“Don’t!” He drew away sharply. “Don’t do that.”
Lips trembling, Vanora tried to rein in her psychic feelers, but it was difficult. A myriad of emotions crashed down on her, wiping away all sensation but the agony erupting in her mind. The cacophony of thoughts from the people in the bar made it almost impossible to even think. Gasping, she pressed a hand to her head, her drink spilling to the floor. Hardly able to breathe, she was barely aware of Armando taking hold of her and directing her through the crowd to the front doors. Stumbling into the humid night air, she gasped in pain.
“Imagine a wall around your thoughts,” Armando urged. “Shut out everything around you.”
“Hurts,” she wailed.
“A wall, Vanora. Imagine it in your mind. Make it real.”
Dimly, she was aware of being pressed against his body, his fingers stroking the back of her neck. The world was a blur of darkness with vibrant flashes of light.
“A wall, Vanora.”
Closing her eyes, Vanora instead imagined the bottom of her pool, dark and cold, distant from the rest of the world. Gradually, the overwhelming tumult of emotions dissipated into the waves. Soon, all that was left were her own thoughts.
“I’m okay now. I’m okay.”
Armando’s hands shook slightly as he guided her into the building and into a narrow hall that lead to the restrooms. She stumbled a few times. He appeared to realize she was temporarily blind and steered her to a bench.
“You need to learn better control,” he chided her as she sat down.
“Shut up.” She winced, her hand pressed to her forehead.
“I’ll take you home,” Armando decided.
“I need to tell Rhonda.”
“Text her.”
“I can’t see.”
“I’ll go tell her. Stay here.”
Vanora stared at the world full of shadows and blobs. “Trust me. I will.”
A few minutes later he returned, claimed her hand, and once again guided her outside. This time he brought her to his car, tucked her inside, and belted her in. Vanora felt more embarrassed than anything else. She hadn’t meant to tap into her abilities and now felt foolish. Resting her head back against the coolness of the window, she closed her eyes.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that,” she whispered.
“It’s all right,” Armando answered.
“Nothing is all right. It’s all wrong.”
“Don’t say that.”
Fighting the urge to cry, Vanora pressed her fingers to her eyes. “Everything is so confusing.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes, of course.” Armando’s accent was thicker.
Again, the sensation of being caught in a mini-storm of emotion swept over her. It was difficult to breathe, but she forced herself to. They both lapsed into silence, which was a sweet relief. It helped her gain control of herself and by the time they reached the mansion, most of her vision had returned.
Not waiting for Armando to open the car door, she sprang out, her fingers popping open her small purse to fish out her keys. She heard Armando following, his shoes crunching on the driveway. Moving faster than she thought possible, she unlocked the door, shoved it open, escaped inside, and slammed the door shut.
Turning around, she gasped. Armando was standing behind her, the light from the foyer chandelier illuminating his handsome face. He had never looked more like a vampire than he did at that moment.
“Armando,” she started.
In the next second, she was forced against the wall of the foyer. Armando loomed over her, his forehead pressed to hers, his hands resting on her shoulders.
“You make me hungry,” he whispered.
Gazing up at him, she could see his eyes glowing subtly red through his thick lashes.
“You make me weak,” he continued. “I lose my resolve when I look at you.”
Vanora’s purse fell to the ground with a soft thud. She lifted shaking hands to his face. Tilting his head, he pressed his lips against her palm: they were cool and so soft. Feeling the tumult within him, she desired to comfort him.
Pressing his cheek against her hand, he looked into her eyes. “I shouldn’t be near you, you know. I shouldn’t be. You make it so hard.”
“I’m sorry,” Vanora said, wincing.
“No, never, ever say that. Never be sorry for who you are.”
“Your teeth,” Vanora whispered, mesmerized by her first glimpse of vampire fangs. They were wickedly sharp behind the fullness of his lips, though not nearly as long as she thought they’d be.
Armando lowered his face, burying it in her gradually unraveling hair. She could feel his mouth on her neck, his lips lightly pressing against her skin. “You should be afraid.”
“I’m not,” Vanora said, realizing it was true. “You don’t want to bite me.”
“I want to do this,” Armando said, then kissed her.
Vanora was overwhelmed with the fervent caress of his lips and tongue. It was if he was devouring her, consumed with the need for her. He was so cold, yet she was aflame. His cool hands slid under her dress and she flattened herself against the line of his body. Shuddering, Armando entangled his tongue with hers before slowly drawing away.
Vanora clung to him, her lips touching his. “Don’t do this again,” she uttered.
Armando brushed his mouth over hers. “It’s not right. We both know it.”
“I don’t know anything,” Vanora confessed, tears glimmering in her eyes and a catch in her voice. “You have me so twisted up inside.”
“That makes two of us,” Armando said, his laugh bitter, but his following kiss sweetly passionate.
Vanora didn’t know what she wanted other than to feel his hands stroking the backs of her thighs and his tongue and lips against hers. Drowning in the sensations of him, she tangled her fingers in his hair, afraid to touch him anywhere else. The throb between her legs was unbearable. When his hand slid around to caress her intimately, she was the one to pull away.
“I’m sorry,” he said huskily, stepping back.
Hands pressed to her bosom, she could feel her heart thumping beneath her fingers. “I...haven’t done that.”
A small smile played on Armando’s lips. “Of course.”
“I…uh…” Vanora struggled to contain the crazed passions coursing through her. “I just…You said that we shouldn’t be together, but this happened again. And if you say it again after we…did that, I couldn’t bear it.”
“Vanora,” Armando said in such a way that her knees almost gave out. Tenderly drawing her into his arms, he rested his lips against the spot where her neck met her shoulder. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“But you’re not for me and I’m not for you,” Vanora whispered into the softness of his hair.
Armando gently kissed her lips, then drew away. “I should go. I have a deadline for a new book. I’m behind.”
“You’re going to stay away, aren’t you?” Vanora’s voice caught in her throat and her head throbbed. Feeling weak, she leaned heavily against the wall.
“I think we both need to think,” Armando said after a long moment of hesitation. “To get our wits about us.”
“Do you want me?” Vanora dared to ask.
“Oh, God, yes.” Armando ran his fingers through his hair, the curls clinging to them. “And it’s all so wrong. Your age, my age, Roman, Alisha, my nature, your mortality, my-” He stopped himself.
“Your what?” Vanora was starting to regret not giving in to him. Maybe she shouldn’t have pushed him away. If she had sex with him, maybe he’d stay with her. Immediately she realized that was foolish to even consider, but the thought of him leaving hurt too much.
“My deadline,” he said at last.
Vanora nervously tugged her skirt down and adjusted the straps of her dress. “I see.”
“I’ll be back for the Halloween Ball. That will give us both time to think.”
; “Armando….please.” Her voice cracked and a tear fell.
Immediately, he came into her arms. How could a kiss be so sweet, yet so full of hunger? She clung to him this time, reluctant to let him go, but he was resolved in his decision to leave.
“Halloween, okay? We’ll talk then.”
What other choice did she have? Vanora nodded.
“Nothing about this is easy.” Armando stroked her cheek, then kissed her forehead.
As the door clicked behind him, Vanora sniffled and wiped her eyes.
“Then how can you go?” she asked the empty foyer.
* * *
Armando stared at the screen of his computer but truly didn’t see the words sprawling across the white expanse. Hands clasped and pressed to his lips, he tried to drag his thoughts away from Vanora. He was making some serious mistakes in his handling of her, yet he was unsure how to rectify the situation. The warmth of her body still clung to him, eliciting the need for blood and sex. He had lied to her when he said he didn’t want to bite her. She had no idea how close he’d come to sinking his teeth into her soft neck.
The cellphone rang beside him, and he quickly picked it up.
“What are you planning?” An airy voice with a slight lilt made him shiver.
“Lorelei,” he said with distaste.
Her mocking laughter filled his ear. “Have you missed me?”
“Why is he having you call me?”
“Because he’s busy…with things. You left a message saying you have something to tell him?”
Armando could vividly see Lorelei’s mocking little smile in his mind’s eye. He detested her. “Yes. There’s been a development. I may have figured out a way to keep Vanora in Houston.”
“Oh?”
“She has a crush on me. I can use it to keep her close.” Armando rubbed his brow slowly. He was certain that his Master would not be too keen on his plan.
Lorelei burst into chortles of delight. “Oh, that is wonderful. Our Master will be simply thrilled.”
“She’s young. It takes very little to keep her intrigued,” Armando said defensively. “I won’t sleep with her.”
“Just have sex?”
“Lorelei,” Armando hissed.
“Oh, you’re so defensive. Tsk, tsk. I’ll let him know when he’s done…doing…things.”
Armando hung up. Lorelei would twist things about to suit herself and to cause him trouble, but Armando was ready to defend himself. Lorelei was a vicious psychopath, but over time he had learned how to deal with her.
With a weary sigh, he sat back in his chair, staring at his manuscript with unseeing eyes. If only he could go home to Spain and leave all this behind. Yet, that wasn’t an option. He had to stay. He had to wait. Otherwise, his life was forfeit.
With an angry exhalation, he turned off his computer and picked up the phone to call Carlotta.
39
September 2007
Vanora was startled when Sheila threw the newspaper she was holding down in disgust, her many bangle bracelets tinkling. “Did you read this article, Alisha? Some asshole is molesting children in Houston. Says in the paper that the police can’t find him because he dresses up like a clown, so there’s no definitive description of the man.”
The three women were in Alisha’s workroom, helping Alisha organize her work area. Sheila had been stacking the newspapers Alisha used to protect the floor when she’d spotted the article.
“Clown equals ick. Clown pedophile equals double ick,” Vanora declared in a disgusted tone. She was busy sorting out her sister’s paint brushes by size. It was boring, but she was desperate to keep her mind occupied with something other than Armando’s absence. Sometimes, she was certain Armando would return to claim her heart, and other times, she was positive he would crush it.
Alisha lifted her head, pausing in organizing her paints. “Are you serious? He’s back? That guy was around when Vanora was ten. There was a huge manhunt for him, then nothing came of it.”
“Well, if I ever get my hands on this bloke, he’ll never touch another child.”
Coming from anyone else, those words would sound like an idle threat, but Vanora could hear the dangerous undercurrent in Sheila’s tone.
“And they call us monsters!” Sheila slouched into a nearby armchair, clearly disgruntled with the whole situation. “Fucking pedos are the worst monsters on the face of the fuckin’ planet and the hunters waste their time pursuing us!”
Vanora carefully placed Alisha’s brushes into their new containers, feeling pensive. Now that she was older, Roman had relaxed his rules about allowing the vampires to visit, and she was still adjusting to their presence. Armando and her siblings never frightened her, but there was something about the other vampires that sometimes made her uneasy. Sheila and Alisha had grown closer during Vanora’s absence during the summer. Vanora rather liked the slender vampire with the punk rock attitude and fun fashion sense. Though Sheila had a fashion model figure, it had come from starvation when she was mortal.
Alisha sighed heavily, returning to her sorting. “If they ever catch him, they’ll toss him in jail for a few years then let him out to do it all over again.”
Sheila snorted with disgust, folding her long arms across her small breasts. Her heavy, studded combat boots clunked against the chair as she swung her legs. “In the old days, we’d hunt his sort for sport. We’d set him free in a remote area then have a shit-ton of fun hunting him down. Predators love hunting predators.”
A disquieting chill settled into the room. Vanora pressed her lips together, trying not to say anything, but her mouth won out. “But then you’d be just as bad as the hunters.”
Sheila made a face and shrugged her scrawny shoulders. “He deserves it. I’m reformed.”
“What do you think?” Vanora asked her sister.
Alisha carefully wiped off a paint container and placed it into her new cabinet. The older Socoli sister was obviously weighing her words before responding. At last, with a slight shrug, she said, “I don’t know, Vanora. It’s hard to say what’s right when it comes to people like that. I can understand why some parents take it into their own hands and kill the people who molested their children. If anyone hurt you, I’d lose my mind.”
“But you’d never kill anyone, would you?” Vanora persisted, her brow creasing.
Alisha avoided her sister’s inquisitive gaze. “Of course not, Snow Pea.”
Alisha’s words sounded hollow. Vanora stared at her sister worriedly. Ever since her return from summer vacation, she’d been aware of dark undercurrents in the house. Though superficially her siblings seemed the same, Vanora felt as though she were somehow losing them. She’d thought it was because she was soon moving away, but now she wondered.
“I’m just talking shit,” Sheila said, flashing a grin at Vanora. “C’mon. Don’t take it so seriously. Those days are long gone. Like I said, I’m reformed. Hell, your brother and sister never even had to kill anyone! It’s a whole new world. This fucker will screw up eventually and they’ll catch him and toss him in jail.”
Handing over the brushes to Alisha, Vanora studied the look on her sister’s face. There was something off about it. “You never had to kill anyone, right?”
“Roman was there for me,” Alisha answered swiftly. “He took care of me from the very beginning.”
A disturbing memory of Roman ordering Vanora to shut her bedroom door the night Alisha had awakened as a vampire slithered out of the depths of her mind. “But you weren’t okay when you woke up, were you?”
Swiveling about on her bare heel, Alisha set her hands on Vanora’s shoulders. “Roman made it right for both of us immediately. You know how he is. He fixes things right away. No dawdling. We have this life because of his swift action.”
Sighing, Vanora nodded. Sliding onto a stool, she hooked her feet onto the bottom rung. Clad in a summer dress adorned with flowers that her sister bought her, she felt like a child all at once. Maybe she was being complete
ly foolish thinking Armando would want to be with her. Maybe he was just playing with her emotions.
Sheila noted the tension in the air and stopped swinging her feet. “Vanora, your brother is a leader. He has his shit together like no other vampire I have ever met. Alexander and I fuckin’ love him. He’s awesome. And he’s not only your brother but also your pappy. He’s got you taken care of. You’re safe. Fuck me, how long did it take him to let us hang around you? Months. How long did it take him to let Fancy-Spanish-Britches hang around?”
“A very long time,” Alisha replied. “He was absolutely paranoid.”
“Speaking of Hot-and-Spanish, we swung by to see him the other night.” Sheila tossed the newspaper onto the stack near the chair.
Vanora tried not to look as keenly interested as she actually was.
“Oh? How’s his book?” Alisha wiped her hands on her jeans and set them on her hips.
“He says it’s coming along, but he was on a ‘break,’ if that’s what you call shagging a hot psycho gypsy woman.” Sheila rolled her eyes.
Vanora felt like Sheila had hit her with a truck. “What?”
“Some hot as hell chick was there. Carlotta.” Sheila exaggerated the name, rolling the “r” off her tongue.
Vanora could feel Alisha staring at her, but Vanora pretended to be interested in her sister’s paint pallets, sorting them on the work table by size.
“So he introduced her as his girlfriend?” Alisha leaned against the table, her arm brushing against Vanora’s.
The warmth of her sister’s love sifted over Vanora like a soft snowfall. She could almost hear her sister’s voice whispering to her to be calm.
“No, no. He played it all off that she was an ‘old friend’ from back home.” Sheila made quotes with her fingers while rolling her eyes.
“So why don’t you believe him?” Vanora asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
“Because this woman is no one’s old friend. Trust me. Plus, Sultry-and-Gorgeous was really uneasy throughout our visit. Even Alexander noticed, and he tends to be oblivious.” Sheila gradually became aware of Alisha’s uncomfortable expression and Vanora’s averted face. “Oh, I mean, maybe they were once together, but now…”
Vampire in the Night: In Darkness We Must Abide, #1 Page 25