Tori nodded, and turned big, green eyes on him. “I tell him, Daddy, but he won’t go away.” When she started tearing up, Azaleigh gently rubbed her back and said, “Don’t cry, baby. Let’s go back to your room, and Mommy’ll scare the bad man away, okay?”
“But Daddy’s bigger,” Tori whined, her voice high-pitched and sleepy. “The bad man’s not aferd of you ’cause he’s big.”
“Daddy’s going to get his secret weapon for the bad man and then he’s going to come to your room, okay, sweetie?”
Victor waited until Tori’s eyes could no longer reach him and found his pajama bottoms among the tangled sheets. Of the late, Azaleigh had been taking his vein more. With almost every love-making session, his wife was finding her way to his neck. He didn’t mind it. He actually loved the feeling of her sharp little teeth piercing his body, but Victor wondered at the sudden change.
Since that day just over five years back, he’d learned he could walk in the sunlight, but was still a Night Walker. It was strange. He needed blood to survive and Azaleigh’s was enough to sustain him, but the sun did nothing but give him sunburn if he stayed out too long. His eyes were sensitive to the rays, but sunglasses took care of that. Azaleigh, on the other hand, was a greater anomaly. The things he’d done to her in the circle were forever burned into his brain, but she hadn’t taken his blood again until the night she conceived Victoria and after that, it had been sporadically during the pregnancy. Now, she bit him almost as much as he did her, which was frequent. Azaleigh was also healing quickly, faster than normal for a witch, and hadn’t developed one wrinkle in the years they’d been together. He suspected she was immortal, like him, but wasn’t a vampire, though she fed from him. The fact that they were compatible reproductively was another strange, though much welcomed, part of the puzzle, as Night Walkers were only able to breed with their own.
As he stepped into the hallway, Victor nodded to Garland, who stood like a statue at the top of the staircase. In contrast, his eyes were bright and alert. He’d probably heard movement upstairs and decided to investigate. Because Victor was dead, as his Protector, so was Garland. Victor found he didn’t mind the other man living with them at all, especially as Garland was another pair of eyes, and great deal of strength, keeping vigilant watch over Victor’s two most precious gems. Once he confirmed all was well, Garland turned and headed silently down the stairs. For a man who stood inches taller and weighed at least forty pounds more than Victor, his foot-fall was surprisingly light.
Victor found his family sitting on the Barbie bed in Tori’s room. His daughter was tired, but she was fighting sleep as she waited for him to take care of the bad man. Flexing his muscles, much to Tori’s giddy delight, Victor demanded she point out the place the bad man was hiding.
The pony-decorated closet. Of course.
Victor made a big show of luring him out as Tori crawled into Azaleigh’s arms, hooking her smaller ones around her mother’s neck for protection. When the bad man still didn’t come out, he went in to the dark closet and proceeded to make lots of noise. Victor shook the door, he kicked the wall, he grunted like he was an MMA fighter taking hits.
Eventually, he emerged, winded and victorious. He walked to the delighted little girl who smelled of baby powder and that Shea-butter baby shampoo Azaleigh used for her silky curls, and kissed her forehead. “The bad man’s not going to bother you anymore, munchkin.”
“Did you beat him bad, Daddy?”
It was asked with such childhood innocence, his heart warmed. The first time he’d seen Victoria Winters, all seven and half pounds of wrinkled baby with that soft down tuft atop her small head, he’d felt a type of love he hadn’t thought possible. This was his and Azaleigh’s creation, both of their bloods mingled into something better. Anyone who touched his baby girl was dead. The bad man was lucky he was the figment of a little girl’s imagination.
With Azaleigh watching him with hawk eyes, Victor kept the beat-down short. His wife didn’t appreciate his descriptive tales. Giving Azaleigh a smirk, he answered Tori, “Uh huh. He cried like a baby.”
“Worse than me at Dr. Stokes’s office?”
The doctor was the Hallows Brook pediatrician she’d come to associate with needles and bribe-candy.
“Much worse.”
“Good!”
When they finally got back to their bedroom and pushed in the door, Victor caught his wife around the waist and stared deep into her dark eyes. She was still the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. The second was currently asleep, thumb in her mouth, in her Pepto-Bismol colored bed.
“How are you feeling?”
Mrs. Winters smiled. “Tired.”
Victor had cautioned her numerous times about overworking. Azaleigh didn’t seem to have an ‘off’ switch once she took a case or became interested in the plight of one of their neighbors. There were many times he’d tossed her over his shoulder and marched her from the storage room he’d converted into a self-contained office into their bedroom. And when he wasn’t doing that, he was prying the spell book from her fingers as she looked for remedies of some ailment or the other. Over the years, they’d learned Azaleigh was not only a Guardian, but a Healer, able to cast spells, and create potions to ease and sometimes cure sicknesses.
Despite her two exhausting jobs, Victor suspected her fatigue was more than work.
“And hungry?” he asked softly.
At her slight blush and nod, Victor turned her around and pulled her against his body. His hand ran down the front of her thin, summer nightgown, coming to land on her flat stomach. “Should I tell my parents they’re going to be grandparents again?”
The King and Queen of the Georgia Night Walkers hadn’t been accepting of his plans to be with Azaleigh. His father had ranted and raved, and his mother cried, but Victor had made it known more than once that if they wanted him, they had to accept her as well. It had taken the birth of their grandchild to ease the tension between Rachel and Azaleigh, but once that was crossed, everything had fallen into place. As he was a living anomaly, a vampire who could walk in sunlight, he was no longer heir to the throne. If any of his race learned of him, there would be questions, demands, and threats Victor couldn’t afford. The title of heir had fallen to Nicholas, and Victor didn’t mind. He had a family he cared about more than any territorial kingdom, and if having his people think him dead was going to protect them, he would gladly continue feeding the lie.
“It’s possible,” Azaleigh answered in a soft, thoughtful voice, relaxing against him. “I’ll know for sure in the next two weeks.”
Leaning down, Victor kissed the side of her neck. “I already know you are, baby.”
She turned in his arms, and eagerly returned the kiss he gave her. “How?”
“You’ve been insatiable lately.” He grinned as she quirked a brow. “Much more than usual.”
“I haven’t heard you complaining,” Azaleigh shot back, running her fingers along the already healed cuts at his neck.
“You’ll never hear me complaining. I like it when you get all feisty.” As he spoke, he walked her back to the bed. “Get under the covers.”
Azaleigh instantly did as told, shutting off her lamp in the process. Victor slid under too, meeting her for a passionate kiss as his hand cupped her breast. A sharp inhale later, she tugged it away.
“What’s wrong?” Concern laced his voice.
“Nothing,” she replied with a guilty look, until she finally caved and said, “I’m sensitive.”
Victor smirked. So pregnant.
Knowing he’d have to make do without those succulent orbs for another week, maybe more, he slid his hand to her generous buttocks, cupping them and pulling her against his aching cock. She gyrated in a slow tease, gasping each time he squeezed or smacked her cheeks.
Growing impatient, Victor caught her leg and pulled her onto him.
“I thought I was the feisty one,” she murmured against his neck.
“I can smell your hunger.
I was only being a gentleman.”
As his wife laughed, Victor pushed her nightgown up, knowing she was bare underneath, and maneuvered his pajama bottoms down. With a four year old, the days of haphazardly tossing clothing were gone. They’d learned the hard way, with Tori making a surprise appearance during one of their more adventurous sessions. Victor was forever grateful the three-year-old had bought that “Mommy and Daddy were playing Bouncy Cars.”
“Ready to continue where we left off?” he teased, brushing the tip of his erection against Azaleigh’s welcoming heat.
In response, Victor felt two sharp pricks at his neck. With a deep groan, he slid his fingers into her thick hair and thrust into her body, her delicious whimper almost driving him to completion. He moved slowly, and she purred at his neck. Victor could only smile. In some months, Tori would have a brother or sister to play with, and he and Azaleigh another baby to dote on. Hands tightening on her waist, Victor lovingly caressed Azaleigh’s back. She’d once told him he’d have to give up everything for this. In hindsight, he’d have given up so much more.
The End
What’s Coming Next
Did you enjoy Victor and Azaleigh’s tale? Would you like to see more of these creatures? Please remember to leave a review or email the author directly. J
Next up: Under Her Spell, Taken By Moonlight, Colorblind
Author Biography
Violette Dubrinsky is the author of the Dark God, Warrior, and upcoming Moonlight (in which she introduces you to her Cedar Creek werewolves) sagas. She enjoys writing romance stories with stubborn, at times, clashing characters, who eventually learn the error of their ways and sometimes grow to love each other. She is the youngest of three, and the only girl. As such, she was spoiled rotten (in her elaborate dreams), and always wished for a playmate closer to her age. At a young age, she began creating stories to fill in for the lack of creativity on the part of her two older jock brothers. Violette resides in New York and Boston, and although she has no pets, is intent on getting a Malamute or Husky (since it is the closest she will ever be to a wolf and she is quite obsessed with werewolves) at some point in her life.
She enjoys feedback (please remember to leave a comment) and can be reached at [email protected]. She is also an active member of Facebook and Twitter, and those links can be found on her official website violettedubrinsky.com.
Violette Dubrinsky Page 14