Kiss of Pride

  “What I have failed to explain to you, dearling, is we do not kill humans. If I went to those two men, I would try to save them, give them a chance to repent.”

  Alex felt pain like a sword through her heart. “You would betray me like that?” she choked out.

  “It would be my duty, just as it is my duty to save you,” he explained, his eyes pleading with her for understanding.

  Not bloody likely! She did not understand. Not at all. “I think I could hate you for that.”

  He exhaled and said, “So be it!”

  Grabbing a large bath towel, he lifted her from the tub and covered her with it. Despite her shrieks and flailing arms and legs, he managed to dry her off briskly, then wrap her tightly in a terry-cloth robe that had been hanging on the door. While she struggled and hurled insults at him, he rubbed the moisture from her hair and ran a comb through its length.

  The whole time, he kept repeating, “I am sorry, Alex, but this is how it must be. I am truly sorry.”

  Picking her up in his arms, he proceeded to carry her from the bathroom, heading toward his bedroom, where Sigurd waited for him, leaning lazily against a bedpost. His fangs were out.

  Alex stilled, glanced at the bed, at his brother, back to Vikar, whose fangs were also extended. Then she let loose with an ear-splitting scream, “Nooooooo!”

  Share and share alike . . .

  This was the hardest thing Vikar had ever had to do, and there had been plenty of horrendously difficult tasks he’d been assigned over the years. But sharing Alex? He’d rather rip out his heart.

  Hah! Given a chance, she might just do it for him.

  Pounding his chest, attempting to claw his face, screeching like a banshee, she fought valiantly, but he was a Viking. Like a feather in a bear’s paw she was.

  “If you think I’m getting involved in some ménage à dopes, you are crazier than I thought.”

  “Now, sweetling, that is not what we intend.” There is no appeal in such an arrangement for me. One-on-one is the only way. Not that I am contemplating such. A man can dream, though. Can’t he?

  “Here’s what I intend.” She bit his shoulder. Hard.

  Even though he’d like to shake some sense into the foolish woman, he laid her in the middle of his bed and immediately came down over her, pinning her to the mattress. Holding her hands above her head and pressing his weight onto her belly and chest, he whispered against her ear, “Shh, settle down. You cannot fight what is to come.”

  “You bastard. You sonofabitch. You ignorant asshole! Don’t you dare tell me to settle down. I am not having sex with you two morons.”

  Whoa! Even a bar of soap wouldn’t clean that mouth. “You give new meaning to ‘potty mouth.’ Tsk, tsk, tsk! ’Tis unseemly, m’lady.”

  “Fuck you!”

  “I wish!” Mike is going to have a fire-breathing fit if she speaks thus to him. If she is still here. Oh please, God, let her still be here. I am not ready to let her go.

  “And, furthermore, if anyone from your dimwit gene pool lays a hand on me, I’ll write an exposé on your group that will blow your cover to high Heaven . . . or Hell, for all I care.”

  Vikar winced, even though he knew she would not . . . could not . . . follow through on that threat.

  He heard Sigurd chuckling behind him.

  “Not sex, sweetling,” he tried to explain. “Just—”

  “What? More near-sex? I am not having that, either. And ditch the endearments. I was not your sweet anything before and I am definitely not your sweet anything now.”

  “Not near-sex, either.” Except mayhap a little bit before, and mayhap a lot afterward. If you are in the mood. I know I am in the mood. Bloody hell! I am always in the mood these days.

  “I’m going to sue your pants off.”

  “My pants off, hmm? Is that a promise?” he asked, trying to soften her mood.

  But she’d somehow managed to get her knee out from under him and when he lifted himself slightly to tuck her back under, she slammed him where it hurt the most.

  “Ow, ow, ow!” he yelped like a little girling, but he managed to hold on to the wiggling woman, and it served her right that, with all that wiggling, her robe came undone and he got an up close and personal view of all her frontal assets. Despite his pain, he smiled.

  Which caused her to glance downward and see what was pleasing him so. Fire practically came out of her flared nostrils now. “I swear, I am going to kill you.”

  “I’m already dead.” Apparently, she still hadn’t accepted that concept.

  “Uh, do you think we could get on with this sometime soon,” Sigurd said. “Antiques Roadshow is coming on in a half hour, and . . . whoa! No wonder you are all moon-eyed, Vikar. She is a goddess.”

  Vikar turned to see that Sigurd had moved to the side of the bed and was ogling Alex’s bare breasts and belly. He could have spit fire himself at that moment, not wanting any other man looking on his woman. Already he could feel his eyes turning silver with fury.

  “Begone!” he yelled as he laid himself over her bare skin. “I will call for you when she is ready.”

  “Jeesh! All I did was look,” Sigurd grumbled. “Methinks you are way too jealous, my brother, and jealousy is a sin, same as envy. Tsk, tsk, tsk!”

  Sigurd is preaching. At me?

  “Jealousy and envy are definitely not the same thing, which you should know since envy was your deadly sin,” Vikar said.

  “Yoo-hoo, is everyone forgetting that I am lying here pinned to the bed by a big baboon?” Alex complained, attempting futilely to shove upward against his immovable chest.

  Sigurd winked at Alex.

  But Vikar couldn’t be angry about that, he was too aroused by her wriggling under him.

  “In any case, methinks you have found your life mate,” Sigurd went on.

  “Do vangels get to have life mates?” Vikar asked, when he should have just kicked Sigurd out of the bedchamber.

  “I do not know. We should ask Mike when he gets here,” Sigurd replied.

  “Have either of you ever considered applying for entrance to the Clueless Hall of Fame?” Alex asked with exaggerated sweetness.

  “Aaarrgh! We are not asking Mike about this because it does not matter. She is not my life mate. I am just saving a sinner,” Vikar explained. “Now go, I’ll call when she is ready.”

  Sigurd left with a little wave.

  When Vikar turned his attention back to Alex, she was no longer squirming under him, but instead shooting icy daggers at him with her cold green eyes. Cold eyes, fiery breath . . . should be a contradiction but somehow fit her outraged demeanor. “When I’m ready?”

  “I just meant—”

  “Save it for someone who cares.”

  He winced. “I thought you cared.”

  “I might have . . . until I realized what a rat bastard you are.”

  “I am not a rat bastard, Alex. I am just a vangel trying to do the right thing.”

  “Blah, blah, blah. Now get off me, you big oaf. Forget about tomorrow morning. I’m out of here tonight.”

  “Your nipples are blushing.”

  “Huh?”

  There was indeed a flush coloring her skin from her neck to . . . well, her pleasure place. No doubt due to her warm bath and his towel rubbing. Whatever the cause, he couldn’t help himself. He leaned down and framed the areola of one breast with his fangs, then sucked on the nipple. She tasted like sunshine and raspberries. He hummed his appreciation against her breast, alternating laves of his tongue with nips of his teeth with rhythmic suckling.

  “Do. Not. Do. This.” Her moaned words were belied by her hands gripping his head and holding him fast.

  By the time he moved to her other breast and used a fang to flutter the peak back and forth until it engorged and grew rosy with arousal, her legs were crossed behind his buttocks in a futile attempt to bar his escape. Futile because he had no desire to escape.

  “You have to let me go, Vikar,” she said, even
as she arched her back for more of his ministrations.

  “I know,” he said, even as he moved upward, ripped off his shirt, and rubbed his chest hairs and his own erect nipples back and forth across her breasts. If he hadn’t known before, he knew now that his male nipples were sensitive.

  “You have to let me go,” she repeated, as she used the bottoms of both feet to caress the backs of his thighs and calves.

  He’d had no idea he was so sensitive there, either. Especially the backs of his knees. “I know,” he said, as he licked and blew lightly into the inner whorls of her ears.

  She moaned, a continuous sighing expression of erotic delight. “I want you so much,” she choked out. “I have never wanted a man like this before. Never.”

  The pride in him reared its head, but, no, it was more than pride. It was the man to her woman that delighted in her words. “In truth, I have ne’er felt this way, either. And I have been around a lot longer than you.”

  He kissed her then, long, and deep, and hungry. He kept tilting his head from one side to the other, trying for the best fit, but they were all good. The wetness, the heat, the soft sounds of aroused woman were almost his undoing. He had to stop. He had to. “Alex, I must take a little blood from you. Not much because I already have too much Lucipire blood in me from Harek.”

  “Then don’t.”

  “I must. Truth be told, the Lucipire taint is no doubt causing me to be more tempted than usual by your charms.”

  She stiffened. “Are you saying that you want me only because you have some sinful blood in you?”

  “You know that is not true. I have wanted you from first I saw you standing at my front door like an angry Valkyrie. It is a fact, though, that the Lucipire taint weakens the will against sin. And that goes for you, too, sweetling. Part of your lack of resistance to me is due to the Lucipire taint.”

  “Oh.” Clearly, she would rather be attracted to him for normal reasons. He felt the same way.

  Before she could raise any objections, he sank his teeth into her neck and he almost fainted at the sheer ecstasy. There was pleasure for her, too, in the feeding. He could tell by the way her body relaxed into the mattress. And her arms went about his shoulders, caressing his hair and nape.

  He soon stopped, though he could drink from her endlessly if given the chance and it were not so dangerous. For a brief, scary second he wished she had fangs and could take succor from him, too. While she gazed up at him through glazed eyes, he pulled the sides of her robe together and knotted the tie securely. Kissing her lightly, he then moved up to sit against the headboard, pulling her onto his lap. He could tell she was weak. And confused. Good. If she understood what was to come, she would be fighting him wildly again.

  While he held her face against his chest and crooned Old Norse words softly into her ear, Sigurd returned, opening and closing the door softly before moving up to the bed. He chuckled when he tripped over Vikar’s shirt on the floor. “Shall I take off my shirt, too?”

  “Only if you want me to beat the shit out of you.”

  Sigurd chuckled again and asked, “Shall I present my neck? The blood from the neck is purer.”

  Vikar shook his head in refusal. Too intimate.

  Sigurd shrugged and ripped the vein at his wrist with his own fangs. Then, hopping onto the bed beside them, he attempted to use one hand to turn Alex’s head, at the same time keeping his other hand palm up to avoid blood dripping onto the bed linens.

  Vikar slapped away Sigurd’s hand on Alex’s chin. He did not want his brother touching her. He would be the one to turn her for the feeding.

  Alex’s eyes shot open as she realized another person was in the bed with them. Her body went stiff with shock.

  “Shh, shh, settle. It is only Sigurd.”

  “Only Sigurd!” she yelled. The arousal mood that had hazed her senses was fast evaporating.

  “Don’t worry. He’s a doctor.”

  “I don’t care if he’s the pope. Get him out of here.”

  Thinking quickly, Vikar arranged himself so that Alex sat on his lap, frontways, her legs trapped by his. He pulled a sheet up to her shoulders to cover what he was about to do. While he kissed her neck, and whispered soothing words to calm her, she continued to struggle, but then he stuck one hand inside her robe and caressed a breast. The other hand heeled her pubic bone in a rhythmic fashion.

  He saw Sigurd’s eyes follow his movements with interest, and, yes, arousal. It was an automatic reaction, but Vikar hated it nonetheless.

  Alex continued to protest and struggle futilely to get up. Turning her head to look at him pleadingly, she whispered, “Vikar. No. I don’t want this.”

  “You will, dearling. You will.” He pierced her neck again with his fangs and sipped slowly. Just little drips at a time, but enough to get her back in stasis.

  When she stopped struggling, Sigurd arranged himself on a side facing them on the bed and put his wrist to her mouth, refusing to lift it when she attempted to turn away. But then her eyes drifted shut and she moaned her surrender.

  As she drank from him greedily, Sigurd’s gaze connected with Vikar’s. “She is sweet,” Sigurd conceded.

  “She is my sweet,” Vikar emphasized. Please, God.

  “How many years do you think this sweetness will cost you?”

  “Some things in life are worth the pain.” Please, God, he prayed again, though he was not sure what he was praying for, exactly, whether it was to keep her with him or for the strength to let her go.

  Sigurd just laughed and rolled away.

  With eyes still closed, Alex groaned her dismay over her blood supply being cut off. She had no chance to actually voice a protest, though, because Vikar had shoved Sigurd off the bed and pointed to the door.

  Sigurd licked his lips and laughed at the frown on his brother’s face, but then Vikar’s attention was directed only on the dazed woman in his arms. She was still aroused from his earlier fondling, and he had every intention of bringing her to peak. But not in the presence of his brother.

  “Out! Now!” he demanded.

  “Why can’t I stay and watch?” Sigurd wanted to know. “I get so few pleasures that I deserve a bit of voyeurism from time to time.”

  Vikar said a foul word in Old Norse.

  Sigurd left, shaking his head at Vikar’s possessiveness that was clearly going to cause him trouble.

  Alex’s eyes were opening slowly. She was disoriented and it took several moments for her to realize where she was and what had happened. She ran her tongue over her lips and tilted her head in puzzlement at the taste.

  He arranged her on the bed so that he was on his side leaning over her. “Are you all right?”

  With a shake of her head, she said, “No, I am not all right. I will never be all right again.”

  He thought a moment, then shrugged. Clueless Viking man that he was, he just blundered on, “So, do you want to have near-sex now?”

  Her growl would have done a grizzly bear proud.

  Eleven

  Cluelessness: a manly trait through the ages . . .

  Transylvania feature, Kelly Page 1

  Draft Seven

  Why are vampires so popular? The dark princes of the night monopolize almost every aspect of popular culture, and yet no one seems able to pinpoint why. What happened to transform these evil monsters into heroes?

  Unbelievably, some people blame it on Sesame Street. Could it be that the sweet-natured Count on the public TV show is responsible for this softening of the bloodsucking villain so familiar to us starting with Bram Stoker’s Dracula? And what about Count Chocula breakfast cereal? Is it really possible that from a young age, our youth are being subconsciously influenced to view vampires as friend, not foe? If so, why?

  That subject and more would be interesting topics for doctoral studies at any of our major universities. In fact . . .

  “You have crossed the line this time, buster,” Alex seethed, shoving Vikar on the shoulder for emphasis.


  “Now, sweetling . . .”

  “How could you? How could you?” She continued to shove his immovable body. Like a monument he was. Lying on his side. A monument to cluelessness.

  When he flinched away from her pummeling fist, she moved herself up onto her knees and glared down at him with consternation. “Not that you haven’t crossed the line before, but two men in bed with me? Unbelievable!”

  “We weren’t in bed in bed,” he tried to argue.

  “That doesn’t even pass the giggle test.”

  “Does that mean you do not want to have near-sex with me?” The look of disappointment on his face was priceless.

  She shook her head at him. How could a man be so infuriating and adorable at the same time? “Can you say ‘clueless’? Really, men do the stupidest things and still expect women to have monkey sex with them.”

  “Monkey sex?” His forehead furrowed with confusion, and, yes, interest.

  “Like watch ten straight hours of football, reek of cigar smoke and hot wings, and have the nerve to say, ‘Hey, babe, wanna play with my balls’?”

  “I do not like cigars.”

  “What you did was ten times worse.”

  “Than cigars?”

  “Aaarrgh!”

  “And I rarely eat hot wings. They stain my fangs.”

  “Aaarrgh!”

  “Do not deny it, dearling, you are still aroused from our earlier love play.” He smiled lazily. As if to tempt her.

  She frowned. She was tempted. “No, I am not aroused,” she insisted then. Aroused would be an understatement. More like crawling the walls, I-want-you, I-want-you, I-want-you, please, please, please.

  “I can smell your ardor.” He reached up a hand to caress her hair.

  She slapped his hand away. “Maybe it’s the lemonade I drank earlier.”

  “Sin scent smells like lemons. Arousal smells like woman musk.” He sniffed the air and pretended to shiver with delight.

  The idiot! “I swear, your IQ is dropping by the second.” She drew the robe tighter around her nude body when she realized the idiot was staring up at her cleavage. “What I don’t understand is how you got me to acquiesce. Am I in a cult or something? Did you spike the Kool-Aid . . . uh, lemonade?”