“What? Are you okay?” She turned, bumping her head into his and sending Ollie back onto the seat with a thud.
He rubbed his forehead and laughed. Scarlett joined in, sliding beside him, until her head whipped back, and she shook herself.
Ollie smelled the scent of her arousal at the same time as his blood. Jagged little pieces had been ripped off by the collision.
A mongrel vamp acted more animalistic, unless trained from a young age. Her father had paid her mother off with a small house and a managerial position in his heroin-making business. A former junkie didn’t need that type of job, but to keep her daughter in the same coven, she accepted and, in a few years, became ravaged by the same drugs she prepared for sale.
Ollie remembered hearing his folks talk about Scarlett’s predicament. His grandma took her in, much to his dad’s displeasure. The woman kneeling before his open legs with a huge grin, licking her lips, was not the same person who colored with him and made pizza.
What had happened to her these last few months since he’d seen her last? With Grandma still away on her long cruise, had Scarlett begun hanging with Bones and his friends down at the tattoo shop he co-owned?
“Ollie, give me a taste. Please. You smell so good…” The sultry tone coupled with the way she ran her hands up and down his thighs made him push back against the wall. Moving a few inches away didn’t help. She merely shifted onto her feet, her movements more frenzied. Music from the band continued playing. Clouds must have covered part of the moon from the deepening descent of darkness upon them.
Her eyes glowed an eerie green. The sign of a mutt. Resting his head against the railing, he studied the woman.
Scarlett was all woman. With one bite and enough of his blood, she could become stronger — maybe, there was no given — but she would be his. Every single inch.
One of his parents or Baxtra would wind up killing her. To have a mutt join the family would ruin the Mortimer name. Ollie reached out to cup her cheek. Skin so soft and invited slid against his palm. The temptation grew. As did his own desire. He could taste it.
“You know it’s against our laws. I can’t do this in my parent’s yard!” Flustered, his cheeks heated from the embarrassing situation, he tried to push her away. What had he been thinking?
Of a life away from the coven. No longer a Mortimer. Freedom to love who he already loved and wanted more than anything else. But reality dropped down with the strength of a wrecking ball to slam some sense into him. He sat up, shoving her away. “Scarlett, snap the hell out of this!”
Her response was to stick his bleeding fingers into her mouth.
Ollie froze, fixated. The fight to fix this predicament placed on hold momentarily so he could listen to the low noise that emanated from her mouth. Scarlett’s moans sounded orgasmic. The tip of her tongue darted into whichever oozing crevice she could find to suckle like a puppy to its mother’s tit.
The pleasure from her baby feeding went straight to his groin. His costume pants tightened uncomfortably. He was either going to die here from shock or sheer gratification. When her fang sank into the soft skin of his index finger, his blood began to pool in the middle of her tongue.
No! An alarm triggered throughout him. Ollie sprang up, yanking his hand free and his mind out of the lurid fantasy he’d begun imagining. Ever since that first night when Dad had introduced her as the babysitter, Ollie had crushed on her.
Scarlett’s actions tonight had destroyed his trust in her.
Gathering his strength into the hand nearest her face, he smacked her cheek. The force sent her reeling back, her head clipped the bench with a loud whack. Silent as death, her mind must’ve taken over and let the vampire in power take command. There was no fight in her, no resistance. The sexy girl was gone.
In seconds, Ollie straddled her body lying across the floor. He wedged her mouth open and with the same cape she’d tried saving, he began to wipe his blood from her mouth.
During those seconds, he hadn’t been sure if he’d released the elixir to turn her. For a mongrel, the experience of ingesting pureblood — as potent and from a long line of powerful vamps as the Mortimer’s — had unknown effects.
She gurgled and coughed until he was satisfied he’d removed most of the liquid. With a groan he rolled the velvet up and shoved it onto a nearby bench. Returning his focus to her, tears leaked out the corners of her eyes.
He knew she hadn’t been herself, and yet, there had to be consequences for her decisions.
“I’m sorry, Ollie.” Her voice cracked while her body became racked with hushed sobs. He slid down beside her body and let her curl up into a fetal position. Once high on the lure of feeding, she now went through the lows of withdrawal. Her taste buds had been teased with the promise of something life changing, only to have it torn away.
“I’m sorry, too, Scarlett, but I couldn’t take the chance. I won’t be responsible for anything bad happening to you…” The words hung in the air. He sucked in air, despite not needing it. The movement helped him regain control by not admitting the ending to his sentence.
By ingesting his blood, the process to switch Scarlett into a full-blown vampire would begin. Her body’s reaction? Unknown. She could survive but be affected negatively. Ollie didn’t want her personality changing.
Or she could be fine — healthy — and belong to him.
Ownership was a given when a high-ranking vamp turned anyone, including a mongrel. One thing he knew about and loved about Scarlett: she was a free spirit. No one had the right to clip her wings or restrain her beautiful soul.
Hesitant, he finally reached over to rub her shoulder a few times.
In response, she slipped her hand on top of his in the way she used to whenever he had a nightmare and had awakened upset. His parents traveled a lot back then. They always blamed coven business. Scarlett had spent many nights and complete weekends watching over his sister and him. She became part of his family.
She sat up, wiping her eyes and smearing her make-up. The puddling of mascara and eyeshadow gave her a broken or sad doll look. Desolation.
“I’m so sorry, Ollie. Punish me whichever way you decide. Here. Take my life.” Gathering her hair to one side, she cleared the area around her carotid artery for him.
He swallowed hard, affixed to the steady rise and fall of her skin over the pulse point. Saliva rushed into his mouth. Minutes. It would take mere minutes to bite and withdraw every delectable ounce of her essence into his mouth.
Ollie was no monster.
He heard the opening of the French doors in the family room. The time must be nearing midnight if party-goers were stepping outside to admire the moon. Clouds passed by and once again the garden lit up under her shrewd gaze. Anyone taking a stroll would see them here. Smell snippets of what had expired between them.
“That won’t be necessary, Scar.” He clambered to his feet, his boots smacking against the wood floor, before he offered a hand to help her up. They stood inches apart. Ollie noted how perfect she would fit if he joined his body with hers. He could tuck her head beneath his chin.
As if reading his mind, she did slide against him and rested her hands on his tunic. “I always knew you would become a great man. It was in your cards and I saw it in my dreams.”
Ollie blinked. Tarot cards were not something he found credible. His grandmother did say Scarlett was a budding oracle, the talent probably from her father’s line. The warmth of her hands on his chest comforted him. The skin on the back of his neck tingled. A warning. He listened but heard no one approach.
Smoothing his shirt, Scarlett gazed up at him and smiled when he swiped away the black marks from under her eyes. “I cleaned your neighbor’s house today. It’s gorgeous inside. I can’t wait to meet him.”
Busy staring back at her, what she’d said didn’t register for a while. “What?” he blurted out. “Who’s this?”
> Scarlett giggled before she grabbed the sides of his face and pulled him down for a kiss. The contact brief, the touch was enough to set off his body again. From their closeness, his reaction registered on her face. She sighed. “What happened between us was meant to be, Ollie. You will get what you want. I know you want me. But first, you must take the first steps into becoming a real man. Trust Mr. Reid. He’s good. Come get me before you leave.”
Thoroughly confused and now fully aware that they were not alone, Ollie grabbed hold of her forearm as she turned away from him. “What — ”
“I have to go. Destiny waits. Find me.” With a peck on his cheek, she ran a finger across his top lip. “I want you, too, Oliver Mortimer. Treat Mr. Reid with respect.”
She ran off in the direction of his neighbor’s property and that wall. Remembering the force there, he almost yelled out to warn her, but remembered: Scarlett might come across as flighty (what his mother calls her), but she kept her intelligence hidden. They both had things to hide.
Who did she mention?
Ollie grabbed his cape and rushed over to the stone bird bath fountain on the side of the gazebo. The water had dried up. Tossing his costume piece into it, he mumbled the few words of a spell, and a fire appeared. Bright yellow and red flames spread around, consuming the material until soon nothing remained.
With another spell, he whisked the ashes into the air with a swirl of a finger. A breeze picked them up to disperse them around the grounds. A shudder passed down his neck. It was midnight. A new day. Voices grew as the coven converged on the deck, preparing to vocalize messages to loved ones they’d lost. Ollie had no such person.
He turned away from the fountain and decided to go back to the house via the long way around to bypass guests. After taking a few steps, he came to an abrupt stop. The earlier tingling continued, but as it did, it spread an awareness he recognized. There was no threat here.
Not one he could understand. Whatever was here was not meant for him.
Ollie peered at the large black cat sitting defiantly on the top step of the gazebo as if the wood structure belonged to him. The teen knew the feline was masculine. As the seconds rushed by, he sensed much more flowing from it.
That was no regular cat. Unlike the ones Baxtra drained, a raw, primitive power emanated from its being. The beautiful animal watched him with amber eyes shaped like the full moon.
Intrigued, Ollie found himself dropping to his knees. “You must be Mr. Reid.”
The cat remained still as a statute, except for its tail which whipped slowly around from side to side, as though keeping time. Then the coven began chanting.
Chapter Four
Earlier that evening
Alistair entered the code on the keypad beside the front door. Once he heard an audible click, he grabbed the handle. With one press down, the wood door opened. Finally, after three years away, he had come home.
Traces of vinegar, baking soda, and lemon — the natural cleaning ingredients Penelope preferred to use — lingered. He closed and locked the door. When he turned around, the hallway became bathed in soft yellow white light. “Thank you, house.”
The building seemed to sigh, grateful to welcome its master back.
With a smile, Alistair headed to the kitchen. After he retrieved his cell phone from the dock on the counter, he took the back stairs up to his master bedroom. The house was spotless. He made a note to send Penelope a bonus. In the bathroom, he took a leisurely shower, letting the hot water pound away the layers of dirt from two years’ worth of captivity.
Dressed in his own jeans and cranberry Henley, he sat on the corner of his bed to text one of his local associates. The brief message would alert the others to trouble in their town. Once finished, he stood, on edge. His home felt sad. Not at his being away. This was something else.
“I’ll take a look around. Help me.” It sounded like the plea it was.
The second floor clear, he backpedaled down to the ground level, walking throughout the rooms. Nothing amiss or moved. All he saw were spotless surfaces, freshly vacuumed area rugs and steam-cleaned tile floors. The original family home was in town, a small side road off of Main Street. This became his sanctuary and he had sunk a lot of money and work to renovate this place. A full year to make this something he wanted to rush back to.
Alistair loved his house. Spacious rooms, every modern amenity he needed, even a huge parcel of land. Maybe this time back he could reconnect with Bell and ask her the question that burned in his mind every day while chained in some dank cell these past twenty-four months.
What would he do if she refused him?
Even the basement had been undisturbed. Reacclimating his self to his surroundings made Alistair realize just how lonely his existence had been. His residence had been built for a family. A mate. Children. Even pets.
He ran a few fingers through his damp hair and stared out the windows overlooking the slate patio. Moonlight soaked the clearing in back, making it easy to spot anything out of place. All he saw was cut grass and some piles of leaves. One mound emitted a low glow. Could that be what he suspected it was? A departing soul?
“Lock up. Please,” he added as an afterthought. Closing the sliding door behind him, he ran over, the odor of death draped over the spot. With the tip of his boot, he set aside some leaves and uncovered the cat.
He reached out a hand, skimming his fingers along the outline of the wispy ball of pale light. Once he established a connection, his lids drooped while he watched the last moments of the animal’s existence. A dark-haired girl in a uniform kneeled close by, holding out some type of treat. The smell of tuna strong, the cat immediately circled her, keeping its distance. Midnight belonged to the minister’s wife. Despite being fed a can of good food that morning, he was a greedy guy. After the third spin, he sauntered over to grab the food, ready to run away until her iron grip latched around his neck. His air supply cut off, he hissed at the human. All she did was laugh. Laugh and draw his body up to her face with both hands. Claws extended, Midnight scratched her arm which angered her. She applied more pressure and dipped her head. Fangs sunk into his skin as she consumed his blood.
Outraged, Alistair opened his eyes to stare over at his wall. The wards were still up, but they had been disturbed. He approached the stones, taking in the color of their magic. The yellow had dimmed.
That meant one thing: something otherworldly was close interfered with his magic and somehow siphoned some of it. Disgust spread from his gut to his lip. One more time, he let his eyes rest and sought assistance from the earth, from nature.
“Show me what has been done to you. Show me so I can make amends.” With a low tone, he beseeched his plea to the land.
Similar to the house, the ground emitted a gurgled cry.
Alarmed, Alistair wondered how long this travesty had been allowed to continue.
Two years. The response mournful. A vine wrapped itself around his hand and he relaxed, inviting in the pictures. That girl again. Killing rodents, rabbits, birds, and discarding their bodies. But what followed next almost had his dinner rushing up his throat.
Bodies. Human remains had been buried on the property next door. Two adults, no, three. Some they chased through these woods, delighting in the fear of their victims. One, a man, would do disgusting things to them after breaking their necks.
Who were their victims?
Nature revealed all. Workers. Travelers. People passing through town looking for a day’s work. From landscaping to painting, they went where needed.
The pieces painted a terrifying image. A coven of vampires had moved in. One of their leaders lured in the innocent and charged the others to partake in various activities. The animal killings were by the daughter of the couple who ran the group. The family name was a powerful one. He recognized it.
Mortimer.
But it was their trusted f
riend who piqued Alistair’s interest.
“Show me his face.” The vine spread up his arm. Image after image rolled by across his mind. Each one clear, in different places, at various times. Warren Marco.
Scratching at wounds healed long ago, Alistair forced himself to stop that habit. “Thank you. They will all be avenged.” Including myself, he added. After another series of texts and a few replies, he went over the plan in his mind.
Since it was still Halloween, he decided to go trick or treating.
His first and only stop would be at the vampire house next door.
Chapter Five
Ollie squinted at the tall man offering a hand to him. Glancing around, he discovered his body was lying on the grass and a slight ache buzzed in his head.
“Take my hand. I apologize for startling you.”
The stranger had a nice voice, strong and firm, but also kind. What had happened rushed back to him. “You!” he gasped, his hand already clasped by the other man who helped him to his feet. The teen swayed until the guy steadied him. “I saw you! Didn’t I?”
The blond man nodded. “Yes, boy, you saw me. I shifted from my cat body to my human body. Are you okay?”
“You…you’re an actual shifter?” Shocked, he let himself be led over to the gazebo steps. The coven still chanted their wishes to their departed ones on the deck. Ollie guessed they couldn’t the two of them over here. He set down on the wood surface and regarded the man again. “But you’re a mage. I feel your power. That wall is your doing. Or your ancestors.” His tongue rubbed against his teeth to remove the weird after taste of something.
His neighbor sat down beside him. “You’re very astute for a vampire, but then, I suspect you’ve been keeping secrets from your family, haven’t you?”
Ollie’s eyes widened. “How did you — “” Immediately, he stopped his line of questioning to lean forward and touch — “Incredible!” he gushed. “You did this? Erected a shield over us?”
The man nodded. “I wanted to talk to you while they went about their yearly ritual for the dead. I’m Alastair Reid, by the way. Nice to meet you. I’m your neighbor.”
Tricks or Treats: An Anthology for Charity Page 32