She shifted her head, kissing the side of his face until he turned to her. Azaleigh hesitated when her tongue ran over his fangs, but she continued her ministrations, sliding her fingers into his hair until he took over, kissing her without injuring her.
“You want to bite me, don’t you?”
The yearning in her voice made him groan, and Victor nodded.
“Do it.”
“Are you sure?” God, he hoped he possessed enough control to never hurt her again.
“Yes.” It was a breathless acceptance. Her hands at his back tightened. “Bite me, Victor.”
He licked the other side of her neck, with its smooth, untouched skin, and she sucked him deeper into her body, moaning and begging him to do it. When he scored her, her entire body tensed like a pulled bow, clamping down on him as her blood flowed into his mouth. Shudders racked her frame, but Victor continued, thrusting harder, delighting in her screams of pleasure in his ear. He rode her hard, fast, drinking of her blood as her wet heat milked him.
When it was over, both their bodies spent and sweaty, he collapsed onto her, barely remembering to seal her wound. As he rolled off, pulling her into his side, he heard her murmur breathlessly, “You are a monster. Just not in the way I assumed.”
Victor chuckled, running a hand down her sweat-slicked back. “If I’m a monster, you’re a beast.”
Azaleigh chuckled. “You’re my zombie-vampire-monster.”
Though he couldn’t see the rays in the darkened interior of his room, he knew the sun had risen. He let his eyes fall closed. “Sleep, baby.”
She ran a hand down his torso, and even as spent as he was, his penis twitched.
“I think that was even better than the first time.” She sounded awed, and Victor felt like puffing out his chest.
“You prefer the vampire to the zombie?”
“I prefer you, Victor.”
Even as sleep took him, he heard her. A smile was on his face as, sated, he succumbed to his body’s needs.
***
Azaleigh called her mother as Victor slept. She’d fallen asleep against him, but the biting chill of the room had brought her awake and grabbing for the covers. It was then she’d spied the phone and remembered all the people who were no doubt worried about her. It had to be Tuesday or Wednesday, and she was supposed to have been back on Sunday.
Priscilla had been upset, her concern morphing to rage when Azaleigh lied and said she’d lost her phone. “Where are you now? I called Benjamin and he said your house was empty, and all the doors unlocked, too. You almost gave me a heart attack!”
“I’m sorry, Mama. I really forgot. I’m still in Georgia. I went...traveling.”
“Traveling?” Priscilla demanded. “TRAVELING? Have you lost your mind? You have a job. Jules called me when you didn’t show up. Said he was worried because it’s not like you, and now I find out you’re...traveling?” She released a deep breath, and Azaleigh could almost see her with two fingers to her temples as she struggled to calm down. “Azaleigh, where are you?”
She had no idea, so she threw out, “Atlanta. I was thinking about staying here and I wanted to see the legal market.”
“You couldn’t buy a new phone in Atlanta? Or use a pay phone? I can’t talk to you right now, little girl. I’m too upset. You’re not a silly girl, but this was really stupid. I was about to fly out to Hallows Brook and report you missing.” Priscilla drew a ragged breath. “You’re my only baby, the last thing I have of your daddy, and if you were standing in front of me, I’d smack the living hell out of you. Now, I’m going to hang up, and go to the spa. You call me back from wherever you are tonight, you hear me?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The line disconnected, loudly, and Azaleigh winced. She couldn’t tell Priscilla the truth, but having her mom upset with her made her feel all of ten once more.
Jules Acorn received her second call. She apologized profusely, told him she’d sent him an e-mail that must not have gone through, that her aunt’s business was getting to be too much, so she’d need to resign since she was unsure as to when she’d be returning to New York. Jules had asked for an estimate, and she’d told him at least a month. It was a lie, at least she hoped she was lying about that month, but Jules was understanding, and wished her the best.
Azaleigh called a few friends who’d be worried, and fed them the same lie she’d given her mother. Through with the calls, she looked to a sleeping Victor. It wasn’t true what they said of vampires and coffins, because he looked comfortable lying there, his big body heaving with even breaths.
Crawling close to him, she pulled the covers over them, warming him. She’d grown so attached, and soon she’d be back in New York and he’d be here, doing whatever it was these Night Walkers did. Dinner parties for the sharply dressed who kept blood slaves, she guessed, among other ritzy things. This wasn’t her world in more ways than one, but he was her perfect guy. Wrapping her arm around him, she snuggled close.
How was she ever going to leave him?
Chapter 8
“You really didn’t have to buy me all of that, Victor.”
Azaleigh didn’t need to say what ‘that’ was as only moments ago they’d stood next to each other as bag after bag, with the boutique name “Diablo’s,” was stacked into the trunk of his black stretch limousine. After ten soft-cardboard bags worth a fortune had been loaded, Victor sent the limousine and Garland, the Protector created for him, back to the plantation house.
Apparently, the treaty between the Night Walkers and witches had included witches creating Protectors for vampires to guard them during the daylight hours. In return, the vampires wouldn’t attack witches or the human communities they protected. While feeding was apparently accepted, any killings, in those communities and out, would be seen as a threat to the treaty.
“I know,” Victor replied with a smile, halting their stroll through the lamp-lit Forsyth Park at the beautiful fountain at its center. As she’d been cooped in Victor’s room all day, Azaleigh appreciated the chance to stretch her legs and breathe fresh air. It was after ten, and the park was closed, but at Victor’s instance, they’d slipped past the oblivious guard. “A beautiful woman should have beautiful things.”
Tossing him a glare, Azaleigh found herself shaking her head when he only winked and moved behind her, resting his head against her hair. Azaleigh instantly relaxed, sighing as she slowly shook her head. “I’m not even going to be here that long.”
Victor didn’t reply, and Azaleigh turned in his arms, eyes narrowing as she looked into his shadow-cast face. “Did you speak to your parents?”
“It’s too early. They won’t want to hear it.” When she frowned, he leaned down and nipped at her lips. “Give me some time. A few days. By then, they’ll be more open to you leaving.”
Accepting his words, Azaleigh returned her attention to the fountain. The sounds of flowing water and the clean, mossy smell were so peaceful that she closed her eyes. Victor’s interlocked fingers rested against her belly through the casual summer dress she’d worn from the boutique. The entire reason for the shopping excursion had been because she had no clothes except for the red dress, and the underwear they’d given her with it. Azaleigh had expected a quick drive to the local Wal-Mart or Target, where she’d pick up a packet of Hanes, a couple of t-shirts and some short pants. No such luck. Victor had taken her to Diablo’s, a three-tier boutique that seemed to belong on Fifth Avenue, right next to Saks. While the place suited her mother, Azaleigh felt it a waste to spend so much money on the pieces, which even she admitted were beautiful.
“Who created Night Walkers?” It was one of the questions that had plagued her for the entire day. With only the television, despite its High-Definition and surround sound, for company, Azaleigh thought of many things.
“The same being who created humans and witches.”
“God?”
“If you that’s who you believe in.”
A bit irritated at his cry
ptic answers, Azaleigh demanded, “Who else would it be?” She wasn’t particularly religious. Azaleigh prayed from time to time, but the death of her father had jaded her. Her prayers had gone unanswered the one time she’d really needed God to listen.
“Night Walkers have existed since the beginning of time. We’re in every segment of history. If you trace us, you’ll find Night Walkers among the Vikings, the Huns, European royalty, American billionaires, and more.”
“So you’re not bats who can turn into humans?” she quipped softly, a smile curving her lips as she imagined the tall frame behind her poofing into a black bat.
An easy chuckle touched her ear, and when he spoke next, Victor’s voice was a deep caress, “We don’t shift into anything.”
“And what about shifters? Are there people who can turn into animals?”
Instantly, Victor stiffened behind her, and not in a good way. His entire body seemed to receive a jolt of electricity as he grew taut. Confused, Azaleigh tried to pull away but he kept her still and in place.
When he spoke, his voice was low and frigid. “While werewolves exist, as long as they keep far from us, they’ll continue breathing.”
“Were they created by God too?” Her curiosity got the better of her despite Victor’s anger and reluctance to discuss the creatures. He’d just told her werewolves existed. Of course, she wanted to know more.
“No. Werewolves are mutts, hybrids that shouldn’t exist.” Just from that statement, Azaleigh knew there was bad blood between Victor and werewolves, perhaps between Night Walkers and the creatures.
“What does that mean?”
“It means they’re dogs.”
Azaleigh ignored the last statement, knowing it was more insult than answer. “How are they hybrids?”
Victor released a long suffering sigh, but gradually lost some of his tension. “Vampires, witches and humans are the oldest creations. There are those who say we were the first to roam the Earth, the first creation. Next, came the witches. Vampires and witches lived in harmony until the creation of the humans. The vampires saw them as food, but witches saw them as helpless creatures to be protected. The feud began then, with vampires and witches killing each other over humans.” He paused and Azaleigh stroked his fingers to get him to continue. “Because vampires had no weakness—it’s rumored that at that time we were able to walk in the sun—we were killing far more witches and humans than they were killing us. Some say we lost our ability to walk the sun because our Creator wanted to level the field. Others say powerful witches cursed us to the night.”
Nodding, Azaleigh waited, fascinated by the history and knowing it had something to do with werewolves.
“From then, the fights grew more frequent. Although we could only hunt at night, we made up for it by slaughtering entire villages.”
Remembering her vision, Azaleigh flinched, but made no move to step away, and Victor continued. “Sometime during the Viking Era, a witch called Ingrid cast a spell on a vampire, and somehow managed to conceive for him.”
“That’s not supposed to happen?” Azaleigh didn’t know much about these creatures, but she was willing to take a wild guess, from the disgust in Victor’s tone, that it wasn’t.
“We’re only supposed to be able to reproduce with our own. Vampire with vampire, witch with witch, and human with human, although there are many instances of interbreeding between witches and humans.”
“Oh.” With a nod, Azaleigh squeezed his hand, indicating he should continue.
“Some say Ingrid slept with a wolf around the same time—“ He broke off on Azaleigh’s gasp but continued, “—because she gave birth to another race. They have our strength, but can walk in the daylight, and change into wolves at will. The witches used them to fight us, and they killed many vampires because they had daylight at their disposal, until the werewolves rebelled and went their own ways.”
Allowing her brain to process this new information, Azaleigh only nodded. “Are there werewolves in Savannah?”
Victor snarled. “Not unless they have a death wish.”
“Where are they?”
“Far from here,” was Victor’s cryptic answer. He leaned down and brushed his lips against her neck. “Are you nervous?”
“What?”
“Your heart is racing.”
Azaleigh swallowed. She hadn’t been nervous before. Not really. Just a bit terrified that werewolves existed too. But Victor’s comment definitely made her anxious. He could hear her heart beating? What else could he hear?
She was suddenly spun around. Victor peered into her face. “Am I making you nervous?”
Forcing a smile, Azaleigh shook her head. “No. I’m just...tired.”
“You’re lying.” She looked away because he was right. Victor’s fingers caught her chin, lifting her head. “Why am I making you nervous? I’d never hurt you.”
Shaking her head until he released her, Azaleigh put some distance between them. He didn’t move to follow, and for that she was glad. “It’s not that. It’s just...I mean, you can hear my heart beating. It’s not like everyone can do that without a stethoscope. It’s scary, you know.”
Victor didn’t respond, and Azaleigh turned to face the fountain again. She was about to speak when the whistling of the guard alerted her they were no longer alone. Expecting to be chucked out of the park, perhaps even arrested, Azaleigh was completely dumbfounded when he looked directly at them, before walking past as if they weren’t there.
“And what did you do to that guard? Why did it seem like he couldn’t see us?” she hissed, watching the retreating frame of the young guard.
“Because he can’t.” Victor sighed and reached for her, pulling her closer. “I’m not human, Azaleigh. My senses are much greater than anything you can imagine. I’m faster, stronger, and I can manipulate human minds easily.”
“Are you manipulating me?” The thought had never occurred to her before, but what if he was? What if the reason she felt like this was because he was messing with her mind?
“No.” His voice was harsh, his face stoic. “I’ve never touched your mind.”
“How would I even know—“
“Azaleigh!” He leaned down to bring his face as close to hers as possible. Green eyes bored into hers. “I’m not manipulating you. All of the things you’re feeling are your emotions. And think about it, if I were manipulating you, you wouldn’t be questioning me, would you?”
As those words appealed to her rationality, Azaleigh bit her lip and nodded, trying to bring herself under control.
“It isn’t as easy to manipulate a witch either,” he added, releasing her and stepping around to the fountain. “If I tried, you’d feel it.”
Azaleigh waited until her jitters left before turning to him. From behind, dressed in all black with his midnight-colored hair, he looked like some ominous presence. A lonely, ominous presence.
“It’s a lot to take in,” she finally said, her hand halting inches from his back before falling to her side. “Only a few days ago I found out zombies, witches and vampires exist. Now, I’m learning about werewolves and vampire mind-control. Sorry.”
He turned suddenly, and Azaleigh felt her breath catch. From this angle, she could see his face clearly. There was a blatant sensuality to Victor that lurked just beneath the surface, and she’d never been immune to it.
“I understand. It’s okay.” Victor sighed and ran a hand through his perfect hair, mussing it a bit. “Are you ready to go back?”
She immediately shook her head. “No. Can we stay here a bit longer? I haven’t seen the other side of the park yet.” There was nothing to do at Victor’s home but stay in his room because she didn’t feel safe leaving it. Even today, when they’d been leaving, she’d gotten looks from some of the servants that clearly said they thought she was beneath them. And as his blood slave, according to vampire law or whatever they had, she probably was.
Nodding, Victor walked around the fountain, not bothering to se
e if she was following, and with a soft sigh, Azaleigh followed him.
***
“Is this how you act when you’re mad?”
Victor looked down to where Azaleigh stood, arms crossed in front of her chest and glaring at him. He wasn’t mad. He was hurt. There was a difference. Didn’t she understand he would never do anything to harm her? Couldn’t she tell after everything they’d gone through?
“I’m not mad, Azaleigh.” He looked away. They’d been walking around the park for hours now and were back at the fountain. It was time to go.
“Oh, so you always look like you want to rip someone’s face off?” she questioned sarcastically, batting her lashes as if genuinely interested in the response.
Victor ignored her, and whipped the I-Phone from his pants pocket. He was searching for the car number when it was suddenly snatched from him. He reacted instantly, catching Azaleigh’s small, fragile fist in his before she could even lower it.
“Wow, you weren’t kidding about being fast,” she murmured in awe, her eyes widening considerably, but still didn’t release the phone. He could pry it from her but Victor didn’t want to injure her.
“Azaleigh,” he warned softly.
“What? Azaleigh what? Release my phone? Pretend as if I’m not walking around like someone stole my happy?”
He was tempted to smile. If she was truly afraid of him, would she taunt him so?
“Did I say something? Tell me, Victor! Did I say something to make you mad?”
Releasing her hand, Victor quickly pulled her against him. Shrieking at the suddenness, Azaleigh released his phone. Although he could have caught it, that would mean releasing her, so Victor listened as the smart phone hit the concrete and broke.
“Shit,” Azaleigh hissed, trying to tug from his grasp to see what damage she’d done. “I’m so sorry. Victor, let me go. It might just have a small crack that I can fix—
He kissed her. That close, with her seductive scent all around him, and her lips beckoning, he could do nothing else.
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