Not Another Vampire Book (14 page)

“What?” 
She prompted when he remained quiet.

Damien
lifted a shoulder in a shrug.  “I don’t actually like birds.”  He murmured,
almost to himself.  “I never have.”  He looked confused by that revelation.

Kara’s
jaw dropped.  Tanya wouldn’t have written that opinion for him.  No way.  Damien
somehow slipped outside the lines of his paper character and thought it up
himself.  He’d said things before that didn’t sound very
Eternal Passion at
Sunset
-y, but this was the first time he’d really thought independently
without her prompting him or without him quickly frowning it away.  Damien
could feel things that weren’t on the page.  Evolve his own personality.  How was
that possible?

The
carriage rolled to a stop and Damien opened the door to climb out.

“We’re
here.”  He announced when Kara just sat there.  “You’re the one who wanted to
come to this
Wild West Show
, remember?”

She
gave her head a quick shake.  “Right.  Sorry.”  This seemed like the most
likely place to start her Melessa search.  The girl had run off and joined the
cowboy circus.  What a stupid plot twist.

The
abundant skirts got in Kara’s way as she tried to move.  She exhaled in
frustration.  Tanya’s version of 1892 couture wasn’t like the normal John
Singer Sargent paintings of society ladies in white, lacy dresses.  It looked a
lot more like a Deborah Kerr dancing in the
King and I
.  The skirt was
huge and totally wrong for the decade of this story.

When
she got back to reality, Kara was going to track Tanya St. Clair down and punch
her.  Did the woman even own a computer?  Was she allergic to
Google
image search?

At
least the dress was a soft, silk fabric and the vibrant pink color suited her.  Sitting
perfectly motionless, Kara probably would have looked like sensational… in a
costume party sort of way.  When she was trapped in this carriage forever and
wound up buried in this monstrosity, she’d have that going for her at the
funeral.  Her corpse would look fabulous.

“I’m
stuck.”  She pulled on the edge of her skirt, wishing it would just rip.  “Remind
me why I couldn’t wear my own clothes, again?”

“Your
other clothes were inappropriate for public.”

“Well,
I liked them better.”

“As
did I.”  Ebony eyes went to the gold anklet Kara wore as she hoisted up the
dress and tried to yank herself free.  “Showing so much of your body could have
caused a riot, though, so I thought this was more inconspicuous.”

“Yeah,
I’m blending right in.”  She blew out an aggravated breath.  “Well, are you
going to help me or what?”

His
gaze stayed fixed on her legs.

She
glowered over at him.

“Of
course.”  Damien stepped forward, his palm going to her calf and sliding down,
like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Kara
jolted at the brief contact, her skin tingling.  Tanya St. Clair hadn’t wasted
a lot of time researching historical undergarments, either.  Probably, she
thought they’d get in the way of the sex scenes.  Under the dress, Kara just wore
some scraps of black lace.  It made her feel incredibly exposed as Damien’s
fingers worked to free her.  She swallowed at the warm, rough touch of his
hand.

He
made a soothing sound, sensing her tension.  “You’re caught on the door.  Just
wait.”  His thumb ran along the thin, sparkly chain at her ankle, like it
fascinated him.  Even though that had absolutely
nothing
to do with her
trapped dress.  “What does this signify?”

“It
signifies me liking jewelry.  Hurry up.”  Kara watched as he untangled the
voluminous fabric of her ball gown and tried to distract herself from the feel
of him.  “So, where did you find this getup, anyway?  Hell?”

“No,
I made it for you.”

“You
made this?”  Kara was surprised.  “You can sew?”

Damien
regarded her blankly for a beat.  Then his cruel, beautiful mouth curved in
something like amusement.  “No.”  He finally got her free and caught her around
the waist, to help her descend.  “I made it with magicks.”  He lifted her from
the carriage, so her body slid against his, holding her so her feet just barely
touched the ground.

“Oh.” 
Kara tried not to be overcome by his sinister hotness.  He was another
character losing out on a fortune in Hollywood.  Damien exuded a lethal
combination of seduction and menace that would have sold like buttered popcorn. 
“Ya know, it worries me that I was more impressed with the idea of you using a
sewing machine than of casting mystical spells.”

“That
worries me, too.”  He still hadn’t released her waist.  She was almost even
with his mouth.  “So much about you worries me, though.”  She could barely hear
the words.  His eyes drifted down to her lips.

Kara’s
heartbeat sped up.  He was so friggin’ gorgeous… And fictional.  She had to
remember that.  Damien wasn’t real.  No matter how three-dimensional and
really, really touchable he seemed.  “You don’t want to kiss me.”  She blurted
out, more for her benefit than his.

“I
don’t?”  The words whispered across her skin.

She
swallowed.  “It’s not in the book.”

One
black eyebrow arched in challenge.  “Then, isn’t it lucky that I write my own
scripts?”  His lips slammed against hers, plundering.

Whoa!

Fireworks
went off in Kara’s head as the blackguard of the novel ravaged her.  Why the
hell would anybody want Slade and team Cub Scout when they could be with the
bad guy?  Holy
God
, could Damien kiss.  It was like nothing she’d ever
experienced.  Kara’s arms went around his neck, her mouth opening under his.  Accepting. 
Kissing him back.  Drowning in him.  It was like kissing was always supposed to
be, but never was.  Passion and light and magic.

Damien
was magic.

He
hadn’t been expecting her enthusiastic response.  Damien faltered for a split
second as he felt her kiss him back, like he couldn’t quite believe it.  Like
he’d been anticipating rejection or a punch in the jaw.  When her tongue
touched his, she felt his triumphant groan all through her body.  His mouth
grew more insistent, his natural aggression taking over.  Kara’s toes hit the
ground more firmly as he loosened his grip, his lips never leaving hers.

He
was shocked by the flash-ignition, too.  She could tell by the slam of his
heart and the way he roughly pressed her against the side of the carriage. 
Trapping her.  Kara whimpered, so turned on it was amazing her knees could even
support her.

The
submissive sound just inflamed him more.  “
Cari
.”  He breathed
jaggedly.  “Mine.”

No
one really called her ‘Carrie,’ but the warm accent and gallons of want he put
on the nickname made it sound just fine.  Her body arched closer to him. 
Rocking.  Needing.

Damien’s
hand came up to hold her hair, angling her head just the way he wanted it.  All
she felt was heat and sensation and want.  He kissed her like he might never
stop.

Kara
had never been so out-of-control.  In that moment, Damien could have done
anything and she would have allowed it.  His free hand came up nearly touching
her breast…

“You
gonna pay me, mister?”  The carriage driver yelled.  “I don’t have time for you
two to conoodle, ya know.”

The
words jolted through Kara like cold water.  She jerked away from Damien, her
breath came in short pants.  What was she doing?  Jesus, she hadn’t even had a
date in eight months and she was about to let Damien just tear her clothes off?! 
She was
conoodling
with a strange man on a public street.  It was a
fake
public street and she wasn’t real clear on what conoodling
was
exactly,
but still it was insane.

“Wait.” 
Kara’s palm went flat on his chest.  A small gesture of resistance as she tried
to think.  “We have to stop.”  Her body howled at that decision, wanting
Damien.  She shook her head and eased away from him.  “We have to stop.”

He
obviously didn’t love that plan.  She could feel the sexual frustration coming
off him in waves.  Damien reluctantly released her, his thumb touching her
mouth before falling away.  Ebony eyes stayed locked on Kara for a timeless
moment, then he very slowly swiveled his head to look at the driver.  It was an
animalistic, predatory movement that had Kara’s throat going dry.

The
smaller man shrank back at the savagery in Damien’s glare.  It was pretty clear
who Damien blamed for Kara ending the kiss.  The impatient comments were about
to get shoved right down the driver’s throat.  Like all up-to-no-good Black
Hats, Damien did
not
like interference from the townsfolk.  He actually
started towards the human, intent on reestablishing why he was the novel’s biggest
hard ass.

It
occurred to Kara that she was about to witness a grisly murder.  Literally.  Walk-on
character or not, she didn’t want the driver to die.  Didn’t want Damien to
kill him.  “No.”  She caught hold of his arm.  “Don’t, Damien.”

He
glanced down at her and she could see the primitive frustration on his tight
face.  She remembered Slade’s prattle from the night before.  How Wizard
Warlocks were less civilized than the Vampires.  Closer to their elemental
instincts.  Damien was written to be a brutal, amoral creature in elegant
clothing.

But,
he was so much more than that.

Kara
shifted so she was between Damien and the carriage driver.  “No.”  Reaching up
to touch his face, she forced him to look right at her.  “Leave him be, Vlad. 
For me.”

Damien
stood perfectly still for a long moment.

She
gently brushed the lightning bolt scar, which was on his cheek today.  “Decapitating
a guy will
not
be a good way to get me conoodling with you again, any
time soon.”

The
lighter tone finally registered with him.  Damien blinked, rapidly, like he was
coming out of a trance.  His gaze focused on her, something hungry in its
depths.  Something shocked and resigned.  Something almost desperately yearning. 
His cheek pressed against her palm, just the tiniest bit, and his eyes closed. 
“
Cari
.”  He whispered it like a surrender.

Kara’s
heart melted.  “Good sorcerer.”  She winked and headed for the entrance of the
Wild
West Show
, tugging him along by the sleeve.  He could have overpowered her
in a heartbeat, but he didn’t.  Damien just slanted the driver another vicious
look as the carriage drove away.  Apparently, the human wasn’t going to risk
decapitation for two cents, or whatever cabs cost in this century.

Kara
couldn’t blame him.

She
shone a smile at Damien, feeling pretty damn good.  “Well, that’s one way to
beat the fare.”  She should have just agreed to let him teleport them to their
destination, but she didn’t feel like being fall-down seasick, again.

The
streets were packed with people, most of whom took one look at Damien and
scooted right out of the way.  Once again, he dressed like someone out for a
day of Victorian era ax-murdering.  The long black coat and hat didn’t exactly
scream summertime fun.  At least he didn’t have the walking stick today.  He
seemed fine with his police sketch, ‘Have You Seen This Man?” style clothes,
but the tourists were giving him a wide berth.

And,
to be fair, it wasn’t all Tanya’s lousy fashion sense making him so damn scary
looking.  Damien’s dark aura was more pronounced than ever as he prowled along. 
If this was a werewolf novel, Kara would have sworn he was about to turn lupine
on her.

She
cleared her throat, unnerved by the feral intensity in his eyes.  “Okay,
seriously, do we want to talk about what just happened?  Not the ‘you almost
going to jail for homicide’ thing.  The other kissing-ish part.”

“I’m
going to mate with you.”  His voice was more rusty than ever.  “What else is
there to discuss?”

He’d
apparently missed the fine points of this being a
romance
novel.  The
blunt finality of this statement should
not
have had her insides
dipping.  “Well, as lovely a sentiment as that is, it’s not without
complications, because of who we are.”

“I
know who you are.”  The words were flat.  “I think I must’ve known from the
beginning.”

He
wasn’t listening to her.  “Damien, the point is you can’t really know what you
want.”

“Because,
I’m just a figment of some exercising woman’s imagination?  A character in a
book?”

“You
don’t want to hear it, but it’s true.”

“Well,
if it is, than that’s the least of my problems.”  He headed into the
Wild
West Show
, greatcoat swirling, like he wanted to put some distance between
them.

Kara
blinked.

He
had
problems?

The supernatural world was overwhelming to an
innocent, gently-bred girl like Melessa.  So many species.  So many powers and
surprises.  How could she ever get through it without Slade’s guidance? 
Luckily, he was ever at her side.  Slade was so kind and gentle and understanding,
without of course, ever being the least bit unmanly or unsure.  Always aware of
her feelings, strong without losing his compassion for the little people, and
innately good to all.  He was perfect.  Her mate was a true hero.

He’d told her so himself.

Eternal
Passion at Sunset- Chapter Seven

“You
know, you don’t have to be such a stubborn jackass.  If you’d open your mind
just a
tiny
bit, you’d see that I’m right about this being a novel.”  Kara
hurried along beside Damien, taking another stab at convincing him that she was
right and he was wrong.  “This fake 1892 Chicago doesn’t even make sense.”

“Very
little has made sense since I met you, Kara Lynn.”  Kiss or not, he was
grouchier than ever.  “You confuse everything.”

Tourists
ebbed and flowed around them, all preparing for the start of the
Wild West
Show
.  The more time she spent here, the harder it was to remember that the
people were fake.  They each looked different and distinct.  All of them
laughed and moved and breathed.  Everything seemed
real
.  No one would
ever be able to blindly accept that it was all just make-believe.

But,
she wanted Damien to believe her, anyway.

She
needed it.

Kara
didn’t blame Damien for not seeing the truth of it, but she felt compelled to
try and convince him.  “
I
confuse things?  Oh, no, no, no.  Things were
confused when I got here, pal.  I mean, look at the way you talk.  Why do you
talk the way you do if it’s 1892?  With the modern slang and swearing?”

“Because,
it
is
modern.”  It was difficult to keep up with the long, gliding pace
of his walk.  “This is the way
everyone
talks here in the present.”

“No,
it’s not, because 1892 is
not
the present.”  Kara tried a different
track.  “And what about the clothes, huh?  We have like fifty different time
periods going on around here.”  She waved a hand at the crowd’s eccentric mix
of everything from Tudor dresses to ‘30s gangster movie chic.  “And what about
the fact that I don’t even think the
Wild West Show
looked like this. 
I’ve seen pictures of it.”

“Except
it
does
look like this.  I can tell because I’m looking at it.”

Kara
wanted to rip her hair out and, for once, the impulse had nothing to do with her
frustration at the wild curls themselves.  “Inventions, then.  You
have
to see that’s wrong.  I don’t even think half this stuff’s been invented, yet.”

“Except
it
has.
”  Damien headed towards the ticket vendor, who was presently
selling admission to two guys in spats.  “Shall we keep going with this logic?”

Kara
made an aggravated sound at his unflappable answers.  What was even the point
in trying to get Damien to see how wonky this all was?  He didn’t know any
other reality.  Everything that seemed so weird to her, he accepted as normal. 
He just wanted to be an obstinate…

Her
annoyed thoughts trailed off with an incredulous gasp as Damien nonchalantly
stole the admission tickets from the other men.  Without breaking his stride, he
just yanked the vouchers right out of their hands and he continued on his way.

He
didn’t even register their astonishment at being blatantly mugged for
Wild
West Show
admission.  Damien slapped the blue tickets against his palm and
headed onward without even a flicker of remorse.  Neither of his frightened victims
looked willing to follow him and fight about it, either.  Having a dark aura
came in handy for crime-sprees.

Kara
was a lot harder to terrorize.  “Give those back!”  She hurried around him,
cutting off his strolling getaway, so either he had to stop or run right into
her.  “Right now, Damien.  I mean it.”

He
had absolutely no idea what she was talking about.  She could read the
confusion on his face as he frowned down at her.  “Do what?”

“The
tickets.  You stole them.  Give them back and buy your own.”

He
squinted a bit, like he wasn’t sure she was really serious.  “Give them… back?”

“Yes! 
Lord.”  She snatched them away from him and shot him a glower.  “You shouldn’t
be robbing people.”  Didn’t he get that?  Probably not.  Casual evilness was
just second nature to him.  She headed back over to the men, shoving the
tickets to into their hands, again.  “Sorry about that he’s just…”  
The villain
.

The
innocent victims didn’t seem thrilled to be helped.  One look at Damien
sweeping back in their direction had them scampering off in terror.

He
sighed, clearly frustrated with her and the world.  “Why must you make things
so complicated for me?”  The way he said it, Kara had the feeling he was talking
about more than simply the cost of admission.

“Just
buy the tickets, Damien.”  She gave him a prompting shove towards the vendor
and shook her head in exasperation.

Hopefully,
he could get through the performance without killing anyone, because a part of
Kara was looking forward to this.  Pretend reality or not, she actually felt
excited.  She stared up at a banner announcing a ten o’clock show.

She’d
seen a
PBS
documentary on
Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show
.  It had
been pretty cool, with stampedes and stagecoach robberies.  It had been a huge,
outdoor spectacle to entertain public with stories of a West that never really
existed outside the imagination.  As trains and farming closed the last of the
frontier, the show had been like a child’s remembrance of that freer time. 
Annie Oakley had performed here.  Sitting Bull had signed autographs.  American
popular culture creating legends from the ashes of expansionism.

But,
of course, being another victim of Tanya St. Clair’s prose, Kara was quickly
disappointed in the fake reality of it.  It was outside the actual World’s Fair
grounds, with multilevel, arena seating and a painted backdrop of the Rocky
Mountains.  That did seem historically correct.

However,
Kara was fairly certain that the real preshow didn’t consist of two cowboys
listlessly firing fake guns at each other over and over and over in the exact
same way, like they were stuck on a loop.

Her
eyes rolled up to the heavens.  If she had to be transported into a book, why
couldn’t it have been
Pride and Prejudice
?

Damien
came up beside her, looking utterly unimpressed with all things human.  “These
cost me a half-dollar each.  I hope you’re happy.”  He passed her a blue
ticket.  “Thus far, the show is a disappointment.”

Kara’s
first instinct was to snort at his whining over fifty lousy cents.  Then, she
realized that it was still fifty cents more than she had to her name.  Here in
1892, she was flat broke.  The Vampires had stolen all her money and Tanya hadn’t
added any ATMs, so far.  Kara only had a place to stay and food to eat because
of Damien.

He
glanced down at her when she didn’t say anything.  The irritation and strange yearning
had faded back into his usually sardonic wickedness.  “What’s wrong?”

“I’m
taking advantage of you.”  She admitted, reluctantly.

“That
sounds promising.”

“I’m
serious.  You were still wrong to steal, but if we were in reality, I would pay
my own way.  Really.  You wouldn’t have to buy me stuff.”

Damien’s
expression softened.  A knuckle brushed back one springy curl as if he couldn’t
help himself.  “In any reality, I think I would wind-up buying you whatever you
wished.”

That
caught her off-guard.  Kara stared at the perfect, ruthless angles of his face
in surprise, but Damien was already moving, again.

He
seemed annoyed that he’d said anything that wasn’t a death threat.  His hand
found her elbow, guiding her along.  “So where would this Meleen woman be?”  He
demanded, totally expecting the humans to clear the way as he headed for their
seats.

Which
they did.

Kara
hurried to keep pace.  “Melessa.  And I have no idea.”  In the book, Mel had
never gotten further than a box seat to the
Wild West Show
, so there was
no way of knowing where she was in this new plot twist.  “Just look for the
most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen.  That’s her.”

Damien
flashed Kara a strange look, like that was the craziest thing she’d said yet. 
Even crazier than the time travel and romance novel stuff.

“Hey,
it’s true.  Just wait until you see her.”  Kara was not looking forward to the Melessa
reveal.  Damien was going to want her.  It was all documented in the book.

He
was ‘dazzled’ by Melessa and ‘irresistibly drawn to her sweetness,’ despite his
supposedly unrelenting brutality.  Tanya St. Clair never really explained why
the novel’s nefarious mastermind would want someone so angelic and good.  It
actually hinted at some deeper motivations for a man who Tanya clearly only
intended to write as a one-note killer.  But then, the plot
never
made a
lot of sense, so why break the trend?

Damien
would be captivated by Melessa.

It
was right there in black-and-white.

The
idea depressed Kara.  She scowled up at him, like he’d already made a pass at
Princess Barbie Doll.  “Having the villain fall for the heroine is so clichéd.”

“I’m
not a villain.”  He retorted, not meeting her eyes.

“Sure
you’re not.”  Too bad there wasn’t a test he could take to see for himself. 
Like a
Cosmo
quiz, “Is He an Evil Overlord?”  She arched a brow at him. 
“Do you ever sit around and devise plans to take over the world?”

Damien
shrugged.  “Doesn’t everyone?”

“No!” 
But, she was laughing as she said it.  Nobody ever brought out the range of
emotions in her that Damien did.  She went from yelling, to total desire, to reluctant
amusement all in a matter of minutes.  He hadn’t said a single word of pure Tanya
dialogue since the night before and, with the stilted language gone, his own
personality was flourishing.  Back in the cab, he’d even escaped the confines
of his character’s idiotic motivations for a moment and questioned why he had
that bird.  It was very promising.  Left to his own devises, Damien had actual
intelligence and an unexpected charm about him.  What a shame that he was stuck
in a stifling prison like
Eternal Passion at Sunset
.  He deserved more.

Kara
playfully nudged him with her shoulder.  “Face it.  You’re the baddie.”

His
head titled as he studied her teasing grin.  “Then, why aren’t you scared of
me?”

Flirting
with him was a terrible idea.  She did it anyway.  “Maybe I just like the way
you kiss.”

Damien’s
mouth curved, again.  The slow half smile changed the angles of his face,
making him look almost boyish.  He gazed at her like she was holy water and he
was a parched Vampire.  Like he wanted to canoodle her right out of her
ridiculous dress.  Like
she
was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

The
sorcerer was addictive.

Except,
Kara refused to become hooked.

She
glanced away.  “Right.”  The seats he got them were right up front.  Kara quickly
headed down the row of wooden plank style bleachers.  “Hey, fifty cents buys
you a primo location, though, Vlad.  Look at this.”  She flopped down and gave
a nod.  “There’s no way we can miss her from here.”

“Thrilling.” 
Damien brushed off his seat before sitting down.  He clearly wasn’t happy with
the accommodations.  Black eyes scanned around for threats.

Kara
ignored his attitude.  The guy made her hyperaware of everything he did.  It
was very not good.  Rather than dwell on his incredible hotness, or watch the
repeating cowboys and their restless audience, she flipped open the manuscript,
again.

They
were up to chapter seven and way,
way
off track.  She needed to hunt for
clues on how to fix this mess.  So far, the book was still meandering along
with heartfelt Slade/Mel scenes and a lot of superfluous garbage about the
Vampires origins in some other dimension and being cast out of paradise, along
with all the other supernatural beings.  Pages and pages of how sad it made
him.  It was very convoluted and flashback-y.

In
other words, it was useless.

Kara
was skimming along, wishing Slade would just shut up about his tragic past,
when she spotted a section with Damien’s name.

Melessa
looked out at the supernatural cemetery.  “So many dead.”  She murmured,
sadly.  “How do you go on, Slade darling, knowing that so many died fighting
these wars?  How sad it must be for you.”

“It
does make me sad, yet I have no choice.”  His golden hair blew out behind him,
a ray of sunshine in the desolate spot.  “I am the king of the Vampire race and
I must prevail over my sadness.  I must be the great leader I am.  Only I can
stop Damien.”