Sweet Seduction Serenade

by Nicola Claire

  I ducked around a few Sunday shoppers, dodged a couple holding black take-away coffee cups splashed in hot pink writing declaring Sweet Seduction on High and made my way to the brightly lit, moulded glass frontage of Gen's dream shop. A smile already spreading across my lips at how many blurry figures I could see through the warped glass, indicating, as per usual, that her shop was the busiest on the street - even on a Sunday afternoon.

  My heart skipped a beat, hearing the familiar sound of Gus's harmonica as the door opened and another take-away coffee cup clad shopper emerged, smile on their face, a lift to their step, humming along to the Country tune Gus was performing inside. I stopped just outside to take everything in. The welcoming glow inside the shop, the beautiful curved glass and wooden trim of the frontage - standing out against the mainstream on either side - and the happy sounds of Country and laughter and people talking and having a good time.

  I wished Cary was here to share it with me, but I also knew I was no longer alone. The people in that building I could all call friends. This place was now a part of what I called home. And Nick, if he wasn't here already, would be soon. And wherever he was, I wanted to be.

  Gus finished his solo, so I thought it was a good time to make my appearance, apologise for my late arrival and start jamming with the guys. Anticipation curled through me, making my fingers tingle and my toes begin to tap. It was almost as if I could hear the music already, and my body was beginning to sway.

  On entering the room it took me a moment to realise there was indeed music playing. That Gus had picked up an acoustic guitar and started to strum, and Gonzo was already playing bass to a song we'd performed only once or twice, but it hadn’t made our regular play list, simply because in my mind it should always be sung by a cowboy. Spike entered the jamming session, announcing his arrival with a clatter of cymbals and a flurry of drum rolls.

  And then someone began to sing.

  I stopped in my tracks, frown in place staring at the floor. How dare they perform with another singer? How could they start without me, simply because I was running late? I was so going to give Carmel a hard time when I next went to ASI. And they'd chosen to perform with a male singer as well.

  Who actually sounded kind of familiar.

  My gaze came up and I tried to see through the crowd of standing bodies, but I couldn't get a good line of sight. There were some tall people here today and my cowgirl boots lacked any extra height. I hefted my guitar and prepared to force my way through, all the while beginning to sing along to the words of Garth Brook's Shameless under my breath.

  I knew who was singing before I'd made it to the front row. I knew it, but I couldn't believe it until my eyes settled on the ice-blue of his. They were melty. And he was wearing a cowboy hat.

  Nick look darn fine in a cowboy hat.

  By the time my body caught up with the speed of my heart, I was sure tears were streaming down this shameless cowgirl's face, because he was singing the song to me. It was obvious. His eyes only for mine, his hand outstretched towards me, the words piercing into my very heart and soul.

  He was telling me he loved me. He was showing me through words in a Country song by an artist I worshipped in front of a room full of strangers and friends. And none of that mattered, but the look in Nick's ice-blue eyes, the emotion he forced into each lyric, the way I felt uplifted, removed from the scene, and only he and I existed in the world. Country music soothes the ragged soul, but Nick singing Country music, stole my heart all over again.

  And as he sang the verse every cowgirl wishes was sung just for her, "I have never had anything have this much control on me. I've worked too hard to call my life my own. And I've made myself a world, and it's worked so perfectly. But it sure won't now. I can't refuse. I've never had so much to lose. And I'm shameless..." he sang it with as much conviction as Garth Brooks shows on stage, but with the weight of reality to back it up, meaning every word.

  I sank down onto my guitar case and stared at the man I loved and who loved me enough to sing it to the world. And OK, so Sweet Seduction was not the world, but in that moment, it sure as darn hell was for me.

  I smiled up at him and received a confident wink in return, which only made me shake my head ruefully. Just what was I getting myself into with this man? Gen sidled up next to me, crouching down to my height to enjoy the end of the song, offering a broad grin full of knowledge and I was thinking a little self righteousness as well. I rolled my eyes at her and she giggled back unashamedly.

  Then my attention was all for Nick. The song was ending, Spike and Gus and Gonzo winding it up in epic style, as Nick walked forward, reached out a hand for me to hold, a small amount of nerves evident in his crooked smile.

  I couldn't have my cowboy nervous, so I took his hand quickly and let him pull me up on the stage. Gus smiled a big bear smile, while Gonzo winked and Spike twirled a drumstick in my direction, then the song wound down and the Sweet Seduction crowd went wild.

  "You're gonna do me out of my job," I said above the shouts and hoots and loud applause - most if it coming from ASI guys along the far wall, I was sure.

  Nick shook his head and looked out over the crowd. One look from his heated winter-blue eyes and they quietened down. Then taking both my hands in his he tipped his face down to mine, holding my gaze for several seconds.

  Quietly, but loud enough for every single person in that room to hear, he said to me, "Evangeline Rowe, I am shamelessly in love with you." I couldn't stop the tears at the look of utter love in his eyes and the sound of those words on his lips. "Do you believe me, angel?" he asked.

  I nodded, unable to voice a sound as my throat was dry and my heart was in there somewhere and I was about to break and bawl, letting all cowgirls down in an enormous display of blubbery.

  "Good," he said softly and then got down on one bended knee. I heard Gen squeal, matched only in pitch and volume by Katie and Kelly over at the shop's main counter, but I resolutely blocked all of it out.

  Because I wasn't stupid. I knew what he was about to do. Every cowgirl in existence knows what it means when the man who has just told you he loves you shamelessly goes down on bended knee. And until this moment I was certain my response would be to run, to shake my head in doubt, to pull away and say something like, "I can't. I'm a cowgirl. I need to prove I can stand on my own two feet."

  But in the instant his eyes looked up at mine, his thumbs softly stroking the back of both my hands and his mouth opened to ask that question, I knew without a doubt that I was cowgirl through and through. That I was cowgirl-in-the-rodeo-ring tough and capable.

  And that Nick Anscombe was my perfect, ice-blue eyed cowboy and I could still be all of those and have him too.

  "Angel," he whispered in that tone, with a hint of roughness to let me know how emotional this moment was for him too. "Eight years ago I gave you my heart, today I give you the rest of me. I promise I will do everything in my power to treasure your heart, as I have done for the past eight years. Will you give me the rest of you to treasure too? Marry me."

  I stared into those captivating eyes of bluest frost. I saw my past there. I saw my present. My future.

  My home.

  There was nowhere else I wanted to be.

  "Yes," I breathed back. "I'm all yours, cowboy. Always have been, always will be."

  He stood smoothly - as the ASI guys started whooping, joined in by Sweet Seduction staff, Pierce and Stone, and Nick's brother and sister - and he wrapped me up in his arms and spun me around on the stage. Gus, Gonzo and Spike hooting, the room erupting around us, the noise so loud it shook the curved windows in their frames at the front of the store.

  But nothing else existed, only Nick's lips on mine and his strong, safe arms around my body.

  And the beautiful words full of love that he'd sung to me on stage at Sweet Seduction ringing in my ears. And I knew that he wasn't alone in that regard...

  ...I was shamelessly in love with him too and always would be.

&nbs
p; Read on for the first chapter in Kindred (Kindred, Book 1) in the Kindred Series by Nicola Claire:

  Chapter 1

  Night, Night, Sweetie

  I knew things weren't quite going according to plan when his fist connected with my jaw. The pain sent a sharp stab up through my skull, making me grit my teeth, hear bells ringing in my head and my vision begin to blur. But, for the life of me, I could not understand why. Never one to dwell too long on the morose, I decided the best course of action was to come out guns blazing. As I don't actually own a gun, I settled on a taunt instead.

  “Is that the best you've got?” I managed to squeeze out between my still clenched teeth. I shouldn't really be antagonising the nasty stinking creep in front of me, especially as I was still down on all fours spitting blood out of the side of my mouth, but I just can't help it. Call me a sucker for punishment, it's just how I work. Never let them see fear, that's my motto. So far, it's kind of worked.

  Not so sure about that today though.

  “Oh sweet Hunter, you think your witty repartee will distract me?”

  Huh? Why do all the bad guys sound so freakishly prim and proper all of a sudden. Where's the good old, take that you bitch gone? I don't know about you, but I kind of like the simplicity of an evil bad guy dropping his h's and missing his t's. It just goes with the territory, ya know wot' I mean, luv?

  And here comes the foot again, straight into my rib cage. I heard the crack this time, it sounded like a gun shot in the alley we were in. It reverberated around the brick walls on either side, or was that just inside my head? I couldn't tell, but breathing was suddenly a challenge. Oh God though, it hurt. And how did this upstart get the drop on me? I mean it all seemed so easy.

  There he was, down the far end of the dark alley, against a dirty brick wall, like all good evil vampires should be, with his arm casually about the blonde's shoulders, looking into her eyes and mind fucking her, fangs down and glow on. It should have been a walk in the park, he was distracted, about to get his fill, no where to run, but somehow here I am on the ground struggling to inhale and there he is with a cocky grimace and the upper hand. What the?

  “They told me you were stronger than this, more clever too. Hmm, I guess they were wrong, my sweet. You are nothing but a little girl, playing Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Where is the big bad Hunter I have heard so much about, hmm? Where indeed.”

  Where indeed sweetie? That's just what I was thinking. Not trying to be egotistical or anything, but usually my hunts go a hell of a lot better than this. And usually I don't have to battle more than one blood thirsty vampire in a night. This, however, is the third numbskull vamp to cross my path trying to feed off the innocent. I'd have to ask Michel about this influx of careless vampires, eating in such a public way, disregarding all of his rules when entering his city.

  That's if I could get out of this little encounter alive. So far, the jury was still out on that one.

  I rolled onto my back, feeling the wet muck of the alley seeping in through my light chiffon blouse. The stars were out tonight, no clouds in the sky from the earlier downpour, almost a Full Moon, but not quite. Old evil face was slowly stalking closer, if you could call it stalking. It's always more of a glide with the older vamps and this one was about 150 years, judging by the power level oozing off him like thick syrup. I could almost reach out and touch it, so thick and sweetly smelling. With a hint of rot underneath.

  I had to stall him, get back on my feet. He had disarmed me as soon as I had approached; a simple flick of his wrist, a magical brush against my fingers and the stake was gone. It was now down the far end of the alley, by the entrance, where all of a sudden not a single soul was walking by. Go figure. Not that I'd want a Norm to get involved in this, but I did kind of feel alone right now. Even just the sound of late night “clubbers” would have been welcome, but no such luck.

  Still, I haven't honed my skills over the past two years without arming myself with more than one weapon. I shifted slightly to my right, casually slipping my left arm into my belt at the top of my skirt, all the while making full eye contact with fang-face.

  “You seem awfully sure of yourself. What makes you think this isn't some kind of a trap?” I hedged, all the while watching him stalk ever closer; so slow, so predatory, so sure.

  He glanced over his shoulder quickly at that though, I must have managed to ruffle his feathers, or cape. It was enough of a distraction to slip my little silver knife out of its sheath at my waist and hide it behind my wrist and arm.

  “I don't think so, Hunter. You work alone. I know a lot about you, you could say, your name is on the most wanted list with my kind. An all-points bulletin. We even study your moves.”

  Huh? It was just one of those nights for surprises I guess. I didn't know I was that popular amongst the otherworldly nasties, but there you go.

  “It's always nice to be recognised for my efforts,” I replied, whilst lying perfectly still and taking small shallow breaths to ease the pain. It was just a constant ache now, no longer that sharp stabbing pain, as though a rib was about to pierce the side of my skin.

  He noticed of course, they always do when you're injured. Something about the predator in them. They sense the weak, they sniff out the pain to use it against you. I'd have to time this just right. One shot and one shot only.

  There's one thing you can count on when it comes to vamps though, they're arrogant sons of bitches. He may know all my moves, or thinks he does, but he wouldn't believe for a moment that I could succeed in using them on him, could succeed in getting the drop on him, if you will. I'm betting he'd be wrong there. Pride before a fall and all that.

  He leaned over me, fangs obvious in the glint of the moon streaking down the alley above us. There was a fat drop of blood hanging off the right one, threatening to spill on my shirt. He'd either bitten himself accidentally, or more likely, he did manage to get fang to neck on the now unconscious blonde in a pile over by the dumpster. Bastard!

  “I'm going to enjoy teaching you a lesson, Hunter,” he whispered as he moved in for the strike.

  “That's what they all say,” I countered as my arm arced gracefully across the front of him. I knew I couldn't get the heart from the angle I was at. That wasn't what I was aiming for, but that pretty face of his would certainly feel the silver as it sliced into his cheek.

  A howl rent the night air. An excruciating sound of anger and guttural, visceral pain. He sprang back against the far wall, with his hand covering the slash from his left ear to mouth, already healing, despite the silver of the knife. It takes a lot to permanently damage a creature of the night.

  I used the distraction and distance to get to my feet, not as ladylike as I would have liked, but hey, no one was watching. Well no one who mattered. Old sweetie pie hadn't taken his eyes off me for a second. They can be very focused when they need to be.

  “You shall pay for that!” he spat. “I've been holding back, toying with you, but no longer, Hunter. The game is up.”

  Indeed, it was. We began slowly circling each other, me with my, now somewhat pitiful slender silver knife, him with his fangs which only seemed to be getting bigger and longer the more I looked at them. Oh what big teeth you've got, I thought bizarrely. Losing it now was not an option. Luckily for me, since my first encounter with a vampire, my strength at resisting their spell-binding gaze had increased. To such a point that only the rare higher level master vamp had any effect on me. This guy, was only a level four on the Sanguis Vitam scale, strong, but not strong enough. So, I could look him in the eye when I said, “Right back at ya, Sweetie”. And then forced a grin.

  I've always felt confidence in a retort could only be achieved when making direct eye contact, somehow the effect is lost when you have to look at your shoes.

  He came at me in a flash. I was expecting it, but still, they can move and you don't even see it. Especially when they want to and this chap had had it with me. Anger poured off his skin in waves. I only just managed to raise t
he knife enough to glance the sleeve of his shirt and knick the skin ever so slightly. I might as well have been a mosquito for all the good it did. But, his arm crashed against the side of my face, throwing my head and body around and against the hard and unforgiving brick wall. I tasted blood and felt my vision blur again, but the hit hadn't been a direct hand punch, thankfully.

  I used the momentum of springing back off that solid mass of brick and concrete to roll away and under his approaching bulk, sweeping out my leg as I passed him. It only made him stumble, but still... go me!

  He rounded on me in that lightning speed. But I rolled to the left, closer to the entrance of the alley, making what would have been a killer blow, into a somewhat lesser one. Pain in my back erupted like a burst balloon, shooting up my spine into the base of my head. I thought my back would snap, it was so bad. Tears started rolling down my face, my fingers tingled and then went numb. Now, I was mad.

  I rounded to face my killer. No way was I going down without a fight. He grinned; a typical evil bad guy grin, all teeth and smirk. He hardly had a scratch on him. Some reputation I've got. I took a step back, towards the entrance and light, towards the safety of a crowd. He cocked his head as though to say, you think you can make it?

  I couldn't and we both knew it, but I could reach my stake. I moved, right before he flew through the air towards me. I rolled head over heels, transferring my knife to my left hand and picking up my stake with my right, as I sailed over it. All those hours play-fighting with my best mate Rick's shape shifter Hapū was paying off. I landed in a crouch, half twisted towards him. It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do. His arms came out around me, his head and face over my left shoulder, he grabbed my hair and jerked my head to the right, lifting me off my feet. I felt a few hairs come loose and my back was screaming for release, but his hold was slack, not crushing. Stupid. Never lower your guard.