by Mary Hughes
Joyfully Recommended! “Ms. Hughes made me laugh, made me blush, and swept me away for hours upon hours of enjoyment with this fabulous tale.” Joyfully Reviewed on Bite My Fire
Blackraven's Reviews Recommended Read! "The small town antics, fast-paced action, quick wit, sarcastic humor, and explosive sexual chemistry would make an awesome television series." ~AJ for Blackraven's Reviews on Beauty Bites
Twolips Reviews Recommended Read! "If you’ve never read anything by Mary Hughes, I would advise you to run (not walk) and grab a copy of Biting Oz. Yes, it’s the fifth book in her Biting Love series, but the way the author gives you just enough backstory on characters from her previous installments makes it worth your while to read this story out of series order. She’s created a multi-layered family centric fictional town in Illinois where everyone is related and lederhosen is a fashion staple not a faux pas… Biting Oz is a wonderfully funny and sexy novel by an equally passionate author and it’s on my “TBRA” (To Be Read Again) list for sure! " ~ Leanna for Twolips Reviews on Biting Oz
Biting Holiday Honeymoons
That special night with their master vampire is interrupted by Dracula and Santa Vamp. Warning: explicit language, action, and, since one bride is a cop and the other a punk rock musician, swearing.
Biting Halloween—Elena and Bo’s honeymoon in the Dells is derailed when they get run off the road by a vampire. They chase him, only to find out Dracula—the real Dracula—is on the loose. Introduces Glynn Rhys-Jenkins from Biting Oz.
Biting Christmas—Nixie and Julian slide into a hot-tub honeymoon, but things turn nasty when Santa Vamp shows up.
Smashwords Edition License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for your support and respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Biting Christmas/Biting Halloween
Biting Holiday Honeymoons
Copyright © 2013 by Mary Hughes
ISBN: 978-0-9855177-7-9
Cover by Tibbs Design
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Biting Halloween originally published as Biting Dracula
Copyright © 2009, 2013 by Mary Hughes
Biting Christmas originally published as A Biting Christmas Special
Copyright © 2008, 2013 by Mary Hughes
Biting Holiday Honeymoons
Mary Hughes
Dedication
To my husband Gregg, for laughing at my jokes.
Biting Halloween
This story takes place between Bite My Fire and Biting Nixie.
It all started with a handjob gone horribly wrong.
Talk about unsafe sex. If I ever caught my sister doing what I did, I’d slap on the cuffs first and ask questions later.
No, not the furry kind of handcuffs. Real handcuffs. Geez, what kind of gal do you think I am?
See, I’m a cop. My Irish dad’s passion for justice, my Latina model mom’s figure and my own corkscrew-crazy hair combine to make me, Elena O’Rourke—no, actually it’s Elena O’Rourke Strongwell as of today, October 31.
That was part of the problem. Big Viking hubby had been out of town for three weeks, and I missed him, bad.
Bo and I were driving from our home in Meiers Corners, Illinois to the Wisconsin Dells, our honeymoon destination. Since he was a master vampire, we were in the shielded Maybach sedan (which he insisted on calling a saloon). Apparently he thought we were shielded from more than the sun, which was just setting, because he started nibbling down my neck.
Heat curled in me. My fingers tightened on the wheel. “Hey, buster. No annoying the driver.”
“Is this annoying, Detective?” His hand joined in, lifting my T-shirt to expose my violet lace bra, then rubbing my nipple through it into a tight pearl. I felt every stroke like hot butter on naked skin. Shoot me with a Glock, that’s what I got for letting a guy buy my underwear—Bo didn’t see the need for padding in a bra.
“Okay, not annoying. But distracting. I’m trying to drive—yikes.”
His mouth swooped onto the nub of my breast, nipped and licked. “Do you want me to stop?”
“Hell no.” I kept my eyes glued to the road, fighting the urge to clamp them shut and moan. “Since you were away for weeks training with the most sadistic vampire in the country, I’m starving for this.”
“Shape shifting takes time to learn. And the Ancient One is an excellent trainer, not sadistic at all. Well, maybe a little.”
“I meant the way he kept you in Iowa until just before the wedding. Have I mentioned I haven’t gotten any for almost a month?”
He kissed my breasts. “Poor baby.” A laughing purr ruffled his voice. “Shall I get right to it then?”
I suppressed another groan. “I thought you’d never ask.” I lifted my hips and he slid jeans and thong down my thighs. I spread my legs as far as the jeans let me, all of about three inches.
Romance, great. Loving, fantastic. But come on. It’d been three weeks and I was horny.
In that almost omniscient way of his, Bo must have sensed exactly how horny because without any prep at all he thrust one finger into me.
“Uhhh.” I gasped at the intense pleasure radiating from his ultrahot finger, pleasure so sharp it was almost pain. My hands clamped on the wheel. We were going around Madison on Highway 92, stuck behind a camper. I wriggled on Bo’s thick finger, wishing for long open roads and a cloudless blue sky. Better yet a bed, but that was still almost an hour away.
He began to suckle my nipple. His fangs unsheathed, sleek and long against my breast. His thumb slid down the nose of my clit, caressed. I pumped my hips against him, speedometer creeping up until I nearly rammed the camper’s ass. Adrenaline hit me, the kind that says you’re about to die, you moron, and I yanked my right foot up. We faded back.
“Maybe this isn’t such a hot idea. Bo—”
He hadn’t heard me. His fangs sank into my breast. Needles of hot sex zapped me. My body convulsed.
My foot hit the gas.
We passed that camper doing ninety miles an hour. I checked for oncoming traffic before I pulled out, but if the road hadn’t been clear I’d have been up the camper’s tailpipe halfway to the roof. Bo’s orgasmic fangs, his rubbing thumb and rhythmically thrusting finger smacked me into overdrive. The fact that I was starving for it helped. Thank you, Mr. Scary Ancient.
Then we were on that open road and I managed to back off to seventy. Bo pulled fangs out to lick the fiery trickles of blood, purring the deep thrum of a jungle cat. “Fuck, Elena. You taste even better than before.”
“Less talking.” I torqued my hips up as far as the jeans would allow. “More action.”
He growled and thrust a second finger into me. I yowled, jerking the steering wheel. We hit the wake-up strip, the brrrr-it brrrr-it juddering through me like shockwaves. Rigid self-control brought the Maybach back onto smooth pavement—that and me biting my tongue. Bo started to thrust in rhythm.
I panted, striving to control the trembling in my arms
and legs. The Maybach’s power steering responded to every quiver. We hit the rumble strip twice more and crept up to eighty while Bo mercilessly drove me toward a hard climax.
Then he punched a seat adjustment preset, turned on the massage function, and as the vibrating seat trundled back and my arms stretched over him, he leaned down and opened his scorching mouth on my pussy.
His tongue washed my clit like a hot tub jet. I screamed. The car went eeee-erk eeee-erk as my foot convulsed on the accelerator. If I were a traffic cop I’d have thought me drunk and arrested me. As it was I pumped my hips so forcefully against Bo that even Mr. Immovable Object wavered.
He responded by anchoring my hips with one hand and licking me twice as hard. “I love your taste.”
I mewled. My eyes were slits, open by willpower alone. This was insane, this was nuts, but I wasn’t stopping. Not a conscious choice—I was coming. And I was coming now.
“Mmm. I feel the ripples starting.” Bo raised his head. His blue eyes were clouded with lust, his mouth open to accommodate long, sleek fangs. “Here it comes, love.” His fangs sank into my pubic mound and his fingers thrust so deep I stood straight up in my seat.
The seatbelt caught me, held me. I strained against it as my pleasure crested, snapping my eyes open and cramping every muscle in my body. I exploded with a hissed scream, sailing over a great chasm of a climax, broad and wide and sweet as a river canyon. Bo bit down again and—
A man streaked across the road in front of me. I pulled off the accelerator. A second form tore after the first, coming out of left field an instant before I jammed on the brakes. I saw him smack the hood of the Maybach, caught an impression of black jacket, jet hair, sapphire-blue eyes and a hewn face that would make Christian Bale weep. I had time to think My God, I hit a— before I saw his hand punch off the hood, translating the car’s velocity into a hard thrust after the first form. And then he was gone, disappearing into the brush and gathering darkness.
The Maybach swerved, as if the man were so strong he’d shoved us off course. I corrected but forgot about the power steering. We veered right, bounced over the shoulder and into a stand of trees, and hit a pine with a sick crunch. I hate that sound.
Windshield appeared an inch from my nose. Then I snapped back against the headrest. Damn vampires, taking out the airbags.
Utter silence followed.
I sat in the front seat, my breath rasping in my ears in the sudden quiet. My cop brain was sorting facts, taking stock. The rest of me was doing well enough remembering to breathe.
“That was fun.” Bo sat up beside me, looking around with interest. A trickle of blood ran from his forehead, but the skin sealed before my eyes. Vampires healed fast. “That must have been some orgasm.”
“The crash wasn’t because…didn’t you see them? Two guys ran in front of us. One hit the hood.”
“My head was buried between your legs,” he said, all reasonable. He popped my seat belt release. “Which way did he bounce? I’ll do CPR.”
“No need. He pushed off. That’s what made us swerve.”
Bo’s blue eyes sharpened. “Vampire?”
I hadn’t processed it at the time, but that made sense. “Hunting a human?”
“We’d better find out.”
I pulled up my pants and we extracted ourselves from the wreck. I made sure my limbs worked and checked my knife in its leg sheath. “I wish I’d packed my gun. Who said I wouldn’t need it? Oh, yeah, that’d be you.”
Bo smiled. He had a killer dimple that shut me up. We started off. One of us should have stayed with the car, but rogue vampires are tricky and dangerous. Only a few humans know how to hurt them. I’m one.
The brush lining the road was unbroken. We worked our way back, finally found the snapped branches that meant intruder. “Yeah, a gun would be nice about now. Wish you hadn’t tossed it to make room for more slinky underwear. Should have thought ahead.” I pushed, irritated, at the restrictive foliage. “Speaking of thinking ahead—if we’re trailing a vampire, we’ll never catch him before he nails the human. Maybe you should go on without me. I’ll catch up.”
“Too dark. You’d never find me. Carry you?”
“You’ll need your hands.”
“Piggyback, then.” Bo presented his broad back and I climbed on.
He set off at a lope, muscles working easily under me, his strength rolling between my thighs. Three weeks’ need exploded in my crotch. I gripped tight, tilted my hips and enjoyed the ride. Hey, live in the moment, right?
We hit farmland, fields of grass and corn still on the stalk. Bo slowed, staring at the gentle hills. “Damn. Now I remember what’s familiar about this place. Dracula.”
“You mean Vlad?” I thought of the little man I’d met in August, with his plastic cape and fake-looking fangs. “Vlad’s in Meiers Corners.”
“Not Vlad. The real Dracula.”
“Oh, right. Because this is Madison, Transylvania.”
“Dracula hasn’t been in Transylvania for five hundred years, because—”
A rustle and a flash of black interrupted him, the vampire zig-zagging fast. Bo burst after. I hunkered down, wind hitting my face until my eyes watered.
“Hang on,” Bo shouted, like I wasn’t already wrapping him like cellophane. Then he launched himself into the air and my stomach dropped out my toes, and I tried to fuse myself to his skin.
Bo hit the black jacket like a torpedo. The guy folded in two, fell back and down. Bo and I fell with him. We all hit dirt together.
The guy, maddeningly, continued to roll. Like a super ball he rolled up, out of the tackle, and took off running.
“Damn it.” Bo sprang to a crouch, then pushed off, panther-quick. My hair whipped around my face so hard I couldn’t see. The guy was in trouble now. Now Bo was serious.
We hit him again. This time Bo’s claws were grappling hooks, digging under the black leather, hooking on ribs.
I expected the guy to howl. To wrench away in panic.
Instead he grabbed Bo’s wrists and curled forward. With a twist, he flipped Bo and me over his hip and off.
Faced with getting his wrists broken or letting go of the guy’s ribs, Bo let go. We hit the ground—or actually Bo crash landed on hands and knees. He skidded through the dirt in the awkward position, scraping off layers of skin and meat because he couldn’t roll without hurting me. So I jumped off.
Five nine of me jumping off six four of him normally would be no big deal. But add in super vampire speed and things got a little more complicated.
My momentum slammed me into the dirt and sent me sliding a good ten feet. It stunned me.
I hadn’t even gotten my breath back when an arm wrapped around my throat and jerked me up. The arm wore black leather.
In front of me Bo leaped to his feet, muscles pumped, arms spread like a Western duel, shoulders about ten feet across. “Let go of my wife or you’re dead.”
“Your wife?” The deep voice behind me was touched with a lilting accent I didn’t recognize. “You’re Strongwell?”
Bo’s eyes narrowed. “Do I know you?”
“You don’t. But perhaps you’ve heard of me. Glynn Rhys-Jenkins. I work for the Ancient One.”
“Funny. I didn’t see you there, this past three weeks.”
“I’m more of a utility infielder, doing odd jobs. A bit of a consultant.”
Bo grunted. “That sounds like the Ancient One.”
Glynn spoke into my ear. “If I let you go, lovely human, will you promise not to shoot me?”
“Hell, no.”
“Ah, well that clinches it then, doesn’t it? Who else but Elena Strongwell would threaten a vampire? Your reputation precedes you.” He gave me a little shove.
I stumbled into my hubby’s arms. If I’d had my gun I’d have shot him. Glynn, that is. Maybe the hubby too, it being his fault I didn’t have said gun. Unpacking it to stuff in a few more crotchless undies and naughty nighties—right. Where were his priorities?
<
br /> Glynn stood with fists on narrow hips, one foot slightly ahead, weight balanced in that dangerous ease of a man who could handle himself. “Perhaps you’d both like to join me in the hunt then. I’m trying to catch Dracula before he starts slaughtering humans.”
“Dracula’s awake?” Bo’s voice was tight. Not much worries my master vampire, so I knew this was serious.
“I’m afraid he is. Though he’s not fully functional yet. We can still track him down and corral him. But that won’t last long. So if you’re ready?” He looked from Bo to me, sapphire eyes so dark they were almost purple.
Bo tossed me onto his back and we took off.
Glynn and Bo ran side by side at an easy lope, maybe thirty miles per hour. Well, an easy lope for vampires.
Bo said, “How did this happen? He wasn’t due to rise for another ten years.”
“Years?” My voice wavered as I bounced on his back. “Don’t vampires rise every night?”
“They don’t if you cut off their head and dig out their heart.”
“Okay, but if he’s the Dracula, evil incarnate, why haven’t you guys just completely destroyed him?”
Glynn answered me. “He cannot be destroyed.” Like Morgan Freeman, Glynn’s musical baritone made hearing horrible news almost pleasurable. “He’s the only such that we know of, though we don’t know what makes him so. The best we can do is cut off his head and remove his heart because they take a while to grow back, and humanity is safe for another century or so.”
“I thought vamp heads couldn’t grow back. Something about the mind still being human.”
“Not Dracula,” Bo said. “We think his brain is no longer even part human. He’s pure vampire.”