by Patti O'Shea
“It happened too fast.”
“It takes a year to go from Stirring to Awakening.”
The scolding tone got her angry. “That’s what you and Mom told me, but that’s not true. It took me six weeks. Six weeks! I thought I had plenty of time to adjust and the next thing I know, I’m totally out of control.”
“Six weeks?” The censoriousness was gone. “It isn’t supposed to happen that quickly.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“Don’t give me that look,” her dad said. “Mom and I never lied to you. Something happened to speed up your process and we need to figure that out.”
“What’s the point? It’s over and done with now. Where is Mom? Why isn’t she with you?”
“New York. She had meetings crop up unexpectedly, but as I told you on the phone, she’ll fly out on the weekend.” He shrugged out of his blazer and hung it in her hall closet. There was something so comforting about seeing him do that that Phoenix had to blink back tears.
“I’m sorry I was snotty,” she said when he finished. “I’ve been so...off balance.
“You should have called. We’d have flown out on the first plane.”
“I know, I just...” She gestured helplessly. “I guess it felt like something I needed to deal with on my own.”
He wrapped her in a hug and Phoenix hugged him back tightly. “You never have to deal with anything alone. Your mom and I have both experienced Awakening, we know how out of whack everything feels when you’re going through it.”
“Can a nestling fledge while both parents are holding her wings?”
She felt his chuckle before she heard it. “You have a point, kid.”
Robert gave her a last squeeze and then stepped back, pulled out a chair at her card table, and sat down. She knew what that meant—it was time to talk—and judging by his expression, Phoenix didn’t think she’d like the conversation. “Okay, what am I getting chewed out about?”
“Not chewed out, just a reminder. Don’t feed in your own home. It’s too dangerous.”
Phoenix stared at him blankly for a moment. He couldn’t know that—Then she detected it. She was so accustomed to the scent she and Ivar created when they made love that she didn’t really notice it. Her father had. “I know.” She pulled out another chair and joined him at the table. “I am careful, believe me.”
He didn’t look as if he believed her.
Smart man. No, she didn’t have to worry about Ivar revealing what she was, but she’d been reckless in other ways, like with his life. The silence nearly compelled her to start talking, but she’d learned to resist that tactic most of the time and this was one instance where talking would get her into trouble. Her dad would tell her what she already knew—she had to give up Ivar immediately. She couldn’t hear that. Not tonight.
The silence made her start to fidget. Damn his patience. Well, she wasn’t sharing her vampire lover with him, not yet, but there was more going on than that. “A vampire attacked me a few days ago. I don’t know why.”
An expression of concern appeared immediately. “What did the vampire look like?”
That was an odd first question, wasn’t it? But instead of saying that, Phoenix shrugged. “She disguised herself. I have no real idea of her appearance.”
“She? You’re certain it was a woman?”
Ivar had asked that same question, or one very similar to it. “Yes, I’m—”
The window broke with a crash, glass shooting out like shrapnel as a dark figure rappelled in on a rope. Phoenix dove under the table, instinct driving her to get away from the sharp shards as they flew through the air. As soon as threat was over, she scrambled to her feet. Her father was slumped in his chair, blood running down his face and the vampire standing over him. “Dad?”
No answer. She was on her own.
Ivar! Oh, man, why had she told him to leave? She needed Ivar to help and he wasn’t in the building.
He’d been right, the vampire had only been waiting for the opportunity and her father might have paid the price. “No way, bitch!”
Phoenix launched herself at her enemy.
Chapter Thirteen
It didn’t take long for Phoenix to realize she was in over her head. The vampire’s talons had ripped shreds in her jeans and knit pullover and she hadn’t even managed to leave a light scratch in return, not when her claws were maybe a quarter of the size of her opponent’s and she had no fangs at all. The glass-covered floor made moving difficult, too. One wrong step and she could slip and cut herself to ribbons.
“You’re not the one I want, but unfortunately for you, you’ll have to die anyway.”
The voice had sounded so reasonable that it took Phoenix a moment to hear how crazy the words were. “Why do I have to die? Because you want Ivar?”
“LeBlanc?” There was genuine surprise in the vampire’s voice. “No, he’s merely an obstacle in my path.”
Phoenix ducked another swipe and tried to think how to even the fight. Every tool she had that was worth anything in hand-to-hand combat was something the other woman had, too, and because she was older, she was stronger in every way.
Reaching behind her, Phoenix grabbed the first thing she felt. The TV remote. And chucked it at the vampire.
It stopped in midair and then fell harmlessly to the carpet.
“Sorry, young tantric, as vampires age, we acquire telekinetic abilities. There’s nothing you can throw that I’ll allow to reach me.” She closed the distance between them as she talked and Phoenix backed up.
“Ivar—”
“Isn’t old enough to have the talent yet.”
How was she supposed to defeat her when she couldn’t even fight like a human and connect with any force? It was hopeless.
She thought she saw her father stir and that made Phoenix toughen up. So she was at a disadvantage. Big deal. She was the only protection her dad had and she wouldn’t let him die without fighting with all she had. Family took care of each other, that’s how she’d been raised.
Phoenix decided to charge the vampire. Maybe she could tackle her and take her down to the floor. That close, her claws should be able to inflict some kind of damage.
Her second step made two shards of glass slide and she flailed her arms, trying to keep from falling. The other woman connected with a full swipe of her nails and Phoenix hissed with pain. It was either that or cry and she wasn’t giving her enemy that kind of satisfaction.
Damn it, she couldn’t even do a tackle right. What the hell good was she? Blood ran down her arm, but her body was already working to heal it. “Why?” Phoenix asked. “Why are you doing this?”
“None of your business, fledgling.”
Phoenix ducked another blow, but the tips of the talons got her scalp. The scratches weren’t deep, but now she had blood running into her face, too.
Maybe if she could find something to wrap around a shard of glass, she could manage to grab one and use that as a weapon. Trying to keep the vampire in her line of vision, Phoenix looked around, but she didn’t see anything that would work. Except her shirt. It was already torn.
She tried to rip a piece of fabric from the bottom, but she took two quick hits for her effort.
“I can make it painless for you,” the vampire said, in a nearly singsong voice. “Ivar’s sipped from you and I bet you hardly felt his fangs. I can drain you and you’ll just fade off without fear, without agony. Simple.”
“Thanks, but I’ll pass.”
“As you wish.”
She had to duck and weave to avoid a flurry of strikes. It wasn’t until the other woman laughed that Phoenix realized she’d been herded into the corner. It was so damn unfair. The vampire had fangs and talons and telekinesis and what was Phoenix’s superpower? She could make people desire her.
No wonder there were so few tantric vampires around.
Wait. Desire could be one hell of a distraction. Maybe it was stupid, but it was all she had left to try.
&nbs
p; Phoenix took a deep breath and worked on creating pheromones. Matching them to the chemistry of her prey to make them more appealing was instinctual, something she did with little thought or effort. Raising her body temperature slightly, she released the first salvo.
The vampire stopped and looked confused.
Her second volley was stronger and this time she directed it, wrapping the substance around the other woman. The talons seemed to flex, but they stayed extended.
As she directed a third wave of pheromones toward her would-be killer, Phoenix moved to the second phase of her plan—arousing herself enough so that her sexual scent filled the air. That acted as an aphrodisiac on others and was part of a tantric’s lure.
This part was more difficult for her. She wasn’t feeling sexy, she was scared and angry. Phoenix picked a memory—Ivar eating her pussy until he had her coming almost continually—and she tried to feel his mouth, his lips, his tongue working on her clit.
There was a slight sense of waking, but she wasn’t even moist yet. She needed more.
They hadn’t done a sixty-nine yet, but she had a good imagination. Phoenix licked her lips and pictured Ivar’s cock just out of her reach. In her mind, she pressed a kiss to the tip, sucking lightly on the slit, before running her tongue around his crown. It was one of his favorite things when she went down on him. She could almost feel him moan around her clit.
The vampire standing in front of her seemed to be breathing heavier now.
Phoenix made sure she was still wafting out pheromones and went back to arousing herself. She’d run her tongue down the underside of his shaft, taken his balls into her mouth and then had nibbled her way back to the head. By the time she’d gotten there, Ivar had been begging her to take him in her mouth. She liked it when she got him that hot. He rarely pleaded.
Now she felt her body start to heat, her muscles relax.
He’d been too big to deep throat, but if she had more time to practice with him, she was sure she could do it. Phoenix could take him about halfway now, but she wanted all of that cock.
“Is it hot in here?” the vampire asked.
Phoenix felt jerked back to the present. “I think you’re right.”
She reached for the bottom of her shirt and pulled it over her head before letting it drop to the floor. The purple demi bra barely covered her nipples and they were pushing against the lace. She stared past the mask, deep into the other woman’s eyes and put her index finger in her mouth, until she was sure it was glistening. Phoenix ran the wet finger over one of her hardened nipples. She dipped under the lace, careful not to expose herself. The tease was part of the allure.
“Don’t you want your mouth here, right where my finger is?” she asked.
The vampire gasped as Phoenix gave her other nipple a pinch with her free hand.
Phoenix arched, thrusting her breasts out enough to entice, but not enough to be obvious. She was walking a fine line. Her enemy was aroused, but not enough to make her eyes morph bluish-white yet.
She needed to make herself wetter, to get more of her sex scent into the air. Phoenix remembered her first time with Ivar, the hard thrust of his cock inside her, almost making her cry with relief. She recalled looking over his shoulder and watching a curtain fall back into place. They’d been watched and it had been hot. Had the humans seen her juices making Ivar’s cock shine in the moonlight? Had they gotten hot enough to touch themselves while they’d watched?
Squeezing her thighs together, Phoenix began to rock just a little. She was definitely aroused and wet enough that she was sending all kinds of scent into the air. Now she had to be careful not to let herself fall too far into pleasure or she’d forget her plan.
The vampire’s talons retracted and she untied her cloak, letting it fall to the floor before pulling off her mask. Phoenix had expected someone ugly because of the disguise and the personality, but the other woman was beautiful. Her blond hair was short, her features smooth and perfect. “You’re lovely,” Phoenix said.
The claws came back out and Phoenix kicked herself for pushing too far too fast. She put the focus back on herself. “I hope I’m not staining my jeans, but I’m so wet right now.”
She put her hand between her legs, incorporating it into some more strenuous rocking. After a moment’s consideration, Phoenix dropped the dirty talk portion of her plan. The risk was too great and she was distracting her enemy enough without it.
Phoenix nearly stopped dead when her dad stood, but had the presence of mind to take her eyes off him and keep moving. Tantric or not, this definitely ranked high on the embarrassment scale. At the same time her dad moved to pin the vampire’s arms, the front door burst open and Ivar rushed in, a stranger right behind him.
Ivar stared at her, eyebrows raised, but before he could make a comment, the man with him said, “Aythe? What the hell are you doing here?”
“She’s here to kill me,” her dad said, “because I can prove she murdered Miss Emily Douglas.”
The female vampire went white.
Chapter Fourteen
Ivar took a long look at Phoenix. She was covered in her own blood, but all of her wounds had healed to mere scratches. He saw her nipples pressing insistently against her bra, smelled her arousal and bent to pick up her shirt. “Put this on,” he murmured against her ear. “I’d hate to fight my clan lord for ogling you, but I will if I must.”
She pulled it on at the same time Lord Kýlan asked her father, “On your honor, do you truly have proof that this woman killed Emily?”
“I do, my lord.”
His sire looked at him and ordered, “Take control of Aythe.”
“Yes, my lord.” Ivar walked over, and putting both her arms behind her back, captured her wrists with one hand.
The clan lord sat on the couch—Ivar suspected it was to hide how rattled he was—and said, “Tell me your story, Cahill, and if it sounds plausible enough, perhaps I’ll ask to see your proof.”
Phoenix’s father nodded. “I was in the chamber that night to feed, but not from your lady. It was her maid I was with, Dorothea, if I remember correctly.”
“You do,” Lord Kýlan said.
“The door between their rooms was open slightly because Dorothea was waiting for Miss Emily to return so she could help her dress for bed. Because she had only part of her attention on me, it took longer than normal to arouse her. Tantric vampires require orgasm to feed,” Robert Cahill said.
“I know this.”
“Yes, my lord. Dorothea fell asleep after I managed to feed and I was getting dressed, prepared to leave, when I heard Miss Emily enter. There were voices, hers and another woman’s, and I was concerned one of them would come looking for her maid when she didn’t appear. I hid in the wardrobe near the door.”
Aythe shifted then and Ivar tightened his grip.
Robert continued. “I couldn’t hear most of the conversation, at least not until the voices were raised. That’s when I moved my arm and dislodged something. As it turned out, the servants had a peephole in the wardrobe and I was able to watch the rest of the confrontation firsthand. They were arguing over you, my lord. This one, Aythe, told Miss Emily to stay away from you, but the lady refused. She said she loved you and that you felt the same for her.”
Ivar was mildly surprised by that. Emily Douglas hadn’t shown the slightest fire in his presence, but apparently she’d kept her more fiery moments under wraps.
Phoenix’s father continued his story. “Aythe shook her head and said, ‘I tried to give you a chance. Too bad you aren’t smart enough to take it.’ Her fangs extended then and she drained Miss Emily. Your lady clutched at her killer and a brooch came off her clothes.” Robert pointed at Aythe.
“And you did nothing to save her?” There was contempt in Lord Kýlan’s voice.
“How could I save her, my lord? I’m a tantric—no fangs, short claws and no talent that would be a match for a vampire as ancient as this one. I’ll confess that it never occurred to me t
o use sex as a weapon.” The man looked over at Phoenix and raised both his eyebrows.
“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” Phoenix said.
Her father grunted. “In any case, I didn’t feel as if I was able to do anything to stop it. I did go to her, after Aythe left, to see if she yet lived. She wasn’t alive, but her hand still clutched the brooch. I was holding it when Aythe returned and I hid it in my pocket before she noticed. She asked me how smart I was and I told her smart enough to forget everything I’d seen and to keep my mouth shut. She allowed me to leave.”
“Really?” Phoenix sounded shocked and Ivar didn’t blame her.
“Really,” Robert told her. “Although I suspect it likely had to do with the fact that Miss Emily’s mother always came to her rooms to see her off to sleep and she was due at any moment. There wasn’t time for her to fight and kill me, too.”
“And your proof is what?” the clan lord asked.
“Her brooch,” Robert said. “I’ve kept it with me ever since that night because I knew some day I’d have to defend my innocence. It’s in my blazer in the closet. If I may?”
Lord Kýlan inclined his head, silently giving permission.
Robert retrieved it quickly and took it to the clan lord. He remained more than an arm’s length away, and holding the jewelry in both hands, extended them as he bowed. Lord Kýlan took the brooch and Phoenix’s father stepped back.
For a long moment, there was nothing except silence as the clan lord studied the brooch. At long last, he lifted his gaze and pinned Aythe with it. “I gave this to you on your birthday. You wore it always, and then one day you stopped wearing it. I asked you what had happened and you told me you’d donated it to the church, that you were concerned about so many going hungry while you lived in luxury.”
“The tantric lies. You’ve known me for centuries, millennia, Kýlan. This one is a stranger, someone with no interest beyond saving his hide. He could have stolen that brooch from the monk I’d handed it to. His having it substantiates nothing.”