Fanged Love

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  “That is an idea,” I say diplomatically, not wanting to squash her good spirits. Also, she smiled her sweet smile for me, and now my unbeating heart is all tingles and manly flutter. Quite unusual. The flutters, I mean. Being manly comes naturally.

  She gestures overhead to the nearest candelabra, continuing with her creative ideas. “And with all these cool candles around, it’s a great vibe for a Halloween masquerade ball, which I think I mentioned before. Add some cobwebs in the corners, maybe some spooky ghost sounds.” She shivers and then chuckles. “Look at me, creeping myself out with ghosts. I know they’re not real, but sometimes my imagination runs away with me. Like the other night I could swear I heard strange noises in the house. I ended up sleeping with my head under the covers. Ridiculous, right? Honestly, I’m much too practical to believe in the otherworldly. My sisters like to watch all those paranormal shows—anything with ghosts, witches, vampires, werewolves—but I can never suspend disbelief long enough to enjoy them.”

  I find her comments most intriguing, considering she’s sitting next to a vampire and seems to be exceptionally responsive to me. At least, on a subconscious level.

  “Which creature is your favorite?” I ask, more than a little curious if she will say vampire.

  Stella’s cheeks flush. “This is a little embarrassing, but the real reason I keep away from all things supernatural related is because when I was nine, my cousin Kevin snuck up on me the day before Halloween wearing fake vampire teeth and a cape, of course—his dark hair slicked back for the full effect—and popped out at me from the corner of the living room. I was legit terrified. I didn’t know he was visiting, and I’d just seen Dracula the night before. I had nightmares for years about a vampire coming out of nowhere to suck my blood. Strange how deep a memory can get into your psyche and really mess with you. Anyway, I stay away from any books, movies, or TV shows that might remind me of the otherworldly. The real world is scary enough.” She laughs a little, but I cannot join her mirth.

  If she knew I was a vampire, I strongly sense she would run screaming from the room. Childhood fears are very powerful things in humans, and she just told me that vampires are essentially her equivalent of Muma Pădurii—basically an old heinous forest hag I feared as a child. My mother used to tell stories in order to prevent me from wandering off alone in the nearby forest: “Do not go beyond our farm, Bozhidar, or Muma Pădurii will nibble off your toes and make soup out of your kneecaps.” It took several centuries to overcome my fear of pine trees, and do not get me started on the smell of kneecap soup. I still cannot go near it. In any case, if Stella fears vampires even one tenth of how much I feared Muma, then it is safe to assume that Stella will never accept me. Perhaps this is a blessing in disguise—for Stella’s sake.

  I decide a bit of small talk and sharing can do no harm. “I am also ‘creeped out’ by certain creatures—forest hags especially. Also, ghosts.” I suppress a shudder. It is unnatural to move about without a body. Then I wonder if the strange noise she heard at night was me during one of my nocturnal visits. Perhaps I was distracted by her beauty and did not cast an effective memory erasure on her. “By the way, that noise you mentioned; what did it sound like?”

  She waves that away. “Oh, it’s just the creaking of the floorboards in our old house as it settles.”

  I move with great stealth, so I know for a fact that was not me. Not a creak to be heard. Perhaps it is simply the old house settling, as she said.

  “So, what do you think?” she asks. “Would it be okay for me to start planning some events here for the fall? I really want to do my part in repaying you for all the kindness.”

  I absolutely cannot allow random people to roam the castle. Vampires must remain in the shadows of modern society. “You give back simply by being you.”

  She blushes prettily, her lashes fluttering down. “Thank you, Boz. That’s so nice of you to say.”

  I cannot tear my gaze from her, at a complete loss for words in the face of her sweetness. It is as if she has cast a whammy on me.

  “I brought a snack,” Neli announces from behind me.

  My head whips toward her. I was so distracted by Stella, I did not hear Neli approach. I must be more careful. Distraction is the quickest way for your enemies to take advantage. Not that Neli is an enemy. She is family, whom I currently wish to strangle for leaving me alone this long with Stella.

  “Neli, so good to have you here,” I say with the sharp edge of authority to my voice. “Have a seat. Now we can finally begin the tastings.”

  She sets down a platter with a bowl of glossy dark red cherries, small plates, and napkins. “Stella, I think you’ll find the cherries are a nice complement to the red blends I’ve made.”

  “They look delicious,” Stella says.

  Damn that Neli. Yes, they do look juicy, which means blood-red cherry juice on Stella’s sensual lips.

  I tear my gaze away and turn to Neli. “Join us,” I command. I’m tempted to put her under my trance, but I don’t dare do anything suspicious in front of Stella. Now that I know about her fear of the supernatural world, she must remain unknowing of my powers. Not that I ever intended to tell her what I am.

  Neli ignores me, instead smiling at Stella. “Boz and I have already tried these blends, but I think it’s best if it’s a blind taste test for you. Would you mind?” She takes a purple ball of cloth from the platter and shakes it out, holding it up to Stella.

  Seriously, Neli? A scarf? Neli is diabolical.

  Neli continues. “All right now. Just turn your head a little, Stella, so I can put this on you for a true blind taste test. I just want to be sure you’re happy with the perfect blend—no influence from us.”

  “Oh. Sounds fun,” Stella says.

  Fun? I think being staked in the gonads would be more enjoyable. I snarl silently at Neli as she goes behind Stella to tie it on and completely ignores my warning.

  Once Stella’s eyes are covered, I start making a slicing motion with my finger across my throat. You are a dead dorko, Neli.

  Neli smirks like the evil female she is and finishes tying the scarf securely, placing her finger over her lips in a shushing gesture to me.

  Did she just shush me? A vampire? I never! But Neli is smart. She knows I cannot do a thing. Not now anyway. There is always later. Perhaps I will revoke her yacht privileges.

  “Okay.” Neli leans down to Stella’s ear. “How’s that?”

  Stella holds her fingers up in front of her eyes. “I can’t see a thing.”

  “Great. Try this one first.” Neli puts a glass in her hand.

  I whip my finger through the air and point angrily to the empty chair at the head of the table, ordering Neli to take a seat.

  Like she did when we first met, Neli sticks her tongue out and runs away, racing up the stairs. Damn her speedy and crafty insolent ways! I should have made a meal of her when she was eighteen. But nooo…I had to make her my major-dingo.

  “Mmm,” Stella says after sipping. “That was very good. Just a splash of merlot, right?”

  “Correct,” I say.

  She beams a smile that stuns me. No woman has ever smiled at me like that. Like she is thrilled just to be with me. She looks like an innocent captive virgin awaiting my command in her blindfold and pink dress. Soft, feminine—

  Clumsy. I shoot a hand out with my lightning-fast reflexes to catch the bowl of cherries she nearly knocked over as she reached for one.

  She holds up the cherry, unaware she nearly tossed the lot of them. “Palate cleanser.” She pops it in her mouth and chews. “These are amazing. Where did you get them, Neli?”

  I pause, enthralled as Stella licks a drop of cherry juice from her full lower lip.

  “Neli?” Stella asks.

  My voice is hoarse. “Neli had to see to some business upstairs.” Sharpening her horns or something. “She will be back shortly.” I pull out the Summoner under the table and discreetly pound out another message to the impudent major-dodo
. This time she responds: Spend some time with her. I promise I’ll return soon.

  Stella pats around the table. “Where’s the napkin?”

  “Here.” I place it in her hand, and her fingers close partially around my hand, the touch firing through my senses.

  “Thank you.” She wipes her mouth and discards the pit, discreetly wrapping the napkin closed. “Did you like this blend too?”

  “I have my opinion, but Neli and I would like to hear yours first.”

  I have already decided that decanter three is the superior blend. Neli agrees, but she wants Stella to come to the conclusion on her own. Of course, none of that matters right now, since all I can think of is adding a fourth blend to our tasting fun this evening: Stella.

  Number four—I mean, Stella holds out her palm blindly, smiling sweetly. I find myself leaning forward—to kiss or breathe her in or taste? Yes. I want it all. “I’m ready for the second glass.”

  I pour it for her and place the glass in her hand, taking the opportunity to let my fingertips brush against hers again. I know I shouldn’t. I know I am only torturing myself with the morsels of intimacy, but I cannot seem to help myself.

  Her cheeks and neck flush pink. My touch affects her as much as it affects me, and I do not know what to make of it fully. I have never experienced anything like this with a woman, where her every move, her every breath leaves me hypnotized.

  I watch as Stella sips the next blend, my gaze fixated on her sensual lips. “It’s a little too fruity,” she says.

  Most likely from the cherry she just ate. “Yes.” I refrain from correcting her. She is perfect just as she is.

  “Please tell me it’s not just me sipping delicious wine and scarfing down cherries.” She picks up a cherry, her lips closing around it as she sucks it off the stem.

  “Sweet Stella, enjoy.” I am losing my damn mind, torn between wanting her and protecting her innocence. Also, my leather trousers are suddenly unbearably tight. I am so tempted to storm up the stairs, grab Neli by the scruff of the neck, and bring her down here to sit with Stella and make her watch Stella’s sensual lips dripping with blood-red juice. But that would mean leaving Stella blindfolded and alone. She might take it as an insult.

  She fingers her charm bracelet, looking so content. I wonder if this is how she looks when she first awakens from slumber. The words are out of my mouth before I can stop myself. “Do you enjoy sunsets?” It is when darkness descends, my favorite time.

  She takes off the blindfold, her brown eyes meeting mine, sending a jolt through me that makes me feel alive. “I love sunsets! Especially over the vineyard when the last rays of sun paint everything in a soft glow.”

  “I paint.” I never share so much about myself. It is just that there is such a strong connection, and I keep finding things we both like. She likes the sun’s rays painting a glow, and I enjoy painting. We both love sunsets and beauty. Other than the fact that she is human, we match. Of course, that could be changed. No. You are stronger than that.

  She props her chin on her hand, smiling at me. “Aren’t you multitalented? An expert winemaker and an artist.” A drop of red cherry juice rests on the corner of her mouth. My mind flashes to her as my vampire bride, a drop of blood lingering from her feeding on me. I would make her stronger, sharing my incredible powers as a vampire of eight hundred years.

  “He sure is,” Neli says cheerfully, surprising me once again by her sudden appearance. Stella has me enthralled. “Boz, you should show her some of your paintings.”

  My paintings are in my bedchamber, which Neli knows. She also knows I cannot allow Stella anywhere near my chamber of pleasure and seduction. That would be “game over,” to use a more modern term.

  “I’d love that,” Stella says. “Maybe you could design the label for our new blend. Ooh, a sunset would be cool.”

  “You must try the last blend.” I need to remove myself from her presence before I do something that cannot be undone.

  “Close your eyes, Stella!” Neli says, taking a seat at the head of the table.

  Stella complies.

  I pour Stella the wine and hand it to her. Neli gestures for me to pour some for her. I ignore her, just as she has ignored my every command.

  Stella’s eyes pop open. “This is it!”

  Neli squeezes her arm. “We think so too.”

  Stella lets out a happy laugh. “I’m getting better at this wine stuff if I’m in agreement with you two. We’ve got to enter this in the wine competition in New York.” She holds up a palm. “Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m just so excited about what this could mean for Stellariva. It’s really, really good.”

  The best competition is in France, but I keep that to myself. Neli tells me she has sent someone in our stead these past few years since we began entering, due to the fact she is bound to me and must remain by my side, which made travel quite difficult. Now that I am awake from my curse, we shall most definitely attend in person.

  Neli smiles her especially evil smile. “Actually, I think a wine competition is a great way to build buzz and really put Stellariva on the map. Don’t you agree, Boz?”

  Stella turns to me, hope shining in her big brown eyes.

  “Of course, recognition can always help,” I say, careful not to commit to a competition.

  Neli raises her hands over her head in a grand gesture. “We should think big!” She leans toward Stella. “How do you feel about France? We compete every year. You could join us.”

  Join us?

  Stella gasps and slaps a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. She drops her hand. “Seriously?”

  I freeze, unable to steal Stella’s obvious joy but also unable to agree to the competition.

  “Seriously!” Neli exclaims, jumping from her seat and opening her arms to Stella.

  Stella jumps up, and they hug and laugh together. I cannot be part of this. I will not allow myself to be so close to temptation for so long. The pull to her is too strong. Also, the risk of her discovering what I really am would be too great, considering how keenly aware she is of me. It’s as though our sensations are heightened in each other’s presence.

  I stand, prepared to take my leave.

  They break apart and turn to me. Neli shoots me an urgent look. Stella’s smile falls at my serious demeanor. “Are you not on board?”

  “Of course he is,” Neli says. “He wants to help you out because he’s an honorable man. It’s a calling for him. Truly.”

  Stella’s expression turns hopeful once more.

  I am torn. What is more honorable—agreeing to France, which could help Stella immensely, or walking away for Stella’s own good? Both could help her in very different ways.

  Likely noting my lack of enthusiasm, Stella looks down, her shoulders slumping. “It’s okay.”

  An empty ache deep inside tells me what I must do. I cannot steal her joy or ruin her chance to save her vineyard.

  “We will go, and we will win,” I pronounce. “And I will cover all expenses. Of course, I will ask your parents for permission, as is proper.”

  Stella puts her hand over her heart, smiling at me. I will do anything for that smile. “Thank you. I owe you big time.”

  That is a debt I can never collect, because surely I’d ask for the one thing I cannot have: Her.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Boz

  After Neli shows Stella out, I quickly realize from the sweat gathering in my nether region that I have backed myself into a very precarious corner. A trip to France? With Stella? What in the name of the dark gods was I thinking?

  This connection between us is growing stronger by the minute, like a force I cannot control. And, as anyone who knows vampires will tell you, an out-of-control vampire is a very bad vampire. Prince Bozhidar might be dangerous and handsome, but he is no rogue. I do not kill haphazardly. I weigh the risks and adhere to my rules. I am not a savage.

  Yet, every moment that passes in Stella’s presence leaves me feeling inc
reasingly vulnerable to temptation. I want to be bad. I want to be a bad, dirty vampire with Stella.

  “Neli! Come here, you insolent major-dorko!”

  It takes several moments until I hear her footsteps approaching the kitchen, where I am currently collecting ice from that rectangular food-cooling box and depositing it into a cloth.

  The kitchen door swings open. “It’s majordomo. And what do you want?”

  “Yes. Major-dodo. Is this not what I said?” I grunt. “And do not distract me from the subject at hand; I cannot accompany Stella to France.” I place the ice in a cloth and shove it down the front of my trousers. Christ almighty, that’s cold!

  “Ummm…what the hell are you doing, Boz?”

  “What does it look like? I am cooling my loins.” I yelp as one cube works its way free and slides down the interior of my trouser leg.

  “Strange way to deal with your horniness, but oddly, I’m not shocked by anything you do these days.” She exhales and folds her arms over her chest. “Now, what’s this about not going to France?”

  I wince, feeling my gonads shrink into tight stones. “It is too risky. My desire for her blood is overwhelmingly powerful, and I fear I will kill her.”

  Neli lifts one red brow. “You’re an eight-hundred-year-old vampire, and you’re telling me you can’t control yourself around a girl?”

  “Yes. Exactly.” I yank the icy cloth from my breeches and toss the bundle into the sink. “It is no use! The fire in my loins will not extinguish.”

  Neli chuckles. “Told you so.”

  “Told me what?” I snarl.

  “She’s your mate.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, but she is not. I was perfectly able to resist her this evening, as you saw with your very own eyes.”

  “Says the man shoving ice down his pants.”

  “I admit that my attraction to Stella is extremely strong, but that does not make her my mate.”

  Neli shakes her head and whooshes out a frustrated breath. If I agree with Neli, then I will have to accept making Stella mine, and I cannot have that. Stella is meant to be human—beautiful, kind, delicate. “No. Impossible.”