Real Vampires Live Large (Glory St. Clair #2)

Real Vampires Live Large (Glory St. Clair #2) Page 19

I pulled back and looked into his eyes. What I felt was bloodlust. Well, it beat the hell out of no lust at all.

“Steve.” My voice was low and I had him under the whammy in seconds. He just stood there, his arms still around me while I leaned in and sniffed. I shouldn’t, but who could resist clean male skin, the hint of an aftershave that I liked and that damned AB

negative? I was in before you could say, “Bite me.”

Ah, the taste, the heat, and that quivering down low that was damned near orgasmic. I felt him slump against me and reluctantly pulled back. The poor guy should at least be able to walk home. I licked the puncture wounds to close them then gave him a thank you kiss on his very yummy neck.

“Well, look who’s enjoying a little pre-dawn snack.” The male voice spun me around. Familiar. The freaking voice in my head that had given me migraines.

“You.” I disentangled myself from Steve and propped him against the Lexus. “Who the hell are you?” Head clear. No headache. Feeding had given me a surge of energy, like I could conquer the world or at least this scum-sucking vampire.

“Answer me. Who the hell are you and why are you bugging me?” I stepped away from the car and got into his face. Maybe not my smartest move. He was a big guy. Good looking and much too much my type. Dark hair, dark eyes, great build and a dimple in his chin. There was something about that dimple . . . He didn ’t touch me, just smiled like I amused him. Okay, now I was really mad.

“I’m not surprised you don’t remember me. I made sure you wouldn’t. Nothing like dumping a woman and then having her bugging the hell out of you.”

“Excuse me?” I did the dumping not the other way around. This guy was obviously delusional.

“Let me show you something.” He grabbed my hand, strong enough that I couldn’t wrench it away even though I damn sure tried.

“Let me go, asshole.” For the first time, I wished I’d listened to Valdez. An attack dog would be mighty handy about now.

“Gloriana.” I heard the guy’s voice in my head and thought about blocking him. But I wanted to know who or what he was and what he wanted. “Remember this.”

I was up high, on a bed surrounded by . . . flowers. Sweet smell, but the noise! A band played a college fight song. Thousands cheered. The bed jerked and swayed its way down a corridor between skyscrapers.

“Where are we?”

“New York City, Gloriana. 1969. Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. You and I, bed buddies.”

Naked bed buddies. He laughed up at me when I sat up and pushed out my breasts. Not happening. But the sunlight, the cold, crisp air and the shouts of the crowd sure as hell felt real. So did the rush of doing the wild thing while thousands cheered.

“You’d think they would stop the parade, try to arrest us.” A snowflake drifted down and melted on my breast. I shivered and grabbed a blanket just as the float lurched to a stop.

“Do you want to add a cop to the mix?” He grinned and snatched the blanket away. “You won’t need that. I can keep you hot.”

Another man appeared beside the bed, this one in full uniform swinging a nightstick.

“You two are under arrest. Unless I can have a piece of that.” The cop’s night stick stroked my bare bum. The crowd cheered again, obviously pro-law enforcement.

“No, lover, lose the cop, you’re more than enough for me.” I kissed him and the policeman disappeared. The crowds groaned and the band segued into “Hail Britannia.” “Ooo,” I murmured when he grabbed my ass and pushed into me. “You do know how to please a woman.”

“Always.”

Snow came down harder, I came harder. He was right. Who needed a blanket?

“What does this float represent anyway?”

He grinned and pointed upward. A banner waved above us. “Make Love, Not War.”

“We’re protesting Vietnam?” Now I noticed that our headboard was a giant peace sign made of red roses and white gardenias.

“Got to love the sixties, especially when a vampire flies under the draft radar.” His fangs slid across my shoulder. “Wave at the crowd, baby. We’re New York’s answer to John and Yoko.”

The band broke into a Beatles medley. “All You Need Is Love.” The crowd sang along. A turquoise parakeet landed on the brass footboard and began preening.

“You up for a threesome?” He nodded and the bird morphed into a tall brunette with disgustingly slim hips and perky C cup breasts. She was naked, of course. The crowd went wild and the band started “A Little Help from My Friends.”

I dove under the blanket. “No, thanks, I want you all to myself.”

He pulled me up for a big kiss, then rolled me under him. I saw the bird disappear into what was practically a snowstorm. Nothing could cool off my lover, though. He surged into me again and again. Orgasm number three hit me, but who was counting?

“How long do you want this to last?” he whispered against my neck. His fangs pierced me and another orgasm rocked me and the float. The band found its groove on “Love Me Do.”

“Forever.”

I shivered, suddenly back in a dark parking lot in Austin, Texas, in an entirely different century.

“That’s when I decided we were over. Hate clingy women.” He squeezed my hand. “Even sexually adventurous ones.”

“Clingy women? Me?” I jerked my hand from his, my fangs full out. “Like I’d ever need to cling to anyone.” The adventurous thing I could live with. Though the fact that I couldn’t remember was a real buzz-kill. “That didn’t really happen. You made it up.”

“Not entirely. We had lots of special times.” He grinned. “Want to see another one?”

“Get over yourself.” My hands were fisted and I was levitating about a foot off the ground. I kind of liked looking down at the slimeball from my past. “And clingy? I don’t think so.”

“So you say, so you said then.” He still had a grin that I was going to smack right off of him. “But I had to be sure. That’s why I did what you call the whammy. Wham, bam, thank you ma’am. You never knew Greg Kaplan. Never heard of him. Never had the best sex of your life with him.”

“Delusional creep.” I picked him up and threw him across the parking lot. Yep, threw him. He landed on top of a silver Honda and rubbed his shoulder. The car alarm went off, but he silenced it with a look.

“Impressive. That’s what I call power. When I saw you on TV the night of your fire, I knew I had to look you up. I figured you never had gotten into shape-shifting, you were so freaked out by it back then. Tried it and totally wimped out. ” Greg grinned and looked me over. “Which is good for me now. You may not use it much, Glory, but you’re a damned power gold mine.”

While he’d been carrying on about my power, I’d been building up a head of steam.

“My power is my business, Greg. And you looked me up before the fire. I had the headache to prove it.”

“So someone mentioned your name. It made me think of old times.”

“Get lost, Greg.” I shook my head. “Why do you care about my power level anyway?”

“Power is valuable if you know what to do with it. Let’s get together and I’ll tell you about the possibilities. He actually held out his hand. “I forgot how good-looking you are, Glory. We could—”

“Shut up!” I was going to kill this son of a bitch. “You did the whammy on me? On me?” Where the hell was a stake when you needed one?

“Come on, Gloriana. You do the same thing yourself. That ’s what the whammy’s for.” He actually laughed. “Check out your midnight supper over there.”

I looked around at Steve, still leaning against that Lexus and totally oblivious. “I won’t apologize for using it. But no one does the whammy on me. No one. You want to see my power?” I saw the wooden fence on three sides of the lot and seared it. Flames shot up against the dark night sky, the wood ablaze. I turned to Greg, ready to finish him, but he was morphing into a blackbird, obviously out of there.

“Hot damn. The EVs will love you.” Then he was gone.

Well, hell. For a moment I tried the change thing myself. I would let my inner hawk come out and take down that freaking little bird. I concentrated, felt tingling in my hands and feet and shuddered. All right now, was I going to let an asshole like Greg Kaplan call me a wimp? I stared at my hands, willing them to grow feathers. Zilch. This was silly. All vampires changed. It was a perk I should make use of. So what if I felt sick and knew if even one feather sprouted I’d probably heave. I could do this. I could. So I stared at my all too humanoid hands until the world spun around me.

I glanced at Steve again. Who was I kidding? I didn’t change. I was change challenged. A wimp for sure. And, oops, there was the little matter of the fire I ’d started. It just might spread to the buildings on either side of the lot. I came down to earth with a thump.

“Steve.” I got in his face and touched his cheek. “Look, the fence is on fire. Maybe you should call for backup.”

“Fire?” Steve came alive, his eyes wide. “Hell, yes. What was it, lightning?”

I ignored the clear skies and nodded. “Freakish. Zap, and the fire started. It’s spreading. I think the noise dazed you. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” Steve whipped out his cell phone and began talking rapidly while he pulled me out into the street. He wobbled a little, but blamed it on the three beers he’d had since he didn’t have a clue he was down a quart. An interested crowd gathered. More late nighters who’d danced the last dance wondered aloud what could have started the fire. Steve repeated the lightning story and got some looks. I just stayed out of the way and wished I had some of my Vintage Vamp’s flyers. I know, but I’m a businesswoman. I know potential customers when I see them. In minutes a fire truck pulled up and quickly got the fire under control. Steve dragged himself away from the action long enough to walk me back to the door of the apartment building. I felt bad. For the juicy kiss I gave him and the vague promise to go out with him again. I wasn’t going to do it.