Microsoft Word - The Mammoth Book of Vampire Romance.doc (24 page)

“I could help you unroll it,” old Mr Wimble offered once

we had the bundle inside my condo. “No trouble.”

“I haven’t decided where to put it, but thanks,” I watched

the old man leave and then turned to Max.

After several pulls and tugs, I managed to unwrap him and drag him into the bedroom. Getting him on the bed wasn’t as easy, but I finally managed. Once he was sprawled on top, I went about the sticky business of extracting the stake. I tugged and pulled and, finally, it slid free. He bucked off the bed with a

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loud gasp. Blood bubbled from the open wound for a few

seconds and then, just like that, it stopped.

I unbuttoned his bloody shirt and did my best to bandage him up. I secured the blinds and drapes,  covered Max with a blanket and the collapsed in a nearby chair to wait.

Not
 
to sleep. I reminded myself. I had to be awake when he opened his eyes, otherwise I would find myself bitten and bleeding . . .

With heavy eyes I took in his sleeping form. It was daylight.  He had to sleep, right? At least that’s what the books had said.  Which meant I had a few hours. I could close my eyes just for a little and take a catnap. Maybe fifteen minutes. Maybe . . .

Zzzzzzzzz.

And just like that, I was out.

I opened my eyes later that afternoon to find him propped up against the wall, watching me. He still looked pale and weak, but I could tell he was feeling better. He’d removed the bandage and I saw that the gaping hole was starting  to  come together and heal.

“Why’d you do it?” he asked me after a few silent moments.

Guilt tugged at me, but I tried to force it aside. “Let’s see.

Oh, yeah. You’re a bloodsucker and a murderer.”

“Not the stake.” His gaze pushed into mine and I realized all  too late that I’d left my Ray-Bans sitting on the nightstand.  “Why did you save me?”

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“You’re a vampire. You tell me.”

His eyes fired a bright, brilliant gold colour for a split second before a strange expression lit his face. His eyes fired again, as if he were determined to push into my thoughts and see everything for himself.

He couldn’t.

I saw it in the frustration that etched his forehead and the

surprise that blazed in his eyes.

“Tell me,” he demanded.

I shrugged. “My aim’s off.”

He shook his head. “Bullshit. You haven’t got the balls for

this job and you know it.”

I did know it. It was a truth that had been nagging me ever since I’d failed the field test and I’d just been too scared to admit it.

To my family.

To myself.

“So tell me the truth. Tell me why you saved me.”

“You didn’t deserve to die.” I wasn’t sure why I said it, nut  I did. “At least not that I know of. You didn’t try to suck my  blood or hurt me in any way.”

“Maybe I will now.”

“Maybe,” I gathered my courage and stared him down.

“And then I will have  to kill you.”

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He kept staring at me, as if trying to figure me out, before he finally shook his head and slumped back down on the pillows. He hissed against the sudden movement.

“Does it hurt?”

“Our senses are magnified,” he growled. “What do you

think?”

“Can you take ibuprofen?”

He nodded and I hurried into the kitchen.

A few seconds later, I returned with a glass of water and two tiny pills. “Here.” I sank down gently onto the side of the bed and helped him lift his head. He opened his mouth and I plopped the pills on his tongue. His lips grazed my fingers and awareness bolted through me.

It was the same feeling I’d had back at the club those few

moments he’d had me pinned to the wall.

The feeling of being alive. And tingling. And desperate.

As if  I needed him right there. Right now.

He caught my hand with one of his own and placed a kiss on my fingertips. “Not all vampires are bad. Yes, we drink blood.” He pulled his lips back and his sharp fangs grazed the tender inside of my wrist. I stiffened and he let me pull away.  His eyes gleamed even brighter and I could see the hunger in his expression. “We drink for survival.” He blinked, seeming to get control of himself and the fierceness in his eyes eased. “We don’t all mutilate and slaughter.”

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Maybe  not, but I was still trembling. From what? From fear? Or from the fact that my fingers were tingling where his mouth had touched them?

I gathered my courage and touched the glass to his lips.  Something flickered in his dark gaze as he stared up at me. I knew he couldn’t read my thoughts, but I had the strangest feeling that he could sense my body’s reaction to him. My pounding heart and my trembling knees and  –

“You should get some rest,” I blurted, setting the glass of  water on the nightstand. The bed dipped and I moved back to  the chair.

Fear
, a tiny voice whispered.
 
You should be afraid of this

vampire
.

But I wasn’t afraid, I realized, as I folded my legs beneath me. While I knew all the awful things that he was capable of, the only threat he’d posed  so far had been to my hormones.

He stared at me for a long moment before he finally nodded.

He settled back down on the bed and closed his eyes.

And then he went to sleep.

He slept for the next four days while I dodged phone calls from Uncle Jimmy who wanted to know where I’d dumped the body because none of the disposal sites had reported any new arrivals. While Max could heal as well as the next vampire, without blood  –  and despite the lust that raged between us, I wasn’t up to volunteering mine  –  the process took longer. He would wake for a few hours here and there. I would hand him

more  painkillers and water and he would nod back off.

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But first we would talk.

In the beginning, it was mostly small stuff, like where he lived and where I was from. Favourite movies and songs. But eventually the conversations grew deeper until I was asking him questions about being a vampire and he was asking me about the  SOBs. He told me about his own family and how he had two brothers and a sister who owned and ran a  successful dating service in Manhattan. I learned that even more than sucking blood, born vampires like to procreate and make money, In turn,  I told him about my mom and dad and my Uncle Jimmy, and, how even more than making money, I wanted to actually be happy. I wanted to find something I was good at  –  to be myself.  Whether that was as a SOB or the fry girl down at the local hamburger joint. I even mentioned that I used to paint and showed him some of the pictures I’d done.

“You’re good,” he said, his gaze fixed on the large abstract

hanging on the far wall.

“You’re just saying that because I saved your afterlife.”

He grinned and then a serious expression lit up his face. “I mean it. You’re
 
really
 
good. You ought to take these to a gallery.”

“So sayeth  the painkillers,” I said, but I couldn’t suppress  the tiny thrill that went through me. A gallery? Me? Did he  really think . . .

Maybe.

We talked so much that by the time his wound actually healed, I felt a little sad. Max Marchette had stopped being a vampire and started being real, and I actually liked him.

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He was leaving tonight and, oddly enough, I didn’t want

him to go.

I spent the last few hours before sunset watching him sleep.  I couldn’t help myself. He wasn’t working his vamp mojo on me, yet I  still though he was the hottest-looking guy I’d ever seen. He had a broad chest sprinkles with dark hair that whorled into a tiny funnel that bisected his six-pack and dipped below the edge of the sheet. He smelled like excitement and danger and something  I couldn’t quite identify.

Something rich and sweet and decadent.

My stomach grumbled and I found myself thinking about

how long it had been since I’d actually had sex.

I hadn’t even masturbated lately and so when Max  Marchette finally opened his eyes just as the sun dipped below the horizon it was no wonder that I couldn’t resist the sudden lust that flare in the dark depths.

He didn’t say anything and I didn’t say anything. We just

stared at each other. And then it happened.

He reached for me, pulling me onto the bed, pressing me down into the mattress. He kissed me, plunging his tongue inside to explore and savour until I gasped for breath. I felt his erection, hard and eager against my stomach, and I knew this was
 
it
. The moment I’d been waiting for since that very first

kiss.

He nibbled a path down my neck and I tilted my head back.  Pleasure rushed my brain and the anticipation built. He licked his way down the slope of my breast and found my nipple. I gasped, burying my hands in his hair, holding  him close. My legs parted and I felt him hard and hot, pushing into me  –

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“Wait–” I gasped, but he silenced me with a quick,

desperate kiss.

“You won’t catch anything from me,”  he murmured against  my lips. It was the oldest line when it came to sex, yet  a valid  one in this particular situation.

Because Max wasn’t a typical guy. He was a
 
vampire
.

The thought stirred even more than it spooked and I opened my legs wider. In one swift thrust, he plunged into me. Pleasure burst through me and the air lodged  in my chest.

I stared up at him and his eyes blazed back at me. Hot.  Bright. The tendons in his neck tightened. His jaw clenched. His mouth fell open and his fangs gleamed.

But I wasn’t afraid. I knew he wouldn’t bite me. Not without my consent. If he had wanted to, he would have done it long before now to speed up his healing.

No, this wasn’t about blood. It was about sex.

I wrapped my legs around him as he buried himself deep.  And then he started to move. In and out. In. Out. Until my body tightened  and I came with a loud moan. He followed, bucking and groaning, his muscles strung tight.

He collapsed beside me, pulling me up next to him, his arm around me. I nuzzled his neck and tried to catch my breath. My hand crept across his chest.

I lay there for several long moments. Finally, once my heartbeat had slowed and I could actually think, I opened my eyes. My gaze caught the ID card sitting on the nightstand and the enormity of what I’d done crashed down around me. I’d not

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only violated the SOB creed  and saved a vampire, I’d slept with

him, fallen for him.

I had. I realized this as I lay there my head in the crook of his shoulder, his heart beating a steady rhythm against my palm.

I was a failure. A traitor.

Oddly enough, this didn’t make me feel all  that bad.

Because Max Marchette, vampire or not, felt so right.

I wasn’t sure how I was going to tell my family or pay my bills or anything, and yet I knew deep inside it would all wok out somehow. Maybe with my painting. Maybe not. Either way, everything would be OK. I felt peaceful, calm, confident.

Mesmerized
.

It’s that old vamp magic. That’s what I told myself, but I didn’t believe it. I’d seen the surprise in his eyes when he hadn’t been able to read my thoughts. I was different. He was different.

His hand stroked down my spine and a shiver went through

me. My body started crying for more.

“This is definitely the end of my career as a SOB,” I

murmured.

He rolled me over to tower above me and stare deep into my eyes. My heart gave a little kick. “One ending is just another beginning.”

I eyed him, a smile playing at my lips. “And this is the

beginning of what?”

He grinned. “Us.” And then he kissed me again.

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What’s at Stake

Alexis Morg an

“
H

as the  accused been brought in yet?”