Promise Me Anthology

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Promise Me Anthology Page 16

by Tara Fox Hall


  I gave him a baleful look. “That is not going to do it, Nate. This woman is genteel. She will not appreciate crudeness in any form.”

  Nate grumbled something, then sat down beside me on the piano stool.

  “Why is it you want her?” I asked softly. “Knowing the both of you, I’d say you were an ill match, no offense meant.”

  Nathan slumped slightly. “Because she refused me for the exact reason you mention,” he admitted. “She said I was crude, that I couldn’t buy her. And that just made me want her more.”

  You don’t want her. Why pretend you do, or that claiming her will change anything about your life? David’s words were not only true for me, but also for Nate. Both of us wanted to unmake the past, an impossibility for us. That feat was only more so for a human woman to attempt, even if she wanted the task anyway, which was unlikely. But I didn’t give voice to my convictions. Nate and I were much alike; his reaction would be just as furious as mine had been with David, if I were to say those words to him and ask him to let Mary Ann alone. No, a more nimble touch was called for here.

  “If you want her just to have her, the easiest way now is to take a potion to take on my physical form,” I suggested. “She’ll accept your lovemaking when she wakes without reservation.”

  “That is not her accepting me,” Nate said testily. “That is just her accepting you.”

  I grated my fangs together slightly, my mind sifting through suggestions, trying to think of what would be honest and also cause the least hurt in my friend. “You want Mary Ann to admit that she was wrong about you,” I said delicately, after some minutes. “To get her to do that, you’re going to have to show her the gallant side of yourself, the one you show Colette alone. You have to give her a reason to care for you.” I made my tone sterner. “And you must admit right now, this bet was somewhat of a lie, on your part. Mary Ann’s refusal of you was never about the differing color of your skins, Nate. This was about your difference of propensities and aptitudes.”

  Nate glared at me, his face flushing angrily. “The truth here is that you want her for yourself, Dev. So fine, keep her! The bet’s off!” He stood, shot me a last glare, then stalked out.

  I let him go, knowing that in his mood, there was no sense going after him. I was already tired from the events of the last few days. I didn’t need to heal up bullet wounds as an additional measure. Nathan was never without at least one gun, and he would not hesitate to use it, in the mood he was in.

  I absently plinked a few piano keys, wondering what to do next. I could ask Mary Ann to become a donor. She was sure to accept, at least for the coming year, if I threw in sex and serenading as part of the deal. It would be nice to have a fan as part of my donor base. Nathan was right in that aspect, that I wanted her for myself. But I’d have been willing to share, if he hadn’t been such an ass...

  “Devlin?”

  I looked over my shoulder. Mary Ann was at the door, dressed in her date clothes of last night, her expression embarrassed.

  “Good morning,” I said politely, rising and closing the keyboard. “Would you like some breakfast? I can have one of my servants make you something.”

  “That would be nice,” she replied, her tone subdued.

  I took her hand, leading her to the kitchen. Hopefully one of the female werebears was around, or I’d have to call on my sorceress Leri to create something edible. Since we needed to walk a few moments to our destination, I gave her a short tour of the house. In spite of my efforts to engage her, Mary Ann remained quiet.

  “Morning regrets?” I asked, as we entered the kitchen.

  Mary Ann stopped still, then turned to me. “Yes,” she said, biting her lip. “It’s not that I didn’t enjoy last night. But I shouldn’t have done it. Mike is a good guy. He—”

  I let her go on for a few more seconds, then interrupted. “Mary Ann, you don’t have to make any excuse to me. I enjoyed our time together, but I’m not looking for a permanent arrangement.”

  She had the gall to look pissed off and also like I’d broken her heart. “Then why did you write that song for me?” Her tone changed to anger. “Or was it even for me?”

  I was tired, and in no mood to argue. “I know you have a fiancé,” I said tactfully. “I don’t want to get in the way of that. But you did inspire that song, and I wanted to share that with you, and what happened last night.” I brought her hand to my lips and kissed it, then released it carefully, so the action didn’t appear insensitive. “But we don’t have to continue seeing one another, if you’d rather not. And it goes without saying that I will not reveal our tryst to anyone, least of all your fiancé.”

  All the fight went out of Mary Ann as I spoke. By the time I’d finished, it was her who held my hand in hers, caressing it. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m just not sure how to act this morning. Part of me is scared Mike will know.”

  Odds are he has his own little dalliance on the sly he is hoping you will not discover. “He will not know, Mary Ann, unless you tell him.”

  “What was this to you?” she asked bluntly.

  “Just what I said,” I replied, trying not to yawn.

  Mary Ann looked at me, then away. “I can’t see you again. Please show me the way out.”

  While I was in secret relieved—and impressed that her strength of character was so remarkable to stop our relationship cold turkey—I was the picture of regret and politeness on the surface.

  “Very well,” I replied dolefully. “Thank you for your gift of last night.” I led her to the door of the garage, then opened it, revealing her car parked just outside in the harsh light of day. “Adieu.”

  Mary Ann walked off without a word, got in her car, and drove off. I shut the garage door, then walked back inside and up to my bedroom, thinking I was glad everything was over.

  * * * *

  My normal life resumed of various meetings, donor visits, hours on the computer, and days spent in well-deserved-if-solitary sleep. In short, things were back to normal, except for one thing: my urge to create had been reawakened. Yet as before, my muse that had been so recently found seemed to have abandoned me.

  In normal times, I would have taken my concerns to my best friend—and long-time bodyguard and companion—Lash. But he was off on a string of freelance jobs, which meant our conversations were mostly him touching base about various aspects of my estate Hayden’s defenses, and making sure that when I needed him for appointments, he was available to teleport in. I could have persisted, sure. Even if he’d have bitched about listening to my inspiration worries, he would have made time for me if I asked him. But Lash was cut from a similar cloth to Nate’s, having no interest himself in any creative enterprises. In summary, I wasn’t sure that he would even understand my artistic angst, much less be able to give me any pointers on how to overcome it.

  I worked hard to overcome my imaginative block, even going so far as to purchase some additional instruments, and procure training in them, thinking that some new endeavor might spark some artistic fervor. Instead, I was frustrated, and ended up discarding most of them, those I didn’t destroy in my fits of pique.

  So it was that when Mary Ann called me three months after our night together and asked that I accompany her to an overnight masque ball on Halloween, I readily agreed. I was in dire need of inspiration. That was worth a little risk, even if I was regretfully skipping my dear brother’s first efforts at a Hallow’s party of his own to celebrate his ascension to the throne of New York.

  * * * *

  I met Mary Ann at her house on a night in early fall. As she had specified, I was wearing full evening dress circa 1860s, complete with top hat, gloves, watch chain, boots, and cane with a carved bear’s head in silver. Mary Ann was also decked out beautifully in a fancy blue satin and lace dress. While its design was not traditionally correct, it did regale me with a lovely view of the tops of her breasts, something I was very willing to put aside historical accurateness for.

  We took a lim
o to the address of the party, which was some lonely looking mansion. When we were dropped off at the wrought iron gates, an old-fashioned horse-drawn carriage picked us up. While we crept at a careful walk up the long hickory lined driveway, I read the hand-lettered invitation that Mary Ann had received. A list of events was on the thick vellum, along with a timeline.

  6:00 Orientation

  6:30 Tour of Mansion

  7:30 Dinner

  8:45 Dancing

  12:00 Stroke of Midnight

  “We’re just going to make the tour.” I turned the card over, but there was nothing on the back. “Who is giving this party?” I asked. “And why were you invited?”

  “A benefactor of the college,” Mary Ann explained. “He’s big into history, especially funding several chairs, as well as three graduate programs. The entire history department was invited, as well as professors in music, romance languages, and literature.” She smiled. “I was only one of five people selected in my department.”

  I took her hand, trying to soften my words. “Why did you invite me and not your fiancé?”

  “Because he’s no longer my fiancé,” she said, swallowing hard. Her eyes were already tearing up.

  Thanking my presence of mind to include a handkerchief in this evening’s outfit, I took the small cloth from my breast pocket and handed it to her. She dabbed at her eyes.

  “What happened?” I inquired, knowing it was expected.

  “He asked for his ring back,” she said, clutching the hanky. “He had someone else. Bastard waited until right before the wedding practically. I lost all my deposits.”

  Her swearing surprised me, but then I recalled that she and I hadn’t exactly spoken that much in our previous time together. “Why were you paying for the wedding, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  “I had the better job,” she said, flushing slightly. “But I’d rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind, Dev. I want to be happy tonight.”

  “Of course,” I said. “Your dress is beautiful, Mary Ann. It sets off your eyes perfectly.”

  “Thank you,” she said, a smile returning to her lips. “And thank you for coming. I wasn’t sure you’d say yes.”

  “I never miss a chance to role-play,” I said, giving the words a double entendre. Then I kissed her full on the lips, enjoying the way she gave herself over to my desire. When I moved to set her astride me, she stopped me with a shocked admonishment. “Dev, we can’t!”

  “Why not?” I said gleefully, opening my pants to let my member spring free. I gave her a wicked look, enjoying her slack-jawed look of riveted lust as she stared at my slightly bobbing organ. “No one will see anything, with your long skirt. And we have minutes yet before we reach the mansion. Why not truly enjoy the ride?”

  Mary Ann hesitated, then moved onto me. Settling her skirts over us, she began to move. Our twin sighs filled the small carriage as it clopped slowly up the long drive to the mansion.

  * * * *

  We enjoyed ourselves thoroughly, but didn’t lose ourselves completely. As the carriage pulled up, we were again sitting side by side, clothes in place, our boisterous post-coital laughter filling the air.

  “Think everyone enjoyed their ride as much as we?” I quipped as we stepped down. Mary Ann flushed, then took my arm and pulled me toward the large oak door. Queerly, there was a knocker with a label above it in engraved bronze plate which said “For Old Friends” and also a normal modern electric doorbell button.

  “Which shall I push?” Mary Ann said.

  “The one for old friends, of course,” I chuckled.

  Mary Ann lifted the knocker and rapped hard twice. The door opened into a hall, where a coat man took her coat and my cape.

  The house was intimidating. A butler showed us into a large parlor, where at least a hundred guests were mingling and eating h'ordoerves. Everyone was in historical dress, though it was all different, from Roman togas to medieval armor to peasant garb to ladies in waiting. Most of it was also inaccurate and over the top, a garish modern version of what had once been. This comforted me. That might sound odd, but I did not want to deal with any vampires or other long-lived supernatural beings tonight. I was in the mood for a little human fun of the light-spirited variety. My one thought as we waited was that we might somehow chance on meeting Mike, so I could not only tell him he was a complete loser, but also deck him for good measure.

  “Attention!” a man called loudly from one side of the room. He was dressed as I was, in top hat, gloves, cape, and a black suit. “Thank you all for coming.”

  Conversation ceased as the costumed crowd turned to face him.

  “The tours are about to begin,” the announcer called. “Please let me have all the 1200 and previous years historically dressed people over here for the first group.”

  Mary Ann and I moved aside to let several other people pass by in gladiator costume. One was a woman, which briefly took all my attention.

  “She must think she’s Leia in Return of the Jedi,” Mary Ann said mockingly, taking my arm and leading me away.

  An apt description of the woman’s voluptuousness, though I would not say it aloud. “Do you want anything to nibble?”

  “No,” she responded. “You?”

  There was no one nearby, and I was in front of a cordoned off doorway which had to lead somewhere that we’d have a little more privacy. Now was a good a time as any, because when we parted ways tonight, I did want to see Mary Ann again. “Actually, yes.” I led her through the curtains, then shut them after us. I turned to her, then took her hands in mine, trying to make my expression earnest. “I’m a vampire.”

  Mary Ann, blinked at me, then her expression changed into burgeoning realization. “Of course. That explains your cool skin...and why you weren’t starving that night we skipped dinner, like I was.”

  “You should have said something,” I said quickly, slightly embarrassed that I hadn’t thought of her physical needs. “I could have ordered in some takeout, at the very least—”

  “Never mind that,” she said impatiently. “Are you going to drink my blood or not?”

  Maybe she was a vampirephile? God, that would be incredible luck. “Would you like me to?”

  “Only if it’s like it is in the movies,” Mary Ann said with a look of distaste. “I don’t like the sight of blood, especially my own.” She kissed me, stroking my cheek lightly. “I’ve seen some movies where the woman almost orgasms as she’s bitten, because it feels so good. Does it really feel like that?”

  It will for me. “Why don’t we try it?” I offered. “Just a little bite here, to see what you think? If you don’t like it, then we’ll consider the matter closed.”

  Mary Ann didn’t reply, but she took a step back and opened her arms. I went to her immediately. I shivered a bit in anticipation as I put my mouth to her neck. Kissing her skin once, I bared my fangs, ready to bite.

  “Excuse me!”

  Startled, I bit my lip, then turned with a snarl. The announcer stood in the doorway, looking at us with a stern expression. “The last tour is leaving,” he said stiffly, clearly irked. “You can’t stay in this area anyway, as it’s off limits to guests.”

  “Why not?” I said belligerently. “We don’t need a chaperone.”

  “Please come with me,” he said, making it an order. “Or I’ll have to call security.”

  I would have thrown the man out the nearby window, if Mary Ann hadn’t taken my arm, murmuring that there would be time later for us “to experiment.”

  We followed the man out to a small group of similarly dressed people. One couple was clearly some colleagues of Mary Ann, as she said hello to them and introduced me, something I was not keen about. But when she added I was only a friend, I relaxed a bit. Another man strode in as we were exiting the now empty reception room. He was both anxious and also clearly angry about something, though he stayed silent. I surmised his date had stood him up, then promptly ignored him.

  The tour commenced, a
nd lasted about a half hour. It consisted of most of the upper floors of the house, save the attic and master bedroom, and did not include the basement or kitchen either. Most of the rooms were done in antique furniture, and the dressings were authentic, so much so that the smallness of the beds made my back ache again, remembering how for years I’d had to sleep on my side to avoid my heels being off most beds. I had been a tall vampire in a time when not very many men were tall, and furniture was much smaller than its current modern gigantic proportions.

  The two women exclaimed about everything, and took many pictures with their phones. The two men with us seemed as bored as I was, though that did not prompt us to converse.

  At last, it was over. On our way back to the others in the reception room, I glimpsed servants carefully laying out the china for the dinner to come next, and knew I did not have the patience to last another hour in silence, let alone polite conversation. I wanted the blood I’d been denied, if not also a quickie in one of the upstairs rooms.

  “Let’s slip away,” I whispered in Mary Ann’s ear.

  “No,” she replied. “I’m hungry. I need to eat something. Besides, all my colleagues are here, Dev. They’d want to know where I was if I disappeared. I’d have to answer questions later.”

  “Let them wonder,” I teased, kissing her neck. “Come on. I want you—”

  “Don’t you ever want to do anything but have sex?” she accused sharply. The couple who was just within earshot stiffened and turned, staring at us, before they hurried into the reception room.

  Not now, I don’t. “Go have dinner,” I said grumpily. “I’ll meet you at the dance.” Without a word more, I left her there, and snuck back upstairs, avoiding servants.

  The master bedroom wasn’t hard to find. I took off some of my trappings like my gloves, hat and jacket, then set them aside, stretching out happily on the modern bed which could accommodate all of me with plenty of room to spare.

  The silence stretched while I thought about the night and how to salvage it so I ended up between Mary Ann’s thighs again, and not on the end of a slap. At this point, the latter was looking very possible, and the former close to impossible.

 

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