“Come in,” my ears are horrified to hear my mouth say.
My vision clears, and the vampire flashes a fang at me as he pushes past me into my duplex apartment.
“Aurelia,” he says slowly, testing my name.
“Yes.”
“I’m not going to hurt you. At least, I won’t if you cooperate. I’ve been looking for you a long time.”
He’s been looking for me? I try to make sense of it, but his eyes are so dark. Fathomless. I could gaze at him forever until the world ceases to exist. Why was I so worried?
A little voice in the back of my mind screams, telling me to fight.
“I know this is unconventional,” the vampire continues. “But secrecy is of the essence. I can’t be found in Tucson, and if my enemies found you talking to me, your life would be forfeit. And we don’t want that, do we?”
A little bit of logic worms into my bedazzled thoughts. Vampire. Enemies. “No,” I whisper.
“You cooperate with me, and I’ll protect you. But cross me, and I’ll punish you. Do we have an accord?” His accent makes the words sound so polite and old-fashioned.
The pull on my chest eases enough for me to take a deep breath.
“Yes,” I agree, even as my fingers tighten on my homemade stake.
“Then let us proceed. Shall we sit?” The vampire turns to lead me into my own living room.
The moment our gaze breaks, my wits come rushing back. I launch myself. I aim for the middle of his broad upper back with the sharpened dowel.
Live, laugh, love, DIE!
The vampire whirls and catches my wrist so quickly I don’t see it happen. Irritation registers on his perfect features. His face twists as his fangs elongate, and he hisses.
Caught in the grip of a monster, I scream. A fresh batch of adrenaline dumps into my bloodstream. My wrist throbs.
“Naughty little mortal.” Wrestling the dowel from me, he snatchs me up around the waist and carries me kicking and squirming into my living room. Another wall hanging--this time a quote by Marianne Williamson assuring me I’m powerful beyond measure--crashes to the floor. Another kick, and I take out my cute ladder bookcase. The complete works of Gabrielle Bernstein go flying. And for a second, the universe has my back because the vampire trips. But then he snarls--freakin’ terrifying!--and grabs me up again.
Whelp, that’s that. I’m done for. I should’ve eaten a head of garlic instead of trying the stake thingy.
He plops down on my second-hand sofa and, to my surprise, pulls me face down over his lap.
“That was extremely rude,” he informs me in his uppercrust accent, slapping my upturned ass. I don’t hear the irritation in his voice... he’s already recovered to his cool, manicured tones.
Rude?
I almost giggle. I thought he was going to drain me, but instead, I’m getting a smack on the ass.
Kinky vampire.
“You agreed to be civil with me, and so you shall—or suffer the consequences.” He smacks me again. For a second, I get this crazy sense of déjà vu, like I’ve been here before. The whole scene—the vampire, my position over his lap—feels super familiar.
And I lose my mind. I wiggle my ass for more, suddenly needy for a spanking.
At the hands of a vampire no less.
He complies, and the sense of déjà vu fades in the sudden sting from his palm. Something between a laugh and a sob bursts out of me. It’s mostly relief at not immediately becoming vamp-food. But then, he might be just getting his jollies before he bites into a vein. Not to go down without a fight, I flail against his hold, but his arm around my waist is like a steel band. Well, duh—vampires have superhuman strength. But does he sparkle in the sun?
He begins to strike my butt harder, and I squirm. Most of the sting is muffled by my jeans.
This is not how I imagined my night going. The thought makes me giggle out loud. The dam breaks, and my shock and stress rushes out in the form of sobbing laughs.
He stops, and I try to get up, still laugh-sobbing. A little humiliated, a lot turned on. He hauls me up and holds my hips, peering into my eyes. His expression is impassive, but I think I see a glint of curiosity in his gaze that mirrors my own. Heat creeps through my core, running down my inner thighs all the way to the arches of my feet.
Vampires and sex go together. And this fang boy is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
The irritation’s gone from the immortal’s expression. His fangs receded. He looks like an ordinary man, albeit a stunningly handsome one. His lips twist in a smirk that’s all amused arrogance.
“Pull down your pants, Tinkerbell,” he purrs a command.
He must not have used his glamour, or whatever folklore calls vampire hypnosis, because I don’t feel the odd pulling sensation.