Surf's Up

by MaryJanice Davidson

  “Look, it’s my fantasy, and if I want to wear this costume, I’ll damn well wear it. The sword stays with me, unless you want to wrestle me for it.” How did this place ever get any customers if they had to go through Mr. Snarky first? “And what if I don’t feel like going to the dungeon?”

  Holgarth sighed dramatically. “The fantasies are scheduled at half-hour intervals. The fantasy lasts twenty minutes, and the actors have ten minutes to prepare for the next one. I had no idea that you would fling yourself into my carefully planned schedule, but Taurin insists you must experience a fantasy right now. So in order to accommodate you ‘right now,’ I will choose your fantasy.”

  Kristin frowned. As much as she’d love to argue with him about that, she had to admit he had a point. “Fine, so where’s the dungeon? Will Eric the Evil be there?”

  Holgarth nodded as he pointed imperiously toward a darkened stairway on the other side of the great hall. “Go. The vampire awaits.”

  “Oh, stuff the melodrama.” Not impressive as put-downs went, but she was too busy thinking about her confrontation with the vampire to worry about Holgarth. As she dragged her really big sword across the hall, people turned to stare. What? Hadn’t they ever seen a female vampire slayer dressed like Friar Tuck before?

  She peered down the stone stairway that spiraled into blackness. A few puny wall sconces barely made a dent in the darkness. Kristin swallowed hard. Okay, this wasn’t real, so why the clammy hands and noisy gulps?

  Time for some self-truth here. She was afraid. Oh, not of the dark, but of what waited in the darkness. Sex. It crouched at the bottom of the stairway, ready to pounce and tear away her protective layer of bravado. Sex was up close and personal, not something she could back away from and view objectively. She’d feel a lot braver facing werewolves in Minnesota.

  Sure, she wanted a kinky sex story because it would sell like crazy, and because she really liked the concept of kinky sex. And yeah, she’d covered a few sex stories, but she’d always had someone else on the inside doing the grunt work. Had she phrased that wrong? Anyway, all she’d had to do was write the article. This was different. She didn’t have a buffer zone this time.

  So? The shocking truth washed over her and nearly took her under. She was a product of her repressed background. When in doubt, blame your parents.

  She’d made love before, but she’d never been comfortable with it, had never been able to lose herself in the event. It was always like she was standing off to the side critiquing herself and her partner—she’d be doing the penguin waddle if she didn’t hit the gym soon; he was making really funny noises; and had she paid her cable bill? All in all, making love had been just okay. If she couldn’t turn off all her inner dialogue, she doubted she’d ever experience the ultimate wow! moment.

  But hope sprang eternal and all that crap. She still held out hope for the man who could make her forget her cable bill while giving her an orgasm that would reduce her to tears of gratitude.

  It wouldn’t happen this week. She had to stay focused on her job. If the park was all about sex, and if she took her investigation to its logical conclusion, she wouldn’t be making love. She’d be having sex with a stranger, one of women’s top ten fantasies, according to research. It tempted at the same time it scared the hell out of her.

  This was the start of a whole week of searching for sex around every corner while she wondered with heart-pounding uncertainty what she’d do if she found it.

  Okay, now that she understood where she was coming from, she could concentrate on where she was going. Right now it was down these stairs.

  Kristin crept downward, step by agonizing step, and she’d swear the kaboom, kaboom of her heartbeat echoed off the stone walls like a demented kettledrum. The clank, clank of her sword as it hit each step added to the general din. She sure wasn’t doing a good job of creeping up on Eric the Evil. Even as she crept, he was probably polishing his fangs.

  Kristin took a deep breath. More oxygen would calm her heart into a false sense of security. She could walk to the bottom of this staircase. She could meet and defeat Eric the Evil. She could find out if he had sex on his mind. She could . . . She could run like hell back up the steps and face the patronizing sneer of the castle’s wicked wizard.

  Never. Besides, it was too late to run. She’d reached the bottom of the steps. She paused to take stock. There were several doors revealed by the one wall sconce’s yellow glow. She supposed the dungeon’s door was the big ugly one with a few tastefully arranged blood splatters. Ugh.

  Personally, she had questions about the other doors. Storerooms? Labs where mad scientists carried out unspeakable experiments on armadillos? Kristin couldn’t help it. She was drawn to the outrageous.

  Dragging her attention back to the dungeon door, she sighed. No way could she put this off any longer. Kristen opened the door and stepped into the dungeon’s dim interior.

  He moved from the shadows, just a large dark shape until he stepped into the dim circle of light cast by one of the dungeon’s four flickering candles. He used one hand to hold closed the folds of his long black cape while with his other he held a flap of the cape over most of his face.

  Someone needed to give this guy a vampire fashion makeover. Her mole inside the San Antonio group had told her vampire wannabes dressed pretty much like everyone else. She would’ve checked it out herself, but the pics he’d sent her showed nothing but empty rooms. She’d meant to ask him about the pics, but he disappeared right after sending them. Weird.

  Eric the Evil needed to trade in his cape for jeans and a T-shirt. She opened her mouth to tell him that, but swallowed hard instead.

  Okay, so he had the whole dark, dank dungeon thing going on, and it was sort of creeping her out. Stone floor, stone walls, a variety of torture instruments, and a big black-caped guy standing in the middle of it all were enough to put a chill in the air. She shivered. Kudos to whoever was in charge of sets here.

  “And what did Holgarth send me tonight?” His soft laughter sounded more sinister than amused. “I assume you’re a choice morsel, but it’s hard to tell with all the brown wrapping paper. Come to me so I can strip away all those layers and sample your life’s essence.”

  “Choice morsel? You’ve gotta be kidding.” She clenched both hands around the sword as she prepared to attempt to lift it, oh say, maybe five inches off the floor. “And let’s do away with euphemisms. You want to suck my blood, vampire.” Wait, he didn’t sound like Eric, but his voice was familiar, even muffled by the cape.

  His laughter was more sincere this time. “Lots of attitude. I like it. Any ideas about how you’ll reach my neck with that sword? I won’t have any trouble reaching yours.” He stepped closer.

  “Taurin?” She knew it was his voice, and yet it wasn’t. His voice seemed deeper, with a disturbing note of compulsion in it. Compulsion? Okay, time for some brain defogging.

  “Not at this moment in this place.” He moved even closer, invading her space, blocking out the light, and filling her total field of vision with intimidating male.

  She resisted the urge to back up and tried to immerse herself in the fantasy. “Come any closer, and I’ll . . . cut you off at the ankles.” Kristin sensed his smile behind his improvised mask.

  “Can’t lift that sword any higher, huh?”

  “Stupid sword.”

  “I guess I could bend down, but I have a better idea.” Taking that last step, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “Let’s explore coexistence strategies.”

  Kristin noticed something right away. He had to let go of his cape in order to hold her. The cape gaped open. There was lots of bare vampire pressed against her.

  She mentally stroked her chin. Ah, so the rumors of sex in the citadel were true. “Sex and the Citadel,” a great title for her article.

  Time for her to put her investigative skills to use. She wiggled her body against his to get a feel for the situation. Mmm, hard muscle beneath smooth skin. Too b
ad she couldn’t ditch her dumb costume. It always paid to get close to your subject, the closer the better.

  His body heat warmed her. Everywhere. Sweat pooled between her breasts and trickled a sensual path south where the action was sizzling. Her Center for Sexual Excitement had realized the potential for imminent erotic diversion and kicked into high gear. All that tactile stimulation along with the heavy feeling building low in her belly made her drop her useless sword so she could reach for her robe.

  As he released her, she glanced at his face. And froze.

  Whoever did the makeup here was a pro. Sure the dungeon was dark, but she was close enough to spot a phony vampire face. Taurin’s face looked as real as her own. Well, maybe not quite as human as her own. He was vampire. His eyes were larger and sort of elongated. And they were the blackest eyes she’d ever seen. But it was his mouth that riveted her. His lips were fuller, more sensual, tempting.

  He smiled, a wicked lifting of his lips that exposed gleaming fangs. Kristin shuddered. At least she knew why his mouth looked so sexy. He was covering up some serious dental hardware.

  She was conflicted. On one hand, even in vampire form he was so hot she expected the air around him to ignite. On the other hand, those were some heavy-duty canines. And she’d been right, they were white and shiny—evidence that he did a lot of polishing.

  “Come to me, Kristin.” His low, husky murmur promised she wouldn’t be sorry.

  Kristin took a deep breath. Reality-check time. This was just a fantasy. His fangs were fake. Taurin wasn’t a vampire; he was just a sexy guy. And she’d always known she’d have to make sacrifices for her job.

  She slipped out of her robe and flung it away from her.

  In the name of investigative reporting, she’d offer herself up on the altar of doing-whatever-it-takes. She’d force herself to run her hands over that incredible chest, touch his male nipples with her tongue, and put her mouth wherever her lips felt the need to wander.

  She unbuttoned her shirt and let it slide to the floor.

  No matter how grueling the investigation process was, she’d carry on until she had every last sordid detail. It would be tough work exploring all those out-of-the-way spots on his muscular body. But hey, her readers would want to know the texture and the exact degree of firmness of his magnificent butt cheeks.

  She reached for her pants’ button.

  No one could say she didn’t throw herself into her work. Oh, the sacrifices she made for the sake of her art. She paused with her fingers still on the button. Oh, the lies she told. Who was she trying to kid? What she wanted to do with Taurin would never appear in print.

  Kristin let her fingers linger on the button a little longer as she slid her gaze the length of his body. Hmm. “Tell me you’re not wearing a blue metallic swimsuit with gold suns, moons, and stars.”

  “Holgarth’s. It was either this or nothing at all.”

  He glanced away and she would’ve sworn he looked embarrassed. This touch of human weakness made her feel all soft and mushy inside. “Personally, I would’ve come down on the side of nothing.”

  “Hmmph. A real man wouldn’t stand around talking everything to death. When are you gonna get to the good stuff? I don’t have all night.” The grouchy male voice came from one of the darkened corners.

  Kristin gasped and quickly bent down to retrieve her shirt. Taurin cursed as he spun toward the voice. How the hell had someone gotten in without him knowing?

  “Jeez, close the damn cape, man. Lookin’ at a mostly naked vampire gives me hives.” The fluffy white Persian cat stepped from the shadows and stared up at Taurin from big round blue eyes.

  “Who’re you?” Taurin hoped he scared the crap out of the cat. He bared his fangs to emphasize how pissed he was. A few more minutes and Kristin would’ve been naked in his arms. He’d wanted that. Really wanted it.

  “That cat talked to you.” Kristin stood clutching her shirt, eyes wide with shock.

  “Yeah, but he won’t be talking much longer, because I’m kicking his furry ass out of here.” Taurin glared at the cat.

  The cat ignored Taurin’s threat in favor of staring at Kristin. “Lookin’ good, babe. If I were in my human form, the action would’ve started long ago.”

  “It’s talking to me now.” Kristin seemed stuck on that one thought.

  Taurin forced himself to calm down. Heaving a shape-shifter from the dungeon might involve a battle, which would upset Kristin even more than she was now. “You haven’t answered my question.”

  “I’m S.O.B., and you bloodsuckers are a bunch of wusses. I’m a real man. I control the remote, and I leave the toilet seat up if I damn well feel like it. Women love a man who takes charge and doesn’t put up with crap from anyone.” He seemed to puff up right before Taurin’s eyes. “Women need a strong man to tell them what to do.”

  “Whoa, there, kitty.” Kristin might be in shock over a talking cat, but she was still able to react to the red flag S.O.B. unwisely waved in her face. “You might be all cute and fluffy, but beneath all that fur beats the heart of a sexist jerk.”

  She cast Taurin a panicked glance. “Tell me I’m not arguing with a cat.”

  “S.O.B.? Is that a character judgment?” Taurin took a step toward the cat.

  The cat ignored him. From the glitter in his eyes, Taurin figured he was totally pissed.

  “Don’t call me cute and fluffy, woman. I’m a mean fighting machine. My enemies run screaming when they see me coming. I eat chunks of concrete for lunch. I—”

  Kristin’s eyes still looked glazed, but her fighting spirit seemed in great shape. “You’re cute and fluffy. Deal with it.”

  Taurin recognized the exact moment her nose for a sensational story began to twitch. “So what’s the trick? Is the kitty wired and someone upstairs is spouting this stuff? If so, you really need a new script writer.” She stared at Taurin. “Tell me we’re dealing with a wired kitty.”

  What could he say to reassure her? Nothing. So he talked to the cat instead. “What’re you doing here?”

  The cat whipped its tail back and forth, still ticked at Kristin. “I was just hanging, so I thought I’d kill time watching you guys. I’d have more fun watching mold grow.”

  Kristin slipped into her shirt and crouched down in front of the cat. She ran her hands over its body looking for the wire.

  “Won’t find anything, but don’t let that stop you.”

  Kristin paled as she stood and turned to Taurin. “Nothing. What’s going on?”

  Taurin raked his fingers through his hair. Okay, one thing at a time. “Let me rephrase my question. Why the hell are you in the castle?”

  “Oh, that. I’m a messenger of Bast, Egyptian cat goddess of all things important, according to her. A while ago Bast sent another messenger, Asima, to the castle. Asima hasn’t reported in lately, so the goddess sent me to check on things. Seen this Asima chick around anywhere?”

  Kristin put her hand over her mouth. Probably trying to muffle a scream.

  “I might’ve. What’s your whole name? I won’t call you S.O.B., even if it fits.” Taurin kept an eye on Kristin. He hoped she wouldn’t have hysterics or race screaming up the stairs.

  The cat stared at him resentfully. He mumbled a name.

  “Again. Didn’t quite catch that name.” Taurin bared his fangs to hint he was losing patience.

  “Oh, hell. It’s Saffron.” He hissed the name.

  “That’s the S. How about the O and B?” Taurin relaxed a little as Kristin dropped her hand from her mouth and seemed to be listening to the cat.

  “My name’s Saffron Oregano Basil.” He growled low in his throat. “You laugh, you’re dead.”

  It was tough. Taurin wanted to laugh. Kristin just stared at Saffron with wide, unblinking eyes.

  “Okay, Saffron, you can leave now.” He wanted to be alone with Kristin. Not that he had any hope of picking up where they’d left off.

  “No.” Kristin’s voice was a little quive
ry, but sounded determined. “Who gave you that name? What are you? And can I have an exclusive on your story?”

  She glanced at Taurin. “I’m still in denial here, but just in case this guy’s for real, I want an interview.”

  Damn. He’d forgotten what she was. She recognized a sensational story when she saw it. The scariest part? If she accepted the shape-shifter as real, she might begin wondering about the reality of other nonhuman entities. He couldn’t let that happen.

  “Don’t waste your time. He’s a fake. We have a remote hookup that makes it sound like he’s talking.” Was that possible? He hadn’t a clue. “He’s, umm, Snowflake, my cat.” Taurin glared at Saffron, daring him to deny it.

  Saffron wasn’t having any part of it. “Snowflake? What the hell kind of name is that? It’s as bad as Saffron.”

  He shifted his attention back to Kristin. “I’m real. Don’t doubt it. The deal is that goddesses are touchy. See, I made the mistake of telling someone I’d rather serve Sekhmet, the lion goddess of war and destruction. That’s a real man’s goddess. Major mistake. Bast heard me. She’s Sekhmet’s sister, and they have this whole sisterly competition thing going on. Bast got pissed and gave me this form. All her messengers take cat form, but hey, she could’ve made me a big old alley cat. I would’ve been down with that.”

  “And the name. Tell me about the name.” Kristin’s eyes glowed with journalistic fervor.

  Taurin wished she’d look at him like that. Fat chance after this. She’d run back to her room so she could load all her ammunition onto her laptop. Bummer.

  Saffron did a cat shrug. “Bast was in her herb garden phase when she named me. The bit . . . um, goddess, knew I’d hate it. At least S.O.B. is an in-your-face name.” He turned to look at the door. “I sense another messenger of Bast close by. Must be Asima. Talk to you guys later.” And he was gone.