Vampire's Pet

by amy o'connor

  Decisions, decisions…

  Even from his position against the far wall he could see her trembling. She probably didn’t even know she’d clenched her fists so tightly her fingernails had dug into her palms, breaking the skin. A faint tang of fresh blood wafted to his nose.

  If he bid on her, and bought her, he wouldn’t have to feel guilty about taking her home for dinner…

  Her blood was heady, its scent clear even across the musty smells of so many people crammed into this crumby old hotel. He inhaled, sifting through the scents. Her skin was fresh, and smelled faintly of lavender. He’d always been a sucker for a woman who used lavender.

  She’d thought he’d been laughing at her earlier, he reminded himself. Her thoughts had been vivid, and quite … imaginative. His lips curved. Most humans, when they got angry, projected a sort of red haze. She’d projected clear images of him with his mouth taped shut and some sort of very messy, and very painful, explosion surrounding him. He grinned at his thoughts. If he was going to take someone home for dinner—his dinner, that was—she’d certainly be more fun to play with than the average human.

  Todd stared at her, watching the way her eyelashes fluttered, when it suddenly hit him. He could read her emotions as clearly as if they’d been written in ten-foot high letters in front of him. But, other than that one angry image of what she wanted to happen to him, he wasn’t catching her thoughts. That was quite a novelty and hadn’t happened to him in at least three hundred years.

  His grandmother had been the only other woman he’d come across—vampire or human—whose thoughts he couldn’t read. It was an odd feeling. This woman was quite fascinating …

  He studied the women standing to the side of the stage, the ones whose ‘services’ had already been sold. Then he looked back up at Gwyneth. She may have been shaking in fear, murky waves of the emotion roiling off her and filling the ballroom, but she was still standing straight and staring defiantly out over the audience.

  Yes, she was a lot shorter than most of the other women. And she certainly hadn’t used nearly so much ‘product’ when she’d dressed for the event. Her naturally reddish hair was tied back in a long braid, and she wore light make-up that didn’t obscure the way her pale skin alternately flushed red with embarrassment, then faded to a sickly white when the MC made a particularly noisome announcement. Like the one about the whips. He’d honestly thought she was going to puke right there when the audience had been told she enjoyed discipline.

  Hmmm. Natural? Kind of like eating oysters au naturel versus having them cooked Kilpatrick. He wasn’t used to taking his women that way. Natural. The sort of women he normally took home for a snack were the sort who were bold enough to make a move on him. They were more like the brash MC -- and he was rapidly developing a severe dislike of her.

  His head jerked upright at the words he’d nearly missed while he contemplated the little redhead. He replayed the last few announcements rapidly in his head. Yes, the revolting woman had just suggested tying Gwyneth up and using her for a sex toy. No wonder the poor little mouse was looking more stressed by the minute.

  Mind you, the idea had potential…

  He wondered what she’d look like naked? Did she have plenty of nice curvy bits, or was she one of the bland wafer-thin women with no tits? He looked more closely. It was hard to tell under the suit, but he was pretty sure she had decent breasts. His cock stirred.

  Todd fingered his check-book. The bidding was slowing but was up to fourteen thousand dollars already. She’d be an expensive snack.

  He could have her for the entire weekend…

  Okay, an expensive few snacks.

  And he was going to have to hand over a sizeable donation anyway. He’d promised Claudia he would.

  He cleared his throat. “Twenty thousand dollars.”

  * * * *

  Silence descended on the crowd.

  The huge bid had come from the back of the room. Like everyone else in the ballroom, Gwen craned her neck to see who wanted her so much. She’d thought it couldn’t possibly get any worse than it already was. She’d even half-convinced herself she’d be able to negotiate her way out of this mess despite all the avid eyes currently fixed on her body. She knew no one cared about her; they were only interested in the delicacies she was supposedly hiding under her business suit.

  It was worse than expected. Way, way worse than expected.

  It was the man who’d laughed when she first stood up. And …

  She suddenly realized that she’d never appreciated just how masculine he was.

  Maybe she could just dissolve into a puff of smoke and drift off somewhere into the stratosphere?

  This was not a man who was going to accept a pleasant explanation of how it was all a terrible mistake. She couldn’t see much, but she could see his outline, could see the width of his shoulders, the muscles of the forearms he’d crossed negligently in front of him. He towered over the surrounding men.

  Her mouth went dry at the thought of that particular man wanting her in his bed for the whole weekend. Once again, her nipples hardened. He was… She couldn’t think of the words to describe him as her brain went on strike. Her stomach did an odd little flip and, grudgingly, she returned to reality.

  She was standing on a stage being sold to the highest bidder. Apparently she was being sold as a sex slave. This was absolutely humiliating.

  So why were her panties suddenly damp?

  “Any further bids?” The MC sounded disappointed that her fun was coming to an end. “No? Then, she’s sold to the bidder at the back of the room for twenty thousand dollars.”

  The gavel rapped on the podium, and Gwen found herself being hustled off the stage and practically pushed into Vera’s waiting arms.

  “I cannot believe you would lower yourself to that kind of… kind of… debauchery,” Vera spat. “Just after you went up on stage, Dora told me how you planned to sell yourself like this, and I just couldn’t believe it. My little Gwenny? No. Then… then… You hussy!”

  Gwen blinked dazedly as Vera stalked away into the darkness of backstage. Her eyes were still swimming from having the spotlight trained on her for so long.

  What else could go wrong?

  Dora stepped forward, an ingratiating smile on her face as she spoke to one of the sponsors who was hovering nearby. As soon as the other woman had returned to the audience, Dora’s smile changed. “Have fun, angel cakes,” she sneered. “I doubt you’ll be welcome at our house ever again.”

  Dora hurried away after her mother. She was probably going to spread more rumors and make sure Vera believed the absolute worst of her niece. Right now, Gwen didn’t care.

  The adrenaline that had been racing through her bloodstream had disappeared, had left her standing here forlorn, with no way of coping with the blatantly lascivious smiles directed her way. She wanted to go home.

  But she had to wait for her ‘buyer’ to come and collect her.

  If it was Friday morning now, did that mean he actually got her for three full days? The MC had said he got her for the whole weekend and the contract she’d signed —the one that Dora hadn’t altered—specified that the services were to be provided from the time the auction finished.

  Gwen collapsed into a conveniently placed chair, her head slumped into her hand. She didn’t care who saw her like this. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to have to try and negotiate her way out of a dirty weekend with a man who’d been willing to pay twenty thousand dollars for her. Actually, she just wanted to fall into a pathetic little heap and cry.

  * * * *

  Todd approached the stage slowly, his progress delayed as other members of the audience paused to stare, blocking his way. He didn’t particularly mind the knowing looks that were directed his way and, hell, he could understand why most of the audience probably thought he was some kind of sexual weirdo after everything the MC had said.

  The girl, however, would have been mortified. Without even seeing her
up close, without touching her, or speaking to her, he just knew. A thread of anger coursed through him at the idea of those men casting their leering eyes over her modestly-clad body, all of them assuming… assuming she was some kind of expensive whore.

  Anger?

  He hesitated. Anger wasn’t an emotion he often felt. Actually, he rarely felt anything at all anymore, and the thought that he was experiencing two emotions in the one day — first pity, then anger — and both directed towards a total stranger…

  He shook his head impatiently. Right now, he had a purchase to claim. And he was hungry. She was only a human, after all. A food source, and nothing more.

  He stalked through the crowd, using his mind to clear the stragglers from his path. Once he’d actually spoken to her, then he’d know where he stood. It was just that … to be feeling things again, to not be bored with life, was so weird. He could hardly believe a woman had this effect, and that she’d suddenly appeared after all these endless years.

  Todd skirted the edge of the stage, heading towards where the other women had gathered after their sale had finished. She wasn’t there.

  Gwyneth wasn’t there, he corrected himself. If he was going to spend more than a few minutes with this human, he was going to have to remember her name. He just didn’t think she’d be the sort of woman to let him get away with calling her the generic ‘honey’ or ‘babe’. Most women didn’t care so long as they were getting laid. But she was definitely different.

  She was different?

  He paused in a deep shadow by the stage while he decided what to do next, and smiled sardonically at his thoughts. He hadn’t even got within arms reach of her — actually, she seemed to have done a pretty good disappearing act on him — and he was already so sure he knew how she thought. He could only hope she matched up to his expectations. Alternately, he could just assume it was his hunger speaking. He grimaced. Nothing else could explain this kind of ... weakness.

  “May I help you?” The woman’s voice was bored, and it sounded like helping him was the last thing on her mind.

  The MC stepped in front of him. “Well?” she repeated.

  Obligingly, he took a step forward, and out of the shadow. The MC straightened in an instant and a fawning smile crossed her lips. Her eyes scanned his face, then lowered to trace a quick route over his body. Apparently, she liked what she saw. Her smile widened. “Perhaps you were looking for me?” she suggested in a slow drawl.

  Obviously, her honeyed tone was meant to send instant thoughts of long hot summers and lazy nights into his head. In reality, it annoyed the hell out of him. He wouldn’t forget so quickly that this simpering woman had only minutes ago been ripping shreds off of his little mouse.

  Todd let his eyes drift slowly over her well-filled cocktail dress, then raised bored eyes to meet hers. “I doubt it.”

  She flushed.

  Anger or embarrassment? He didn’t really care.

  “Actually,” he added in the same chilly tone, I’m looking for Gwyneth Reilly. Where might I find her?”

  “Over there.” She pointed to a row of seats just visible behind the stage, and smiled, a flash of too-white teeth showing between her glossed lips before adding acidly, “Enjoy yourself.”

  “Rooowwl,” he hissed under his breath, meeting her with a bland smile of his own when she whipped her head back towards him. “Spiteful old cat,” he murmured, sure she could hear him clearly despite the din of people starting to leave the room.

  He narrowed his eyes, and concentrated on invading her mind. Swift and sharp, she’d never know what hit her but the memories he implanted would be there for weeks. He watched implacably as she shivered. The feeling of icy fingers crawling all over her skin was already taking effect. His lips twisted into a feral grin and, for a moment, he let the predator show as his eyes glowed black.

  Back to their normal green, his eyes went hard. The MC shivered again, then turned and hurried away. Running wouldn’t work. Every time she closed her eyes, her head would be filled with visions of her own dead body buried deep in the ground, the flesh rotting away, and slimy grey worms seeping through her empty eye sockets. Her nightmares were guaranteed. He doubted she’d get much sleep.

  Served her right, too.

  Feeling rather pleased with himself, he ambled the last few steps until he stood directly behind the stage. Once again, he was half hidden, this time by the voluminous black curtain that had been pulled back for the duration of the auction.

  Gwyneth was huddled on one of the hard wooden chairs that littered the tiny space. Her face was hidden in her hands and she was oblivious to him standing there only a few feet away. Then her shoulders began to shake and she slumped even further into the chair. He hesitated, for the first time in his life completely unsure of what he should do. Pity was a new emotion to him. Or was it simply tact he hadn’t even known he possessed finally showing through?

  If he just walked away, she’d never even know he’d seen her like this. There was nothing stopping him from simply sending the shelter his promised check. That would be the honorable thing to do.

  But if he walked away now, he might never get to meet her.

  Damn, he was hungry! Standing this close to her sweet-smelling blood, forced to listen to the way it vibrated through her veins, was agony.

  Hating himself for it, he cleared his throat.

  * * * *

  Gwen jumped.

  In her misery, she’d forgotten that she was actually sitting just out of sight on the edge of a very crowded ballroom. Worse yet, it was a ballroom full of people who thought she was… She shuddered, unwilling to finish the thought.

  The man coughed again, apologetically, and she looked up. Hopefully, her eyes weren’t half as red as they felt.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt you. I’m Todd Martin. I made the winning bid…”

  An unexpected surge of anger overtook her as she recognized the man who’d laughed so loudly as she stood on the stage.

  Of all the men in the room who could have had the winning bid, why on earth did it have to be him?

  She glared up at him. “I know who you are,” she snapped, “and the only thing I offered to provide is a home-cooked meal. I don’t do that…” Her hand waved around her head as she grasped for the words. “I don’t do that sort of stuff,” she finished.

  The man smiled a gentle smile of mild amusement. “I never thought you did.” The smile turned into a careless grin. “It can be fun, but I prefer my partners willing.”

  Gwen’s brow furrowed as she tried to process his words. Then she realized — he probably just thought she was playing hard to get, making sure he had an excuse to take control of her.

  What a shame! His eyes had been surrounded by the cutest little wrinkles when he’d smiled. And she wouldn’t mind at all if he sent that warm smile winging her way again either…

  Annoyed with the way her blood tingled, she pulled herself back together. It wasn’t easy.

  “I’m not joking.” Even to her own ears she sounded nasty, and she flushed slightly. Being so defensive was just not normal for her.

  He looked down at her, his eyes somehow mocking. “I know,” he said. “That’s why I bought you.”

  Okaaay, she was really confused now. “That’s why you bought me?”

  “Uh huh.” He held his hand out to her and, unthinking, she accepted his help up from the seat then flinched at the jolt of electricity that suddenly flowed through her veins. “Just consider me your knight in shining armor,” he continued, seemingly unaware of his startling effect on her.

  “I … uh … thank you?” Her confusion wasn’t letting her think clearly, and she couldn’t help but wince at how totally lame she sounded. Thank you? That was so inadequate. Twenty-thousand times inadequate, actually.

  If he really meant it, that was…

  “Don’t mention it,” he offered, pulling her up and leading her towards the exit. “Do you have anything you need to fetch?”

  “
Why?” she demanded, immediately suspicious again.

  “Because I was about to offer you a lift home. To your home,” he added pointedly. He sighed and shook his head theatrically. “There’s just no kudos in the job for us adorable white knights any more.”

  Gwen felt her blush deepen even more. “I’m sorry. It’s just …”

  He squeezed her hand. This time, the bolt of lightening was so powerful she was surprised it hadn’t welded her to the floor. He drew her to a halt and looked down at her. “It’s okay. I understand.”

  “You do?” Gwen’s heart fluttered as she was forced to look at him properly for the first time. She tugged her hand free, and took a hurried step back, looking anywhere but at his mesmerizing eyes. “What was your name again?”

  “Todd. Todd Martin.” He sounded coolly amused, but she didn’t dare look at him to check.

  Had she seriously been rescued by a man who looked like he’d stepped straight from the pages of GQ? And it wasn’t just the clothes either. The glimpse of him she’d had before she’d chickened out had shown her a man with a body to die for. Or to kill for, depending on your point of view.

  She hadn’t missed the width of his shoulders, or how his biceps had rippled under the clinging black silk of his shirt. His jeans fit rather well too —they were just snug enough to make her wish she’d got a look at his butt. If it was anything like as firm as his thighs appeared to be … Yum.

  Actually, not many men could get away with wearing a silk shirt and still be sex-on-a-stick…

  Oh my God! Girl, don’t go there! You know nothing —nothing— about the man.

  It was hard not to think about him though, especially with him standing so close that his sandalwood cologne seeped into her head, making her giddy. She caught herself stealing another glance at him. It was almost like her eyes were drawn back to him without her consent. The sense of power that surrounded him was awesome. If he was a flame, then she was the moth. Tiny. Ineffectual. Trapped. And that was dangerous. Very dangerous.