House of Darkness

by K. R. Alexander

  “I still don’t believe you.”

  “That is entirely up to you.” Kiss lingering, hands stroking my body. Mine were somehow on his chest as if to push him away, but touching instead. Smooth and toned—and bony.

  “What are you doing among vampires? Do you give them your blood?”

  “Never.”

  “Then what would they be doing associating with the living?”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  “Wait—” I really did jerk away, sideways a few inches. “You are a vampire, aren’t you? This is a trick? Telepathy? You have me believing you’re warm, living flesh, but you’re not? You’re a newborn?”

  He chuckled. “Now I must add ‘imagination’ to your qualities like passion and boldness which I admire.” Kiss. “You perhaps are unaware that the dead have practically no sense of taste? They need know nothing but human blood. They’re exactly like pandas or koalas.”

  “Vampires are like koalas? Oh … eating only bamboo or eucalyptus. Drinking only blood. I get it.”

  “You know your natural world?”

  “I’ve been interested in field biology for ages, though I recently discontinued trying to decide about any future career path to become a house-cleaner anyway.”

  Another chuckle. “You casters and your slang. That’s just what your mother called it.”

  I gasped, standing up straight against the wall, hitting my head, as if he’d thrown cold water in my face. “You knew my mother?”

  “Had I known she had a daughter like you I’d have made the effort to become better acquainted.”

  “Wait, seriously? You knew my parents? Do you really live at that house? My mom had been feeding cats there for ages. You met her there?”

  “If only she’d mentioned you, we could have started the ball rolling long ago. No stumbling around in the dark with wizard boy and the hired muscle.”

  “Did she ever go in that house? Either of them? I didn’t think so, but maybe they knew something about it already. Do you know? Are you really friends with vampires?”

  “The peach…” His tongue touched my lips again. “Of all your flavors the peach is the most pristine.”

  Mind racing, I pulled back. “Would you tell me what you know about them?”

  “Nothing. Nothing at all. I saw her, she saw me. I heard of the death. I saw you there tonight. Who else would follow up such a tragedy with such stupidity, then call it house cleaning?”

  I felt wilted, letting out a breath. Still, he might be lying again. If he stayed around long enough, what else could I get from him?

  He took my face in his hands. I returned the kiss, mind traveling from past to present. He told about my taste, the passion and orange zest, the courage and wings that I hadn’t saved for him.

  Make friends. A dangerous friend, but how much did he know? How worth the risk?

  In an instant he had my shirt pulled up and tasted his way down my stomach, licking away my sweat.

  Maybe not this friendly with someone who had broken into your home in the dead of night and ambushed you? It didn’t seem right to reward such behavior. Not just for me, but for womankind.

  He opened the button of my jeans with his teeth. Made it look easy. Then kissed right there where the denim parted, his tongue blazing on my skin, his breath hot and wet.

  “You taste of that place. A shame. How can we clean you up? Like a little cat, maybe? Here, kitty, kitty…” Voice a whisper, an extra breath along my skin as he licked upward in a long stroke to the band of my sweaty bra.

  “My friends would like to meet you,” I said, trapped between ideas of that house and my parents’ work and this man and… “Oh—” Sharp intake of breath. “You’ve had your taste. Maybe we can work something out. If you help us with the vampires, you could be part of our team.”

  “Oh, Cabby, you make my heart go pitter-patter with your sexy proposals. Lay it on me.”

  “Don’t—” I caught his wrist as he pulled down my fly. “That’s enough. Tasting time is up.”

  He stood and pressed in, his hips to mine. Lips stroked mine. Breaths coming as tight little puffs, I returned the pressure, seeking the details of him, feeling his arousal through his pants to match and sharpen my own.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, smoky and soft, voice cool and sexy while his tongue burned with insistence. “You just say when. I’m patient. I’m not like you. Touch me. Bring me to the edge and I’ll show you. I can walk away easier than you can.”

  “Like hell you can,” I muttered, trying to turn my face away, kissing him again instead.

  “This you can believe—you can take to the bank. Up to you if you want me to show you.”

  “You’re shitting me. I notice you didn’t tell me what I’ve been dreaming about after your taste.”

  “Mmm…” He was nibbling my neck while I arched my back into him, touching his chest, his sides, down to his waistband. “That’s from real tasting, intimacies. Not a few belly licks. Once I really taste you, I’ll tell you all about your dreams. Whenever you want me. Just like I’ll show you my patience whenever you want that. That moron wolf couldn’t even be patient when he heard the door shut.”

  “Heat of the moment and all.”

  “But that’s what I’m saying. Wouldn’t you rather be with a male who has control? Who savors your body and cherishes your flesh? You could do so much better.”

  He had his fly open. He had my hand in his. Again guiding me. His tongue probed between my lips and we gasped mingled breaths when my fingers found the hot, taunt skin of his erection arching up to meet me.

  I wrapped my hand around the unyielding shaft, aching for him, wet and shivering at every touch. What the fuck? Not an appropriate response to a break-in or bully. Not cool, Ripley. Totally, 100% not cool. This is not the thanks a guy gets for this sort of behavior. Think of the example you’re setting. Think of just plain doing the right thing and kneeing this creepy what’s-his-name, Vel, in the balls while you still can. Come on, Ripley, you would never go through with something like this. Come on. Ripley?

  23

  I could envision him in me, almost feel him, still telling myself off, yet I could hardly hear. I’d had an excuse in the form of some kind of mind tricks in the haunted house before. Here, I could blame the beer—only that hadn’t been much. I could blame a holdover from the last time an hour ago. I could blame Vel for being … I don’t know what all he was. I mean, he was damn sexy and smooth, weird and creepy, but really and truly, I had to blame me at this point.

  I told myself he was forcing me. I mean, he did break in and force himself on me. Totally legit. But there’s force and then there’s force. Even in my muddled, seeking blame state, I had to admit this was the former kind.

  He pulled me away from the wall, into him, full contact up and down, biting my lips, stroking my body, moaning softly as I fondled him. I stepped with him, closer, moving out into the floor, heading for the door. Right?

  His foreskin made a perfect canvas for layers of sensation with the paintbrush of my hand, shifting pressure and speed as I felt him out, building to a tighter and tighter hold while he rocked his hips into me, begging for more.

  He’d said he could stop on a dime. Of course he couldn’t. But that’s what I would do. I would tease him, draw him out. Bring him right to the edge, then done, make him suffer. That would be the comeuppance he deserved. Ah, yes. See, Ripley, you can plan with the best of them.

  I would have been snickering at my own wit if not for his mouth on mine and my snatched breath and more and more frantic intensity in my own body, crying out to be touched.

  Our legs hit the bed. Where had that come from? Small room. Didn’t have to move far to the window.

  Vel pulled down the old slacks he was wearing, and kicked them off. Just like that he was totally naked, his body faintly illuminated in every line from the yellow under-door light and blue-white moonlight.

  He tugged my shirt up. I had to shower anyway. That was why I�
�d come up here. So, yeah, that was playing along. Another minute and I’d walk out. See how patient he really was.

  I grinned up at him as he pushed me and I lay back, releasing him then, able to watch his body. His penis drew my gaze—as certain things have a habit of doing—but not like he wasn’t worth looking at overall. He had no idea. I was so going to turn the tables on him.

  He worked down my sweaty jeans as I lay back. More torment for him.

  I was so hot, so wet, so needing him to touch me. But I could stop. Of course I could if I wanted to. He was the one who would be screwed, who would prove he’d lied. There was nothing patient about that curving rebar of an erection.

  My butt was right on the edge of the bed as he yanked off my shoes and pants. I would wriggle back, lure him, make him think he could have me, a merry chase all the way across the bed. The door was on that side. I’d pop off and lock myself in the bathroom, throw a little magic into it if I had to. Oh, it would be sweet. Bet he’d be real patient about it.

  I laughed a little, on fire and elated, only the bra still sticking to me as he finally got the jeans all twisted away to drop on the floor.

  He grabbed my hips and I started to turn a little on my side to reach him again, one leg going around him to tease and pull as I kept up a steady retreat.

  Vel stepped in, his penis rubbing hot and wet with precum. I started to pull back from the edge, changing mid-reach, but Vel gripped both hips, jerking me closer on the edge, his knees bent as he stood against the bed. In one second, while I was realizing I was being way too slow—shouldn’t have put my leg around him, should have moved back while he pulled down my jeans—the head of his dick pressed in tight between my legs, soaked and burning for him, and a hard thrust plunged his shaft into me.

  “Ah!” I jerked back, blindsided in my plans, breath catching with the sudden force, the feverish discomfort of the intrusion, wanting to tell him no, stop, this wasn’t how it was supposed to work out.

  My knees parted for him, opening myself up without my giving them permission. He slammed into me, a deep thrust filling me, following the moment of sharpness with a thrill of pleasure that made me cry out again, eyes glazed, head spinning as the dark outline of him blurred above me from more than lack of glasses.

  Vel pulled me in tighter still, nearly hauling my ass off the bed, just enough for support, pushing back all the time, straining, his own breaths all sharp pants of need, now mixing with pleasure. In a matter of seconds he found his rhythm and thrust fast and hard, rocking the creaking bed, making the floor groan, lifting me into orbit.

  I was so wrapped up already—had no idea how powerful my own arousal was until he was fucking me and I was right there, my body begging for more. A little more, a little more…

  Vel groaned, caught his breath, and repeated a word, then a few, that I couldn’t understand. Another language I didn’t know? Or was it the name of something?

  I felt his release as he shuddered and thrust, pumping extra heat into me. The feeling from him, knowing his pleasure, was enough to push me that final inch over the edge. Gripping his hands that held me, head thrown back, I took the rush with him, a chain reaction that left me shaking, unable to think or get my breath. Still shocked, not believing what was happening—no way this was reality.

  “Oh, my God,” I panted as I came back down, finally remembering that I should be resisting, should be opposed to sexual activity, or basically any other activity, with any given creepy stranger who breaks into my home.

  “Told you my name is Vel,” he said softly as he eased back, “but that’s fine.”

  “What?” I curled up on myself, grabbing my shirt—way too hot and sticky to pull back on.

  “I said it’s fine to call me your God.”

  “Oh, fuck…” I glared at him. “You jackass, you didn’t use protection.”

  “Yes, of course, slipped my mind.” He struck his forehead with his palm. “Because I’m usually the sort of fellow who really gives a shit. Obviously lawful good alignment here, real conscientious Paladin.” He held up both hands. “You have me pegged, Cabby.”

  What was it with the D&D players lately? And what was with this guy being a total asshole and me being like … what? Even my thoughts didn’t know what to think.

  “Morning-after pill,” trying to rally my own stupid with external words instead of internal ones. “So all you need to worry about is if you just gave me any sort of disease, at all, because, if you did, I’ll learn how from a very good friend of mine and then I will blow up your balls, I swear to God.”

  “Are we still talking about me? Because you don’t need to swear at me. I have delicate feelings. Anyway, there’s no need for any temper tantrum in the first place. You can’t catch anything from me; I’m not human.” He was shaking out the slacks from the floor, presumably going to put them back on. Otherwise naked, which was starting to seem almost as weird as it should have seemed all along. Even in the dark, there was something about those pants…

  “Wait—” I sat up at a lunge, reaching for the pants. “Are those my dad’s khakis?”

  “I didn’t figure they were your style.” Sure he rolled his eyes, though I couldn’t actually see that much detail.

  “You came in here stark naked and found a pair of my dad’s pants to put on and then waited for me?”

  “‘Wait’ is such a passive description. I surmised your reaction would be more positive to a clothed second date. Part of the fun is the unveiling of warm flesh, is it not? Now you might as well keep them. I’ll be on my way. I only came to deliver my message and, of course, to taste you.” He’d dropped the pants on the bed beside me as he spoke, then bent down to kiss my foot. He licked my ankle, inhaled my skin, and straightened up with a sigh. “Until our next tasting, my precious.”

  “What message? That you couldn’t stay away from my passion or that the vampires are vengeful? Because neither of those were worth the trip here.”

  “Me oh my, did I not give you my message?” He strode to the window. “Fulco wants to see you.”

  “Who?” I hadn’t any idea what the owner’s name was, but I still didn’t think that was it.

  “Yes, he wants to see you and wants you to come to him because he’s an anal-retentive, controlling, manipulative cabeza de pija.” Unlatching and wiggling the window, trying to lift it in the warped frame. “Doesn’t do well out in the world, needs you on his turf. That’s the message.”

  “You couldn’t have knocked on the door with a message like that?”

  “Why knock on an open door?” He jerked up the window with a violent screech of the warped frame that made me flinch.

  “Wait a minute—” I scrambled to my feet. “What are you doing?”

  He yanked the window higher.

  “Who is Fulco? Where is it we’re supposed to find him?”

  “Where did you last? Just go back. He’s waiting for you.”

  “Back to the house? You’re talking about that house? With the vampires? Why?”

  “Who supposes asking the messenger a question like that is a good strategy?” Back to me, one foot on the window ledge, he looked around over his shoulder, as if surveying a crowd. “No one? Just so. Looks like you’ll have to ask him. I do hope you’ll trot along tonight. He’ll become insufferable if he has to wait. Speaking of no patience. And he takes it out on me because I’m the only one around that place not loco.” He blew me a kiss. “So, little lady, take heart in the lonely darkness with the comfort that we’ll soon be reunited. Cling to memories of true visions of your God and desires for your next meeting. Maybe these comforts will even save you from the suffering that would otherwise accompany dwelling too long on the tragic predicament of having no better prospects without me by your side than three morons downstairs bickering over the TV.” He chuckled. “Listen to me. Spent too much time around him, haven’t I? He’s making me verbose. I didn’t used to talk like this. I was a simple zorro living by wits in a witness world.”

 
; In a fluid, shockingly swift motion, he flipped himself out the window, dropping by his hands as he held the rim and I ran forward.

  “Wait a minute! Tell me who Fulco is. And what do you mean you’re not human?”

  “¡Adiós, pequeña zorra!” He was laughing as he let go, momentarily thumping lightly to the ground.

  By the time I had my hands on the ledge, trying to see through the dark and overgrown backyard, there was no one there.

  24

  Despite already being way past my self-imposed time limit up here, I sprinted for a shower and back downstairs. I dressed in shorts and weightless yellow blouse. Contact lenses in place.

  By the time I was out of the bathroom, I was sure Vel had been a vampire. I’d never met a young one. How did I know they couldn’t be a little different? Reflecting eyes? Seem as if they were warm? It must all be part of the mind tricks and projections.

  I was also certain that by the time I got down there everyone would be concerned. It had been over half an hour. Was I okay and what had that noise been and all that.

  I had to tell them about the message if we were going to do anything. Which meant telling about Vel. Which meant admitting … no it didn’t.

  The last sixty seconds, as if that was all that had happened, was the only part relevant to our collective work. If they were fretting about me too bad. I could act exasperated. I’d gone to shower. What did they think I’d been up to?

  Still, my face was hot when I reached the family room—new chilled beer in hand.

  It was true then. Being a vampire and all, he really had manipulated me. Which meant that had been rape and I had every right to be livid with him—as opposed to with myself. He seemed to be going back to the vampire house and this Fulco—the guy in charge? So maybe I’d be seeing him again. Oh, how I wished I could blow up heads. A wooden stake would do.