“No, it doesn’t make you a racist,” Bane chuckled as he pulled back the comforter and sheet. “It just makes you wrong. I’m Egyptian.”
I rolled on the bed until my foot grazed Bane’s torso. I tried to focus on his form, but it was blurred. I closed my eyes and let my foot do my seeing. I’m pretty sure my eyes would have bugged out at the hard thing under my foot and between Bane’s legs. He might be Egyptian, but his thingy was definitely Black.
“Now that’s racist and stereotypical.” I felt Bane’s hot breath ruffle my hair before I was picked up again and thrown against the pillows at the headboard. Then the sheet and comforter were pulled over my body and tucked around my head. “But I think a better description is long, thick, and hard.”
My panties burst into flames. I swear they did! I’d bet all his blue Monopoly money that I’d just had an orgasm from hearing him describe his dick. Fan-freaking-tastic.
I reached out for him, desperate, horny, and exceedingly drunk now. I couldn’t even form a sentence. “Cock?”
But he pulled back, and a sudden darkness engulfed the bedroom. “Goodnight, mystery girl.”
I burrowed deeper into the bed, a sudden wave of exhaustion hitting me from left field. “Don’t you mean Red-Headed Mutt.” I couldn’t even be sure if those were my words. It all sounded like a garbled mess, half-mumbled into the pillows under my head.
But apparently Bane heard it, because he laughed his head off all the way back to his room.
Chapter Six
B.A.B.
I woke up mortified with a hangover. It sucked big time. But it was still better than the last time I’d woken up, so that was something. I stumbled to the bathroom, shedding my clothes on the way, stubbed my toe on the bedside table, and bumped a hip against the doorjamb. By the time I was in the shower and the water was pouring over me, I was sure that I was going to slip and fall.
I had a somewhat blurry, somewhat crystal-clear memory of what had happened the night before. Thankfully, I’d maintained some part of my virtue if the clothes had been any indication. I could vaguely remember Bane handing me a drink, telling me his vampire powers, feeling something large under my foot, and then darkness.
“Ugh!” My head hurt like crazy and my body felt sluggish. I was feeling the full weight of my size fourteen—alright, sixteen self, and it was awful. There was stuff on my teeth, my hair felt like it was just a large mess of fire ants, and my skin felt gritty. I promised myself for what had to be the hundredth time that I would never drink again. Or at least, nothing except beer and wine, on occasion of course.
My attempts at getting myself ready were half-assed at best, but I didn’t care. I exited my bedroom and saw Bane with a glass of what looked like red wine and a bunch of covered plates in front of him. The man, however, wasn’t dressed like the type of guy who would be sitting in a five-star hotel suite drinking wine at whatever o’clock in the morning it was.
He was in torn and faded black jeans, and an ancient Guns N’ Roses t-shirt. Honestly, the guy didn’t look anything like a vampire. Especially not with his short, black curls, dark skin, and rosy cheeks. He sort of reminded me of a hot rocker.
“I ordered food.” Bane gestured to the covered dishes and smiled. “Wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I had them bring an assortment.”
The bread had fared well in my stomach, so I was pretty sure bacon, eggs, and French toast would also be pretty good. It sort of chafed that I wasn’t a vampire. From what Bane had said about vampires the night before—and what I could remember—it sounded like a pretty cool thing to be.
“Coffee?” Bane asked politely as I pulled out a chair and collapsed into it.
I scrubbed a hand over my face and nodded as vigorously as I could without adding to my headache. “God, yes!”
“Cream and sugar?”
I shook my head and reached for the cup. “Black.”
A distinct memory from the night before hit me and made me almost drop the coffee cup: But you’re Black. Is that racist? Am I a racist? I groaned internally as I remembered the words I’d said last night, and then another memory of Bane’s hot breath on my hair and heated words in my ear. No matter how hard I tried to suppress it, I blushed from the root of my hair straight down to my toes.
Thankfully, Bane didn’t say anything or throw what happened last night back in my face. I cleared my throat and moved on to another topic. “What’s on the agenda today?”
He shrugged and finished off his wine as I uncovered the plates of food and started to dig in. “We have a party tonight.”
“A vampire ball!” I exploded, nearly choking on a bite of waffle. I reached for my coffee and burned my tongue trying to swallow. Bane handed me a glass of water I hadn’t seen, and I chugged it until the waffle passed and I could breathe again.
Then I realized I was actually breathing. Damn! It was just another nail in the “you’re not a vampire” coffin.
“I said party, not ball.”
I bounced up and down in my seat as images from different vamp parties on TV flashed through my mind. “Yeah, but everyone knows that vampire parties are really more like galas and balls.”
He gave me a funny look and I noticed even more red in his eyes than before. It didn’t leave me with a warm, fuzzy feeling to see that red. It wasn’t like he was looking at me like I looked at chocolate right then, but if what he said about his eyes was true, soon he was going to look at me like I was a giant chocolate fountain in a hot dessert.
Bane rose and shook his head ruefully. “I don’t know who this ‘everyone’ is, but I think your perception of my race is skewed.” He came around the table and tilted my chin up, forcing me to swallow the bacon I’d been munching. “We are not as refined as you think. Never forget, habibi, that beneath this facade, I am still a monster.”
I looked into his eyes and knew he wasn’t really trying to scare me, but was just giving me fair warning. I remembered that I’d only known Bane for a little over twenty-four hours: two nights, two mornings, and one day. That was it.
I tossed my head and scootched my chair back. “Better the Devil you know … .”
His smile was one the mean girls at my school used to give me when they wanted to frighten me. It was a smile that said I didn’t know them, we weren’t friends, and if it was in their interest, they would destroy me in a heartbeat. Becky Tural had given me that smile and I’d punched it off her face. I was many things, but a wimp wasn’t one of them. A stupid fool who ran head-first into danger was probably on the list of things I was, but I was also a girl who didn’t put up with people’s crap, and I had a vicious streak to go along with it.
I tried out a smile I hoped looked cold as ice, but knowing me, it probably just made me look like I was constipated. “I know what you are, Bane. You don’t know what I am. And until you figure it out, I’m a wild card, and I could have powers that would put yours to shame. This is a business arrangement. We both want to know what I am, and we can work together up to a point.”
I took a threatening step toward him, begrudging the fact that he was a few inches taller than me. I was usually the tall one, the one looking down on people; the fact that I had to look up sort of lessened the menacing look I was going for. “Don’t ever think to control or threaten me, Bane. You might be a monster, but I’m a mystery.”
Never in my life had I sounded so freaking brilliant! I mean, hell yeah, I was Peaches, m’fer! At the beginning, no one knew what Sookie Stackhouse from Charlaine Harris’s books or Cat Crawfield from Jeaniene Frost’s books were. They’d been unknowns, and they’d turned out to be kick ass heroines with awesome superpowers that no one else had. No doubt about it, I was an unknown, and by definition that made me a B.A.B—Boss Ass Bitch.
A smile curved Bane’s lips, and a hint of pride flickered in those red-brown depths. “Up for some shopping, mystery girl?”
I turned and walked past him into his bedroom. I stuffed my flats back on and moved toward the door. Bane was stil
l standing near the breakfast table, watching me closely. I tossed a sultry look over my shoulder. “Only if you’re paying, vampire.”
He was behind me in a second. Heat hit my back, and his hands were on the door, caging me in. Weren’t vampires supposed to be cold? I tried to remember every time Bane touched me and could only remember heat. A strong heat, scented slightly by male musk and some kind of exotic oil that reminded me of the Middle East, maybe Egypt.
A vision suddenly flashed in my mind. Me, up against the door with Bane between my legs, his jeans loose around his hips. My nails dug into his tight ass, his teeth on my neck as he thrust up into me. The image was so clear that I felt my nails scrape my palm and my panties dampen.
I couldn’t remember if Bane had said vampires had super smell, too, but I was pretty sure even a normal guy would’ve been able to smell the lust coming off of me. I wasn’t a prude, but neither was I a slut, contrary to the night before. I’d had sex with a couple guys, real meat-and-potatoes type stuff, but the heat Bane was throwing off, and the look in those dark eyes, promised decadent chocolate ice cream with gold shavings. Five-star gourmet all the way.
Bane’s voice was a low purr in my ear. “What would I get in return?” His tongue licked the shell of my ear and I shivered all over.
Oh, I was not below exchanging awesome clothes for sex, partly because I knew I was already going to knock boots with Bane and getting something out of it was always a plus. But a part of me—the part that had never before been so vigorously pursued—wanted to wait a little bit longer, draw out the tension. After all, I’d only known the guy for a day and a half. I might be easy, but I wasn’t that easy.
I was amazed at how calm and unaffected by his animal magnetism I sounded. “My gratitude and appreciation.”
Chapter Seven
Men, Servants, and Kings
I loved shopping. It was my favorite pastime next to eating, watching TV, and bathing. Bathing might sound weird, but there was nothing like buying bath salts, slipping into a warm tub, and relaxing after a long day. Still, shopping trumped it only because I was spending Bane’s money. And, oh, did I spend it.
“I don’t understand why you needed all that crap,” Bane growled as he veered in and out of traffic, knuckles white around the steering wheel.
His little sports car was filled to the brim with shopping bags: in the trunk, the back seat, my lap. I can shop with the best of them.
I shrugged. “You said you were buying.”
“Not the whole store.” Bane shot me a dirty look, and I had a mini heart attack when he took his eyes off the road. The guy was still a speed demon, and we were weaving in and out of the nation's capital like we were in a Neal Moritz movie. I worried for a second, then realization dawned: duh, I’m dead.
“I didn’t hurt your finances, did I?” I’d automatically thought he was wealthy. Too many movies, I know, but he’d also never corrected me.
Bane relaxed and smirked. “You didn’t hurt my bank account, don’t worry. Just my sanity, a bit.”
Now that, I could believe. We’d left at eleven in the morning, shopped until five, had dinner, and were now headed back to the hotel to get ready for the party. Bane had snacked on one of the ladies helping me pick out clothes, and then a man who had helped me select jewelry. His eyes didn’t even have a hint of red in them now, and they were slightly darker than brown, almost black.
We’d gone to one of my favorite shops, Torrid. It was a plus-sized store for women who liked a more risqué look. Almost everything was low cut and skintight, great for the type of party Bane told me we’d be going to. I’d been convinced I needed a Vera Wang ball gown, but he’d told me it really wasn’t that type of party. Apparently vampires hid in plain sight, or as close to it as possible.
We were going to a goth party at a club known for its vamp wannabes and emo teens. Black was the color of the night, skintight and low cut the style. Torrid had been perfect, and the store hadn’t failed to deliver.
Stuffed into one of the many bags was a red satin bustier with a black flower trim, a black leather mini skirt, and a pair of three-inch black fuck-me pumps with silver spikes on the back. I paired the outfit with diamond studs, a ruby drop necklace on a silver chain, and a matching ruby and diamond bracelet. I looked hot, slutty, and wealthy, all a plus for me.
“Can you stop thinking about material possessions for one minute?”
I looked at Bane out of the corner of my eye as he drove over the bridge to our hotel. “Not my fault you don’t like what’s in my head. It’s my head.”
He growled, actually growled like a wild animal. “Tonight is important. There are a few things you need to know.”
I waved my hand. “Don’t cut myself, don’t trip, don’t offer anyone my blood, yada, yada, yada.”
“This is important, Peaches.” His tone was serious, and it startled me a little. I sat up straighter and listened. “Vampires are territorial. If a vampire brings anyone other than a vampire to a party, they have to either be their spouse or their servants. There are no exceptions.”
My words were tight. “So, I’m your servant?”
We pulled in front of the hotel and Bane turned to me. “Unless you want to be my wife.”
I was about to respond when my door was opened by the valet and he helped me out. With the help of a bellhop, Bane and I got all of my new stuff—including luggage—to the room. When our suite door closed, I picked up the conversation right where we had left it off.
“No, I can ... tolerate being your servant.” I couldn’t, but if I thought it enough on the way to the party, the lie might suddenly become true. I immediately headed into my room, rifled through the bags, and dumped a few out on the bed. Gift boxes and clothes tumbled out and I found my outfit. I hollered to let Bane know I was hopping in the shower, then rolled my eyes at that. He was a vampire who could read my mind, move with lightning fast speed, and had super hearing. He’d probably known before I did that I needed a shower.
I hopped in, thankful that I’d been able to get color-safe shampoo. My red was already coming out and I could see my roots. It wasn’t a good sign, considering I’d only had the color for two weeks. Still, red washed out fast, and I knew I’d need to get it dyed again. Thank goodness Bane was rich, or marginally rich at least, since my hair cost a fortune.
It was half an hour of scrubbing all the spots I’d missed, or been too tired to get in the morning; then I was out, wrapped in a soft, fluffy bath towel and drying my hair. I wiped the mirror to get a look at my hair. It was looking a lot better, except my roots looked light, and sort of purple-ish. I chalked it up to the shampoo, then moussed and gelled my hair.
I exited the bathroom. Steam flowed out behind me, and for a second I felt like Angelina Jolie in every shower scene she’d ever done. I stopped dead when I saw Bane a few feet in front of me, arms crossed, legs wide, with a scowl on his face. It wasn’t the look or even seeing him in my room; it was his outfit. Gone were the jeans and t-shirt. They had been replaced by leather pants so tight I wondered how Bane’s trouser snake wasn’t suffocating, a black mesh top, kick ass and silver-toed boots.
The man might as well have been naked for all his clothes did for him. I could see his muscles through the top and pants, smooth, sinful, sexy dark skin. I wanted to trace my tongue over all of his muscles, over every bulging vein. I could practically taste him on my tongue.
“Done eye-fucking me?”
I snapped my attention back to his face and clutched my towel closer to me. No way was I about to lie and say I wasn’t; he could read my mind anyway. “You shouldn’t have worn that outfit if you didn’t want to be eye-fucked.” I tried to sound flippant, but it might have come out a touch breathless.
Bane smiled, and his tongue snaked out to wet his lower lip. “Never said I didn’t.”
I tried to remember I was just nearing the forty-eight hour mark, and how that was still not enough time to know someone before screwing their brains out. The only
thing that kept me from dropping my towel and jumping him was the thought of the vampire party. I really wanted to go.
“Do you mind getting out?” I nodded at the door. “I need to change, put on my makeup, and curl my hair.”
The man stomped over to me, picked me up, and carried me to the bed like a sack of flour. Using his vamp speed, he curled my hair, fixed my makeup, and slapped my jewelry on. It was less than five minutes later when he took a step back, eyed his creation, and nodded.
My mouth was open, and I was looking at him through eyelashes heavy with mascara. I probably looked all sultry and heavy-lidded with a "come hither" expression, but I was just trying to see through the damn things. I turned to the open bathroom and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Oh my God, I looked hot, like supermodel-on-the-runway, professional-makeup type hot! My cheeks looked rose petal pink, my lips were fire truck red and glossy, and my hair looked like a wild tumble of curls. I looked like I’d just gotten out of bed after having a sex-a-thon. It was a look I’d always tried to go for, but never exactly succeeded in creating.
So I'm Not a Vampire? (Peaches - A Paranormal Shifter Romance Book 1) Page 4