Lara scrunched her eyes to see the artist’s name, but it wasn’t clear enough for her to read. She wasn’t familiar enough with art to tell the age of the paintings, but she had to admit they were beautiful and so very detailed.
She kept her steps light along the Oriental-style runner that graced the dark wood floors and took a peek in the room that sat to the right. It was a bedroom, smaller than the one she was in, though decorated just as lovely. The other door was locked and she wondered why. What secrets did it hide?
Her hand hesitated when she reached for the knobs on the double doors at the end of the hall, but she once again warned herself that it was best she became familiar with the layout of the house. She turned one knob and inched it opened slowly, then cautiously peeked inside.
Low lighting and flickering flames from the fireplace cast faint light on the large, dark room. She had to step further in to actually make out what was in it. She stood a few feet inside the room and turned in a circle looking it over.
Everything was dark from the intricately carved four-poster bed with a grey velvet canopy to the tall, wood armoire more heavily carved than the bedposts and headboard. Nightstands sat to either side of the bed, though they were grey metal and of modern design. Grey and black damask drapes covered the windows, blocking any view, and the lights were a mix of modern and antiques. A modern grey chaise sat on an angle to the fireplace similar to the way the one was situated in her room.
The room appeared as if someone could not quite decide which century he wanted to live in.
The small table beside the chaise held a single crystal wine glass and decanter with what looked like red wine. Lara assumed the room was Michael’s, which had her wondering just what was in the decanter. She took cautious steps over to the table, itching to lift the top and take a sniff, yet worried at what she would find.
She reached out.
“I don’t think that flavor will be to your liking.”
She spun around and her heart slammed against her chest. Michael stood with a black towel wrapped around his hips, his dark shoulder length hair damp and tousled. His torso, so finely sculpted with muscles, stole her breath. The towel hung so low on his hips that she half expected to see a hint of dark hair peeking out. He obviously had just finished a shower, though she had not heard a sound coming from the closed door in the corner of the room that now stood open, a shaft of faint light spilling out of it, illuminating his perfect and almost completely naked body.
She told herself to turn away, but it was impossible to take her eyes off him. The more she looked, the more she realized that her body was finding his body mighty appealing, so much so that she felt a tickle in her clitoris. She drew in her breath—a mistake—his scent so fresh yet so earthy that she felt her legs go weak.
Weak legs. No man had ever turned her legs weak, but then he wasn’t a man—was he?
She blinked, hoping— if only for a moment—to vanquish his tempting image and gain some sanity. When she opened her eyes, he was standing right there in front of her, and so close that their bodies almost touched.
He lowered his head, his lips drifting toward hers and she told herself to run, get out of there, get away from him, but her limbs wouldn’t move. She was frozen there, incapable of escape. The closer his lips came, the harder her heart beat, the tickle in her clitoris turned to a hum and she stupidly wondered what it would be like to kiss him.
“Your scent overpowers,” he whispered as his lips drew closer, nearly resting on hers. “It is like no other I have ever known, and I want to get lost in it.”
He didn’t smell so bad himself, as a matter of fact, she had never known a man’s scent to be so appealing.
“You’re going to be mine, Lara, I will see it done.”
She felt as if she was wrapped in strong, loving arms and yet he hadn’t touched her. She never felt so protected or so loved—loved? She shook her head. What was she thinking? He didn’t love her. She would be his to command with one single bite.
Bite? Did she really believe him a vampire? It went against common sense to think such a ridiculous thought. It also went against common sense to be standing in the bedroom of a near naked man she barely knew.
With reluctance, she stepped away from him. It annoyed her that she could be so attracted to him when they had barely met. And that she could even give credence to him actually being a vampire. She felt as if she had fallen down the rabbit hole.
Under the circumstances, meaning he was nearly naked and possibly a vampire, it was foolish to remain in the room with him. She stepped around him to leave and his hand caught hers.
She gasped, his skin was so cold it shocked, and then suddenly he warmed and he tugged her closer to him. She didn’t stop him, though she doubted she could. His grip was gentle, yet his immense power radiated through her, and there was no escaping it.
“Stay,” he whispered, lowering his head and kissed her ever so lightly.
She felt her breath catch in her chest. The kiss was a mixture of cold and hot and it was like a flame sparking dry tinder, heat surged through her, shuddering her body and settling an aching need between her legs that she hadn’t felt in a long time.
“Let me make love to you.”
His sexy whisper and another kiss, a little harder this time, enticed and invited, and she almost collapsed against him in surrender. But somewhere inside her sanity prevailed and she forced herself to once again step away from him.
She stared at him for a moment, fighting back the word that rose to her lips. Somewhere inside her part of her screamed for her to stop, don’t say it, while another part of her urged her to spit it out, and she did. “No!”
Her eyes widened at his response.
“Why not? I can feel your desire. It burns hot inside you.” He scrunched his brow. “It has been a long time since you have been with a man.” He scowled. “He disappointed you. I would never disappoint you, Lara. I would always satisfy you.”
Heat stained her cheeks, but it was from embarrassment, not passion. “Stay out of my thoughts,” she said and tried to pull away from him, but failed. His hand felt like an iron shackle around her wrist. And she wondered if he did it to demonstrate his power, to show her that there would be no escaping him.
“Let me go,” she demanded.
His hand released her. “We should talk.”
“Not here,” she said, hurrying to the door.
“The living room,” he said, stopping her. “Take the stairs at the end of the hall down to the foyer. It’s the first room to the left of the front doors.”
She nodded and rushed out the door and down the hall. His kiss lingered on her lips, and she swiped her hand across them, but it didn’t do any good. Her lips pulsed and ached, as if missing his taste, as if hungering for him.
What disturbed her the most, though, was how he had read her mind. That he should know that her last sexual encounter had been anything but satisfying upset her. Worse, though, was him saying that he would never disappoint her, he would always satisfy her.
Her whole body flushed at the thought of what sex would be like with him? Could he satisfy her that easily? She had always struggled to reach orgasm and when she had one it had never been as satisfying as her friends claimed them to be. No one had ever rocked her world or had come close to it. She had wondered if it was her fault or the fault of inept lovers. There just always seemed to be something missing, something she failed to grasp—something that lay just beyond her reach.
Now that he had planted that suggestion in her mind, she couldn’t shake it. It lingered there tormenting her, whispering over and over, reminding her of the pleasure he could bring her.
Lara didn’t remember taking the stairs down to the foyer, but once there she stopped and took a breath. Stay in control, she silently warned herself. Keep your wits about you. Don’t surrender your will. She couldn’t, however, help but wonder what it would be like to surrender to Michael, but to surrender would mean to trust and
how did one trust a vampire?
She entered the living room, a fairly large room with a mix of contemporary furnishings and antiques. The colors were a blend of gray, black, beige, silver and a splash of blood here and there. Red. Red. The color was red, not blood. She turned her attention to one of the four windows. Black and beige drapes were drawn open and the falling snow clearly visible, though it was the only thing outside that was visible.
Snowbound. How long? Recalling the forecast, the snowstorm was expected to last two days, and then there would be digging out from the storm, which meant she could be here possibly three or four days. Lara felt herself pale. Could she survive that long with a vampire? Listen to yourself, Lara. A vampire? Was Michael Valaine really a vampire? It was a question she was definitely going to have to settle for herself, though the alternative wasn’t promising. If he wasn’t a vampire, then he was a nutcase who thought himself a vampire. She didn’t know which one was worse to be stuck in a snowstorm with.
Lara paced the room, never feeling so trapped in her life. There was little recourse left to her, though her father had always told her that once you waded through the bullshit, you’d find at least an ounce of truth. She needed to start with the truth. Was Michael Valaine really a vampire?
Lara jumped when she saw him standing in the doorway. He had changed to black jeans and a black V neck knit sweater. His black hair was no longer damp and was pulled back away from his face, defining his handsome features even more.
A thought struck her than and she voiced it. “Why did you shower?”
“You don’t want to know,” he said entering the room and going to a black lacquer cabinet and opening it.
She watched him uncork a bottle of red wine all the while wondering what it was she wouldn’t want to know. Could he have gone on a hunt for food? Did he keep food stored here? Or was she his next meal?
Lara jumped when he suddenly appeared in front of her, offering her a glass of red wine.
“I make you uncomfortable,” Michael said with no apology.
“You think?” she said, accepting the much needed wine.
“Why don’t we get to know each other better?” he suggested and pointed to the grey sofa.
“How much better?” she asked taking a seat on the couch, though remaining perched on the edge in case she had to run. Run where, idiot, she silently admonished herself. You’re good and stuck like a prisoner in a cell. The comparison unnerved her and she shivered.
“I’m not going to bite you if that’s your worry—not yet at least,” he said with the hint of a smile.
She shook an accusing finger at him. “You may smile and appear as if you’re joking, but trust me when I tell you I don’t think it’s funny.”
He sat in the chair close to where she sat on the couch, though leaned forward, looking almost as if he was about to pounce. “A little levity may help to lighten this unusual situation.”
Lara quickly drew back even though he wasn’t that close to her, she felt as if his move had brought him nearly on top of her. His musky scent drifted around her like an alluring aftershave that men wore to bait and hook a woman. Only his scent was lethal, add to that his intoxicating dark eyes and he would have a woman surrendering in no time.
“Tell me about yourself,” he said.
A sense of loss descended over her as he eased back in his chair, and she wondered if he manipulated her emotions. Didn’t vampires manipulate people as a way of controlling them? But then she knew some human males who were talented manipulators. She hadn’t fallen prey to them and she wasn’t about to fall prey to Michael Valaine—vampire or not.
“Let’s start with you. When and how did you become a vampire?” she asked.
“It’s in my blood.”
“Very funny. Vampires are bloodless creatures.”
Again he moved forward fast, though this time he reached out and took hold of her hand. “And yet I am warm just like you.”
Lara snatched her hand out of his, thinking how he had felt cold and hot when he had kissed her, and yet he felt so warm now. She was relieved when he moved away from her to settle comfortably in his chair. She didn’t like admitting it, but his touch and that damn enticing scent of his stirred her libido and, worse, he knew it. But there would be no surrender, no matter how much her clitoris begged for more.
“One nail in the coffin, excuse the pun,” she said with a grin, “in proving you’re not a vampire. You’re warm-blooded.” His sly smile had her saying, “Don’t tell me, a vampire misconception?”
“Vampires aren’t warm-blooded creatures, but we have the ability to draw the warmth of the person we touch back onto them.”
Naturally, her need to wade through the bullshit had her saying, “Prove it.”
“Give me your hand.”
Why did it feel as if he was saying let me bite your neck? And of course she felt compelled to do so, though she wondered if it was her own stubborn curiosity or his magnetism that provoked her.
She slid to the edge of the couch and extended her hand to him. As soon as he took hold, she gasped. He was ice cold and the shock sent a shiver racing through her. In the next instant, his hand turned warm and he was rubbing warmth back into hers with his lean, strong fingers. His thumb pressed firmly into her palm while his fingers massaged the back of her hand. She hadn’t realized how tense her muscles had become, and she closed her eyes as her whole body began to relax.
His touch gradually turned slower and lighter until his thumb faintly caressed the palm of her hand in an ever expanding circle. It was when a soft sigh escaped her lips that her eyes finally shot open, and she yanked her hand away from his and sunk back against the couch. He not only skillfully manipulated; he skillfully seduced.
“As for when and how I became a vampire,” he said returning to her original question, “I was born one.”
Her eyebrows shot up questioningly.
“Vampirism began as a curse, morphed into a condition and eventually became a way of life.”
“Now that’s a new one to me, and it certainly makes for an interesting theory.”
“It isn’t as if vampires can shout it from the rooftops. We need to be selective as to who we invite into our group.”
“Invite not bite?”
“I know all this is difficult for you to comprehend since you were raised with the belief that vampires are pure evil that we don’t have a single redeeming quality about us.”
He had caught her interest. It was such a different take on vampires, one she had never heard and one that seemed possibly plausible, and so she asked, “Then you’re not an evil creature?”
“If I am pushed too far, I am far more deadly than the average human.”
“How far is too far?”
“Why? Do you plan on pushing too far?” he asked with another teasing smile.
“No plans, but my curiosity can irritate to the point of being pushy.”
“I find your curiosity quite appealing and your natural beauty even more alluring. You do realize how rare your auburn hair and green eyes are, don’t you? Not to mention your pale, silky complexion and exquisite bone structure. And your perfect body tempts not only the man in me, but the vampire as well and that is not easily done. Many men must pursue you.”
She wasn’t sure if she should be flattered or frightened, though she had to smile at his last remark. “Pursue me?”
“My age is showing.”
“Exactly how old are you?”
“How old are you?” he asked.
“Twenty-nine,” she smiled, “until the end of the month. Now it’s your turn.”
“I am the grandson of Thaddeus Valaine, the founder of Mull.”
Lara did a quick calculation in her head. “That would make you over two hundred years old.”
“Around that.”
“And here I thought you weren’t a day over one hundred.” She didn’t know why she joked about it. Perhaps it was because she was still trying to wrap her head
around him being a vampire. Or perhaps she had actually fallen down a rabbit hole or maybe that night she was returning to the bed and breakfast she had slipped on a patch of ice and was in a coma in the hospital and now living in an alternate reality. Both explanations seemed more logical than the present one... that this was all real.
“I like your sense of humor.”
“As you said, levity may help.” She took a breath before asking, “So the myth about Mull is not a myth after all?”
“No it’s not.”
Rabbit hole, coma, or reality, she didn’t know which, but information was what she needed if she was to reach any kind of sensible conclusion. “The book about Mull I got at the book shop says that it was gypsies who placed the curse on your grandfather, but research shows that gypsies didn’t arrive in America until the early 1800s.”
“My family is originally from the area now known as Romania. It was there the gypsy cursed my grandfather. Once he realized what he had become, he knew he had to leave Romania and find a place where his family could live in relative peace. The New World was the perfect place for him to start anew and see that his family was prepared for what was to come as well as future generations. You see what no one knows about the myth is that the gypsy didn’t only curse Thaddeus, but all of his progenies as well.”
“I thought vampires couldn’t reproduce, but since you were born a vampire, I suppose that’s another misconception.”
“You’ll learn much about vampires in the few days you’re here, including their sexual appetites.”
Not from first-hand experiences she was about to say when in the blink of an eye he was out of his seat and standing in the doorway.
“I have matters I must see to. Make yourself at home. If you’re hungry the kitchen is down the hall, first steps to your right. If there is anything in particular that you’d like, just ask.”
Sexual Appetites of Vampires Page 3