ROMANCE: Vampire Romance Collection (Menage BBW Young Adult Paranormal) (Vampire Shapeshifter Romance Short Stories) (4 page)

Finally, Marcus pulled up in his truck.  She couldn’t help but to stare at him through his windshield.  Though she could not see the warmth in his unusually colored eyes, she felt it even from the distance.  Marcus got out and caught up with Sage.

“Are you ready to start your new adventures?” he asked.

“I sure am.  Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.  I hope you like surprises.”

“I do.”

“Save those words for the wedding, Sage.” Marcus teased.  “I can’t wait to hear them.” 

              Wedding.  That word alone sent pleasant shivers up and down Sage’s spine.  She had been through this once before, but never had she felt so elated to begin the journey of becoming someone’s wife.  Never before had the prospect of being tied to someone for life been such a good feeling.  This time was different.  This time, forever would be her happily ever after. This time, as she will soon realize, would definitely be different.

THE END

Barbara Uppers watched closely as layers of milky white flesh folded, flailed and fornicated right in front of her—the sounds of fake passion filling the room.  She never really enjoyed watching porn the way the guys did, nor their “modern” girlfriends who loved all the kink, but she did at least try.  What she never quite understood about all the pretty people screwing so vigorously was why they were always in such a rush. 

The human body is a thing of beauty, she thought, the natural and soft curves of a woman are very sexy and the type of tasty treat you’d think a man would want to savor, just as he does caviar, wine, or pastry.  Barbara’s own body was not like all the fakes in the videos.  It was real.  Curvy, bosomy, and with a generous tummy that said: I enjoy life.  Guys did notice her for sure, her perfect doll-like face and her milky white skin that seemed so clean and flawless.  Her hair was golden, long and curly like that of fairy tales. 

But she hardly ever got their full attention.  Some were cowardly lions.  Others were wannabe jocks or hipsters, who thought they ought to be with someone more like them, another stick or a meat-body with a meat-head. 

Barbara was fine with it.  She wasn’t in any hurry to get laid, or even sure that she wanted any more futile romantic entanglements, certainly not now, at the age of thirty.  Besides, she knew her approach to lovemaking would surely be different, probably the opposite of what all those juvenile guys wanted, like in the videos: fast, hard and fake.  Bodies tumbling atop each other without any real soul connection. 

“Damn…” she said, looking at the clock and jumping off the couch. 

Speaking of love and romantic entanglements, she was losing track of time and forgetting that her sister’s wedding ceremony was in just a few hours—barely enough time to slip into that tight bridesmaid dress, splash on makeup, and then join her sister for two hours worth of freaking out and last minute rehearsals.

She smiled to herself at the very idea of her little sister getting hitched.  She was always the baby and the perfect child who got whatever she wanted.  She even had the perfect figure, with that damned slow metabolism that allowed her to eat anything and not gain a pound.  Well, she got what she wanted all right, in Max Wellus, a millionaire-playboy who was going to make marriage tough for her.  Sometimes life is a wishing game and most of the wishes you can never take back. 

Thoughts of her own hypothetical wedding were fleeting and so sad they hardly registered any emotion anymore.  Precisely why Barbara was caught off guard at her sister Linda’s sudden outburst. 

“Oh my God!” Linda said, already in half her wedding gown and with her hair still a mess needing some TLC. 

“What?”

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

“Oh…”  She had to think about it.  That’s right, Linda just said something snarky about how she’s getting married and I’m still single.  I guess it just doesn’t bother me anymore. 

“I know you’re going to meet someone too, sis,” Linda said.

“Don’t worry about, hon,” she replied.  “That wasn’t even anywhere near where my mind was going.  It just doesn’t bother me anymore.”

“What?  What do you mean?  Everyone needs somebody,” Linda said, as if trying to convince herself.  “Don’t become a hermit.  You are going to meet someone, I know it.”

Barbara laughed.  “Well, if you think that’ll make me happy, then bring it on.  I’m just saying, I don’t have any need for it.”

The very idea seemed alien to Linda, which her sister found amusing.  Something about the idea of needing a man to complete your life seemed ridiculous—especially some ordinary guy, some guy who had weird issues about dating a big beautiful gal.  If there was anyone Barbara was really interested in, it would have to be someone who was the opposite of every fake guy out there. 

“Just don’t become close-minded to the idea, okay?  You have this weird habit of shutting people out and retreating back into that bookworm world.”

“What can I say,” Barbara said with a bratty smile.  “Sometimes the silly stuff in books is better than what I find in the real world.”

“Like Annabelle?  Was that her name?  That character you invented.”

“I dreamt her actually.  Annabelle.  And yes, she was my imaginary friend for a while after that.  But don’t worry, I put her back in the closet.”

“Good!  Because no guy wants to hear that a woman of thirty still talks to her imaginary friends.”

“Owch, did you have to throw in the part about being thirty?”

“Sorry,” she said with a pained face.  “I just want to see you happy.  Don’t give up.  You never know when your special day will come.  And who knows?  Maybe my special day will be yours.  Maybe you’ll meet someone at the wedding!”

**

Maybe you’ll meet someone at the wedding. 

Her sister assured her, doltishly as always, especially since this was a relatively small affair, with close friends, family and a very select invitation list.  Linda thought it romantic to have a wedding in a forest.  There was something magical about the smell of wood and greenery and the backdrop of tall redwoods and miles and miles of trees.  The air was crisp and the scent of soil was intoxicating. 

When the much talked about event finally happened, it was all sort of a blur—not really the romantic pinnacle it was made out to be, Barbara figured.  They both repeated their vows, a bit shallow, and exchanged lovey-dovey looks—although Max seemed to look a bit conceited and removed, as always.  Then they said “I Do” and the same old Enya song played.  It seems oddly typical, and for more than just a moment, Barbara felt relieved it wasn’t her turn.  All the bridesmaids wore strapless dresses, red and silky, and as usual, thanks to Linda’s ditzy management, Barbara’s dress was one size too tight. 

Refreshments were definitely the best part of the whole fake affair, with a “souped up” beautiful wedding cake with pillars and jewels, its swirl chocolate-white vanilla flavor and butter cream icing being the sweetest thing of the night.  Even Linda’s vows were surprisingly flat, as if the poor girl were too busy rehearsing things in her mind to say anything from the heart.

Just as Barbara put down her cake slice, she caught sight of two burning stones—the vibrant and fixed eyes of a dark haired stranger. 

She became self-conscious and put her plate down on the table, looking behind her, figuring this must have been one of Linda’s friends, or maybe even Max’s deviant buddies. 

She turned back to the stranger, who was still smiling wide.  She raised her eyebrows as if asking, are you looking at me?

The man walked up closer to her and put down his drink, not a martini or anything shaken or stirred, but simply a plastic cup of punch.  “Hello.”

“Hi…sorry, do I know you?  I guess you’re a friend of…someone?”

“I don’t believe we’ve ever met.  But there’s a first time for everything.”

“Oh.  Oh, yeah, I’m Barbara.”

“Barbara.  Nice to meet you.  I’m Lester.”

“Oh, okay.” 

His smile was still going strong, as if the man had no concept of awkward tension.  He was simply gazing at Barbara, happy to be conversing with the prettiest girl in the forest—or at least that’s what his eyes seemed to imply.

“So how do you know the groom?  Or the bride?  You’re a friend of someone?”

Lester laughed quietly.  “I’m a friend to everyone.  But yes, I actually know Max.”

“Ah, he seems like a nice guy.”

“Well, he can be.  He can also be childish and full of himself.”

Barbara’s eyes widened and she guffawed.  “Oh wow.  Well, hey, I’m not going to argue you there.”

“But all we really can do is wish them well.  C‘est la vie.  Because that’s what we would want in return, isn’t it?  Support and understanding.”

“Very true.  I’m sorry, uh Lester, is it?  So did you need something from me…or…?”

“I didn’t realize I needed permission to talk to the prettiest woman in the forest.  Do I need to invent a good excuse?  Or can I just be honest and say, ‘I like talking to really pretty girls?”

Suddenly Barbara got it, and started blush-laughing.  “Well, someone’s spiked the punch apparently.  You’re already wearing beer goggles.”

“No, no, don’t put yourself down.  I mean what I say.”

His magnetic eyes never left her for a second and the more he stared, his calm smile lighting up the dusk sky, the more she started to panic.  Since when does anyone actually meet a guy at her sister’s wedding?  It’s supposed to be never!

“I hope I didn’t embarrass you.  I can leave if you like.”

“No, no, it’s not that.  Just…you know, weddings and stuff.  It’s kind of a big deal in our family.  I get all emotional.”

“Good, because I wasn’t planning on leaving you alone anyway.”

His smile melted away into a good laugh.  By the time Barbara stopped blushing and started to look at the man as a physical person and not a passing thought, she did admit to herself that there was something slightly dangerous, even creepy, about the fellow.  He was handsome all right.  Clean shaved, thick dark hair and impassioned eyes like a warrior-poet.  He wore a wealthy man’s suit and had a strong man’s build.  Even his smile was adorable, a sweet shape, but one tinged with a naughty streak.

He didn’t seem to know her from anyone, a vague friend of a friend, or an acquaintance to be exact, and yet had no qualms about speaking his mind.  In fact, he wouldn’t stop.  Even when she gave him an opportunity to draw back, he kept coming on strong, as if after a fling, or a wedding crash of a good time.

“I think you’re a little too smooth for your own good,” she said with a laugh.  “I just met you.”

“You just met me and so you think I shouldn’t say nice things?”

“You’re not really nice.  You’re…”

“I admit, I am very forward.  But that’s kind of in my line of work.”

“What do you do?”

He turned his head, perfect timing, as the music was playing and couples were pairing off.

“Hey, answer the question,” she said with a taunting stare.

“My name is Lester Lincoln.  I just met you.  I think you’re beautiful.  I have no regrets telling you that.  I want you to dance with me.”

He held his hand out, offering this dance.  His eyes relaxed, as if, for once, asking permission.  His voice was calming, almost mesmerizing to listen to, like a chant or a full melody trapped in a human voice.    

“All right, just one dance,” she said with a squint. 

He took her out to the dance floor and swayed and two-stepped boldly, his hands and fingers tingling with excitement, as if her very skin soothed him. 

The way he danced was maleficent, immaculately light and yet with a firm grip.  As if taking her, as if whisking her away to wonderful dark place.  His eyes couldn’t leave her, not even for a second, as he made love to her with just one look.  She felt vulnerable, even moist, the longer she looked into his radiant eyes.

Who is this guy?  And why does he make me feel so…out of my skin?

The slow dance was next.  The soft music poured out like sugar, as he pulled her closer to him, getting a better view of her neck and thumping chest.  She was excited, if a bit nervous, not really knowing what he wanted or if she could resist giving him anything.  Hopping into bed…that’s what all guys wanted, right?  Could she, or should she resist him?  It isn’t proper of a lady, and of all places to lose all self-control at her sister’s wedding!

              Speaking of which, she did notice, as she made a spin, a glaring look from Linda, who was staring a hole through Lester, and who unwittingly gave Barbara the same look when in the crossfire.  Lester danced away, oblivious as to Linda’s disapproval and seemed comfy as if finding his happy place in hell. 

When the dance was over it took Lester a good thirty seconds to let go of Barbara, and even longer for Barbara to recover from the jolt of intimacy she felt.  Whatever he was, or was doing, he was damned good at it.  And that’s all she had for him. 

She gave him a shy smile and walked back to get another drink of punch.

Linda, still in her wedding dress, wasted no time in approaching Lester, the devil in her eyes, and an angel’s in his. 

“What are you doing here?”

“What?  Max sent me an invitation.”

“Well, I didn’t!”  She fumed.

“Why so suspicious?  Can’t a man show interest in your lovely sister, Barbara?  She’s not spoken for, is she?”  His gaze became aggressive and his eyes seemed to laugh.  “So maybe you should enjoy your wedding day and stop worrying so much.”

“You stay away from her,” Linda warned with a quiet rage.

Barbara caught the cold stare exchange while taking a drink of champagne.  She smiled, a bit cautiously, as Linda stormed off and Lester approached again.

“So apparently my sister doesn’t like you.”

“I sensed that, yes.”

“Guess she sees through your type,” Barbara said with a snarky little smile.

“Believe me,” he said with a repetitive laugh.  “She really has no idea who I am.”

“And who are you, Lester?  You never answered my question.”