How to Discipline Your Vampire (14 page)

I didn’t let go of his arm. “
You’re
enticing,” I said, pulling him back down. “You can make me something yummy for breakfast instead,” I suggested, knowing full well what that implied.

His eyebrows flicked upward, questioning me.

“Stay,” I whispered again.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Cerise

“I think we went through your entire toy box last night,” William chuckled while stirring the blueberry waffle batter.

I took a long, satisfying swig of my fresh-squeezed orange juice and looked at him levelly. “And broke seventy-five percent of my apparatuses,” I joked sternly. “I’m going to need to know about all the ins and outs of this vampire stuff if I want to keep my collection intact.”

He spun and refilled my glass. “I’ve already placed a replacement order online. Should be arriving by this afternoon,” he said perfunctorily. Always timely and practical, this one. “And I’ll tell you everything you need to know about my kind. Just . . . not all at once, if you don’t mind.”

“Thank you,” I spoke quietly. And meant it. “Sit with me?” I asked.

He pulled the last steaming waffle from the iron and brought it to me smoothly. “Of course,” he said, pulling out the maple syrup and butter before sitting. Still naked.

“So, give me the SparkNotes version of how to date a vampire.”

He grunted. “Just don’t run for the hills.”

“So, is otherworldly stamina part of your vampire repertoire of tricks?” I asked after swallowing a bite of blueberry-studded heaven.

William laughed, and I smiled at the sound.
Otherworldly
indeed—how did I ever question it? He could never pass for an ordinary human.

“Yes, Mistress, and I’m going to have to compliment you for keeping up with me. Clearly you go to the gym, or run marathons or something,” he said with a grin.

“Oh sure. I’ve run triathlons, climbed Everest in my skivvies, and am able to fuck vampires for hours on end. That’s how I roll.”

“Maybe we could do a mountain-climbing scene, if that’s how you’ll be dressed. I’m sure all the ropes associated with hiking gear would certainly be advantageous.”

“So, how is it you’re able to come to my house during the day? Sunlight and all?”

He scratched his neck. “It doesn’t kill us—we’re allergic to it.”

“Allergic?”

He pointed to where he had scratched. “If we’re in the sun too long, it gives us a rash. It’s like eczema.”

I buried my face in my hands. “That’s the nerdiest thing I have ever heard.”

He shrugged. “It’s not very cool, but it’s better than being lit on fire every time I leave the house. In fact, pretty much ninety-nine percent of vampire myths aren’t true. We’re just very durable blood drinkers, not magical bat-people, although we do have enhanced sensory abilities.”

“What’s going to happen when I have my . . . visitor?” I asked, cringing.

He paused. “You have regular houseguests?”

“My period.”

William laughed. “Let’s just say it’s a good thing you only get it four times a year.”

“Seasonique, the preferred birth control choice of vampires and their lovers.”

He covered his face with his hands and stifled a laugh. “Any more questions?”

“Is Harvey a vampire? Is that how he makes such wonderful clothes—he just taps into his vampire skill set?”

William shook his head. “No, he’s a human. My niece and her husband are vampires, but we have human friends,” he explained.

“Does Harvey know you’re a vampire?”

“Yes—in fact, the nature of our relationship revolves around it,” William said, slightly cowed. “He donates blood to us in hopes we’ll change him at some point.”

Shit was starting to get real.

“Um, how does that work?”

He waved his hands. “I really don’t want to scare you anymore. Please understand, young American vampires are very progressive in their beliefs. We don’t want to live in a world where we’re predators—we want symbiosis. I’ll tell you about our lifestyle in time. Just know that Harvey is a great guy, a killer designer, and helps keep me alive.”

I nodded, mouth full. “Okay.” Who was I to question whatever supernatural forces gave me this unnatural gift—I didn’t care if he’s from heaven or hell.

“So you’re . . . okay with this?” William asked, gesturing between us. He also looked worriedly at the small nick on my chest, visible only due to my navy La Perla bathrobe slightly slipping downward.

“I was actually disappointed you didn’t have little fangs that popped out,” I joked, swirling my last piece of waffle in the syrup and butter sauce. “Do you have fangs?”

He opened his mouth and showed me his teeth. “Not really, since we all file them down nowadays. Plus, you made the cut yourself,” he said with a shrug. “I have to warn you, Mistress; that was very risky. I wasn’t just saying those things in the heat of the moment—you were truly in danger. Most people who donate to us have been trained in how to behave while we’re feeding,” he said, looking me sincerely in the eyes. I nodded for no real reason—I didn’t know if it meant I understood, or I wouldn’t tempt him again. He continued, and gave me a peck on the lips. “Despite the danger, however, it was probably one of the most incredible experiences of my life. Thank you for trusting me.”

“Thank
you
for trusting
me,
” I said, and pulled him close. I gave his stomach a few kisses as he stood by my side and stroked my hair.

“Speaking of trust,” he purred coyly, “tell me something.”

I nodded into his embrace. “Sure.”

“What’s in that little recipe box you’re always fussing over?”

I sat up. “Nothing.”

He pouted. “Trust me. I’m just curious.”

“Another time.”

Suddenly, William cleared my plate and gestured to the clock. “What time do you leave for school?”

Shit
. “I have a class first period, so I should probably hop in the shower and head out soon,” I groaned.

He looked crestfallen for a moment, but then perked up. “Mistress, my speed could allow for a shorter shower. I’m sure I could do a fast and thorough shampoo job if you’d allow me to accompany you,” he said, again trying to hide his impending smirk.

“A fast and thorough shampoo job, eh?” I asked. “That sounds dirty.” Bizzy chuckled maniacally.

He shook his head. “I assure you, you’ll be quite clean,” he said stoically.

Apparently vampires don’t always catch sarcasm or innuendoes. Oh well, off to the showers. William better not drop the soap . . . Then again, nothing can go “there,” so no use bringing any of my waterproof toys.

“Why do you keep touching your head like that? Does the nurse need to check you for lice?” Deirdre asked. That woman genuinely had no fucking filter.

“No, it’s just tingly,” I said, remembering the vigorous
how-do-you-do
William gave to my scalp hours earlier. I realized I just came up with a nickname for him—
Thoroughbred
. Hung like a horse, and thorough as fuck.

Nah, Chilly Willy’s better. My Chilly Willy. Mmmmmmm.

“Are you sure you’re not sick or something? Your eyes just completely glazed over, and a tingly scalp sounds suspicious. Do you use prescription-strength dandruff shampoo or something?”

Why are you the most socially stunted human I’ve ever met?
“I’m fine. Now if you’re done nuking your SpaghettiOs, I’d like to heat my lunch,” I replied. Deirdre pulled her disgusting meal out of the microwave and sat with some teachers who didn’t like her while she peppered them with inappropriate questions.

“That’s quite a nice-looking muffin you’ve got there,” said the oil slick of a voice to my right.

Uggggh,
Gunderson was back. Wait—you know what, I didn’t care. Today I woke up to a nude wafflefest and I should be nice to this poor guy.

He adjusted his hairpiece and gestured at the blueberry muffin I was warming. Oh yeah, William had some extra batter and decided to improvise.

“It’s nice to see you in the building again, Neil. When did you get back?” I asked, trying to change the subject from my muffin to . . . anything else.

He scratched behind his ear and began telling me about how despite the fact that the incision was still looking scabby, the doctor told him to go back to work.

I fought a dry heave. “Well, take care.” I cradled my warm little muffin in my hands and scooted off to my computer.

I checked my e-mail, and saw that William was able to grab Harvey just long enough to make us some costumes for tonight.

Oh, while we were in the shower, I invited William to the
Three’s Company
social. I felt like showing him off.

Normally, I didn’t bring my submissives to events. I usually just went to mixers alone, regardless of my relationship status. Brent used to beg me to take him, desperately wanting people to see us together. I told him that sounded too much like a real date to me, and he’d shut his yap.

We only went on one pseudodate once, and it ended with my asshole father calling Brent a real “pussy.” My grandmother was insistent that I bring a date—a
male
date—to my cousin’s wedding. She had been telling her friends that her granddaughter “knew the love that dare not speak its name.” She found my demeanor particularly unladylike, probably because my mother had been banished years ago by my father’s rigidity and therefore I didn’t have a female role model. So, to prove my raging heterosexuality, I brought Brent to meet the fam. It was a disaster. He never knew how to let down the sub role in front of my dad. Now, ever since my first boyfriend—or “the incident,” as he liked to call it—my father had never met a man he liked for me. With good reason. And he had passed away just after Christmas, so he’d never be able to criticize anyone else I brought home. I shook off the uncomfortable feelings and refocused my mind on what made me happy: William.

Last night showed me a lot about William. Like the fact that he was made for me. Yeah, he was probably born before my great-great-grandparents, and his primary food source was still alive when he ate, but who was I to judge? The man was a freaking miracle. Everything I could ever want. Why shouldn’t I take him and show him to the world?

And honestly, as strange as this was to say, I didn’t think I lost any ground with him as my sub. Regardless of my gushing right now, I was still as firm as ever with him. I even made him loofah my heels in the shower. And he loved it. As he should.

I HOPE YOU LIKE PAISLEY.
My phone buzzed and displayed William’s text.

AS LONG AS YOU’RE MY MAIN ACCESSORY, I KNOW WE’LL TURN SOME HEADS,
I wrote back.

WITHOUT A DOUBT. ALTHOUGH, I HAVE TO ADMIT, HARVEY CRAFTED ME SOME VERY TIGHT PANTS. I’M A LITTLE CONCERNED.

I needed to meet this man. And sing “Wind Beneath My Wings” to him. Harvey the blood donor was my new hero.

“So, we’ll add feathering my hair to the list of things you’re supremely good at,” I said to William, or should I call him Vamp-dal Sassoon, who was holding the hot curling iron to the last straight strand of hair.

He shrugged, somewhat embarrassed. “Don’t forget, I lived through the seventies.”

And as his eyes lowered, I realized he was admiring Harvey’s handiwork as well. On my daisy dukes.

“Did they really wear shorts this skimpy back then?” I spun around to give him a better view.

“I swear, I would have enjoyed the seventies if you were around then, disco and all,” he said affectionately.

“So, do you really own nursing homes, or is that a front for shady vampire business?” I asked.

“No, I really own them.”

“Why?”

He sighed. “Because, I originally opened one to take care of my biological parents when they became too old to care for themselves. Their other child—my brother—died in his early thirties, so there was nobody to look after them. I never revealed myself to them, of course, since I was ashamed of my nature, but they graciously accepted spots in the first home of my franchise.”

“Are they . . . gone?”

William nodded. “Yes, they passed. I came to love the job of elder care, however. Had I not changed into a vampire, I would be in my eighties. So the folks at the home are really my contemporaries. We talk for hours—well, they talk and I listen and nod and smile. And enjoy the nostalgia.”

“That’s intense. So you’re not, like, five hundred years old, then, I suppose. Lame.”

“No, but my vampire parents are quite old. They lived through the Renaissance, and so when they raised me, they instilled me with the philosophy of art and aesthetics. They are the reason why I paint, sculpt, and compose,” he explained, then his expression darkened. “They also made me a monster.”