Microsoft Word - The Mammoth Book of Vampire Romance.doc (14 page)

“You have no idea. And, please call me Nick.” Reluctantly I  released her hand. It was warm and her skin was soft. Her light  floral fragrance put me in mind of springtime in the  Netherlands.

“Then you must call me Victoria,” she said with a smile that

made me  feel like a warm-bloodied creature again.

“Would you care to have coffee with me?” I asked. “I’d

love to discuss the subject of vampires further.”

Her Cupid’s bow lips parted slightly to answer, but she paused. After a moment in which she searched my gaze as if trying to gauge my measure, she said, “That would be nice.”

I held the door open for her as we left the building. The

coffee shop was a short walk.

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“You’re not the typical student,” she said, Her quick onceover, though subtle, wasn’t lost on me. The glance took in my  expensive Italian shoes, my 80-dollar haircut and everything in  between. And I do mean everything.

“And you’re not the typical professor,” I countered,

remembering my earlier assumptions.

“Tell me about yourself,” she said.

I gave her a quick version of my standard cover story, which actually happened to be true as far as it went. I’d inherited and then sold a family shipping business. “With no relatives left in Greece I decided to travel the world.” I said. She didn’t have to know that my last relative died before Christ was born.

“Travel the world doing what?”

“Why anything, of course. I yearn for knowledge above all

things.”

“Are you mocking me? Her gentle laughter was like music.

“I’m perfectly sincere.” I laid my hand against my heart  feigning shock at her accusation. “I think we might be kindred  spirits, you and I.”

“Perhaps we are, at that,” she said.

When we reached the coffee shop, I approached the store-front carefully, making sure the light from the street lamps

caused no reflections in the glass. Centuries of experience made

such cautionary measures second nature.

“Oh, my,” Victoria said. “They’re closed.”

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“That’s too bad.” I looked down the row of restaurants and

bars on the opposite side of the street for an alternative.

“Would you like to have coffee at my place?” she asked.  “The town house I’m renting is only a couple of blocks off  campus.”

I thought it unusual that the professor would invite a stranger into her home, but modern women were an unpredictable lot.

“That would be fine,” I agreed, and we walked on.

“Why vampires?” I asked.

She gave me a sidelong glance that told me she’d heard the question a thousand times. “It’s like I said during my lecture.  They’re fascinating creatures  –  seductive, powerful ”–

“But they’re
 
fictional
 
creatures,” I said disingenuously.  “Why devote your academic life to their study when there are so  many . . .” I hesitated, searching for just the right word.

“So many
 
real
 
things to study?” she supplied.

“Well, yes.” I knew I was risking alienating her. She’d no  doubt had to explain herself
 
ad nauseam
 
to countless persons,  including friends and family, for years. But my curiosity was not  like theirs. Not at all.

She shrugged. “Nothing else ever interested me as much as the immortal. But what about you? You admitted to being a vampire enthusiast. What appeal does the blood drinker hold for  Nick Manos?”

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I faked a sheepish grin. “Exactly the same as everyone else.  It’s the immortality, I guess. I love Stoker, Rice,
 
Nosferatu
 
”–

“What about the killing, the violence?” she asked.

“What about it?”

“That’s what attracts men to the vampire genre in books and

movies, right?”

“Maybe,£ I said non-committally. If any human were to  ever witness death by vampire and live to tell the tale, the horror  would render them a raving lunatic for the rest of their  miserably short lives. “The attraction for women is different,  I’m guessing. I suppose that was the seduction aspect you  mentioned before.”

“You suppose correctly,” she said with a pretty  upwards tilt  of her elegant chin. “When it gets right down to it, doesn’t  everything boil down to sex?” She stopped walking. By the light  of the street lamp her beauty looked suddenly other-worldly,  “Shall we?”

“Excuse me?” I asked.

She treated me to a lilting laugh as she produced her keys from her blazer pocket. We had just reached her door. She unlocked it and went inside. I followed, feeling like an awkward teenager on a first date, something I was entirely unaccustomed to. I feared I was being bewitched.

A quick scan of the rooms through which we passed revealed no mirrors or religious icons. We entered a room with a multitude of books and papers strewn about and a desktop computer facing a window. The air held the faint scent of old books  –  oxidised  paper, a bit of mould  –  and I was immediately comfortable. This was the space of a scholar.

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“You’re working on a paper,” I observed.

“I’m always working on a paper,” She placed her briefcase  on the floor and shrugged off her jacket. “Make yourself at  home.”

I took a seat on the sofa and noticed something I’d missed before in the corner of the room. A small table  held a number of beakers, a microscope, glass slides and a few amber-coloured bottles of chemicals. I inclined my head towards the assembly and  asked. “So, you’re a biologist as well?”

“I’m getting into the forensic side of anthropology. There’s

a great demand for those skills in law enforcement, you know.”

I nodded, vaguely aware that several popular television programmes featured crime-solving scientists. I picked up one of the books within arm’s reach. She toed off her heels and joined me, drawing up her knees onto the couch.

“
Vrykolakes: Vampires in Greek Folklore
.” As I read the  book’s title I became aware of an eerie and unaccustomed  feeling I couldn’t identify making its way down my spine. “I  guess I should know about this, shouldn’t I?” I joked.

“Definitely. What with you being a Greek vampire

enthusiast.”

Her teasing manner was playing tricks with my imagination.  I could have sworn she had put extra emphasis on the word  ‘enthusiast’.

Gently she took the book from me and laid it aside. Her hand came to rest on my thigh. “You don’t really want coffee, do you?”

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I must admit that her forwardness startled me. Naturally I was accustomed to  the licentiousness of some young women, counted on it, in fact. The Girls-Gone-Wild effect, as I termed  it, had secured me countless nights of good blood and better sex.  But I hadn’t expected such wanton behaviour from her. Not from an intellectual. No sooner had I thought this than I derided myself for the hypocrisy of my double standard. Victoria was her own woman. Who was I to judge her?

“No,” I agreed, “I don’t really want coffee.”

“Then what do you want?” she asked breathily, running her  hand higher  up my leg and letting her fingers play against the  inner part of my thigh.

“I imagine I want the same thing you do.” I put my hand

over hers and pressed it hard onto my erection.

“Oh good,” she cooed. “I’m so glad we’re on the same

page.”

She massaged  my cock through the straining fabric of my trousers for a moment more and then turned to straddle my thighs. Running her fingers through my hair, she kissed me deeply. I slid my eager hands underneath her linen dress and caressed her derriere. She broke off the kiss and arched her back against my erection, allowing me to remove her dress in one quick motion.

A quick flick of my fingers and the lacy bra was history. I filled my palms with her full, ripe breasts for a moment before taking her nipples in my mouth and urging them to the hardness of gems. She reached down to free my swollen cock and I ripped away the flimsy slip of fabric between her legs.

She gasped, wide-eyed, as I entered her with one fluid stroke. Then she moaned and wrapped her arms around  my

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neck, riding me  –  experimentally at first  –  then harder and  faster. Her passion and zeal overwhelmed me, not to mention  the perfection of her body. The ardour on her face gave her  beauty a savage elegance that I found both wildly exciting and  disturbing at the same time.

She thrust herself onto me, her breasts rising and falling in a primitive rhythm that made me fear I would come much sooner than I wished to. I’d honed my sexual control over many centuries until I was a master of my own body and it’s responses, but with Victoria I felt myself as a schoolboy again.

As I struggled for command over my release, she arched her back again, exposing the tender, pale flesh of her neck. I could not only see the pulse beating rapidly in the delicate vein at thehollow of her throat, but I could see, feel and smell the blood there. I wrapped my arms around her and gathered her towards me, my fangs lengthening involuntarily. When she began to moan and writhe, I bit down on her neck, piercing her fragile flesh and  began my own climax.

We rung every ripple of pleasure from each other as I sucked her blood. When we were through, I concentrated my powers of glamour onto her mind so she would not remember the bite. If the two small puncture marks were even noticed before they healed, they’d be written off as accidental scratches.

With a sigh of satisfaction Victoria asked. “Do you want

that cup of coffee now?”

“Not really,” I said.

“Me neither.”

A wicked smile curved the corners of her luscious mouth as

she took me  by the hand and led me to the bedroom.

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She said she liked to take turns being on top. So the fifth time we had sex she was astride me again. She also said she liked a little bondage. So my wrists were secured by handcuffs to the thick iron spindles running through the headboard of her antique bed,

When we reached our mutual climax, I closed my eyes and relaxed, savouring the rest. Even with my superhuman endurance, I was still exhausted and dawn was coming. I had to return to my secure resting place for my daylight sleep.

“That was wonderful,” I said. “Would you remove the cuffs

now, please?”

She kissed me in the middle of my chest and moved up towards the place where my wrists fixed to the heavy iron. But instead of the clicks of the release mechanisms, I heard slithering sounds. I tried to lower my arms, but my wrists were still held fast. I looked above my head to see that my arms were not only still bound by the metal handcuffs but were now also secured by thick strips of plastic. I tested the bonds, putting my full strength behind the effort.

If the metal cuffs were all that bound me I could have broken them, but the plastic ones that reinforced them were problematic. If I applied enough force to tear them, I could literally sever my wrists. And vampire parts do not regenerate.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I demanded.

Victoria put on jeans and a T-shirt as she watched my struggle with rapt curiosity. “What’s wrong, lover boy? Don’t you want to stay and play some more?”

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“I have to go. Now.”

“What’s the rush? We can finally have that cup of coffee on  the patio while we watch the sunrise. Wouldn’t that be fun?”  She went to the east-facing windows and threw open the drapes.  I tried to calm myself and formulate a light-hearted reply that  might inspire her to release me, something about the maniacal  gleam in her eye made my  blood run even colder than usual. A  sudden conviction formed in my mind, one that both terrified  and thrilled me.

“How did you know?” I asked.

“Last night on the walk here. You didn’t cast a shadow.”

Her face registered delight, triumph even.

I cursed myself for my carelessness and roared in frustration not bothering to shield my fangs much less deny the truth.  Victoria, by virtue of who she was, would see through myprotestations. I strained against my bonds again, but only managed to bend the headboard while the heavy-duty plastic cut into my wrists enough to make them bleed.

Evidently my  hostess found my display of strength and ferocity arousing. She leaned against the far wall with an expression of orgasmic ecstasy on her face. “Oh . . . my . . .  God! I cannot believe that I have a naked vampire chained to my bed!” She opened a dresser drawer with trembling hands and withdrew a hand mirror. Examining her neck carefully, she cried, “I knew it! You bit me and sucked my blood.”

I stared at her, disbelieving. What had become of the learned professor who’d delivered the erudite lecture I’d heard the evening before? Her present aspect put me in mind of the fanatical followers of Elvis or the Beatles in their heyday. Her eyes were dilated, her breathing rapid, her face flushed.