“You do,” he confirmed, a low moan escaping from my lips as his soft fingertips brushed my achingly hard nipples. “Just as I love you and have been waiting for you for centuries.”
His hands eased my chemise down, exposing me, but I didn’t care. My loins were burning, a throbbing desire emanating from my core. I knew I wanted to feel him inside of me. I turned around to face him as fast as I could. I threw my arms around his neck and pulled his face to mine. His hands wrapped around my waist, pushing my petticoat to the floor. The cool breeze tickled my bare backside, but I was too overwhelmed with yearning to be ashamed of my exposure.
His lips descended over mine. I could feel his hands sliding over my stomach. His tongue parted my lips and I met its velvet touch with my own. The sensation brought another low moan from me and my feminine juices were dripping, preparing me for his joining. I was aware this was a dream, and I wanted him. It was the hottest dream, and sadly, the most action I’d had in… forever.
Just as suddenly, though, he pulled away, stepping back. I stood before him, naked but for the corset still laced around my body, breathless and trying to figure out what I’d done wrong.
“I’m sorry,” he said bitterly. He looked away from me. “I’m afraid I may have put you in danger. I fear she may find you now.” I was about to ask what he meant, who’s ‘she’, and why’s she looking for me, but in a heartbeat his hand raised and he snapped his fingers.
When I opened my eyes, I was in my hospital bed.
Chapter 4
Soft breathing from the shadows by the door told me I wasn’t alone. City light filtered through the blinds, and I waited for my eyes to adjust to the room.
“Who’s there?” I called out quietly. I wasn’t sure, but I thought I could make out a pair of steely gray eyes and a row of bright, shining teeth below them, but it was probably my imagination. I could definitely smell a sweet, sexy perfume. Miss Cherie, by Dior, if I wasn’t mistaken.
“Hello, kitten,” came a teasing, sultry reply. A tall woman stepped forward into the half-light. She wore a tight leather bustier lashed to firm breasts, a fashionable, soft leather jacket and matching leather pants. Her face was beautifully sculpted and meticulously, but heavily made-up, pale skin, high cheekbones, and an aggressive, short, spiky hairstyle.
“Who are you?” I asked quietly. Why I was keeping my voice low, I didn’t know.
“My dear, my name is Valentina,” she explained casually and took a step closer. Every move she made was seductive but the look on her face said she could easily devour me. “My, but you are pretty. A little full-figured for my taste, but you might make a pleasing distraction.”
Okay, that was a strange thing to say, and very creepy. Something was definitely not right with this woman. She took one more step before I decided I’d had enough. What the hell was making me so attractive to sociopaths lately? I scooted away from her, slid out of the bed, grabbed a nearby drip stand and pointed it at her, threateningly.
“The fuck do you want, ‘Valentina’?” I yelled this time. I thought it might be good to make some noise and perhaps alert a few people.
Calmly, she replied, “I wanted to see what the fuss was about, kitten. I wanted to see if I could turn his obsession with you into a more advantageous situation for myself.” She reached the bed and mounted it, crawling slowly across it ass up high, like a stripper looking for tips. “Then, after your dream, I wanted to warn you to LEAVE MY SASHA ALONE.” She shouted the last part. I slowly backed up until I bumped against a cabinet, wondering who the hell Sasha was. Valentina kept skulking towards me until her stomach was pushing against the end of my drip stand weapon. “Now, I want to simply rip out your heart and drink from it.”
She moved like lightning. One simple upswing and she knocked the stand from my hands, somersaulting it across the room to land with a loud crash. She thrust the same arm straight out before her, grabbing me by the throat. I couldn’t scream; I couldn’t breathe. In a blur, her face was right next to mine. I felt my feet leave the floor as I stared into her wild, gray eyes.
“A pity,” she growled, “We could have enjoyed such pleasures, the three of us.” She made a sad face then pulled back her other arm, ready to eviscerate me. I had no time to pray, no time to plead, no time to even close my eyes before she swung.
Only, nothing hit me. The window beside me imploded instead. I felt a force rush in, and he was there. The man from my dreams.
He was different than in my dreams, though. His hair was styled differently, like some urban outlaw. His skin was darker, his jaw stubbled, and he wore jeans, cowboy boots and a gray tank top that brought out his eyes and showed off his heavily muscled shoulders and arms, but it was the man from my dreams. He had grasped the fist that Valentina was about to kill me with and held it fast.
Her jaw clenched, her eyes narrowing in incandescent rage, she turned her head towards him. “Hey, baby,” she said angrily, “Fancy seeing you here.”
“Yeah,” he replied, all trace of the European accent gone, “I do get around.” He head-butted Valentina in the face. The woman lost her grip on me and fell back, rolling onto the bed. She sprang back up, teeth bared and fists raised. The guy put himself in front of me so he was shielding me from her. I laid a hand on his shoulder to steady myself while he moved his arm back, to keep me behind him. “April,” he said, not bothering to explain how he knew my name, “I need you to trust me.”
“Trust you? I don’t even fucking know you. AND I have no idea how you know my name. AND you just flew through a sixth floor window…” I wasn’t done with my tirade, but he cut me off before I could continue.
“The way I see it, you can stay here while she disembowels you, or you can trust me and maybe see tomorrow. It’s your choice.” Well, since you put it that way.
Valentina was looking for an opening. She feinted left, but he covered it. “Sasha, honey,” she pleaded in a sing-songy voice, “Be reasonable.”
“Val, dear,” he replied, “I think you passed reasonable about three exits back.” She growled furiously, spitting like a panther.
“Well?” urged Sasha in my direction.
“Tomorrow!” I yelled. The wind was howling through the broken window and whipping my hair into my face. “Tomorrow, please!”
He grabbed my wrist, in a grip tight enough to hurt, and jumped. He leaped backward, out of the window he’d recently crashed through, this time taking me with him. I felt a searing pain in my shoulder as we dove out of the building, and wondered how I was going to see the next few minutes, much less tomorrow.
The wind screamed past my ears, until I realized it was me screaming.
I had time to get a decent view of the lower building where we were headed, a hardware store, before he pulled me close to him. He hugged me tightly as we fell and, in spite of the cold air rushing by us, I smelled the scent of fresh apple and blackberry, with a touch of cinnamon, and I was oddly comforted.
I closed my eyes and, a microsecond later, we landed, Sasha going back-first through the flimsy rooftop, down through a shelf of sinks and kitchen cabinets, to make a pretty big crater in the concrete floor. It knocked the wind out of me but, otherwise, I seemed to be injury-free. My shoulder hurt a little.
“Oh my God!” I cried. “Are you alright? What the hell was that? What just happened?”
“I’m fine,” he groaned, pulling himself up. “Come on, she could be right on our tail.”
He scooped me up like a new bride and, before I had any time to protest, we found the fire exit. A quick kick broke the lock and we were outside. Waiting for us was a blood red Harley Davidson. It had fat tires, high handlebars, and was dripping in chrome.
“Get on,” he instructed me.
“Fucking wait,” I ordered. He froze.
“What?”
“What do you mean ‘what?’?” I asked, trying to remain calm. “I just had a sex dream about you, was attacked by someone who I can only hope was your sister, was pulled me out of a sixth
floor window, fell through a Home Depot, and now you’re asking me to ride off on a motorcycle with a throbbing, dislocated shoulder? Is there any part of that I shouldn’t be questioning?”
He considered this for a moment. “Give me your arm,” he said. I did. “Sorry, this is going to hurt a little.” He pulled and I cried out. Just like that, he’d successfully reset my shoulder.
“Umm, thanks,” was all I could think of to say.
“Anything else before you get on?” He asked.
I just shook my head.
He swung a leg over his bike, fired up the engine and I noticed something. It was ballsier, brassier, and bassier than any other motorcycle I’ve heard. “By the way,” he shouted over the noise of the bike, “that was a Lowes we fell through, not a Home Depot.”
As we roared off, Sasha shouted that we needed a safe place to go. I offered my apartment, which he overruled. Somewhere with a lot of exposed iron would be ideal. I directed him to the gallery. It would be closed and empty all day, and the postmodern design of the building meant a lot of the structural girders and ironworks were on display. It was way downtown from the Medical District but his Harley was incredible and we flew there in minutes.
I didn’t have my keys. Hell, I was still in a hospital gown; I didn’t even have my underwear. But, when I took him to the small staff entrance, it took him seconds to deftly pick the lock and open the door for me. I hurried inside to disable the alarm, before wandering into my office and collapsing on the big black leather chair behind my desk.
Sasha sidled around my doorway, allowing himself to just barely enter the room, and casually leaned against the wall.
“April,” he said, tentatively, “you must have…”
“What?” I snapped at him. “Sasha, is it? What must I have Sasha?” I suddenly felt exhausted. More exhausted than I’d ever felt before. And cranky, no, pissed. “I don’t think you have any clue what I think, feel, or need right now.” I was raising my voice with every word. “I must have questions? Damn right! I must have no idea what’s happening? Fuck no! But right now, I need a minute. Please, just… just… get the hell out of my office.”
For a second he looked incensed, he ground his jaw and narrowed his eyes. Then, just as quickly, his expression softened and his big, beautiful steel-gray eyes held a touch of regret. He nodded his understanding and left, quietly closing the door behind him.
I leaned back in my chair, swiveling around to look at the Monet print on the wall behind me. The lights in the gallery were still off, but there was just enough dawn streaming through the office window to throw a light silver hue over the room.
What kind of world had I just discovered? Guys projecting themselves into my dreams to feel me up, an S&M dominatrix attacking me, moving faster than any known creature, jumping out of a sixth-floor window without a scratch? And, the most horrifying of all, human bodies literally ripped to pieces after threatening me? I was certain now that it was Sasha’s motorcycle that arrived before I blacked out last night, which meant it must have been Sasha that saved me from Rectum and Darla. And, if that were true, who the hell was he? What the hell was he, and just how dangerous could whatever he was be?
Chapter 5
I dug out my spare clothes- jeans and an old Mötley Crüe t-shirt. I’d kept a change of clothes in the bottom drawer of my desk ever since I’d ruined a nice pantsuit by having to do some unpleasant physical labor at the gallery a few months back. Too bad I didn’t have the foresight to keep a spare bra and panties in my office, but who knew I’d be in here changing out of a hospital gown. I guess the shirt was tight enough to mostly keep my breasts under control and the jeans without panty lines made my butt look good. I sat in my desk chair to slide on my socks and tennis shoes.
Now that I was a little calmer, I regretted yelling at Sasha. The man had saved my life twice, and in return I screamed in his face. Nice. He was hot, too, and unless I concentrated on stopping it, my mind kept wandering back to that dream. Standing naked in a snowy field, my skin shivering with desire under his soft caresses. Sasha was exceptionally handsome by any standards, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t attracted to him. Any red-blooded female would be drooling over his toned, heavily muscled body and dark, dangerous good looks. I couldn’t help but wish my dreams would have played out a little longer. Just a little, just long enough for me to… well, dreamland and reality were different worlds entirely. Actually, right now the only similarity was that they were both crazy and both implausible.
I walked back out into the gallery’s main space intending to try to make things right with Sasha. He deserved an apology. The early morning light made it easy to navigate the gallery and I quickly found him in the far northeast corner of the building. I didn’t creep up on him, but I hadn’t called out to him either. I just watched him. He appeared to be in some sort of trance, his arms spread out to his sides like he was praying.
A moment passed and his arms dropped. I was leaning against one of the exhibit walls observing.
“It’s an old trick I picked up from a shaman in Namibia,” he said, without turning around. I didn’t realize he knew I was there. “I’ve warded the gallery to conceal us. The shaman are able to do it to hills and mountains with a high ferrous metal content when they needed to create a private and secluded sanctuary. Which is why I was hoping to find a location with ironworks.”
“Seriously,” I smiled at him, “You were doing magic?” I rolled my head back and let out a loud laugh. I hadn’t meant it to sound quite so harsh, but my fatigue was taking its toll on me.
He turned to face me, only he wasn’t smiling. Clearly but quietly he spoke, “After everything you’ve seen, in this and the dream world, you still deny that there’s more going on than your previous view of reality allowed?”
“I didn’t say that,” I told him, “And, about the dreams. Who gave you permission to invade my head and feel me up?” It wasn’t that I’d minded the feeling up or anything, but I didn’t like the patronizing way I felt he was talking to me now.
“Always the spitfire,” He grinned, showing perfect white teeth. “You did.”
“I did?”
“It was a dream, your dream. You had total control over it. Anything that happened in your dream, you wanted to happen. Are you complaining?” he stalked slowly towards me, his body moving with a surprising grace for a man so muscular. His smile was captivating and his fierce, hooded eyes moved up and down my body lasciviously. The way he looked at me, I may as well have been standing naked. The raw hunger in his eyes felt like a heated, deliciously wicked, and arousing assault. “Let me show you something.”
He clasped my arm and without breaking his stride, ushered me to the other side of the exhibit. There hung the Dobronravov I had procured last week, the one that led my boss Owen to offer me a promotion. It was a nude, a sexy, curvy, dark-haired woman was looking just away from the viewer, standing slightly bent forward, brushing her hair. She’d turned from a mirror and was laughing with carefree abandon.
It was an exquisite work. Somehow, Dobronravov had been able to inject such joy and passion into the woman’s face. It looked almost as though a photo, a snapshot of the woman, had been taken at the moment her lover had said something that made her laugh deeply and genuinely, and with great affection.
I loved this picture, which was why I’d put several years into getting the original here. I loved her for the happiness she projected; I loved the painter for capturing it for the world. Every time I looked at it, I felt at peace, content. This picture, of all that I’ve studied and worked with, elicited more powerful emotions from me than any other.
“Do you remember that I told you that you love me already?” He was standing behind me, his hands on my shoulders, his head bent next to mine whispering softly into my ear. I could feel his solid chest at my back. My heart raced, blood suddenly rushing through my veins. He’d said it in my dream. My mouth was too dry to speak, so I simply nodded. “It is the truth. You do kno
w me. Sasha is short for Aleksander. My name is Aleksander Dobronravov. I painted this picture.”
“That… that’s … not possible,” I stuttered, looking back at him in shock, “Aleksander Dobronravov painted this picture nearly 300 years ago…”
“Yes, I did,” he replied calmly. “I was alive 300 years ago. 400 years ago, in fact. I am an immortal. A vampire.”
I shuddered in horror. Fear coursed through me. I followed my gut reaction, my fight-or-flight response, and pushed him away.
“Get the fuck outta here!” I screamed, backing up against the wall. “That’s bullshit! Impossible! You’re a psycho!”
He remained still, his hands raised in a plea for calm. “I’m sorry, April. I didn’t mean to frighten you, and I would never hurt you. Consider everything that’s happened this evening. Please. Valentina, the fall from the window. Does my confession at the very least make some sense out of these events?”
Angry and weirded out as I felt, he had a point. I slid down the wall to sit on the floor and tried to control my breathing. I was light-headed, but I’d be damned if I was going to pass out in the same room as a vampire.
“Valentina?” I managed to utter.
“She’s also a vampire,” his face held a pained expression. “Valentina is… Valentina is a long story, but I owe you some sort of explanation, so I’ll make it brief. I was second in the coven in San Antonio. My ‘father’, for want of a better term, Bernhard, is the head of the coven. There had been a great rift between ours and another coven, and to try and mend fences, he arranged for Valentina, the ‘daughter’ of the head of the Austin coven, and me to marry. It’s a lot of political maneuvering, but I agreed because Bernhard has always been good to me. Okay?”
Bears of Burden: WYATT Page 99