The Girl & the Vampire (The Embassy #1)

OTHER TITLES BY KIRA BARKER

We Kinky Three Series:

Caught in the Middle

Book 2 (forthcoming 2015)

The Embassy Series:

The Girl & The Vampire

One for the Pack (October 2014)

Ghostly Ties (October 2014)

Seductress Seduced (November 2014)

Underwater Love (November 2014)

Opposites Attract (December 2014)

Prey Series:

Hunter & Prey (forthcoming 2014)

Bait (forthcoming 2015)

The Girl & The Vampire

The Embassy #1

Kira Barker

The Girl & The Vampire

The Embassy #1

by Kira Barker

Copyright © 2014 by Kira Barker. All rights reserved. 
 

http://www.kirabarker.com

First edition: September 2014

A-1140 Vienna

Edited by Marti Lynch

Cover design by
Mayhem Cover Creations
 

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is purely coincidental.
 

Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.
 

The author greatly appreciates you taking the time to read her work. Please consider leaving a review wherever you bought the book, or telling your friends about it, to help spread the word.
 

Thank you for supporting my work.

CONTENT WARNING: This story contains scenes of an explicit, erotic nature and is intended for mature audiences. 18+

To Lisa - So long, and thanks for all the coffee!
 

The Girl & The Vampire

“Are you sure you really want to do this?”

It must have been the tenth time Rachel asked me that very same question, and for the first time, my answer didn’t come as a spitfire rapport. Gazing up at the sleek glass facade of the building in front of us, I felt my stomach knot, anxiety locking my knees and letting doubt cloud my mind. Did I want to go in and find out what all the fuss was about? No question there; the answer was a resounding, “Yes!” But right now?

As if she had read my mind, Rachel added, “We don’t have to do this today, you know. We can always return next week. Or never, if you ask me. Which you never do because you already know my answer.”

I sent her a sidelong look that she deflected with a small, hopeful smile. I couldn’t say why, but it was her incessant pointing out that I could postpone this undertaking that strengthened my resolve to go through with it.

“‘We’ aren’t doing anything; I am, as you also keep pointing out.”

Either my words or my admittedly stubborn tone brought the usual frown back onto her forehead, marring the beauty of her youthful face. She wore her twenty-seven years way better than I did mine. Maybe it was her natural tan, or that blonde mane. Next to her I always felt bleached of color, even if my Irish complexion and strawberry blond hair should have outshone hers. But considering what I was about to do—today for real—that fit the bill perfectly.

She opened her mouth, obviously to object, but now that I had managed to catch that thread of conviction, I was clinging to it for dear life.

“Stop it. There’s nothing you can say that will dissuade me. I’m doing this. Today. Now. If you don’t want to come along, you can wait in the coffee shop down the street.” Just the idea of venturing forth on my own made my skin crawl, and I hated how my voice broke on the next words. “But I’d really appreciate it if you came with me. Just inside for the interview. I’d feel much better if I had my best friend along, even if I can’t have your approval.”

As expected, my plea mellowed out her frown to a slight twist of her lips, and after looking away sharply, she inclined her head, if barely.

“That’s not fair, and you know it,” she grumbled under her breath.

“Frankly, I don’t give a shit about fairness if it gets me laid,” I joked, flinching at the desperation ringing in my voice.

Rachel’s head shot up, her eyes wide as they zeroed in on mine.

“Seriously, this is just about sex? You don’t have to let a guy eat you, for fuck’s sake, just to get some! I’m sure that there are millions of guys ready to show you a good time.”

“You know that’s now how I meant it,” I pointed out, and when she started to shake her head, I cut her short again. “It’s not just about sex. But you know what they say, right? I’m not in the mood to find some lame guy to hook up with to break my dry spell, and considering that I’m not otherwise attached, I might as well give this a try?”

Rachel’s already open mouth snapped shut, and a shrewd look appeared on her face.

“Shouldn’t the fact that you keep avoiding spelling out exactly what you want to happen to you in there tip you off that you’re not sure about it?”

Heat surged into my cheeks, but I did my best to ignore her jibe.

“How old are we, fifteen? Either you come with me, or you don’t, but I’m going in there. Now.”

Turning from her to face the door, I exhaled slowly, gathering my courage. I didn’t have to look back at her to feel her smirk, and before I could lose faith, I pushed myself into motion and took the three steps at a run. And then I was inside the cool glass dome of the foyer, sunshine falling behind as dusky twilight engulfed me. Very melodramatic, and I wondered for a moment why they forced their daytime employees to work under such conditions. Another few steps carried me into the reception area that looked dishearteningly corporate with a huge desk manned by a perky receptionist.

Taking another deep breath, I stepped up to her, glad that she had noticed my approach and was already smiling at me winningly. As much as I would have hated running away seconds after entering, facing Rachel’s mirth would have been easier than being ignored.

“Welcome to the Embassy, how can I help you?”

She pronounced the name of the institution in such a way that the capital letter rang true, making me feel just a little more ridiculous.

Swallowing, I tried to appear as if I wasn’t trembling with nerves.

“Hi, my name is Celia Dawson. I have an appointment with Ms. Taylor?”

Without even checking the agenda on the screen next to her, she nodded, still smiling.

“Of course. Ms. Taylor is still talking to another client—if you will please follow me to the waiting area?”

I wasn’t sure if she caught my nod as she was already getting up and coming around the desk. She led me to an en suite room furnished in mahogany, with lush, cream-colored sofas everywhere. Halfway there, Rachel suddenly appeared at my other side, falling silently into step with me.

“Please take a seat,” the receptionist offered needlessly, her sweeping gesture taking in the entire room. “Can I get you some refreshments? Water, coffee, wine?”

“A glass of water would be nice, thank you,” I answered, just as Rachel, blunt as ever, replied, “Don’t you have anything stronger?”

Mortified, I sent her an appalled look that she of course ignored. The receptionists’s smile never faltered, but took on a fake tint.

“Are you here for a consultation, Miss…?”

“Bloom. And God, no, I’m just here to talk her out of doing something really stupid that she will soon come to regret.”

“Rachel!” I hissed, but both women ignored me as they kept staring at each other.

“There’s a bar in the next room, but we discourage potential clients from going to their consultations intoxicated.”

“Just the consultations? So you’re not against filling unwitting girls up before you throw them to the wolves? Or bats, I guess I should say?”

I felt like either hitting my friend or hiding my face in my hands so no one would see my embarrassment, but, if anything, the receptionist only found what must have amounted to the world’s worst pun amusing. She probably got that a lot.

“We feel that our adult, consenting clients are free to decide for themselves what they want to engage in, and that includes the use of alcohol and other recreational drugs, as far as they are not forbidden by federal law. If you’re interested in the rest of our rules of conduct, I can print out a copy for you?”

Rachel hesitated a moment, but then I saw the fight leave her, and I realized that the remaining steep red on her cheeks was less from anger and scorn, and more from embarrassment.

“That won’t be necessary. And nothing for me, thank you.”

The receptionist gifted her one more insincere smile before she turned to me.

“I’ll be back with your water in a moment.”

True to her word, I’d barely had time to choose a seat and glare daggers at Rachel before the receptionist returned, carrying a small tray with a glass and opened bottle of water on it, frosted with condensation. She poured for me and set it down on the small coffee table next to my sofa, then left us to our own devices, which was mostly to brood in silence. Rachel opened and closed her mouth several times, but I knew her well enough not to expect an apology from her. When she looked longingly at my half empty bottle, I pointedly ignored her as I quickly downed the contents of my glass, then poured the rest just out of spite.

“Look, I know I can come on a bit strong sometimes, but—” she eventually started, but I cut her off before she could continue antagonizing me

“But nothing! You’ve said your piece, now stop bullying me!”

That shut her up for good, and when the receptionist returned five minutes later to show us to my appointment, Rachel trudged after me almost like a beaten puppy.

I wondered if she really was that selfish, or if she knew that her tantrums would be just the thing to distract me from my own anxiety, thus making her the perfect best friend. The fact that I was glad she was along, even kicking and complaining, already gave me my answer, painting a slight smile onto my face.

Ms. Taylor’s office went along with the rest of the color theme, dark brown and light beige everywhere, making bland seem just classy enough not to appear too boring. The fact that it was an indoor office with no windows was not lost on me, but the soft light coming from several recessed lights on the walls made the room look warm and welcoming rather than stuffy.

At our entry, the woman waiting behind another heavy oak desk got up and waited for us to approach, then shook my hand first, Rachel’s second. Looking perfect in a pressed pants suit and her brown hair in a chignon at the back of her head, she introduced herself as Emily Taylor, then bade us to take seats on the—cream-colored, what else—chairs in front of her desk. While I tried to look prim and proper as I sat down, Rachel almost sagged into the soft leather beside me, appearing even more like the petulant child in the principal’s office than before.

“I’m happy that you found your way to us, Ms. Dawson. May I call you Celia?”

“Of course.” I was a little too quick to agree, then forced myself to calm down while my stomach knotted up for good. As I licked my lips, Rachel’s former words zoomed through my mind again. She was right. If I couldn’t even say it, what was I doing here? But it was still incredibly hard to admit what I’d been obsessed with since I’d first heard of the Embassy. “I’m here to apply to your blood donor program.”

Phrased like that, it sounded a little better, although Rachel’s light snort coming from beside me told me that she didn’t think so.
 

Much to my surprise, Emily frowned rather than continuing the smiling routine.

“I hope that you’re aware that we handle things differently than the official donation program?”

That was phrasing it equally mildly, and while I understood her concern, I hated how belittled it made me feel.

“Does it make you feel better when I say that I’m here to get fucked by a vampire while he almost drains me?”

My tone was maybe a little too flippant, but the expected sigh from Rachel didn’t come, and, if anything, Emily did look kind of satisfied.

“It’s always good to know that a potential client doesn’t glorify what might happen to them.”

“Do you get a lot of them? Naive nitwits that glorify becoming food with benefits?” Rachel jeered, finally dropping the “passive” part of her aggressiveness.

If her accusation fazed the other woman, she didn’t show it.

“Sometimes. That’s why we have these interviews as part of our consultations. We are providing a very specific range of services for all our clients, and to ensure mutual satisfaction, it is paramount to us to inform all participants and get their consent.”

Strangely enough, Rachel didn’t go after the “consent” part as she always did with me when we reached that part of the discussion, but the grim look didn’t leave her face as she settled deeper into the cushions of her chair. I wondered if I should apologize for bringing her along, but figured that someone would have mentioned something by now if they were actually bothered by her presence.

Turning back to me, Emily pushed a stack of papers in my direction.

“Please fill out these forms. You can take the actual contract home with you and turn it in as you show up for your agreed-upon appointment, but we would appreciate it if you’d return the list of activities that you are comfortable with as soon as you decide that you actually want to become a client. The more information we have about our clients, the easier it is to find the perfect match.”