Honeymoon Bite (Golden Vampire Legacy) (7 page)

Yes. Make yourself strong. Take the blood and join me forever.

He had waited three hundred years. He could wait just a little more. But just a little.

Anne felt aroused and unsatisfied, even though her craving to feed had subsided. Something about the dark young man in her arms sparked a tender chord in her heart. She brushed the curly hair from his neck and licked the two puncture wounds there, following it up with a kiss. She’d discovered yesterday if she licked any wound, it would heal immediately. It was a nifty trick.

This young stallion was delicious—in every sense of the word. His chest rose and fell, the golden cross glinting in the moonlight like the delicate twinkle of an angel’s kiss. Her fingers scanned his full red lips as she looked into his closed eyes.

He would wake up soon, probably with a hard-on, and, as she confirmed this, he started to stir. She undid his button fly and slid his pants down one hip, then raised her skirts so he would think they had just been intimate. As she felt his hardness against her abdomen, she found she did feel intense desire. But it wasn’t for him, exactly. And it wasn’t for Robert either.

He awakened. She smiled, giving him the satisfied glamour of a woman who had been pleasured by a skillful lover. “Thank you,” she said, and kissed him.

His fingers gripped her skirts, drawing her against his groin. “Uno mas,” he whispered,
one more time
. He buried his head between her breasts, which were flaming hot with desire.

“Lover, as much as I want to, I can’t. I must go before my husband misses me.” She displayed her ring.

It was a lie, but she didn’t need entanglements.

Pain registered in his face, sending a frown and a worry line between his eyebrows. His silky lashes glistened as he squeezed her breast and took in his last look at her warm flesh.

“Where are you staying, then? I must see you again,” he whispered to her chest. He groaned and pushed his cock against the black lace panties she wore, dangerously tempting her.

She was not going to have sex with this tall, dark Adonis of a man, even though he looked at her in a way that thrilled her. She would need another feeding tomorrow. The timing would work out nicely for her.

“I will meet you tomorrow night, if you like, but not late. I’ll meet you here at six, after dinner.”

He threw his head back and laughed. “Dinner? I don’t eat until nine or ten.” He kissed her apple-shaped breast, licked her bottom lip, and then covered her mouth. “But I will meet you here tomorrow night, and take you to dinner afterwards,” he whispered between kisses. “We will dance with the gypsies, and then I will take you to my bed, and—”

“Do you have a shower?” she interrupted.

“Of course.”

“Good. You will take me to your place, and then I must leave. I go to bed early and leave the next morning. Sorry.”

Now it was her time to frown and kiss his right temple. His pulse roared back strong, nearly recovered. She saw visions of feeding on him while he pleasured her with his cock, of her allowing him to feed on her. She was wet all over again as a little orgasm tickled her insides.

So it was arranged and they kissed as he thanked her for the evening of sex he thought he had. He reluctantly let her go, lingering and begging one more time, which Anne sidestepped with a sweet kiss. She was thrilled she could take a wet feeding in the shower tomorrow. No mess that way, but no sex either. The thrill of being naked with him fueled anticipation. It would be the first time she’d feasted on someone for the second time.

He watched her adjust her skirts and re-button her bodice, but at the last minute tore it open to feast on her breasts again. He would have been a wonderful lover, she thought, if that were what she was looking for.

Am I looking for something? Someone?

Yes, she thought. She was certain it wasn’t her husband, and it couldn’t be this young stranger.

But who?

So many things had changed. She wasn’t afraid as she walked through the wet streets all alone. She heard people inside rooms eating food, arguing and making love. She heard children snoring in their beds. Dogs barked as she passed and she found if she sent them a gentle message they would quiet.

Very odd.
But not unpleasant.

She found it easy to run up the narrow steps to the room. She used her heavy iron key to unlock the door, which groaned open. In the dark, she undressed. Did she see a figure standing below under a streetlamp, perhaps looking up at her?

She blinked, rubbed her eyes, but this time all she saw was a swirling white steam coming from a grate embedded in the stone sidewalk.

Anne slipped into the sheets naked, loving the sensation of cloth against bare skin. She pinched her nipples and turned her face to the light of the streetlamp. Her sexual need was driving her crazy.

Perhaps I’ll let him tomorrow. I’ll try feeding and fucking at the same time.

As she scanned the room in the early morning hours, hoping for another erotic dream to overtake her, she suddenly felt sleepy, as if a warm breeze had floated over the back of her neck. She felt protected, as if arms held her warm and secure. She would live forever. She could live and die in his arms. Whoever
he
was.

Marcus had been standing outside the Monastery Hotel under a streetlamp when he saw her figure in the darkened window. His body absorbed the swirling white misty air, hiding him from her sight.

He’d made sure she got home safely, walking behind her as tears streamed down his face with need as he’d smelled her arousal and knew he could satisfy her. As she prepared for bed, he traced to the Spanish lad, her intended meal for tomorrow, and made sure he would not be physically able to keep his appointment with Anne. Then he’d come to her as she lay naked and full of desire. He’d pleasured her until she said those words that haunted him now:

“Take me.”

And he very nearly had, too. He’d sucked at her peach and vibrated her core with his tongue, making her come, and beg for more.

Her sexual appetite was growing by the day. He knew it wouldn’t take long before he would no longer be able to satisfy her with just oral sex. She wanted
him
.

He would make sure tomorrow’s feeding, the last before her trip back to America, would not take place. He had disabled the young Spaniard—not permanently, but enough so that he wouldn’t be able to keep his appointment. Anne would have to feed on a stranger.

As he lay invisibly spooned behind her, awash in the scent of her flesh, her hair, her juices, he reminded himself to be careful and not get too carried away, though his animal side was rattling the cage to get out. He sighed and placed a gentle kiss on the back of her neck.

How in the world am I going to last another twenty days?

Marcus was good as his word. Anne returned to California and he continued to check up on her by day and appear, like in a dream, at night.

He purchased an estate property, suitable for royalty, in the countryside north of her, with over a thousand acres of some of the finest grapes in the valley. He brought the boy Lucius with him, and started his instruction by telling him of the ancient stories. About fating. About the blood. About the choice he would take at puberty whether or not to turn vampire or remain human. He treated the boy as his own. It helped to pass the time until he could contact her and appear in person.

And on the thirtieth day from the imposition set by the directive, he stood in line behind Anne at Starbucks, hopeful he could now put an end to a bittersweet chapter in his life and open a new one. A chapter that would bring him joy and all the wishes his heart desired.

He hoped.

Chapter 7

“Does your husband know about your appetites?” From behind Anne came a gravelly male voice that sent shivers down her spine. The screams of the Starbuck’s espresso machine made her wonder if she’d really heard the voice. But the male scent of him was impossible to miss. The hairs at her neck stood at attention, telegraphing urgency. The urgent sensation extended well beyond her waistline. Time stood still before she could bring herself to turn around and fall under the warm gaze from this tall dark male that covered her.

Not man. Male.

He held her gaze as she stood, transfixed, unable to move or to speak. That was the way it felt. Being held. “I’m sorry?” she blurted out finally.

“Don’t be sorry, my dear. It’s a simple question.” The ends of his lips curled up at the corners. When he inhaled, his chest extended, and he appeared several inches taller. Then he exhaled and she was covered with the same musky scent, incapacitating her, wrapping around her like a warm shroud. It was familiar.

She heard mournful viola music drip with slides and rifts that pulled on her heartstrings. She felt dizzy. Did she hear him murmur a groan? Or maybe it was a small earthquake? Probably an ordinary person wouldn’t hear or feel it. But she did.

Anne was on alert; this male took liberties with her feelings.

What a crazy thought. Ridiculous.

He leaned forward, grazing just the edge of her forearm with his warm hand. An electric spark pricked her. He leaned against the counter and looked at the barista, not her. “I’ll pay for the lady’s drink.”

She noticed the strong pulse at his neck.
Healthy. Smells wonderful.

“And what would
you
like, sir?” The young barista was pert. Anne didn’t like her perfect white teeth. That and the fact the girl’s shirt was made for a ten-year-old, showcasing her pierced bellybutton.

“I have all I need.” The rumbling words sparked shivers again down Anne’s spine. He said it just next to her ear, barely touching touched the small of her back . . . He was facing the barista, but deep inside Anne knew the words were meant for her ears only.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Anne suddenly found the urge to speak.

“My pleasure.” He removed his hand and gave a slight bow.

A bow?
No one had ever done that before. Anne had just fed. She wasn’t hungry enough to play the game this afternoon, having gorged herself on a salesman who liked to eat garlic fries. His blood was thick with fat globules she could almost see as well as taste. But it went down smooth.

So maybe she would play along. This stranger might be a good candidate for a snack tomorrow. She had never fed twice in one day. She wondered what being too full would feel like in her current state. It would probably make her horny. Well then, maybe she should reconsider. She should do a wet feeding. That way she wouldn’t have to be too careful, could gorge herself on him. He’d be wonderful to look at in the shower, and his hands might do something unexpected to her. Something memorable in a string of unmemorable feedings.

His hand gently touched the small of her back again, and she allowed herself to be ushered to a corner table, flanked by two purple velvet overstuffed chairs. They sat, facing at right angles to each other. The counter girl called out Anne’s drink. He was up and walking over to pick it up for her before she had a chance to react.

She watched him cross the coffeehouse like a thirsty traveler eyeing a pitcher of water. He was probably six foot six. His dark hair was pulled back in a short ponytail. His black leather bomber jacket showed his nice ass and those long lanky legs that went all the way to Heaven. Even for his size, he appeared graceful. Unassuming. Confident. And the nicest looking male from behind that she had ever seen.

And then he turned, holding the little white paper cup with two fingers, the other ones splayed out, large as antlers. She could see how long his fingers were, how substantial. She envisioned what those hands could do to her. But as sexy as he was, he also made her mouth water to feed.

His prominent jaw line sported blue-black stubble. His strong pulse would be no problem at all, but she would have to bite a little harder to crack the skin. Maybe he would let her take him slowly. Then she could kiss other parts of him in between while his heart pumped more of the blood she craved. His lips were bright red and full. She would enjoy sucking them, licking them. Perhaps biting them.

His eyes found their way to hers, and when she met his gaze, she became self-conscious of her thoughts, as if she knew somehow he could read her mind. Anne told herself it was her craving for blood that caused the almost sexual attraction for this male. After she fed, surely she wouldn’t feel this way, she thought.

He delicately deposited the white cup delicately in her hands. One finger touched and almost seemed to rub against hers. She thought she was imagining the touch, of course. Between her legs, a warm pool had formed. It was a curious place to feel hunger, a hunger of another kind. She blushed at her erotic thoughts.

“You like cappuccino?” He seemed intrigued by the idea.

“Yes. I need the caffeine in the afternoon.”

“And here I thought your cheeks were flushed and ripe from a good meal.” Those black eyes peered right to her soul. Almost as an afterthought, he smiled, and the dark became brown, ringed with a coppery color that drew her in.

I’ll play your game.

“Yes. After a big meal, I get tired sometimes.”

He nodded. “I remember that.”

Anne looked out the window. This was beginning to feel dangerous. She grabbed her drink and stood. He stopped her by placing one hand on her wrist. His action was soft, but deliberate.
This male won’t be denied.

“Please, sit just a little longer. Then I’ll let you go home to your husband.”

“Go? You’ll let me go? What kind of talk is that? I think . . .” She began to rise again, but his firm grip on her forearm stopped her.

“Hear me out just a bit.” He did appear to be begging. Could it be she saw a flash of pain there?
No way.

“How do you know I’m married?” she snapped out, letting her impatience show.

“You wear a wedding ring.” He fingered her ring slowly, sensually. She let him touch her, perhaps a bit too long. She was going to correct his misconception but decided to leave him thinking she was protected by another man. Safer that way.