License to Bite

by Carrie Pulkinen

  For another half-second, he felt a twinge of guilt for hurting her feelings. “I didn’t drink from you until I had to save your life. I marked you the night before so no one else would either, but the Magistrate doesn’t need to know that.”

  She flinched as if she were slapped. “You didn’t want to drink from me, but you also didn’t want anyone else to? I don’t understand.”

  He didn’t understand why he felt the need to explain himself to her. Why—though her attitude drove him batshit crazy—he wanted to make her happy. It must have been the mating mark. As soon as he figured out how to remove it, these conflicting emotions would dissipate and his attraction to the woman would finally cease. “You were wasted, Jane. If I’d drunk from you, I’d have been wasted too, and someone needed to see you home safely.”

  A smug smile curved her lips. “Oh, Edward, you do care.”

  No, no, he didn’t. These emotions weren’t real. “The constables are out in full force lately. Let’s get you registered so no one gets the stake.”

  “Neither of you can be in the Magistrate’s presence looking like criminals.” Gaston reached inside his jacket. “You both need a shower and a change of clothes before we go. Jane, dear, I took the liberty of stopping by your lovely house on my way. I think this crimson chenille sweater will suit your vampire-pale skin nicely, along with a pair of dark jeans.”

  He handed her the clothes. “Oh, I almost forgot the best part.” He reached into his jacket again and pulled out a matching set of lingerie. The bra was black satin trimmed in lace, and the panties, what existed of them, were sheer with black lace around the waistband.

  Ethan’s throat thickened, his dick hardening as an image of what she’d look like wearing the lingerie—and nothing else—flashed in his mind. His fingers twitched as he imagined peeling the fabric from her body, a smile lighting on her lips as he trailed his tongue over her soft skin.

  Jane snatched the clothing from Gaston’s hand, her gaze locking with Ethan’s for a moment before she looked away. “I was saving these for a special occasion. I suppose becoming a registered vampire will have to be good enough.”

  Gaston steepled his fingers, grinning like a fool. “Perhaps you can model them for us later.”

  “Fat chance. Where’s the shower?”

  “Down the hall. Second door on the left.” He stared at her curvy backside as she sashayed into the house and disappeared around the corner. “She didn’t have any more modest underwear?”

  Gaston chuckled. “Mildly so, but I’m afraid our dear Jane is quite the firecracker. I think she’s going to be good for you.”

  How in hell could she be good for him? They’d done nothing but bicker since she woke up. Then again, he hadn’t felt this much in as long as he could remember. He leaned against the porch railing, trying to recall what exactly it was about Jane that had drawn him to her, made him think she was the woman he loved. He came up with nothing.

  Yet, there was something.

  “Well, well.” Constable Watson appeared from around the corner, his trench coat flapping behind him as he strode up the sidewalk. “What kind of trouble are we getting into tonight, gentlemen?”

  Ethan straightened his spine. “None at all, Constable.”

  Watson narrowed his eyes, glancing at the open front door. “Hmm.”

  “This one wouldn’t know trouble if it bit his ass and drained him dry.” Gaston stood between Watson and the entrance. “What kind are you looking for?”

  “Anything, really.” Watson glanced at his nails and buffed them on his lapel. “You’ve the highest concentration of supernatural beings on the continent in this city alone, yet I’m regretful to say I haven’t found nearly as much mayhem as I’d hoped.”

  “Our Magistrate runs this city like a well-oiled machine,” Ethan said. “What were you hoping to find?”

  Watson shrugged. “Chaos. Disorder. Signs of a much-needed change in command. When this position with the SWO opened, I jumped at the chance to audit New Orleans. Alas, you’re all too good at following the rules.”

  “All right, Eddie. Your turn.” Jane strutted onto the porch, stepping around Gaston and crossing her arms, cocking her hip out as she gave Watson a once-over. “Nice hat.”

  Gaston was right about the red sweater flattering Jane’s skin tone. It also hugged her curves, dipping just low enough to reveal a bit of cleavage and making Ethan’s mouth water. Her damp hair hung past her shoulders, and her makeup-free skin had an ethereal glow.

  Watson pulled his cell phone from his pocket. “May I see your license and registration, madam?”

  “Madam?” Jane dropped her arms to her sides. “Do I look eighty to you?”

  “She’s not registered yet.” Ethan positioned himself between the constable and Jane, but she stepped aside, refusing his protection.

  A devilish smile curved Watson’s lips. “Oh, dear. The grace period has ended, I’m afraid. Perhaps tonight won’t be as uneventful as I first thought.” He pocketed his phone and rubbed his hands together. “It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to stake anyone.”

  Ethan grabbed Jane’s arm, shoving her behind his body and sandwiching her between him and Gaston. “You’re not touching her. She’s newly-turned, and we’re on our way to see the Magistrate now.”

  “Laws are laws, and she should be registered. I’m sure you understand.” Watson cracked his knuckles.

  No way in the seven levels of hell was this asshole laying a finger on Jane. “She just woke up dead an hour ago. Fledglings have until the end of their first night to register.”

  “That is the law, an SWO law, I might add,” Gaston said over Jane’s shoulder. “Shall I make a call to the Magistrate and sort this out? I’ve known him since he was a fledgling himself.”

  Watson glowered, stepping back as he clasped his hands behind his back. “I’ll be watching you. One mistake, and you’ll be mine.” He turned, jerking his coat so it waved like a cape, before disappearing around the corner.

  “Now’s there’s a stereotypical vampire.” Jane laughed, but it didn’t mask the tremble in her voice. She slipped from between him and Gaston, reaching across her body to rub one arm. “Did he really want to stake me?”

  “I wouldn’t have let him.” Ethan gripped her bicep softly, and her breath caught as he held her gaze.

  She swallowed hard, cringing, though he wasn’t sure if it was from the dryness in her throat or the threat to her life. “Thank you. You might be as sullen as a teenage guitar player, but you’re a good man.”

  If she only knew.

  Jane stood in the foyer of the vampire headquarters, trying to ignore the sensation of her underwear riding up her ass. That particular set of lingerie wasn’t meant to be worn longer than a few minutes and never outside the bedroom. She ran her fingers through her damp hair, tousling it a bit to give it some lift. Even with all that dark, wavy, sexy hair, Mr. Broody Vampire didn’t own a hairdryer. She looked in an antique mirror hanging on the wall of the nineteenth-century mansion’s foyer and marveled at her complexion. She was a few shades paler than she’d been before, but otherwise, her skin was perfect. Once she got ahold of some eyeliner and mascara, she’d be smokin’ hot.

  This vampire gig was turning out to be a blessing. She had super strength, which she’d figured out when she pushed Ethan earlier, and when Gaston had fallen and she’d picked him up like he was light as a cotton ball. She was gorgeous, immortal, and the only things that could kill her were stakes to the heart, beheading, and sunlight, which, to be honest, already killed a lot of people anyway. Skin cancer’s a bitch.

  The only drawback to her condition was the blood-drinking issue, but Jane was resourceful. She’d figure out a way to find sustenance. That water hadn’t quenched her thirst at all, but she’d never tell Ethan that. Maybe she could order her steaks rare. That might work.

  She’d have to watch all her friends and family die eventually, but death was inevitable. She’d miss Sophie the most. “Oh, shit
. Sophie. She must be worried sick about me.” She sank onto the little couch next to Ethan.

  “I used your phone to text her. She knows you’re with me.” He stared straight forward, his face unreadable. Only his fists clenched in his lap gave away his emotions, and she still couldn’t tell if he was angry or nervous. And what was he angry or nervous about? That British twit who wanted to stake her an hour after she woke up or the whole situation of having to register a new vampire?

  Her stomach fluttered again when she thought about the way he’d jumped in front of her, protecting her as if he cared.

  “What did you tell her?” She pulled her phone from her purse and swiped open the messaging app. Her eyes widened as she read the exchange:

  Ethan (pretending to be Jane): Hey. I ran into that hot guy who took us home last night. I’m going to spend the night with him.

  Sophie: You go, girl. I can’t wait to hear all about him.

  She cast Ethan a sideways glance. “‘That hot guy?’ Seriously?”

  He shrugged. “I was trying to be authentic.”

  She snorted. The man had nerve—and possible mind-reading abilities. She continued reading their texts.

  Sophie (twelve hours later): Wow, he must have ridden you hard and put you up sopping wet. What time are you coming back?

  Ethan: Actually, I’m going to spend the day with him. He’s amazing.

  Sophie: K. Stay safe and use protection.

  She dropped the phone into her purse. “‘Amazing?’ You’re full of yourself, aren’t you?”

  “Would she believe you’d spend the day with me if I were anything less?”

  Jane narrowed her eyes. “I have to see her tonight. She definitely won’t believe I’d ditch her two nights in a row. What’s taking Gaston so long, anyway? He disappeared fifteen minutes ago to ‘introduce’ us to the Magistrate.”

  Ethan closed his eyes. “Vampire politics are complicated.”

  Jane rolled hers. “I know more about politics than you can shake your dick at.”

  “That’s not how the saying goes.”

  “My dad’s the governor of Texas.”

  He glanced at her. “That explains a lot.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  His nostrils flared as he let out a slow breath. “You expect others to do everything for you. With a father in a position of high authority, now I understand why.”

  “Because you think I’m spoiled.” Which she so wasn’t. She worked her ass off to earn the respect of the men in her family, and for what? Her own father still thought she needed a babysitter.

  “I won’t fault you for your upbringing, but I won’t enable you either.”

  “Enable me? Oh my Go—olly gosh jeez.” She crossed her arms. “See, I can learn.”

  His brow lifted, and the corners of his mouth twitched. Did the man ever smile? Why did she want him to so badly?

  “You need to lighten up,” she said. “If I’m going to be part of your clan, you’ll have to learn to have fun.”

  “It’s a coven, not a clan.”

  “I thought witches had covens.”

  He closed his eyes for another long blink. “They do. Vampires do too.”

  “And werewolves?”

  “Packs, of course.”

  She chewed her bottom lip, taking in her surroundings. A thick burgundy rug covered most of the hardwood floor, and dark wood furniture gave the room a period vibe. “Are there any werewolves in New Orleans?”

  “Plenty.”

  “Are they our natural-born enemies?”

  His nostrils flared again. “That’s a myth.”

  “Am I annoying you?”

  “Very much.”

  Was he serious? She was annoying him? “You’re the one who turned me into a vampire. And you never told me why you did it. Everyone dies. Why did you choose to save me?”

  “Jane.” He turned toward her, taking her shoulders in his hands.

  His grip was firm, yet somehow gentle at the same time, and his touch set off a chemical reaction inside her body. She shouldn’t have been attracted to him. He had all the personality of a wet tissue, but there she was, staring into his emerald eyes while he smoldered back at her, warmth blooming in her nether region, threatening to soak her lace panties.

  His gaze flicked to her mouth for half a second before he released her. “You haven’t stopped talking since you woke up.”

  She brushed her hair from her forehead, composing herself. “What do you expect? I’m suddenly not human anymore, and I have questions.”

  “I know you do, but I didn’t plan this. I… In a city that never sleeps, I value silence. I’ve been alone for the past twenty-five years, and I’m not used to…” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Give me five minutes of peace. Please. Can you keep your mouth shut for five minutes so I can get my thoughts together?”

  She narrowed her eyes, chewing the inside of her cheek. If he wanted silence, she’d give him silence…and a cold shoulder to go with it.

  Rising to her feet, she stepped toward a baby grand piano sitting in the back corner of the room. She lightly ran her fingers across the cool ivory keys, stopping at middle C and giving it a tap. The note rang out, filling the room with music.

  “I asked for silence,” Ethan grumbled.

  She raised her hands. “Okay, okay.” Her boots thudded on the hardwood floor as she strolled toward the window. Behind the curtain rod, a mechanical device was mounted to the frame. She flipped the red switch on the wall next to it—because c’mon, a red switch? How could she not flip it?—and the device hummed to life, a thick black shade sliding down to cover the window.

  “Jane!” Ethan didn’t move from his spot on the couch, but his tone was sharp enough to slice skin.

  “Sorry. Couldn’t help myself.” She flipped the switch in the opposite direction, and the shade rolled back up. “How come you don’t have something like this at your house? Wouldn’t you rather sleep in your bedroom than up in the dusty old attic?”

  “They’re too expensive.”

  “Vampires need money?”

  “How else would we buy things?”

  She plopped onto the couch next to him. It had been five minutes, hadn’t it? Close enough. “What’s it like having Captain Jack Sparrow as your mentor? Is he always so…drunk?”

  “Gaston is a good sire and a good friend. He’s been around more than three hundred years, so I can only imagine the things he’s seen. What he’s been through.” He unclenched his fists and laid his palms on his thighs. “He gets this way during Mardi Gras. With so many drunk humans in the Quarter, he can’t seem to help himself.”

  “Is that it? Or did something happen to him during a past Mardi Gras, and he’s trying to numb the pain?”

  Ethan looked at her as if he’d never considered the idea. “I don’t know. He doesn’t talk about his past much, unless it’s to recount a fight. Nobody fights like Gaston.”

  Jane giggled. “What about cheap shots? I bet nobody takes those like Gaston either.”

  “He does what he has to do.”

  “Is he good at expectorating? Especially good?” She was cracking herself up.

  He blinked. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Oh, come on. Haven’t you seen Beauty and the Beast? Gaston is the bad guy, and he has a fantastic song.”

  “No.”

  “How old are you?”

  “I’ve been dead for twenty-five years.”

  She narrowed her eyes, studying him. “You look like you’re in your early twenties, which means you’ve been around for about forty-eight years or so. Am I right?”

  “He nodded.”

  “I know what your problem is. You’re a Gen Xer”

  His brow arched. “And your point is?”

  “You don’t give a shit about anything.”

  “And you’re an entitled Millennial who thinks the world owes her everything.”

  She crossed her arms
. “You don’t know anything about me.”

  “I know enough.”

  The door Gaston had disappeared through finally opened, and he stepped into the room, grinning as it closed behind him. “Come, children. The Magistrate awaits.”

  Chapter Six

  Jane strutted toward the door, stopping in front of it as Gaston whispered something to Ethan, who grimaced and whispered something back through clenched teeth. These boys needed a lesson in subtlety…and manners.

  Ethan stepped behind her. “What are you waiting for? Let’s get this over with.”

  “I’m waiting for someone to open the door for me.”

  “You’re capable of opening it yourself.”

  She gaped, waiting for him to take the hint and open the damn thing like a gentleman, but he just stood there staring at her like she was out of her mind for expecting chivalry. “Fine.” She yanked on the knob and stomped into the hallway, but Ethan caught her by the arm, holding her back as Gaston passed.

  “There’s an order to things here. The senior vampire enters first. Do you remember everything we taught you on the way over?”

  She tugged from his grasp and straightened her sweater. Why the hell did he make her open the door if Gaston had to go in before her anyway? “Of course. I’m not an idiot.”

  He walked next to her toward a set of double doors. “They’ll ask us some questions, and then you’ll recite the rules you learned. You can answer everything honestly, but if you want us to make it out alive, I did not mark you until after I drank from you. Got it?”

  “You want me to lie under oath?” She pressed a hand to her chest, feigning shock. Her dad was a politician. She learned to lie from the best.

  “It’s against the law to mark someone unless you’ve drunk from them. I could get the stake for it.” His eyes were even more serious than normal.

  No way in hell would she let some vampire Council kill Ethan for trying to protect her. He may have been as fun as a pap smear, but the man did save her life. Twice. She patted his cheek. “Don’t worry, darlin’. I won’t tell a soul.” She owed him that much.