Blood Lite II: Overbite

by Kevin J. Anderson

  Lola opened and closed her mouth before any words could come out. “Raina, sometimes I don’t even know what to say to you.”

  “I know,” she said, grasping Lola’s hand in friendship again as the table beside them erupted when new drinks arrived. “Good, because we’re leaving here and gonna go to this cool little vampire blood bar I heard about.”

  She could not believe she was doing this. But how did you tell the pack’s she-alpha thanks but no thanks? In a word, you didn’t. What had started out as a girl’s dinner at Outback Steakhouse was quickly morphing into a hostage-adventure.

  A mai tai and Yuengling lager were doing hand-to-hand combat in her stomach, making the steak and potatoes and, of all things, garlic bread and cheese broccoli, repeat on her.

  “OMG, I think I’m gonna be ill,” Lola groaned.

  “It’s just adrenaline . . . nerves. The rush of the hunt.”

  “I ate garlic bread.”

  The black SUV swerved. “Oh, shit,” Raina said. “Quick, in my purse. Take like five mints and give me a couple.”

  Lola complied and began rooting around in Raina’s purse, bypassing condoms, a couple of joints in a baggie, and her cell phone. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure,” Raina said with a bright smile.

  “Uh . . . is Bruno gonna flip if he finds out somehow that you went to a vamp bar—and be mad at me?”

  “He won’t be mad at you, Lollie-dollie, I promise. Just at little ole me.”

  Lola sat sideways in her seat, stretching the seat belt around her. “But he is gonna flip, isn’t he?”

  “Do you know how many women that man has fucked up and down the Eastern seaboard, not to mention throughout all the mountain ranges between here and Kentucky? Screw Bruno! I’m doin’ a vampire tonight.”

  “Okay, that’s it. You’ve had too much to drink and you are so not thinking clearly. Turn the SUV around or let me out on the side of the road,” Lola said, holding her head. “I thought you two were doing okay and were a permanently mated pair. I don’t want to—”

  “We ARE a mated pair!” Raina said, her voice taking on a sudden fractured tone that Lola had never heard. “But he knows there isn’t an alpha for miles that would dare dominance challenge him, so, he thinks he can do as he pleases.” She glanced at her purse as her cell phone vibrated. “I’m in phase and nowhere to be found. Those older human females were right. I’m not letting him dog me! Tonight I’ll let him twist.”

  Lola sat back in her seat and just closed her eyes.

  • • •

  She didn’t know what she expected. Goth maybe. But the techno-punk beat, neon strobe lights, and naked girls dancing the poles with snakes was not it.

  “Welcome to Li’l Hell,” the bartender said, flashing fangs. “What’ll you fine canine types have tonight?”

  “Jack Daniel’s, neat,” Raina said, scanning the bar, “and give my girlfriend whatever you’ve got on tap.”

  The bartender smiled. “Baby, I’ve got O positive, negative, A, B . . . you’re gonna have to be a little more specific.”

  “Um . . . I’m the designated driver, so a ginger ale will be just fine,” Lola replied, leaning in so the entire bar didn’t hear her order.

  The bartender gave her a thumbs-up and leaned in closer as Raina stalked away from the bar and entered the dance floor solo.

  “Your girlfriend looks like she’s on the serious hunt tonight—a real alpha . . . is there gonna be a problem in here if her man finds out?”

  For a few seconds, Lola simply stared at him, blinking.

  “You just answered my question. Thanks, honey. It’s my job to know these things so I can telegraph it to my bouncers,” he said with a toothy grin. He gave her a little shrug. “That way we reduce property damage and keep it all in the parking lot. But if she came in here for some action, she came to the right place. Our Barons love this kind of adventure . . . keeps ’em from getting bored.”

  He handed Lola a ginger ale with a twist of lemon, as well as Raina’s drink to hold for her while she was on the dance floor. The only thing Lola could say was “oh,” as she watched her girlfriend move with the music.

  It was a primal, sultry, sexy dance that drew the attention of several handsome male vampires that had been aloof and monitoring the crowd from the perimeter. Sweat soon stained Raina’s shirt and Lola glanced around, watching the males slowly wet their lips and take a slow sip of what looked like merlot but wasn’t. Then her girlfriend’s head jerked toward a dark-haired suitor’s intense gaze. She smiled and gave him her back to consider, seductively gyrating her perfect ass as a temptation.

  A blond male in the corner stood at the same time the dark-haired suitor did. Both males locked gazes as Raina closed her eyes and moaned.

  From the corner of her eyes, Lola watched her girlfriend’s small clutch vibrate across the bar. She quickly set down her ginger ale and grabbed it, and then flung it up under her arm.

  “Please Bruno, please Bruno, don’t come looking for her tonight,” Lola said, and then accidentally sipped the drink she was holding and came up sputtering.

  “Let me help you with that,” a smooth baritone voice murmured so close to her ear that she almost fell off her stool. “The name is Andre.”

  He rounded her bar stool and blotted the spilled drink with a small square bar napkin. “I’ve never seen you in here before.”

  “My first time,” Lola said, setting down Raina’s drink and taking a huge gulp of her ginger ale. Then she hoisted her purse up higher on her shoulder, awkwardly balancing two purses and her drink.

  “So, not being sure how far you wanted to take this adventure,” he said in a smooth Caribbean lilt, “you decided to ingest garlic.”

  Lola covered her mouth and he laughed a deep, rich, belly laugh that warmed her insides.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, coming to sit beside her. “I didn’t mean to tease but couldn’t resist. You are simply the most interesting woman I’ve encountered in a very long time. May I replace the drink that half spilled?”

  “It wasn’t mine . . . it was for my girlfriend, and like a klutz I accidentally drank it.”

  “That’s all right,” he murmured. “Sometimes I drink things that I’m probably not supposed to. What can we do?”

  Lola looked up into one of the most handsome faces she’d ever seen and then looked back down at the mess she’d made on the bar. His skin was so dark and even that it made her want to reach out and touch it. Instead, she traced drops of Jack Daniel’s with her finger against the smooth mahogany that reminded her of his skin. Thick, black lashes rimmed his intense, deep-set eyes. Strong African features made him look more like a work of art than a living being; then she quickly reminded herself that, technically, Andre wasn’t alive . . . but damn. A stone-cut body sat beside her, openly studying her, and she refused to make a size judgment based on his wonderfully large hands. In that moment she wished that she had on a nicer blouse to go with her jeans and heels, something black and daring and V-neck like Raina wore instead of the scoop-neck purple thing she had on.

  Andre leaned on his forearms at the bar but inclined his head toward her. “What you have on is just fine,” he murmured. “It is your style and what is within each woman that is different that a man yearns to uncover.”

  “You read my mind—like, like—”

  “It is what we do,” he said with a casual shrug. “But some things are written all over a lovely lady’s face.”

  He hailed the bartender. “Please replace Lola’s drink for her friend and refresh her ginger ale. Her mouth is going dry.”

  “Stop that!” Lola replied, sounding testy but couldn’t stop smiling.

  Andre held his hands up in front of his chest as the bartender removed Raina’s drink and knocked back what was left in the glass.

  “So, you came here tonight to babysit your girlfriend.”

  Lola shrugged and took a fresh swig of her pop. “Pretty much.”

  “I’m
a bouncer here and I see this all the time. A beautiful woman comes in, begins tweaking up the testosterone on dangerous males, and voilà . . . the perfect storm.”

  Lola watched his gaze travel to the dance floor where two interested vampires had Raina between them.

  “I think those guys are willing to compromise with a three-way, but I don’t think your girlfriend is ready to experiment that deep in the life yet.”

  Lola choked on her soda. “I’ve gotta get her out of here!”

  Andre nodded. “Yes . . . you do, but the window has passed. So, I’m going to ask you to jump behind the bar with old Matt.”

  “Jump behind the—”

  No sooner than the words had passed her lips, the front door came off its hinges and seven burly werewolf pack males charged the dance floor in full transformation. Vampires took to the rafters and second-floor railings. The dance floor cleared and Raina placed her hands on her hips.

  “Excuse me,” Andre said, catching a wood-handled baseball bat from the bartender, which had a silver club end. “Now would be a good time to get behind the bar.”

  Lola scurried over the bar but stood watching in amazement.

  “Gentlemen, I’m afraid you’re going to have to take this issue outside,” Andre called out calmly, advancing on the floor with ten buff bouncers.

  Bruno transformed back into his human form, standing before Raina naked and angry with a hard-on. “This is between me and my lady!”

  “Then keep it that way and take her home,” another bouncer shouted.

  “I’m not going home with him, I’m going with them!” Raina shouted, taunting Bruno.

  “Lady, you don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here,” another bouncer yelled.

  “Shall we call you a cab?” the rebuffed dark-haired vampire said with a sneer toward Bruno.

  “We can see her home before morning,” the blond said with a knowing grin.

  Andre wiped his free hand down his face. “Come on, dudes. Gimme a break tonight.”

  The moment Raina stepped back from Bruno, the bar erupted. Chairs went flying, punches were hurled, fangs came out and canines got bared. Pole dancing females screamed and dodged flying beer bottles, carrying off their snakes, as huge bodies took out the stage. A chair hit the bar, followed by a table that shattered bottles above Lola’s head. She scrambled to safety just in time as the entire shelf crashed to the floor.

  But there wasn’t time to dwell on the near miss. Lola kept moving, dodging hurled furniture and hard-landing bodies. Finally, a pump shotgun blast and the smell of silver shell discharge brought the bar brawl to a screeching halt.

  “Enough!” a velvet-suited vampire said, coming down from the executive offices. “Wolves, go home. My vampire staff, reglamour this place and pull it together.”

  Disgruntled patrons muttered their disappointment. The bartender shook his head. “Damn, just when things were getting good.”

  “You coming?” Bruno bellowed toward Raina, folding his arms over his massive barrel chest.

  “After I get my purse,” she said, lifting her chin, unfazed, and going back to the destroyed section of the bar where she and Lola had been sitting.

  Lola stood there for a moment gaping as Bruno nodded, and then hunted on the floor and picked up her handbag.

  “All right, but hurry up, girl . . . there’s still some moon left,” Bruno said after a moment when Raina folded her arms.

  Stunned, Lola watched Raina collect her bag and then extract her car keys.

  “Girl, you don’t mind driving yourself home tonight, do you? You know how he gets, all tense and sexy, and I guess I’ll have to give his fine ass some.” Raina dropped her car keys in Lola’s hand and then hugged her, whispering in her ear, “We’ve gotta do this again soon. Tonight was awesome.”

  There were no words. Lola stared behind her girlfriend and the pack alpha, noticing that several of his beta friends were now giving her the appreciative eye. Then a deep baritone voice filled her ear and made her turn away from the group by the door.

  “Why don’t you stay, boo? Hang out with us tonight. It’ll raise your stock in the pack.”

  She shook her head and found herself chuckling at Andre’s hand sign to call him. Yeah, she was dog tired and just wanted to go home. She’d experienced enough drama for one night. But when she looked back, the vampires generally seemed forlorn, as though the mêlée was the most fun they’d had in years.

  “I don’t have your number,” Lola said after a moment and loud enough for the werewolves to hear her.

  Andre laughed a deep, rich island laugh as her phone sounded in her purse. “Now you do. I don’t mind dating out if you don’t. Call me—just not in the morning, and no garlic. Cool, ma?”

  A Sweet Girl for Todd

  MARK ONSPAUGH

  “Here you go,” she said, handing him a brochure for a tanning salon.

  It read Aztec Tan and featured a tanned and muscular jaguar warrior surrounded by pretty girls in bikinis.

  Todd gulped. One of the beauties in the photo was standing before him.

  “So, how about a tan?” she asked.

  Todd was embarrassed by the attention, especially from a beauty with such large blue eyes. She wore a turquoise silk blouse, open just enough to tempt his gaze. He tried to concentrate on her blond hair, which shimmered in the sun like spun gold.

  Like Sif, the wife of Thor, he marveled.

  “Mama never let me go out in the sun,” he said. His mother had always made dire predictions about what would happen if he ventured outside, so he had grown up in a world of perpetual dimness. Then, three months ago, she had been installing new blackout curtains and had fallen off the ladder, breaking her neck. After she was gone Todd took his first tentative step outside. Once he discovered that he would not burst into flame or melt like a waxwork figure, he had reveled in the feel of sunshine and open air.

  “No wonder you’re so pale,” she said, shaking her head sadly. Todd felt his heart break to see her unhappy while at the same time his spirit soared because she really seemed to care for him.

  “I also had bad skin, but I’ve been using Skin-Alive and Chum-Scrub,” he said.

  “I think your skin is beautiful,” she said shyly. “My name is Mandy.”

  “I’m Todd.”

  “You have family here in L.A., Todd? I can tell you’re from out of town by your accent . . . Chicago?”

  “Detroit,” he said, happy she was interested. “No, it was just Mama and me, and she’s dead. I wanted to go someplace . . . sunny.”

  “So now you’re here, seeking your fortune . . . And maybe . . . love?”

  Todd blushed a bright crimson and felt it travel all the way from his cheeks to the tips of his toes. It was not an unpleasant sensation.

  Mandy took his arm, and her touch sent a shock wave of electricity through him. He willed himself not to sway, lest she break her grasp.

  “So, Todd from Detroit, how about that tan?”

  “I’m . . . uh . . . too big for a tanning bed,” he said as if imparting a secret.

  “Not ours,” she said sweetly.

  Todd hesitated. He was six foot two and tipped the scales at just shy of four hundred pounds. Todd had come to learn that what might serve most men was either too small or too fragile for him. He was sure it would be that way with her tanning bed and wasn’t sure he could take the embarrassment.

  “Tell you what,” Mandy cooed, “you try a tan and you can join me for dinner.”

  “You mean, like a date?”

  She giggled, and it was not the cruel laughter he had heard as he had waddled down Hollywood Boulevard, or the hateful snickers as he ate lunch at the House of Pies. No, her laughter was melodious and magical. Aphrodite might have made such a sound.

  “Of course, silly. You think I’m going to let a handsome, robust man like you get away?”

  Handsome! She found him handsome!

  Was love beckoning to him? His mother’s voice, unbidd
en, reminded him that sunlight was bad for her little man and that he had a ticket back to cloudy Michigan.

  Todd banished her from his thoughts, a first on this day of many firsts.

  Mandy led him down the boulevard, and again he was struck by the dizzying array of colors and textures, of people from every country, some pierced and tattooed into tribal fetishes or creatures Conan or John Carter of Mars might have fought.

  “First trip to Hollywood?” Mandy asked.

  “My first trip anywhere,” he confessed. “I thought it would be like the Clark Gable days.”

  Mandy giggled again, the sweet notes making his heart flutter. He suddenly caught her scent, flowery and clean with a hint of something animal underneath, and felt a strange stirring along his spine and down into his pelvis.

  Maybe that’s love, he thought.

  Mandy escorted him all the way to a strip mall down on Sunset near Vine. Even when his hand became sweaty from exertion, she didn’t let go, and Todd was sure he had found the sweet girl he had been yearning for since he first read of Dejah Thoris, Princess of Mars.

  The shopping center seemed deserted, and weeds had started to sprout in the parking lot. In amongst several failed businesses sat a cheery little storefront with a mural of a Mesoamerican pyramid and a smiling sun with sunglasses. The sign read “Aztec Tan, the Sun Experts!”

  Inside it was cool and brightly lit, with posters of Mexico covering the walls. Todd was introduced to the staff, which included Lila the massage therapist and Derrick the “tan master.” This title was delivered by handsome Derrick with a self-deprecating smile. Todd envied Derrick his heroic muscles and dark curly hair. He looked like Apollo.

  He might have been jealous, but Mandy introduced him as “my Todd,” and he again felt that pleasant heat suffuse his body.

  Then Todd filled out a medical history (no illnesses, no next of kin) and a release (“in the unlikely event . . .”), which Mandy assured him was just for “those stuffy lawyers.” She shyly gave Todd a kiss on the cheek and that removed any fears he might have had.