The Vampires' Last Lover (Dying of the Dark Vampires Book 1)

by Aiden James

  “Ah, so we’re really going to hit the slopes, huh?”

  “Absolutely! You should be ready to show me your Alpine champion moves, now that Chanson has taken care of your ankle. Right?”

  I smiled shyly, surprised and a little embarrassed that he knew this about me. Growing up with a father whose passion for skiing didn’t take to my brothers, I had no choice but to come along when he ventured to upstate New York, New Hampshire, and Vermont several times each winter. My incentive was to spend time with him, which wasn’t always easy to do, since Papa often traveled on business trips up and down the east coast. Over the years we grew close, and I developed a knack for slalom racing—good enough to receive an offer to join the University of Colorado ski team. If not for UT’s closer location to Richmond, and Pat Summit’s tenacious recruiting skills, I might’ve chosen CU instead.

  For a moment, I wondered how this crazy adventure might’ve turned out had that been my collegiate choice.

  “We will be arriving at our afternoon destination in less than ten minutes,” Racco said, snapping me out of my daydream. “How are you feeling?”

  By then, the powerful euphoria from the pill had reached every cell, muscle, and capillary in my entire body. The hunger had disappeared, and I felt enough energy to envision several trips down the mountain, if that was how our skiing experience would unfold. I also felt invincible—like nothing could hurt me in any way. It gave me the boldness to broach another subject I’d been thinking about for the past few minutes.

  “What makes it possible for someone to live in a youthful human body for so many centuries, as you’ve done?”

  I hoped he was flattered by my remark calling him youthful, yet he seemed unaffected by it, as his expression grew serious.

  “Luck is part of it,” he said. “Luck, and a body that continually stays young. What I mean to say, my cells are always reproducing themselves in perfect replication. There is no aging, and healing—even for severe injuries—happens quickly. For me to die, the injury would have to be quick and severe, in order to supersede my body’s effort to protect and recreate the original tissues. I can tell by the look on your face that this will take time to understand and believe. Yes?”

  I nodded in response. I could barely conceive how this was true. But, over the past week anything seemed possible.

  “Simone just told me that we will be landing in a moment,” Mercel said, smiling while he pulled up his snowsuit over his arms and shoulders and zipped it up. The other servants did the same.

  “Is the equipment ready for us?” Racco rose from the table and pulled his snowsuit over his powerful arms and shoulders.

  His suit was darker than all the others, a blue shade that was almost black. Everyone else’s suits and mine were purple with gold stripes—similar in some ways to tapestries I’d seen hanging along the castle’s corridor.

  “Yes,” said Mercel, motioning to an area beyond my line of sight, near the cockpit. “We will drop you off at the top, in the area you prefer, my lord. Simone has already verified with Louis that the snow is stable enough for us to land the helicopter.”

  “Very good!” Racco enthused, and then he turned to me. “The initial grade should be easy enough for you to keep pace with me. But, once we reach the first of the steep slopes, you will want to follow my lead, so that you don’t inadvertently fall into the chasms along the way.”

  I felt a twinge of panic despite my euphoric state. The chasms sounded dangerous, but the excitement dancing in his eyes made me reluctant to voice any concerns about safety. Was I an expert skier? Yes. But wasn’t it a bad idea to ignore perilous obstacles when racing down the side of a steep mountain never visited before?

  Although I said nothing, I’m sure my facial expression revealed my fears. His latest playful smile faded a little, and he started to say something else. The helicopter’s sudden descent onto the mountaintop distracted us both, but our landing was smooth.

  “How far down the mountainside will we be traveling?”

  I waited for an answer, as the sliding door opened and Mercel and another of Racco’s servants stepped down onto the snow. Our boots, poles, and skis had already been laid out, and the waxed tips glistened in the early afternoon sunlight pouring in through the cockpit.

  “Perhaps you wonder if we will be taking more than one trip down the mountainside?” he asked, chuckling as he handed my goggles to me. “Do you see a lift anywhere around us?”

  No. Not a good sign at all. And as I stepped out onto the powder that came up to my shins, I didn’t see any prior trails around us. Despite the fantasy, no one skis down an unknown perilous slope through virgin snow. At least no one who doesn’t have a death wish.

  “That is why we will only go down once!”

  He laughed heartily. Meanwhile, Mercel and Raul, the other servant, checked one last time to ensure our boots were firmly attached to our skis—despite the fact I’d already made sure of that once I fully realized what the hell I was getting myself into.

  “I take it everyone else will meet us at the bottom?”

  My heart began to pound furiously in my chest. No way was I backing out at this point, but I really wanted some idea where this excursion would end up.

  “A nice, cozy chalet awaits us at the foot of this mountain,” he said, his voice lower, and his accent sultry. “Picture brunch on a veranda overlooking a part of the Sierras that very few people have ever seen. A warm fire is already burning inside the chalet, where you will have your choice of hot cocoa or more chilled champagne, Txema. Of course, there is much more than just that.”

  Jesus. If not for the other four people either surrounding us or inside the helicopter, I was sorely tempted to jump him right then. The idea of heated sexual contact mixed with the brisk temperature we presently found ourselves in only made my horniness worse. It mattered not that our chilled breaths served as a reminder that frostbite could result from having my ass planted into the snow.

  “So, are you ready, my chérie?”

  “Yes… yes, I am,” I told him, trying to concentrate on the task at hand.

  One last smile and a wave to the others, and then we moved through the snow to the mountain’s edge. Looking down, it was a long, long way to the bottom. It might’ve been a good idea to find out how far. But, before I could voice my concern, our descent began in earnest and we sped toward the bottom.

  he thrill of racing down a mountain with only one other soul around is an experience I’ll never forget. I felt an incredible rush that would be hard to top… except by sex with an immortal. Had that idea become an obsession? There I was, unable to focus on anything other than being joined flesh to flesh with this wonderful man. Yes, that meant ignoring the fact he was two thousand years older than me, though I was sure he had picked up more than a few tricks in that time. Surely, there was nothing new he would experience with me that he hadn’t enjoyed many times over, down through the millennia.

  Looking back on this event, I wish now that I had taken more time to enjoy the pristine beauty of the snow-covered wilderness surrounding us. I ignored much of it in my haste to keep up with Racco, whose expertise on the slopes greatly surpassed my own. Obviously, he’d been doing this sort of thing since the first slats of wood took the Gauls or Vikings down Europe’s famed snow paths.

  The deep chasms Racco had advised to watch for along the four-mile winding run to the peak’s base turned out to be a hell of a lot more frightening than I anticipated. At least he waited for me to catch up when it happened, smiling devilishly, as if my survival had been some sort of passage rite that needed to happen.

  I could’ve strangled him right then.

  Thankfully, the chalet was everything he said it would be. Otherwise, I might’ve chewed his ass out and left, willing to take my chances in finding my way back to the castle. Opulent and rustic, and nearly buried in snowdrifts, he told me the chalet was constructed from the very pines that crowded the property back in the mid-eighteenth century. The plac
e had undergone frequent updates since then.

  I stepped out of my snowsuit and hung it on a hook in the foyer and walked in to the chalet proper. Racco was waiting for me near the stairs to the master suite on the second floor. Clad in only his Body Armor, the contours of his well-toned muscles were clearly revealed. Add in a gorgeous smile, intense blue eyes, and the powerful charisma exuding from Racco, and I was completely overmatched. A schoolgirl with an insane crush on this master of life—a perfect man.

  “Follow me, Txema… another fire burns upstairs,” he said, noting my momentary fascination with the roaring blaze inside a tall fireplace in the main living area. “My personal chef has prepared a little feast on the veranda.”

  He waited for me to give him my hand, which I worried might be clammy from my nervousness. But, he didn’t seem to notice. Instead he pressed his lips, warm, soft, delicious lips, against the back of my hand and then he led me up the stairs. The bed looked inviting, with the covers pulled down slightly, and a more impressive blaze burned brightly in the fireplace across from the bed. Heavy oak furniture in a Black Forrest motif brought a strong masculine feel to the room.

  “Our sources have told us that you have a fondness for crepes and waffles,” Racco said. He motioned for me to move out to the veranda, where Mercel and the chef, a pretty blonde female named Annette, waited next to a table set for two. In addition to the batter varieties were roasted potatoes, bacon, and an assortment of fruit. “Have you made a decision as to having more champagne, or would you prefer something warmer, like cocoa or cider?”

  I noticed another fireplace outside on the veranda, and the room felt comfortable, despite the French doors standing wide open. The view beyond was indeed spectacular, reminding me of a vacation with my family to Vermont several years ago, although these hills were more majestic.

  “Champagne will be fine,” I told him, following his lead outside. We sat across from each other, and Annette placed a crepe and a waffle on my plate. Meanwhile, Racco settled for a few strips of bacon. It occurred to me then that I had yet to see him dine heavy—he was always taking small portions. I suddenly worried that he might view me as a cow in comparison. But the appetite suppressant from the earlier pill had worn off. I was starving again. Perhaps sensing the awkwardness, Racco asked Annette to make him a fresh crepe.

  “Go ahead and leave another bottle for later, Mercel,” said Racco, after we had finished our meal. “We will call for you and Annette to remove this before we return to the castle.”

  He motioned for them both to leave, and once they had returned downstairs, Racco turned his attention to me.

  “Come, let us sit near the fire inside,” he said. “I believe we both have some unfinished business to attend to.”

  Racco got up and pulled out my chair for me. He gently took my hand and led me back inside the chalet to a black bear rug laid out in front of the fireplace.

  “Perhaps it is a little warm over here, but once our body heat matches the fire then we can move elsewhere.”

  I had nothing to say, offering subtle nods to acknowledge my eager agreement to whatever he wanted. Racco had already made it clear that he would decide how the rest of the afternoon would progress. It was a very different experience from the boys I had dated who were so insecure as to their own desires that they waited for me to make all of the decisions. Truth be told, although he never asked, I already made the decision and all I could think of was his powerful arms wrapped around me again, and I eagerly anticipated picking up from where we left off the other day.

  The rest of what happened quickly became a blur… a passionate jaunt to ecstasy! His hands roamed freely while his lips caressed mine, and I felt myself melt in his embrace, barely aware that he was removing my clothes and his.

  It took only a few minutes to be fully ready for him to take me, although I was grateful for the extended foreplay. It just goes to show, I guess, that older males have a better understanding of what it takes to get a woman to orgasm. His lips continued to caress mine and moved down my neck and to my breasts while his fingers massaged my sex to full readiness.

  Yes, I was ready—more than ready, and I begged him to enter me. He raised himself up, preparing to do just that when all of a sudden a loud thud shook the entire chalet.

  “What in the hell was that?” I murmured between gasps, while he looked warily around him.

  “Racco, get away from her! Txema, no! NO!”

  We both heard the voice, a female, shrieking in anger. But there was something unnatural about the voice, as well. A muffled crackling sound accompanied it as it floated throughout the room. It was difficult to pinpoint where it came from. It resounded again, only this time the voice emanated from the fireplace. The shriek was louder and clearer the second time around. The fire grew stronger, as if a bucket filled with gasoline had just been launched onto the flames.

  We looked in that direction, and this time both of us gasped.

  An enlarged face glared at us, ethereal, with green eyes ablaze and menacing fangs fully bared. A face I had come to know fairly well.

  The face of Chanson de l’Eternelle.

  alk about a mood-buster.

  Chanson’s unexpected intrusion into Racco’s and my afternoon bedroom romp utterly wrecked the moment. Even before the image dissipated into the flames, it was “diver down” for Racco. For the first time that day, his incredible charisma and unflappable self-confidence had been dimmed. The exaggerated face of my ancestral cousin seemed to focus mostly on him—at least while it glared at us—and it definitely had the effect her words demanded.

  And here I thought vampires slept during the day. Obviously, they could still sense the nefarious activities of the mortals they took an interest in. At least Chanson could, anyway.

  Racco avoided looking at me until we both were fully clothed again. Intense awkwardness followed, and it seemed his warmth—that passionate attention he had shown to me since we first met on his yacht four days earlier—was no longer there. I admit, I bristled when he flashed his gorgeous smile for the chef, Annette, when we boarded the helicopter to return to the castle, and only glanced at me. For the rest of our ride, he and I looked out separate windows to avoid eye contact with each other.

  I should’ve said something about it, or at least asked him what was wrong. After all, what in the hell did Chanson’s rude interruption have to do with the budding romance between him and me? But the stubbornness that is my hallmark prevented me from talking to him about it or anything else, at least for the time being.

  By the time we arrived at the castle, it was nearing four o’clock, and sunset in the mountains had already started. Within the next couple of hours, the vampires would awaken. I could hardly wait for an additional scowl and tongue-lashing from my vampire protectors. Especially from Chanson.

  The chilliness between Racco and me remained, and once inside the castle I could tell the servants felt the awkward air surrounding us. They barely made eye contact with either Racco or myself.

  Getting more perturbed by the minute, I waved off Mercel’s offer to escort me to my room, climbing the stairs alone. I needed the solitude to think, and to reassess my situation, and especially my incarceration. Really, it was more that than anything else, since I couldn’t go home when I wanted to do so. Hell, I had already seen how the vampires guarded my every move, as if waiting for me to take flight.

  When I arrived at my bedchamber, the door was slightly ajar. I cautiously entered my room.

  “Hello?” I called out, loud enough to hear a slight echo bounce off the walls. “Is anybody here?”

  I received no response.

  “Hello?” I repeated. But, after tiptoeing through the entire room and adjacent bathroom, I soon confirmed no one else was there.

  Maybe one of Racco’s servants had visited my room and forgot to close the door when they left, since another evening outfit had been laid out on the bed. This time it was a Vera Wang pantsuit featuring a beautiful white satin blouse
with gold orchids against the suit’s gray pinstripes, along with black satin Dolce and Gabbana high heels. It seemed like something Raquel would put together.

  I allowed myself another luxurious bath to soothe the muscles reacting to the workout I put them through, trying to keep up with Racco as we skied down the mountainside. Or, maybe this was really an effort to wash away the physical memory of our heavy foreplay on the bearskin rug in his chalet. If the awkwardness between us continued, I might as well get a head start on eradicating the remnants of our intimacy to help ease any withdrawal pain.

  Alas, infatuation’s tenuous reality.

  I almost fell asleep in the bathtub, gasping for a moment on perfumed soap bubbles that covered my face and damn near went up my nose! I guess I should be grateful I didn’t somehow drown. It made me wonder if this was an energy-crash from the strange pill I ingested that morning.

  Finally, just before 6:00 p.m., I was fully dressed and ready to face the vampire world. Not knowing what to expect, I left my room and headed downstairs. The place seemed almost as quiet as it had earlier that day, at least until I approached the dining hall.

  It sounded like a Mardi Gras parade moved through the castle just beyond the hall’s heavy oak doors. Since they were open last night, I had no idea the doors contained detailed engravings. Each one bore the image of a muscular angel with gilded wings that appeared to be made from real gold. Perhaps gold leaf foil had been laid over the carved images. Or, maybe the wings were created from solid gold. Impressive either way. “Hel-lo Txema!” said a familiar voice from behind me, as I debated whether to step up and knock loudly on the door, or simply walk right into the hall unannounced. “Why do you dally so much?”

  “Because it could seem rude to just barge in there!” I retorted while whirling around.

  Armando stood waiting, dressed in a traditional tux. Beaming with delight, either at his own witty comment or my self-imposed predicament, he looked even more regal than usual.