Love Bites UK (Mammoth Book Of Vampire Romance2)

by Telep, Trisha

  “I will risk whatever I deem necessary in order to aid those I care for. No matter the labels you give it later.”

  Sebastian straightened, still sitting on the bed, until his spine was a strong line and his shoulders a broad wall against the darkness behind him. “You would defy my command?”

  Mary came to a stop directly in front of him, her eyes not much higher than his though he sat. She met his gaze without flinching. “You would have me be less than the woman you’ve helped raise me to be?”

  His eyes narrowed. “No, but I would have you safe.”

  She raised her brows, then her chin, asking the question they needed to have out in the open between them. “Would you have me be a coward?”

  He stared at her in silence, the point of no return a firm line between them. He’d ruled vampires and wolves long enough to know there came a moment when each individual was no longer a child. Her moment had come and he had to accept it.

  She accepted that she was young and there was still much for her to learn. There were levels of maturity she had to earn. Mistakes she had to make. She didn’t want to die. Didn’t want to risk herself in ridiculous acts of recklessness, but like with tonight, she’d had a plan. She’d implemented it with only the help of those she trusted implicitly, and she had succeeded. He was alive and safe. And well worth the risk.

  His hands clenched closed on his thighs, the only sign of any struggle inside of him. “I knew the woman you would be the moment I first gazed into your eyes. And while these last few years have taken for ever in your eyes, in mine, they’ve been the work of but a moment. I’m not ready to set you free.”

  Mary lowered to her knees, settling between his and gently covering his fists with her hands. “I haven’t asked for freedom from you. Only freedom to be me.”

  His eyes flared, the blue an intense beam cutting straight to her marrow. “Are you really so positive you know what that means?”

  “It means I am not an empty puppet or a brainless doll.” Her hands clenched tight over his, her eyes wide and earnest. “I am me. That is what you hold. I am yours.”

  His face lowered over hers, his gaze devouring, his lips a breath away. “You vow this?”

  That quick breath left her lungs. She could barely move with the intensity of the moment. With one hand, she drew her hair over her right shoulder, baring the left side of her neck. He needed to feed. She could sense his hunger. But also, she could sense that he hungered for her, specifically. And her promise would be sealed with her blood. It was the way of the vampire. Blood was life. Blood was sacred.

  Wetting her lips, she spoke softly but firmly. Her words brushed his cheek. “I vow that I am yours. Your human.”

  Sebastian lowered his mouth to her throat, kissing her pulse. Inhaling her scent from her ear lobe to the fragile line of her collarbone, he whispered against her, “I don’t want you to be just my human.”

  Mary swallowed, her heart beating so hard in her chest it rocked her to her foundations. “When the time comes, I vow that I will be your vampire.”

  Sebastian smiled, his lips brushing the top of her breast. His tongue was soft as he traced the cords of her neck up to her ear where he whispered, “Closer. But I still want more.”

  Mary inhaled deeply, her chest rising. Her breasts ached against his chest. She held in the moan, searching for the promise he wanted from her.

  Arousal tightened the muscles of her stomach. Her hands wrapped over his biceps, holding her before him. His skin warmed to her touch, sparking her temperature even higher. Her desire for him was unmistakable. And he wasn’t pushing her away or forcing her to keep a respectable distance. Instead, he opened his mouth and scraped his fangs delicately along the vulnerable line of her throat. Helpless to hold it back, she moaned.

  “I like to hear you think as you reach a decision. Your thought patterns are not the ruthless, linear logic that works for me, but they are logical nonetheless. There are so many of your decisions I would never understand if I didn’t have this advantage.”

  Mary trembled, bare and exposed. There was nothing she could hide from him. No feeling, no plan, no dream. Licking her lips, she gathered her courage and gave him what she hoped he sought. “I vow that I will be your woman.”

  Instantly, he crushed her against his chest, his arms steel bands around her and his face buried in her neck. His voice, when it came, was ragged. “Thank you.”

  Mary nodded, her mouth open to respond when his fangs broke her skin for the first time. Her eyes sprang wide and her back arched against him as twin spears of pain punctured her neck and her blood rushed into him. Her right hand grabbed at his shoulders, holding him tight as if his own grasp had lightened. With her left, she drove her fingers into his hair, pressing his head against her, as she finally understood what had previously been only hinted at in her thoughts.

  She was needed in the most primal, elemental way. He needed what only she could provide and what she willingly gave, nurturing him with the comfort of her arms and the life from her body. It was a cycle of bonding she’d never imagined could be this intense. This necessary.

  Then it was even more as Sebastian tightened his hold on her and lifted her, his lips never breaking their seal against her neck where he licked and suckled slowly and gently, savouring her taste like the most delicate of fine wines. Her knees met the mattress with her straddling him. Mary moaned. The cycle wasn’t complete. Not yet.

  Sebastian brought his hot hands to the top of each of her thighs and slid up, his fingers delving beneath the legs of her shorts and going up her hips. In one burst of strength he tore through the seams of both her shorts and underwear, peeling the shreds of cloth from her wet skin. When he had her finally bare, his fingers delved and stroked in the swollen flesh he’d revealed.

  Mary cried out, a high, desperate sound. She’d waited so long for this moment and already it was beyond the capabilities of her imagination.

  Sebastian lay back, Mary lying over him as he arched his hips enough to slide his sweats down to his thighs. He curled forwards, the hard core of his abs holding him as one arm circled her waist, lifting her with the strength of his biceps and forearm. Mary poised to give him the rest of her body. Another first.

  Sebastian shuddered, moaning against her neck. “Yes.”

  Dragging out each second of an experience that could never be repeated, Mary took him inside her. A sharp pain gave way to tense muscles pulled taut. The cycle was complete.

  Sebastian licked his marks closed, sealing her blood inside her veins. Mary took her time, staring into his eyes and revelling in the intensity of his focus.

  Mary collapsed into his arms, her ear pressed to the now racing sound of his heart. When Sebastian slept, his heart was near silent. When he was hungry, it was barely a sluggish demand. But, for now, it beat for her.

  Sebastian’s fingers tangled in her hair, brushing the newly damp strands from her nape. “I may have taken too much blood, though I drank slow.”

  Mary smiled. “I’m not worried. I’m taking a medication that increases my production of red blood cells. I knew you would need to feed often this first week, and I didn’t want to risk having you appear to anyone at less than full strength. I’ll be fine.”

  “I won’t endanger you.”

  She kissed his chest and nuzzled up to his neck. “With the medicine, it would be more dangerous to my heart if I didn’t lose some blood. But don’t worry. I studied the limits carefully. One week won’t hurt me.”

  He chuckled and traced her cheek with one finger, his blue eyes clear and inviting. “You have a plan for everything, don’t you? Even to become the Murder King’s woman.”

  Mary bit her lip and shook her head. “I’ve only wanted to be Sebastian’s woman. I have no designs on your title. It just comes with the total package.”

  He eased her up, then set her back against the pillows, coming to rest alongside her. “I know. That’s why you have me. All of me. Heaven help you.”

&nb
sp; She laughed. “I think it’s you who needs the help. Or, at least, you will. David isn’t done with you.”

  And with that, her laughter faded.

  Sebastian tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Don’t you worry about him. He’s mine to take care of.”

  “While I do what? Go back to college and play a young twenty-something with no worries?” Mary grimaced and shook her head. “I can’t do that.”

  Sebastian disagreed. “That’s exactly what you do. You have a plan, remember?”

  Mary shook her head. “One that’s pointless if something happens to you.”

  He pulled her close for a kiss, dragging out the contact with her bottom lip for one for ever moment. “You saved me. Now I will do my job and you will do yours. Or, specifically, in a week when our time here is up.”

  One week. They would have one week, then maybe in a few years a future. Or maybe not. She bit her lip, staring into his eyes. Just as he had to accept her as the woman she was, she had to accept him as both the incredibly sexy Sebastian and as the indomitable Murder King. Always at risk. Always in danger. Except for this one brief week.

  Mary pressed her bare body against his, her voice hoarse but determined. “Then we’d better make it count.”

  Butterfly Kiss

  Carole Nelson Douglas

  The name is Louie, Midnight Louie. I like my nightlife shaken, not stirred.

  A veteran PI can never know his home turf’s dark side well enough, and I have padded the neon-lit Strip of Las Vegas and its byways and back-ways for a long time.

  Vegas has always been known as Sin City, but the “Sin” part has gotten a lot deadlier since the Millennium Revelation at the turn of the twenty-first century revealed some of the bloodsuckers in Vegas were actually supernatural – vampires, and werewolves and zombies, oh my.

  I admit that I am not au courante, so to speak, with all the varieties of crime and punishment on the paranormal side of the street, so I have made it my business tonight to find that nomadic subterranean pit of the dark side of sin called the Sinkhole.

  I am not impressed. Sure, the full moon is putting on a show topside, so I must dodge werewolves in the street, but I find they are mostly living La Vida Loco after their nightly blood-thirsty runs and now are only running up bills in gin joints and casinos.

  Midnight Louie is light on his feet and used to keeping a low profile – a very low profile – abetted by the fact that I am short, dark and handsome. My thick black pelt blends into the night, except for my baby greens, which can emit a demonic glow when the few street lights hit them.

  My kind has had a bad rep since witches were burned at the stake. I find that useful in my work. In fact, a tourist couple happens to notice me and runs the other way, shrieking that I must not cross their paths.

  Fine with me, folks. Your footwear bears an odour of bunions. Or is that “onions” from a zombie burger joint?

  All around me echo the same sounds of merriment and debauchery you get in mainstream Vegas, interspersed with occasional screams, growls and moans.

  Then I catch an aroma that perks my wing flaps and tingles my tail section.

  Something feline and feminine this way comes, and it is not the shape-shifted leopard devouring a Happy Meal at the MacDungeon’s across the street.

  The faintest brush against my shiny satin lapels reveals a pale feathery plume tickling the hair of my chinny-chin-chin.

  Wow. This first-class dame is draped in luxuriant furs, cream with crimson tips, the breed colour called a flame-point. If the Sinkhole is the path to hell and this hot little number is on it, I am homeward bound!

  “My name is Vesper,” she breaths in my perked ear. “I have not seen you in these parts before, Big Boy.”

  Actually, I am. Big that is, and surely a boy. Perhaps some self-description is appropriate now that the action has turned romantic. First, I am twenty pounds of solid muscle. Check. Hairy chest, check. Concealed weapons? Check. Sixteen shivs ready to slash from my mitts and feet in a street rumble.

  Best of all, I have – as they used to advertise sports cars – four on the floor and come fully equipped from the factory.

  All this means I am ready, willing and able to take on any Sinkhole-dwelling humans or unhumans, and also, of course, any lone ladies requiring defensive and/or intimate manoeuvres.

  While I am planning the evening’s escapades, the lithesome Vesper has diverted down a dim alley, only her flame-tipped train beckoning from around the corner. I hasten to follow her.

  Now, any simpleton knows this is probably a trap. So do I. Not that I am a simpleton, although I am a simple fellow at heart. No, I figure I will find out what the lady really wants, and if it is a patsy, we will have a discussion. Either way, I intend to get to know her a lot better.

  So I edge into the alley, my laser-sharp night vision kicking into full power.

  Yup. Another flash of tail deep in the darkness. Classic. I slink along the dumpsters, ignoring the octopus tentacles writhing over the edges. This is no time for sushi.

  Even the noise of the main drag has faded. I am invading No Man’s Land. Luckily, I am no man. I have almost caught up with the elusive Vesper when I stumble across the expected trap.

  It forms an unseen barrier, less than two feet high and six feet long. I peer over it only to see Vesper’s eyes gleaming red in the reflected light of the street.

  Hmm, I think to myself. We commune over a dead body. Whose? How? Why? I have my work cut out for me, I see.

  Vesper hisses, baring long front fangs (so misnamed as “canine”) also gleaming red in the night light. True, neon is common in Vegas, and below it. However, this looks like the sheen of blood. Could Vesper have killed this man?

  Gorgeous as she is, she is a domestic cat. I have almost killed humans in the pursuit of my cases, but I am remarkably strong and clever. I cannot believe this bit of fluff is homicidal.

  Then I reconsider. Never underestimate the female of the species, any species.

  I sniff along the victim’s upper torso and encounter a scent of . . . nothing.

  The man is not only dead, he is not . . . um . . . how shall I put it delicately? He is not rotting.

  Now that is a truly revolting turn of events! I do scent the odd combination of earthy odours. Either this gent wore an unusual cologne or . . . aha! My luxuriant whiskers follow the shape of a large, curved claw impaled near his heart.

  Dainty Vesper certainly could not have wielded this large a lance.

  By now someone has stumbled out of a nearby dive, leaving the rear door ajar enough to cast pale light on our tableau of three.

  The deceased is indeed a young man. His dark hair contrasts a dead-white skin. He would be handsome if he had green eyes like mine, but his eyelids are closed. Vesper is rubbing back and forth on his black attire, shedding white hairs in her distress.

  I realize that she has led me here. This man must have been her . . . companion. I dislike the word “owner” used in relation to my kind. I have been street smart and fancy free since I was a kit. True, I have a human female room-mate, Miss Temple Barr, a public relations expert and sometime crime-solver – with my immense help, that is – but it is a voluntary arrangement on both our parts.

  Vesper releases a sad mew and tries to make like an ascot around the poor guy’s neck. I understand the bond between human and animal, but this is over the top.

  “You must remove her,” a low, rasping voice says.

  Easier said than done, I think as I whip around to see what human has arrived on the scene.

  I can communicate in various ways with various members of the animal kingdom, but I do not speak to humans. This is not because I could not if I so wished, but, really, some of my kin have suffered much at their disloyal hands. I am not about to honour even the best of them with my voice.

  As for the voice I heard, we three are still alone. No one has discovered us.

  I stare at Vesper while she whines and buries her face in
the dead guy’s neck and runs her dainty muzzle along his jawline. You would think she was a Silver Screen drama queen. I am not the sentimental sort, but realize that this distraught lady must not disturb the evidence on the body.

  “Vesper, no!” the faint voice says. “I will not. Never. Anyway, it is not enough now, and this strapping fellow you have lured here is not sufficient, either.”

  Midnight Louie not sufficient? For anything? I beg your pardon. I am the primo PI in this town and have been since before God made millenniums and the devil made brimstone. Well, so to speak.

  “Go, you,” the voice commands me and follows up with a demeaning order, as if I were not Midnight Louie, PI. “Scat! And consider your hide well saved. Vesper means well but this is beyond the abilities of cats.”

  I drop my jaw. And speak. I am not violating my vow to address no human being. This man is unhuman.

  “You are still alive,” I tell my handsome corpse. “For a vampire.”

  He coughs slightly. “Good. You hear my thoughts. My dying thoughts. My poor Vesper is offering her slender artery for my survival, but it is not enough. You must drive her away.”

  “Someone has staked you so you cannot move,” I diagnose, on the right trail at last, now that I know the nature of the victim. The claw must be polished wood.

  It is not every day – or night, I should say – that an investigator can interview the corpse, who is also a corpse-to-be even more.

  “A long distance blow,” he answers. “I staggered here to escape more poison wooden darts just before the curse pinned me here like a bug.”

  Vesper lifts her lovely throat and howls. “You good-for-nothing,” she accuses me. “You have neither blood nor brains to offer! Do something.”

  “I am a professional,” I tell her. “Your fit of pique is not called for. And I am not about to trick some innocent tourist down this alley – although I could – so he or she can be drained to death.”

  The vampire’s form stirs. “No, no. Not to death. I am a daylight vampire, the new breed designed to mingle safely with humans. I feed on a . . . circle of willing volunteers, a mere cocktail with each, one at a time. Only now, I have been immobilized and starved. I need more than a serial filling day by day. I need a full body’s blood. Keep anything human away. My will to survive could make me drain a person to death and make them a vampire . . . one without my scruples.”