Gerry Bartlett - Real Vampires Hate Their Thighs

by Gerry Bartlett

  The men shouldered their way through the crowd toward us, leaving women and several men panting in their wake.

  “I’d still like to try it at least once. If only to see the look on Ricardo’s face.” Flo laughed and turned to check out what I was staring at. “Hmm. Molto bello. Eh, Glory?”

  “Uh.” I couldn’t drag myself back from the fantasy of peeking under the loincloth. “Oh, yeah.”

  Damian stopped in front of us and smiled. “Gloriana, allow me to introduce Ian MacDonald.”

  “Oh, shit.” I clapped a hand over my mouth. But honestly, things had just gone to hell in a big way.

  Ian laughed and held out his hand. “Well, that’s a first. Good evening, Gloriana. What did I do to deserve such an enthusiastic greeting?”

  I took his hand, drawn to the twinkle in his eyes and the flash of his white, white teeth. His grip was firm and too brief. I bit back a sigh.

  “Sorry about that, Ian. It’s just that you’re a MacDonald and I’m here with a Campbell. Maybe you’ve heard of him. Angus Jeremiah Campbell III.” I winced when Ian’s face lost its charm and he spat something in what I figured was the old language. His hand went to his back in a gesture I knew well. Jerry did the same thing in certain situations. Reaching for his broadsword. Didn’t have it on him, of course. Just a reflex. But I knew Jerry carried a knife hidden in his waistband under his shirt. Did Ian? I hoped I didn’t have to find out.

  “Relax, my friend. This is the twenty-first century. Surely old feuds can be forgotten.” Damian clapped Ian on the shoulder and looked over the crowd, obviously checking to make sure Jerry wasn’t within dagger-throwing range. Because, hello, Ian had produced one from somewhere. A sharp silver knife gleamed in his left hand.

  “Where is he?” Ian’s voice had gone from charming to stone cold.

  I wanted to cry. My diet dreams were evaporating because of a damned centuries-old feud. No way. I stepped in front of Ian and put my hand on his forearm.

  “He’s not close by. I am. Talk to me. About this diet thing you’ve got going.” I smiled and leaned in, flashing cleavage. “Look. I know your feud is important. It’s a matter of honor, I’m sure.” I felt the muscles clench under my fingertips and glanced at Flo and Sheri. “Campbells versus MacDonalds. It goes back a long way, a really long way. But a canny Scot knows when to put business first. Am I right?”

  We all watched Ian visibly struggle to regain his sophisticated veneer. A really thin one, obviously. Because all it had taken was mention of his old enemy and he was right back in primitive killing-machine mode. Finally he slid the dagger out of sight and ran his long fingers through his hair.

  “Sorry, ladies. I don’t usually lose control like that. Of course I’m interested in your business.” He was still scanning the room, my cleavage obviously not tempting enough to keep his mind off his target. And I bet he’d noticed that I wasn’t exactly sporting designer labels or wearing a load of diamonds like my buddy Flo. She waved her hand and her six-carat rock seemed to snap him back to attention. At least he looked at me when I squeezed his biceps.

  “We understand, don’t we, ladies? Who here hasn’t had a hate on for someone?” I glanced at Sheri.

  “No kidding. Glory, do you remember that freak who used to do our hair at the Grand? I swear, she just loved to bring tears to my eyes.” Sheri snarled and we all saw that my beautiful friend had an edgy side. “I finally had enough of her trying to snatch me bald.” She looked at Damian through her thick black lashes, obviously enhanced with some extensions. “Want to hear how I got even, big guy?”

  “Of course, cheri.” Damian grinned, clearly liking his women with some bite. “Excuse us.” He leaned down and whispered in my ear. “We’ll stop and make sure Blade doesn’t head this way, but don’t linger, Glory. This man is dangerous. Be careful.”

  Ian smiled and slid his arm around my shoulders as soon as Damian disappeared into the crowd with Sheri. He’d obviously heard Damian’s warning.

  “Damian’s right, Gloriana. I can be dangerous. But not to you and Florence. You came over here to ask me about my special products.” He gestured toward one of the secluded booths. “Join me for a drink and I’ll tell you all about them.” He swept his eyes from my head down to my toes, lingering at the spots where I’d like to lose some inches. “Back when I was a lad, you would have been considered a handsome armful. But times change, don’t they, lass? Bad for you, good for me and my business.” He smiled sympathetically. “When were you turned?”

  “Early sixteen hundreds.” This man understood me like Jerry never had. I wanted to press my face to his strong chest and sob about all the times I’d felt bad about my size.

  “Your figure was perfect then. Still is to an ancient vampire like me.” He slid his hand from my shoulder down to my arm. He finally seemed to be giving my cleavage the attention it deserved. “But these modern times are different. I can tell from the way you’re dressed that you’re a woman who likes to stay current. Am I right?”

  “Yes.” I blinked before I let him whammy me right into one of those curtained booths and into something I might regret. This guy had some serious intuition. Or experience with women. Of course he did. It was his business to know what a woman wanted.

  He turned to Florence. “I can’t imagine, Florence, that you’re serious about needing to lose weight. You’re here to support your friend, of course.”

  Flo smiled, preening under his dazzling smile and obvious approval of her perfect figure. “I think Glory looks great. As you say. But she wants to be smaller. So I have to help my BFF.” Flo ran her hands down the sides of her hips in her size-six designer dress that was obviously straight from a Rodeo Drive boutique. “I would like to lose just a few pounds. If I could choose where they would come from.”

  “Like the liposuction that mortals use.” Ian shook his head. “Afraid I can’t help you there. There’s no predicting where the weight will come off. I say you should leave your body alone. What does your husband say?”

  “Why, I wouldn’t dream of asking him.” Flo glanced at me. “We are still on our honeymoon. Now, after centuries of being on my own, I can’t imagine asking Richard’s permission for anything.”

  “Of course not.” Ian winked at me. “But I’m sure a clever woman like yourself makes your Richard think he’s in charge, eh, Florence?”

  Flo smiled. “It’s a game I play. I ask him for some things. If he really loves me, he must give me what I want. He always does. And it makes him think he’s my lord and master.” She shrugged, the gesture pure Italian. “So I do a little manipulation. It’s a survival skill that has served me well for centuries. Capisca?”

  “Sure, I get it. It’s a fine art, one I admire in a master crafts-man or craftswoman.” Ian moved a step closer to Florence.

  Flo’s eyes narrowed on Ian and she shook her head. “Why I tell you this? I think I’m not the only one who likes a little manipulation.”

  Ian just kept watching my friend while I tried not to screech at both of them to get back to what was important here, namely my hip measurement. Flo and Ian engaged in a stare-down until Flo suddenly nodded.

  “So. We are here for my friend. Help her. Glory looks like she is ready to scream, she’s so tired of waiting to find out if this diet thing is true or not.”

  Ian turned and grinned at me. “Relax, Glory. It’s true and I think I can help you. Let me guess. You want to lose ten, maybe fifteen pounds. Is that right?”

  For once I was speechless. I swayed toward him. My ultimate dream would be to lose twenty. So that people would come up to me and ask me if I’d been sick. Urge me to eat. Who knows? I might even discover cheekbones I never knew I had. You get my drift? I was jerked back from my fantasy by a hand on my other arm.

  “This is good news. But we must go now, Glory. Jeremiah will be looking for you. You must meet with Ian later. When you are not with his enemy. Sì?” Flo smiled at Ian. “Is it really possible? You’re not playing with us, are you?” />
  “Oh, it’s possible. Just not sure it’s something I’m willing to do for a Campbell’s woman.” Ian frowned. “Why would I do one of those dung-eating sods a favor?”

  That certainly snapped me out of my hero-worshipping trance. “You wouldn’t be doing him a favor; you’d be doing it for me. I’m engaged to another man. Seriously. Read the tabloids if you don’t believe me.” I knew I wasn’t making sense and took a breath. “Jerry’s my sire. He made me vampire centuries ago. So I owe him, you know? But I’m engaged to Israel Caine, the rock star. We’re out here in Los Angeles for the Grammys. Jerry followed us.” I was shielding my thoughts with a block the size of the Great Wall of China. “I came to the club to be with my friends Flo, Damian and Richard. Israel’s busy with Grammy stuff tonight or he’d be here.”

  “You’re engaged to a mortal?” Ian stared at me, those sapphire eyes rightly very suspicious. He had up his own block and there was no reading his mind.

  “Uh, no.” I really shouldn’t have been telling this, but I guessed Ian would find out if he was going to work with me. “Ray’s a vampire.” I saw a flare of surprise before Ian went back to suspicion again. “Seriously. He is. But that’s a deep, dark secret. I know you won’t tell anyone. Right?”

  “I wouldn’t be in business long if I didn’t know how to keep a secret, Gloriana. As to whether I believe this . . .”

  “Pick up a tabloid. Any of them. You’ll see. I’m the big fat blueberry Ray’s engaged to. They call me a blueberry because I had on this blue sweater the first time we were seen together and I’ve got these”—I looked down at my boobs and flushed—“well, you know. It’s been a sensation for weeks. I even have a fan club. Other women of a certain size are rooting for me.” I grabbed Ian’s shirt, but his bodyguards—both vamps, but tall, tanned California-surfer types—moved in, obviously not too happy about my touching their boss with anything resembling aggression. He shook his head and they backed off without ripping out my throat. Whew. I carefully smoothed out his shirt.

  “Sorry, Ian. Listen, though. I don’t want my size to make me a tabloid headline. This weight-loss thing would be a dream come true. I’m not with Jerry, uh, Jeremiah Campbell, except when he commands my presence. You know, as my maker. Like he did tonight. Ray, Israel Caine, is my guy now.” I gave Flo a warning look when she made a sound. “Please consider taking me on.”

  “Obviously we can’t discuss anything here. Not with a Campbell close by. Men of that ilk would just as soon knife you in the back as not.” Ian gestured and his two bodyguards flanked him.

  I bit back my knee-jerk response, which was to defend Jerry’s honor. Of course he wouldn’t knife Ian in the back. But he would take great pleasure in killing a MacDonald. Or in trying to. God, I didn’t want to see Jerry fight anyone, ever again. And this would be three against one unless Richard and Damian threw themselves into the fray. Of course Valdez was outside . . .

  Forget it. No violence. I’d had enough of it lately, back in Austin, to realize it scared the hell out of me. Sorry if that disappoints you. Not all vampires are bloodthirsty. Well, okay, I’m thirsty for blood, just not for fighting, slashing and general mayhem.

  “You’re leaving?” I followed Ian and his men as they headed for the door.

  “Yes, I have another engagement that I’m already late for.” Ian handed me a card. “If you wish to hear more about my program, call me tomorrow night and we’ll set up something. A private meeting. Without Campbell interference.” He grabbed my shoulders and looked me in the eyes.

  I shivered. This guy took intense to a whole new level. But if he could make me thin . . . “Sure, I can manage that. Like I said, Jerry doesn’t own me. I’m an independent woman. This was a one-shot deal tonight.”

  “You said Israel Caine is a vampire. I’ll want to verify that. Bring him when we meet.” He grinned when I stiffened. “Don’t worry. I know how to be discreet or I wouldn’t have a business. And this procedure isn’t cheap. I assume your fiancé will be willing to pay the freight?”

  I determinedly kept from collapsing into a sobbing heap. “I’m sure we’ll be able to work something out, though Ray is happy with my figure the way it is. I’m the one who wants to lose the weight.” Money. Why hadn’t I realized this wouldn’t come cheap? And I sure wouldn’t ask either guy in my life to pay for it. Damn, damn, damn. I bit back a question about payment plans.

  “I’m sure you have great powers of persuasion, Gloriana. I’ll be expecting to hear from you.” I shivered when he slid a fingertip down my cheek. Then he gestured to his men and strode out the door.

  I stood there and stared for a moment. Flo came up behind me.

  “This isn’t going to work, is it, mia amica?” She sighed.

  “It’s complicated, but I’m not giving up just yet.” I straightened my spine. “Where are the guys?”

  “They have a private booth and a thing on the menu called ‘Las Vegas.’ Shall we go see?” Flo tugged me toward a curtained area a few yards away.

  Behind a black velvet curtain, Richard and Jerry were seated at a poker table. Each had a glass of dark red at their right hand, a thin cigar hanging out of their mouths and cards on the table in front of them. The stacks of chips showed that the play was about even. A scantily clad waitress hovered nearby to keep their glasses full and their ash-trays empty.

  “Well, this is interesting. When does the floor show start?” I leaned over Jerry’s shoulder and saw that he had a pair of nines and a pair of threes.

  Richard laughed. “Glory, you should have blocked your thoughts. Now I’m folding. You win, Blade.” Richard threw in his cards and turned to Flo. “Can we leave now? Are you both through with your diet wizard?”

  “He was a phony, like you said, amante.” Flo looked at me. “We waste no more time on such as that.”

  “Glad to hear it.” Jerry raked in the poker chips. “Richard, you owe me big bucks here.”

  “Here’s how I’ll repay you. Flo and I are leaving and you and Glory can have this room to yourselves. We’re taking KiKi with us.” Richard smiled at the waitress and pressed what looked like a large bill in her hand. “No one will disturb you for the next hour. How’s that for a payback?”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Jerry grinned at me. “I think I’m finally going to see how Glory danced in Vegas.”

  “You wish.” I strolled around the room. Sure enough, there were some costumes on the shelves in one corner behind a screen. So role-playing was encouraged here. Well, that was something I could get into. There was also a small stereo and a selection of music that could work for a dance number. I peeked out from behind the screen. “Didn’t you guys say you were leaving? Dim the lights on your way out.” I grinned and winked at Flo. My friend had known just what to say to cover for me. I’d worry about diets and money tomorrow night. Tonight I was going to appreciate the guy who loved me as is, curves and all.

  Jerry leaned back in his chair, the cigar stubbed out in an ashtray and carried off by KiKi. The stained glass lamp hanging over the table dimmed to cast a red glow, and Jerry looked handsome and mysterious in its light.

  “Give me a minute to put on my costume, lover, and I’ll dance for you.” I gave him a finger wave, then disappeared behind the screen. The costumes were skimpy and sparkly. I chose one that had fishnet hose, a bikini bottom with gold spangles that hit halfway down my thighs and a bra top cut low enough to leave little to the imagination. Both bra and bikini were made of a sheer material guaranteed to make Jerry’s eyes bug out.

  I hit play on the stereo and picked up a black feather boa. When the music started, I eased one arm out from behind the screen and waved the feathers. Gradually, I revealed myself until I could strut around the table toward Jerry. His eyes weren’t bugging out. They were narrowed. On me, on my costume. On the way I moved my hips as I walked in my high heels, while staying just out of his reach. Not that he was trying to grab me. Nope. He just stared, his mouth firm, his eyes dark. What was he thinking? That
I was a lowborn slut like his mother had always said? I stumbled, then steadied.

  Not thinking that way. I was a good dancer. I’d done what I’d had to do to earn a living. I’d been a product of my times. In 1604 I’d had no opportunity to be educated, to learn a trade, and I’d not had the luck to be born into a noble family. I’d been the widow of an actor when Jerry had met me. In the centuries since then I’d used my wits to survive and educate myself. I’d refused to depend on him or his money. Glory St. Clair, the original independent woman.

  So I continued to dance, to strut my stuff. And I finally relaxed enough to let the music take me, and to just feel it and flow with it. I looked at Jerry again and his eyes were glowing. With desire. Ahh. So he did like what he saw. I ventured closer and trailed the feathers across his face. He reached for me and I danced out of the way.

  I decided to up the stakes in this Vegas game and dropped the feathers on the table, then reached behind me for the bra clasp. When it came open, I slowly shimmied out of it and dropped it on the table. I saw Jerry lick his lips, his fangs glinting in the light. Ah.

  I danced closer, then behind him, letting the tips of my breasts brush his soft hair. With a growl, he snatched me around the waist and lifted me into his arms. He stood there for a few endless seconds, a strong silent vampire with ravaging on his mind. I could see it, sense it and wanted it more than anything.

  Then he raked the table clean with one arm, chips flying everywhere, his empty glass hitting against the wall. It landed on the carpet with a thump without breaking. He laid me gently on that table and stared down at me. The music still played, sensual, with a throbbing beat that echoed the pulsing going on inside both of us. I knew it because he let me read his mind. He pulled my hand to his chest and I felt the slow thrum of his heart. Very slow, but there, just as mine was. Then he slid my hand lower, to the heat and hardness of his cock, which was clearly aching with need . . . for me.