Death. That’s what his Janissary co-workers called him. He as good at his job. Nathanial Pierce shook off that thought as the letters at his feet danced before his eyes, taunting him, laughing at him. Tall dark and handsome vampires welcome. Bold black letters on a rough tan welcome mat mocked him. Nate snorted disgusted, vampire. Sure Tarczals and vampires consumed blood, but that’s where all similarities ended. He was very much alive, not some dead literary euro-trash. Unless, that is, he failed The Alliance. If an enforcer, Janissary didn’t complete his mission he’d have to face the consequences.
He stared at the door, and then jabbed the doorbell. Why couldn’t she just have given up like so many before her? You’d think after one hundred and fifty rejections she’d reconsider the calling of being a writer, but no. Tenacious as a terrier she sent query letters and attended pitch sessions trying to sell her manuscript. Why couldn’t she just let the idea die?
“Hi, may I help you?”
Sunshine, she was sunshine standing in front of him, blonde, tan, with huge blue eyes. A navy blue shirt cut in a “v” with gold butterflies molded her top half giving tantalizing glimpses of cleavage. The file pictures of her paled compared to the real thing, which knocked his socks off, and rocked him back on his heels.
“May I help you? Are you all right?”
His brain processed that she was repeating herself as he stood there like a dolt.
Move. Say something Nate, you don’t have much time.
“My car broke down on the main road, and I don’t have any cell phone service out here.”
Laughter filled the air. “No, one does, we’re kind of a dead zone.” She opened the door wide for him. Gesturing to a hallway, she turned her back to him. “Landline is through there on the kitchen wall.”
Nate felt his gut clench as he envied the faded jeans hugging her legs and ass. She was making this too easy for him. He could easily reach out and snap her neck. Instead he picked up the phone his fingers punching at the buttons. His hand drummed the molding beside the phone as he listened to his own answering machine at home stalling for, well, hell, he didn’t know why.
“I’m on hold.” He lied.
Her fresh clean scent wafted to him — not soap, nor perfume, just her. He’d never had a ‘common human’ affect him like this, what was going on?
“Don’t you hate that?”
Sarafina, he already knew her name from the file gathered on her, jutted out her hip to lean against the opposite counter.
“Being put on hold before you ever have a chance to say anything.”
“Yea, it can be a real pain.” His arousal stirred and Nate quickly looked for a distraction and noticed a laptop on the kitchen table. “You work from home?”
“I’m a writer.”
He knew that too. She’d come on the Alliance’s radar ten years back. Quickly, thereafter she’d come on his. Sarafina Campbell had a very good job at Kincaid Enterprises working her way up the corporate ladder. There was talk she could even be a CEO one day soon, but she walked away from it never looking back. Some said the death of her parents played a part in her decision. Nate figured discovering at twenty-eight she‘d been adopted at birth jolted her too. Whatever the reason, she’d thrown it all away to become a writer, and that’s when the problems started.
Sarafina became not just your everyday ordinary writer, but a paranormal romance author. In other words, vampire stories. She didn’t even choose ordinary vampire tales, but shockingly accurate stories about Tarczals. No one knew where she got her details, and for a race that did their very best to blend in there was the rub. The Alliance tried discreetly to dissuade her foray into the published world. When that failed they sent in him. Now, Nate, Mr. Death, the last resort, had been called in, damn.
“Would you like some coffee, or tea?”
“That’s very kind of you, but no thanks.” He stalled.
Sarafina’s mind did the happy dance! A real-life dark angel was standing in her kitchen. Did someone turn up the heat in here? Those heavy-lidded eyes, that pouty, full, lower lip, cleft chin, not to mention the abs pressing against his t-shirt-all of her bad boy fantasies right before her eyes. Sarafina resisted the urge to check her chin for drool and squeeze her thighs together. They, the mysterious, they, had sent a woman’s wet dream to her. A vampire was in her kitchen using her phone. How incredible was that? Well in for a penny, in for a pound, she gave him a grin.
“Sure, no problem. Maybe you’d like something different.” Her chest clenched and heart pounded. “I’m-O-positive if that’s your type.”
The phone slid out of Nate’s hand, hit the floor and bounced safely on the throw rug under his feet.
“Took you people long enough,” she attempted a smirk, but the tone was off somehow.
“You people?” What was she up to?
“I don’t know what to call you. In my novel I use the name Dacians, but that’s not what you call yourselves, is it?”
How did she know? Had someone, her informant tipped her off that he was coming? Impossible, no one knew his plans until he, himself, decided his plan of action. What the hell, guess the direct approach might be the way to go.
“How did you find out about us?” Nate straightened to his full six-foot five height trying to intimidate her. “Who’s your contact?” he demanded.
“No one. After my parents, my adopted parents died, I did some searching for my birth mother. Found out she died in child birth from blood loss. There wasn’t a mention of who the father was. Soon after, I started dreaming.”
“Yes, dreaming.” She shifted. “One night I lay in my bed tossing and turning, finally I slept. Then the dreams started. People, a race so like the rest of the world and yet, so unique began to unfold. Their lives, their history, everything but the name came to me night after night. I lost count of how many nights, but the morning after the last dream I started writing.”
Nate’s gaze locked with hers and he clenched his jaw as he watched her pinch the inside of her lip with her teeth before clearing her throat.
She leaned back in her seat. “So you’re here to do what?”
“To silence you in any way I see fit.”
Sarafina gave a dry laugh, “I knew from the moment I typed that first word you guys wouldn’t like what I was doing.”
“But you kept writing and submitting.”
“Figured it was the best way to find you, well not you, personally, but your race. By the way what do you call yourselves?” She shifted from one foot to the other.
He ground his teeth for several seconds, then took a deep breath, before letting it out with a sigh. “Tarczal, we are called Tarczal.”
“Thank you for trusting me, Tarczal, huh, I like that.” She stood, arms folded across her waist. Legs spread, a defiant pout forming her lush mouth, she stood her ground. “So how are you going to silence me?”
In four quick strides he crossed the kitchen; his left hand snaked out to grasp the nape of her neck drawing her against the hard line of his body. Her head tilted up her eyes wide with surprise, but not fear. Her lips parted and Nate dove in.
He meant the kiss to be harsh and punishing. Her laughter poured into him. Arms, soft and supple caressed and entwined his neck, pulling him down and her up. Her tongue danced on, his mouth, gaining access, to stroke, and plunder. A contented sigh passed from her to him and he eagerly gulped it down. Hands, his, hers roamed over each other’s body exploring and embracing. Nate broke the roller coaster of a kiss, stalked back into the kitchen, turned back, then stood one hand resting mid-run through his hair.
“Who are you?” He swallowed hard. “What are you?”
“I don’t know, but I think I might be half Tarczal.”
“Which half top or bottom?” Nate laughed shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter, you’re one hundred percent woman.”
Her lips, swollen from the kiss drew him back. Nate uttered the groan of a man who knows he’s been defeated and didn’t care. He started for her, and relief slammed into him when she met him half way.
She tasted of life, something he’d lost the flavor of eons ago. He wanted to devour that essence. Nate wanted to sink himself into her, have her wrapped around him. Life called to him and he wanted to forget death and why he was sent here. His left hand slipped around her waist the other brushed a lock of hair from her shoulder baring her throat. Nate nibbled her lips lightly, biting the plump flesh, before his tongue slid in to explore. His hand went to the nape of her neck, gently this time, holding her in place, afraid to let go and lose her as the kiss deepened. The siren call of her body sang to him like the legendary tales of Blood Witches from his childhood. He couldn’t ignore the song anymore than he could will the sun not to rise and set.
A low moan vibrated between them. Was that from her or him? He didn’t know. Didn’t care. Step by step he moved her backwards. “Table,” he muttered.
“Bedroom,” she replied pushing him backwards and pointed. Nate swept her up into his arms striding in the direction she’d indicated.
He’d already made his mind up he couldn’t hurt her, but what to do with her? His cock straining against the fabric of his jeans knew what to do with her. If he wasn’t careful he’d be at her like a buck rabbit.
Nate toed off his shoes, undid his belt, and shucked his jeans and shirt to stand there. Sarafina tossed her clothes faster than a stripper expecting a hundred dollar tip. She sat on the bed and reached out to take his cock in her hands. It throbbed with a life all its own. Hand holding him firm she scooted back on the bed drawing him forward. He climbed onto the mattress between her legs.
“Your mine if we do this, do you understand? Mine.”
The all accepting, all knowing smile she gave him and the way her gaze held his, told him he’d been hers the moment he’d crossed over that welcome mat.
He rubbed the head of his cock in her wetness she whimpered as his girth divided the walls of her entrance. Nate gave her a moment to accommodate him, then began to slowly thrust in and out of her. Sarafina moaned and wrapped her legs securely around him as he thrust deep into her. He did his best to hold back, but like a man possessed he pounded into her. Her nails dug deep into his back drawing blood spurring Nate on. When she pulled his head down to her neck seconds before their climaxes his feeder teeth slid out. He sank them into her flesh drinking deep as his cock slammed hard against her. She bucked beneath him before they both collapsed. Their body heat evaporated all too quickly sending a shiver over both of them. He cuddled her to him.
She whispered against his throat. “What is your boss going to say about this?”
“He’ll cuss me out then congratulate me on my marriage.”
“I told you, you were mine if we did this.”
“Just wanted to make sure.” Sarafina’s teeth worried her lower lip. “What now?”
“Get used to the idea that I’m going to be the only blood drinker in your life from now on, and the first thing we’re doing is getting rid of that damn welcome mat.”
Read Genevieve’s other sexy stories published on Every Night Erotica here.
Spreading Happily Ever Afters. Find more from Genevieve here: www.jpauletteforshey.com.