay. Convince me that you’re a vampire.”
She was doing all right, until he smiled again, this time as if presented with dinner.
But she wouldn’t let him see her sweat. No, she was a psychologist, in control of her faculties. And she wouldn’t laugh, no matter how ridiculous it all felt.
“Come to me.”
She frowned. “I don’t think—”
“Come to me.” His voice snapped through the air like an electric whip, and she rose to her feet, floating out of her chair. She didn’t want to, but couldn’t help herself.
“Yes,” he said, “come to me, Serena.”
His dark, rich voice swirled through the room and in her head, making her dizzy, pulling her forward. She took one stiff-legged step and then another, until she stood before him.
“Kneel, Serena.”
Kneel? She would never—
“Kneel.”
She dropped to her knees with the sudden weight of an elephant on her shoulders.
And then, released, she fell backwards and scrambled away from the man, who crossed his arms over his chest again.
“How the hell did you do that?”
He shrugged. “It’s part of the gift of Darkness.”
She shook her head, dragged herself back into her chair, and straightened. “Look, I’ll admit you’re one of the best hypnotists I’ve ever—”
She screamed when he appeared right in front of her, his face to her face, his mouth open to reveal huge, glistening fangs, and an animal roar emitting from his throat.
And then, in the next split second, he stood in the doorway again, ten feet away, relaxed, as if he’d never moved. “I am a vampire,” he said.
Every cell in her body seemed ready to disintegrate as she sat there and trembled. She had no way to explain what she’d just witnessed, and not having an explanation sent her into a tailspin.
“How…who…I—”
“You have questions,” he said.
She nodded.
“Let me see if I can guess what they are. You want to know how old I am?”
She nodded again.
“I always have to stop and count, which is getting more difficult these days, but I was born in 1760. That puts me somewhere close to two and a half centuries, doesn’t it?” He shook his head and laughed. “My, my, how time flies.”
“Two and a half centuries? That’s absurd.”
“I know, I carry my age well. Of course, I was but thirty when I surrendered to the devil.”
“Oh? And where were you when this conversion occurred?”
Her question doused the fire in his blue eyes, and he gazed into space over her right shoulder. “I was on my knees, holding Rebecca, mangled under the wheels of a carriage. Her life’s blood warmed my legs as her last breaths shuddered from her breast.”
She felt the honest and endless pain in his words, and tears sprang into her eyes.
And that’s when she knew it was all true.
She was sitting in her living room, conversing with an ancient vampire.
His gaze slid back to hers and she watched him return to the present.
He smiled sadly. “Long ago.”
Serena jumped to her feet, filled with terror, and wonder, and emotions she couldn’t identify. Should she run? Would she even make it to the door? And then what?
“Don’t run.”
She spun to face him.
“You can read my mind?”
He shrugged. “I’m quite perceptive.”
“What do you want from me? Why are you here?”
He pushed off from the doorway and ambled toward her. “I told you. I must erase your memory of me.”
“But, if you’re a vampire, you can just kill me, right?”
She shivered at the soft touch of fingertips sliding up the side of her arm, and he leaned close once again.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered.
“I don’t understand,” she whispered back.
“I like you, dear Serena, and I want you to continue your work.”
“What…work?”
He released a deep, throaty chuckle near her ear. “Your work of convincing the world I’m not real.”
His presence filled her senses with the threat of inhuman masculinity and preternatural strength. She wanted to hate being near him, but she couldn’t.
She’d had men in her life, several who meant a great deal to her, but none affected her the way this stranger did. Her body felt alive, tensed, ready for anything. She closed her eyes to experience his touch.
His cool lips brushed against her cheek as his hand slid across the back of her neck and around her shoulder, drawing her forward. She heard him sniff, animal-like, taking in her scent as she inhaled his. Once again, rosemary and smoke, as from a fireplace, mixed with leather and lavender and the outdoors. And beneath it all, something musty, antique.
Her breath came in stuttered gasps as he drew her closer, brushing his lips across hers, hinting at demands she had no will to resist. Her lips parted, but he ignored the invitation.
And then he wr
apped an arm around her waist and drew her up to his solid body, and she realized just how strong he must be. She trembled in response, standing as if with her head in the lion’s mouth.
“You fear me,” he said.
“Yes.” She slid her hands up the front of his silk shirt.
“Good.”
His mouth came down over hers and he kissed her. Not a friendly, considerate sort of kiss, but something forceful, demanding, hungry. She melted under his command, unable to do anything but cling to him, thrown into a new world without direction. He encircled her with his body as his mouth opened and he tasted her, offering a taste of his own darkness in return.
She accepted, unable to deny the liquid need welling inside.
She clutched at the back of his shirt and pressed her body against his unyielding lean torso.
His cool mouth warmed as the kiss deepened, and her tongue followed his in wild circles. Desire tingled in her belly and up the backs of her legs, and her knees buckled. He held her up, held her close, offered something she could only imagine. Or thought she could. His hardness swelled between them, and she gasped at the size of him.
A deep rumble vibrated through her ribs—a beastly growl, a panther on the hunt. His embrace tightened. She couldn’t breathe, she didn’t care.
And then he disappeared, and she stumbled forward.
Serena opened her eyes to find him standing by the front door, hat in hand, staring through liquid silver eyes. “I must go.”
As absurd as it was, she couldn’t bear the thought of him leaving.
“But…why? I thought you wanted to erase my memory.”
He frowned. “Perhaps, but I don’t wish to bite you in the process.”
With the spell of Griffin’s proximity broken, Serena spent the next morning wondering why she had let him touch her. Or, at least, not struggled when he did. He was at best a stranger, at worst a creature, and a dangerous one at that.
But there was something fatally attractive about such danger held in tenuous check. She jotted notes for future lectures.
By noon, she felt lonely. Odd, she hadn’t felt lonely since Dave had left five years ago. Until now, she’d always valued her time alone.
As evening neared, she found herself unable to sit still. She cleaned the oven, mopped the kitchen floor, straightened her closet and looked out every window she walked past. Then she showered and dressed.
Once, when she saw someone approaching on the sidewalk, a shadow in the streetlight, her stomach flipped over with excitement, until she realized it was only a man. A mortal man.
Not Griffin.
Had she lost her mind? How could she want him to return?
But she did. She wanted very much for him to return, to hold her in his arms, to continue the kiss where he’d abandoned it.
And she wondered what would happen next.
She jumped at the knock on her front door.
Swallowing hard, she tiptoed to the door and peered through the peephole. Even though she expected to find Griffin standing there, her breath caught when she saw him.
With a trembling hand, she opened the door. “Come in.”
He nodded formally and stepped into the living room, wearing more modern attire this time with black boots, black slacks and a dark red shirt. No cape and no hat.
“Incognito?”
He smiled and nodded stiffly.
She closed the door and faced him, clutching her hands to keep them from shaking.
His gaze started at hers, then slid slowly down her body to her feet and back up an inch at a time. She nearly brought her hands up to cover her breasts.
“You look delicious, dear Serena.”
She brushed back her hair with one hand and tucked the other into the front pocket of her jeans. Was it obvious she’d worn her best silk blouse, hoping he’d arrive?
“Perhaps a little too delicious.” He turned away from her, as if to examine the room he’d already seen.
“What do you mean?”
He didn’t respond.
“Why did you come back?”
“To complete my mission,” he said over his shoulder.
“Of erasing my memory?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“How?”
In no hurry, he ambled toward her, studying paintings and knickknacks, until at last, he stood close.
He glanced at her with eyes the color of mercury. “I must control your thoughts at the moment when you’re most vulnerable, most open.”
“What, when I’m asleep?”
He smiled. “No, Serena. When you’re at the peak of sexual release. That’s when your mind is open.”
She inhaled sharply, taken by surprise, then shook herself. She hated the feeling of constantly being caught off guard.
“Oh. So, you’re telling me we have to have sex so you can erase my memory. At least that’s original.”
He sighed heavily. “You’ll enjoy the experience, I believe. I’ve had quite a long time to learn how to please a woman.”
“Yes, I imagine you have.” She smoothed the front of her blouse, unable to figure out what to do next. She found the thought of having sex with Griffin much too appealing, but couldn’t imagine opening herself to a supernatural beast that fed on human blood.
Assuming that part was true, and that he was a vampire.
“Why didn’t you just get this over with last night?”
His gaze snapped back to hers and he grinned. “Get it over with? Do you not enjoy sex?”
“With a vampire? I don’t know.”
“No,” he said. “In general.”
She shrugged. “Sure. I like sex as much as the next person.” The conversation wasn’t headed where she wanted it to go. “Do you drink tea?”
“No.”
She started toward the kitchen door. “Well, I do, and I could use a cup right now.”
As she’d expected, Griffin followed her into the kitchen again and sat in one of the old breakfast table chairs. Her mind raced as she went through the soothing motions of pouring a cup of boiling water and taking a Lemon Zinger teabag from the cupboard. She felt him watching her, and flashed on the college fantasy again. Just as she’d imagined then, he liked the way she looked, and that knowledge excited her.
Gripping the steaming cup in both hands, she sat across the table from him. “How does this work? Am I just supposed to say ‘okay’ and strip?”
He lounged in the chair, drawing figure eights in the wooden tabletop with one long, elegant finger. “No, I don’t think that would be much fun.”
“No.”
And then she sensed his reluctance.
“If you’re so anxious to do this, why are we sitting here?”
He shrugged. “I thought you wanted tea.”
“That’s not it. What aren’t you telling me?”
He shifted in his chair and scratched the side of his neck, exhibiting classic human signs of unease. “Am I so transparent?”
She shrugged. “I get paid to read people.”
“Yes.” He rose, crossed the room, and turned to lean on the counter and study her a bit too closely. “I find you quite attractive.”
“Why?”
“Strange question to ask.”
“Is it?” She squeezed out the teabag and dropped it onto a plate. “I’m a realist. I know I’m not gorgeous. I’m not ugly, but certainly not model material. A few extra pounds here and there, and crow’s feet around my eyes. Guys don’t pant or whistle when I walk by.”
He sighed, and she looked up at him.
“You must remember,” he said, “I come from another time. Perhaps my definition of beauty is different than that of the average man today. Or perhaps it is my ability to see beneath the outward appearance, as nice as it is. In you, I hear a heart that beats strong and true, feel a soul yearning for knowledge, and sense a brain that questions all. Very powerful for one like me.” He returned to the chair. “And, you remind me of someone I once knew.”
He nodded. “Yes. Rebecca.”
“You loved her.” She stirred a spoonful of honey into her tea.
He didn’t answer, but it wasn’t actually a question.
“Besides,” he continued, “erasing your memory could be dangerous.”
“How?”
“If I lose control of the demon within, you could die.”
Her spoon clattered to the table.
♥ Uploaded by Coral ♥
Chapter Three: The Touch
“Die?”
He nodded slowly.
Serena shuddered as the impact of his statement hit her. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Nor do I. Unfortunately, I have no choice.”
“Why is that, exactly?”
Griffin leaned back in his chair and watched her as he spoke. “The others wouldn’t let you live with a memory of me.”
“Others?” Her mouth went dry.
He nodded again.
Fighting shaky hands, she raised her mug and sipped the steaming tea, flinching when she burned the roof of her mouth.
“Shit.” She carried the mug to the sink, dumped the contents, then turned to her vampire guest. “How about I promise not to say anything and we call it good?”
Griffin rose and floated across the room to stand before her, or at least that’s the way it seemed.
“We can not, dear Serena,” he whispered, drawing a slow line down the side of her face with his fingers. “Besides, I want you.”
She whimpered.
Gently grasping her chin, he drew her face up to his. All concern, and fear and rational thought disappeared as his mouth covered hers.
His tongue circled and disappeared, then he nipped her bottom lip and she thought she might swoon—something she never imagined she’d do. She felt his desire merging with her own, growing into a live, pulsing beast to fill the shrinking room.
He pinned her against the counter, sliding his thigh between hers, and she not only let him but welcomed the intrusion. She held his shirt in her fists and pulled him closer.
His fingers slid down the side of her neck, stopping momentarily above her pounding pulse, then around to the front of her blouse. He brushed his knuckles over her hardening nipples, and she strained forward against the pleasure.