Freed by Love: A Nine Story Paranormal Romance Collection E-Book

AJ Tipton

• Herausgeber: AJ Tipton
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

Two wickedly delicious series come together in one steamy bundle. Battle for freedom and love with the royal vampire family, the Dals, and the badass dragon shifters of the Iron Claws motorcycle club!

The Vampire's Throne: Christopher Dal is a vampire prince fighting to liberate his people. When Alice Jones, a stunning photographer, enters his perilous world, they must fight to save the vampire kingdom…or die trying.

The Vampire's Lair: Danny Dal is searching for truth. Robin Ballard is protecting what she loves. Together, they’ll run hand-in-hand towards danger, no matter what the cost.

The Vampire's Escape: Benjamin Dal is a vampire inventor trying to help humanity. When Lauren Vaughan, a gorgeous widow, is thrust into danger, they must risk everything to defeat their darkest foe.

The Vampire's Choice: Valerie Dal, a vampire princess, is desperate to atone for her past mistakes. A hunky hermit, Mickey Shive, has a plan to change the world. In their quest to save their people, can they also save themselves?

Her Valiant Dragon: Sexy dragon shifter Dylan Masters seeks redemption for his dark past. Curvaceous Marie rides alongside the Iron Claws as their human medic. When Marie’s dangerous past resurfaces, will Dylan be caught in the crossfire?

Her Delicious Dragon: Ned is a motorcycle-riding dragon shifter who kicks ass and bakes a mean cheesecake. Maya's a cunning tiger shifter and her clan's head of security. When these two come together, it’s a tasty recipe for love.

Her Rock Star Dragon: Punk rocker Caesar de la Vega is a dragon shifter on the cusp of his big break. Nina Alvarez is a successful freelance programmer who loves the freedom of her nomadic life. When the former groupie Nina stumbles across the rock god she once worshiped, will this rocker’s big break destroy their newly-kindled romance?

Her Hacker Dragon: Brilliant, transgender shifter Alec Harper is trying to atone for his dark past by dedicating his life to healing humans. Vampire scientist Penelope O'Hara has been fascinated by all things supernatural for three hundred years. When Alec saves her from a sudden attack by dragon shifter goons, Penelope is pulled into a dangerous world of hackers, killers, and conspiracies.

Her Alpha Dragon: Big Joe Silver is the Alpha of the Iron Claws, and a man with a secret. Emma Hernandez is the badass ex-military strategist who’s been in love with Joe since the day they met. When Joe's past catches up with him, he is forced to face the decisions he thought h

Leseprobe

Freed by Love

A Nine Story Paranormal Romance Collection

AJ Tipton

Illustrated byCirceCorp

Illustrated byZamajK

Contents

The Vampire’s Throne

The Vampire’s Lair

The Vampire’s Escape

The Vampire’s Choice

Her Valiant Dragon

Her Delicious Dragon

Her Rock Star Dragon

Her Hacker Dragon

Her Alpha Dragon

Letter from the Authors

Meet AJ Tipton

Copyright © AJ Tipton 2015 The right of AJ Tipton to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 (or other similar law, depending on your country). All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author, except in cases of brief quotations embodied in reviews or articles. It may not be edited, amended, lent, resold, hired out, distributed or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s written permission. Permission can be obtained from [email protected]

This book is for sale to adult audiences only. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and incidents appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is purely coincidental.

All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

Created with Vellum

The Vampire’s Throne

Alice Jones stifled a gag as she entered the perfume-saturated air of the high-end art gallery. Everything about the daunting gallery's decor was first-class rough chic, from the staggering large rooms with artistically exposed pipes in the ceiling to the intimate nooks of brick and glass.

Alice's borrowed stilettos threatened to dump her on her ass with every step, but she was determined to keep her head up. Classy. Remember you're supposed to be classy, she thought. With each nervous step, Alice half-expected someone to shout "plebeian intruder!" in her direction and tear her photographs off the wall. But, so far, the wealthy guests were nodding at her work politely and smiling as widely as their Botox allowed.

A heavy glass of wine materialized in her hand, and Alice looked up into the flashing grin of the gallery's owner, Margot Dal.

"You looked like you needed a drink." Margot nodded towards the glass, which was filled so high Alice was sure a slight breeze would spill it down her front.

"To wear?" Alice asked. She made a show of carefully craning down to sip at the brimming drink without moving her hand, while still sending Margot a grateful smile. Alice had been working closely with Margot over the last few weeks to prepare for the opening, but the tall, statuesque woman still intimidated the crap out of Alice.

"What can I say? A good friend pushes your boundaries." Margot seemed to only be paying half attention to what she was saying, her eyes already roaming the crowd like she was looking for someone.

Alice forced herself not to fidget. She'd give anything for even half of Margot's composure. Margot looked effortlessly comfortable wherever she was, but within her gallery she was striking. Her dark skin glowed golden in the light, and her black dress was simple, tasteful, and probably cost more than twice Alice's rent. For her photographs' first big debut, Alice had scraped together every spare penny to get a new dress. She caught her own reflection and frowned. Her red hair was coming undone from her tightly-wound braid, sending out stray tendrils, and her bright blue eyes looked unnaturally wide between the thick lines of eye makeup. The strapless green dress wasn't too bad. It hugged her body, emphasizing the curve of her waist, with elaborate white beading along the top drawing the eye to her peeking cleavage. A purple shawl covered her shoulders and across her neck, the same color as her chandelier-beaded earrings. She resisted the urge to hide herself in the folds of her shawl. The longer she was here, the more she wished she'd taken up Margot's offer to borrow one of her many designer gowns.

"So, do you know if there have been any sales yet?" Alice sipped her drink cautiously, keeping her voice casual like she didn't particularly care about the answer.

Margot chuckled, not fooled at all. "Don't you worry, sweetie. Little red dots indicating finalized sales are going up all over the place." She raised her eyebrows at Alice. "But you know what would help those sales?"

"What?" Alice's stomach sank. She already knew what Margot was going to say.

"You need to talk to people. Help them get to know you, the stories behind your work." Margot flicked her wrist, the small gesture taking in the rest of the people in the gallery. "You know these rich folks; it's not just the art they want, it's the secrets behind the art." Margot gave Alice a stern look. "Sip down at least an inch of that wine and then shoo from this corner before I prod you out with a broom." Her tone was joking, but Alice had no doubt Margot would actually do it.

A woman who looked like she'd stepped off the cover of a magazine walked by and winked at Margot. The gallery owner grabbed a new glass of wine from a passing waiter and smiled.

"Duty calls." Margot licked her lips and then gave Alice's hand a squeeze. "You can do this. This is your big night! Enjoy it." And then she was gone. Alice blinked and Margot was already on the other side of the room, smiling wide and standing intimately close to the cover girl.

Alice stared down at her drink. A couple more sips and it would be at a manageable height for mingling. She contemplated hiding in the corner for another hour just to be contrary, but she knew Margot was right. This show was her big chance to make the connections and cash to launch her photography career and escape her crappy day job as an administrative assistant. She took a deep gulp of the wine.

No more paperwork.

No more endless commutes.

No more wedging in photo shoots during thirty-minute lunch breaks.

Talking to strangers was downright palatable if it meant she could quit her soul-sucking corporate job. Her hand tightened around the stem of her wine glass. A well-dressed couple Alice vaguely recognized from a reality TV show were staring at her. The woman played with the edge of her leopard-print jacket while the man kept fiddling with his phone.

"It's all so derivative and prosaic." The woman sniffed loudly. "Rhys will have a good laugh over Margot's descent from good taste. What's with all the..." The woman pointed at Alice's closest photo, a high-contrast image of the bolts on the side of a trashcan at dusk.

Alice fought to keep a blush from creeping up her face. The man looked up from his phone. "What’s that, snookums?"

"The title of the show, Detail Wonders. What's wondrous about a stupid trash can?"

The man shrugged. "Some rock star just bought the one with the hairbrush for five figures. He said it was urban or something."

"Humans, am I right? Such bullshit." She rubbed her nose, mumbling something about having to go to the bathroom, and the man nodded and followed.

Alice fought the urge to bury herself deeper into the corner. Bullshit? Getting the perfect photo required understanding the precise angle of the light, or catching the exact moment when the sun hit the--

Alice shook her head.

You can do this. You don't need their respect or their understanding. Someone just bought one of my photos for five figures! They can't all be shallow jerks. Just step up.

She managed to push forward one foot, then the next, until momentum pulled the rest of her toward the center of the room.

No day job.

No day job.

The words were a steady chant in her head as she smiled and nodded her way around the room. The folks who recognized her from the program's bio called out a few generic congratulations about her first big show. It was all very nice, but by the fiftieth time Alice told someone, "Yes, it's a real honor to be here," she worried her strain was starting to show.

Alice dabbed at the sweat behind her neck, looking around for Margot. Will she skin me if I just pretend to have a headache and leave? Alice wondered.

"I didn't think it could be possible for the artist to be more beautiful than the artwork," a smooth voice said from behind her.

Alice whipped around. Her glass tilted in her hand and she watched in what felt like slow motion as wine flew out of her glass in an arc toward a tall man with a trim beard standing a few feet away. The wine sprayed across him like a murder scene.

Noooooo. She reached out a hand like she could grab the liquid back from the air, but it was too late. The stain was already seeping through his crisp, white shirt like a blobby map of Asia across his chest.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry!" Alice cried, jumping forward to dab the end of her shawl on the stain.

"It's quite all right." The man’s voice was low and musical, sending little shivers down her spine. "This shirt needed a splash of color anyway."

Alice snuck a glance at his face, and his smile beamed at her like she was caught in a spotlight. She wanted to photograph his face from every angle. The Golden Ratio perfection of his features, the scruff of beard along the slope of his chin, the slight laugh lines around his mouth, and the care furrows on his forehead all demanded a zoom-in lens and the brightest light she could muster. She'd never been much for taking portraits, but this man--with the smile growing wider the longer she stared at him--was one she wanted to make into an intense study. Preferably nude.

"Um, hi. I'm Alice, and, uh, I take photos." Her words rushed out in a semi-incoherent string. She took a slow breath, forced herself to straighten up and stop staring at the sculpted muscles she could see through his wet shirt. "I'm usually more eloquent, I swear."

He laughed. "I believe it. Margot told me a lot about you; she's an old friend." He held out a hand. "Christopher Dal."

"Christopher Dal?" Alice shook his hand, feeling callouses along his palm that she didn't expect from somebody in a bespoke suit. "You and Margot have the same last name. Are you related?" They didn't look at all alike, but families came in all shapes and sizes.

He smiled. "No relation, but we've known each other so long she feels like family."

Alice felt a brief pang. She'd left behind all her hometown friends when she moved to the big city and had lost touch with everyone over the years. Between her job and her art, it was hard to find the time to make new friends. The warmth and familiarity in Christopher's voice when he said Margot's name sent a spike of loneliness through her. She forced a smile.

Christopher pointed at the picture behind her. "Your photos are remarkable."

"Thanks." She moved a wild strand of hair behind her ear, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

"No, I mean it." Christopher stepped a little closer. "They're extraordinary. The way you honed in on such tiny details within mundane objects to find the hidden beauty is amazing. You have a remarkable eye."

Alice's repeated, "Thanks" was much more sincere this time. A happy warmth suffused her chest, flowing outward. Finally!

"Of all the people I've talked to tonight, you're the first one to understand that," Alice said. "I really appreciate it. I wanted people to walk away from this show with a new appreciation for the small details all around us."

Christopher smiled. "Isn’t it fascinating how art can do that? It can present something that we look at every day in a different light to put the object into a new context."

Alice wanted to hug him. "That's exactly what I think! Beauty isn’t just a sunset over the mountains." Her words picked up speed as she warmed to her topic. "Beauty can be the rim of a mailbox and how it complements the home behind it, or the construction of an anthill."

Christopher touched her hand and she felt the coolness of his skin like a soothing balm all the way down her arm. "You're an amazing artist, Alice. Do you realize how rare it is that you can see that, and then capture it so that others can see it too? You should be doing this full time."

Alice blushed. "You're being kind. I wish I had more time to really embrace my art." She pointed to a red dot next to the photo of a split tree. "I'm hoping the sales from tonight can help with that. I was lucky the light happened to be right a few minutes after I found that tree, but I almost missed it because of a meeting at work that ran late. There's never enough time to find every beautiful moment that's out there, but I’d sure like the chance to try."

Alice glanced accusingly at her wine, surprised she'd shared so much with a total stranger. From his small nods and understanding expression, Christopher seemed to know exactly what she meant.

"The world is so big,” she said, “I wish I had the time to capture everything."

Christopher's grin broadened. "You never know. From what I've seen, tonight has been even more successful than even Margot anticipated." He held out his arm. "I've kept you too long from the rest of your guests. Do you feel like braving them together?"

Alice nodded, looping her arm through his and feeling the cords of muscles through his coat. Perhaps talking with strangers wasn't so bad, after all.

Christopher breathed in Alice's scent, intoxicating in its beauty: soap, a light touch of a vanilla perfume, and her blood pumping through the delicate skin of her neck. Suggestions of her mood sang from her blood: hesitation, anxiety, and...he really hoped he was interpreting it right…longing. Longing for him? Or just longing for a successful show? He would have to drink her blood to know for sure, and he was enjoying his time with her far too much to break the mood. As far as he could tell, she didn't have the Sight to recognize him as a vampire, or any of the other supernatural beings drinking wine and sniffing each other at the show.

His pulse raced at the gentle touch of Alice's hand against his forearm as they meandered through the gallery. Everything about her fascinated him. Her movements held a grace that hearkened back to refined royalty of centuries past, while her gentle spirit was like that of a magical, woodland nymph.

Her beauty shone like a beacon among the stilted bourgeois milling about the art gallery. As they walked arm and arm through the gallery, Alice's brilliant glow drew everyone they passed. Christopher settled into the role of the strong and silent companion, only jumping into the conversation to support Alice’s lively explanation of her work. A tiger shifter flanked by her lovers came up to compliment a photo, and Alice launched into a charming, although somewhat rambling, description of why she photographed the cabinet in just that way. The tigress smiled, showing rows of perfect teeth, and Christopher felt himself stiffening up, protective instincts roaring to the surface which he clamped down before Alice noticed.

"I'm glad we dove back in." Alice's voice was steadier after the first lap around the room, but her grip on his arm was still tight with nerves.

"As am I." Christopher stared deeply into her bright, blue eyes.

I want to look into her eyes forever.

The thought flashed through him, stunning him with its certainty. He didn't sire other vampires often, but he always knew who he wanted within the first moments of meeting them. He pushed the thought down.

Not her. Please not her.

"Have you seen the rest of the exhibit?" He asked, actively distracting himself from his own thoughts.

Alice fiddled with the fringe on her wine-stained shawl. "I've seen it, but I'll be happy to view it again." She smiled at him. "There's so many wonderful pieces." Her joy was infectious and he held her hand against his arm, covering the back of her hand with his palm. Her skin was warm, her pulse beating fast as they moved into one of the side galleries of the other showcased artists.

She stopped short a little way into the room, pulling him with her.

"This one's my favorite," she said.

The photographer had captured the instant a champagne flute shattered. Glass shards flew in all directions, sparkling against a jet black background, forming perfectly symmetrical outlines like wings surrounding the remains of the glass.

"Absolutely stunning," Christopher said, not taking his eyes off of Alice.

A pink blush overtook Alice's cheeks. "You're not even looking at the art."

"Aren't I?" Christopher asked.

Alice blushed, turning quickly back towards the photograph. "Don’t you just love this? An instant, captured forever. Something we'd never truly be able to appreciate if it wasn't frozen in time for us to see."

Christopher regarded the photo. "Being frozen in time is not all it is cracked up to be." He frowned.

"But, don't you see? Even if the image is frozen, what the viewer perceives isn't." Alice's entire face lit up. "It doesn’t change over time, but time changes it." She pointed at the glass's stem in the picture. "You and I see a champagne flute, but in years to come, glass may be out of use and unrecognizable to people. Wouldn't that be magical? Seeing glass shatter for the first time, capturing what's a mundane moment for us in a way that translates across time?"

She'd make an amazing vampire. The tantalizing thought penetrated him again. "I see why Margot insisted you participate in this show. You have a unique perspective. Grounded, yet passionate," Christopher said.

"It's not usually an asset." Alice guided Christopher into a leisurely lap back to the main gallery. "I can't tell you how many school assignments I flunked because I got too carried away with the specifics."

He chuckled, noticing with a start that the art gallery had mostly emptied out, with only a few stragglers left. The gallery would be closing soon, and she would disappear from his life.

I should let her go. She would continue on her natural course: age and change and love and die like everybody else. And perhaps in a few hundred years he might forget the way light danced off of the curls of her hair, and how even the edge of a trashcan was lovely in her eyes.

“Would you mind if I call you sometime?" The words slipped out before Christopher could stop them, and yet he felt selfishly grateful they were out there. "I have had such an enchanting evening with you. I would love to continue our conversation.”

Alice smiled, handing him a small, white card from her handbag. “I would love that. The ‘business number’ on there is my cell.” She played with the edge of her shawl. “I had these made up for the show and thought it would look more professional.”

“I’m sorry I completely monopolized you tonight.” He didn't feel in the least bit sorry. "I hope you still had a good time."

Alice laughed. “Don't worry, I mingled as much as I could stand. You saved me from hiding in the corner all night. Besides...” She directed her gaze at her feet. “I enjoyed being monopolized.” She rose onto her toes to give him a quick kiss on the cheek before hastily gathering her things and heading out the gallery door.

Christopher touched his face, the shadow of her kiss on his skin like a blazing brand. The last patrons stumbled together out the door, giggling into their last complimentary glass of wine, and then he was alone in the echoing room.

“Well done, Christopher.” He hadn't heard Margot approach, but she could be as silent as a cat when she wanted to. She stood in front of one of Alice’s photos which captured a small portion of a building’s facade. The five-foot tall print showcased the intricate designs painstakingly crafted in a section of the cement.

“Alice told me this photo was taken seventy-two stories up. Can you believe it?” Margot asked. “She had to bribe a window washer to let her use his rig, but she didn’t have the right harness. The wind at that height was so wild and strong, it nearly blew her off the side. It was a hell of a risk to take, but look at what she did with it.” Margot sipped her glass of champagne thoughtfully, rising an eyebrow in his direction. “That kind of persistence, over centuries... I think we’d all be very impressed with what she could do.”

Damn it, not Margot too. “Oh, hush,” Christopher said. "That's not why I was talking to her, she's special and…" His voice trailed off when he looked over at Margot.

She was opening and closing her mouth like she was trying to speak, but no words came out. With an annoyed grimace, Margot pointed at her throat and then at Christopher.

Christopher's stomach churned. “Shit! I do not compel you to hush.” His words reversed the compulsion of his inadvertent sire command, and Margot massaged her now unlocked jaw.

“Ugh. I’ll never get used to that damn hortari.” Margot took an impressively-large swig out of the champagne glass she was holding.

“Me neither.” Christopher sighed, running his fingers roughly through his hair. This was why he didn't see Margot or his other sirelings as often as he wanted. He'd gotten out of the habit of carefully choosing his words to avoid even the hint of a command. As the vampire who turned Margot from human to vampire-kind, his words were impossible for her to resist and he hated it. The sire command, called a hortari, was the one part of being a vampire that Christopher deeply resented.

This is why you cannot turn Alice, the rational voice in his mind reminded the part of him that still wanted to run after her.

He followed Margot back to a door marked "Staff Only" at the back of the gallery. She glanced at him and finished off her champagne like a shot.

"I'm sorry," he said.

She waved away his words, pressing a code into a keypad by the door. "Just watch it with the definitive sentences, okay?" She set down her glass. "I'm glad you were able to come tonight." The door slid open and the lights switched on to reveal a high-ceilinged room. Art covered every inch of the walls and up onto the ceiling, most of it hundreds of years old: masks from Nigeria and Mali, paintings from Parisian masters who never got their big breaks, headdresses from Native American cultures so old that their names were lost to time. The effect was chaotic and a little mad, but still gorgeous, much like the room's decorator. Christopher never regretted giving Margot the chance at immortality, and she'd used her time well.

"Tell me, how have you been?" He asked.

Margot poured another glass of champagne. "Fine as things go. Roxanne the succubus passed through town a few weeks ago and we had some fun before she moved on." Margot waved the bottle in his direction. "Want any of this?"

“No thanks. I never understood why you drink that human stuff. It’s not like you’re able to get drunk.”

“I like the bubbles.” Margot walked over to the wall and tilted a stunning portrait of a naked woman to the side until Christopher heard a click. “But you have the look of someone who needs to get drunk for real, and I have some excellent options in here.” A panel in the wall opened up, revealing a bar set and wine fridge filled with hanging bags of blood.

“Anything 'A positive' would be great, thanks.” Christopher stretched his arms behind his back and sat down on one of the low couches in the middle of the room.

Margot handed him a crystal glass filled with blood. “Cheers.” She sipped deeply from her own glass. “I have an instinct about you and Alice.”

Christopher sat up straight, nearly spilling the blood down his wine-sprayed shirt. "What are you talking about?"

She laughed. "You, her, the way you just jumped at the sound of her name like you got poked by a unicorn in the ass." She swirled the blood in her glass slightly. “I'm not wrong. You like her.”

He leaned back. “She’s magnificent, what's not to like?” Christopher sipped from his own glass. Emotions from the blood's donor washed over him as the crimson liquid necessary for his survival coursed down his throat. The male donor had been drunk and in love when he donated, his emotions rich and rolling within his blood. With each sip of the man's heady happiness, Christopher wondered more about what Alice was doing right now. He eyed his glass, then Margot. With her choice of vintage, she was definitely trying to play matchmaker.

“Alice has a profoundly passionate worldview and a good eye.” Margot pointed an accusatory finger at Christopher. “Perception like that is worth preserving for the centuries.”

He groaned. Margot's words matched so closely how he'd felt when he first met Alice.

“That’s true.” Christopher took a long gulp of blood. “The way she thinks, her passion, her kindness...” He turned away. “...her immense beauty. It would be a crime to let all she is wither and fade away.”

Margot frowned. “Then why are you hesitating?”

“I'm not." He was. "If she agrees to be turned, I will do it, but...”

“But you have your rules,” Margot smiled, her expression wicked. “You must want her bad if you're this conflicted about turning her. Poor sire. You can bang her, or turn her.” Margot kicked off her high heels with a happy sigh, settling next to him on the couch.

“You know why I have my rules. It would be monstrous to sleep with somebody I have such absolute control over.” Christopher sighed. “I can barely spend time with you or the rest of my sirelings as it is. But you're right, I need to put my attraction to her aside.” He nodded, sure in his decision. “She’ll be a tremendous asset to my sire line, to our family.”

"Good. I’ll be glad to have her. You’re a good sire. Even if we're sad we don't get to see you often, we're all grateful you’re so careful with avoiding the sire compulsion."

Christopher shrugged. His brother, Rhys, had a distinctly different view of how a sire should treat his turned vamps. In his twisted way, he thought he was actually helping his sirelings by taking away their will. As the last sirelings of the Vampire King, Christopher and Rhys were the only heirs, and their conflicting approaches to sireing made presenting a unified example for their people impossible. Christopher had spent centuries trying to convince the king to set laws for how sirelings should be treated, with no success.

“I’ll offer Alice the transition, explain how it all works, and let her decide.” Christopher said.

“I’ll drink to that.” Margot lifted her glass.

“To Alice.”

Alice rechecked her phone to confirm she had come to the right place. When Christopher texted her where they were going to meet, she hadn't been sure what to expect, but a smoky dive bar with a pink, neon sign reading “AUDREY'S”, was not what she had pictured. AUDREY’S was a lone building several stories tall surrounded by dark forest, with a parking lot mostly filled with motorcycles and beat-up sedans. Frost on the front windows made it difficult to see much inside, but Alice liked the feel of the place. Music curled out of the entrance's double doors, with laughter and light creating the welcoming glow of a lighthouse’s beacon.

Her phone beeped with a text from Christopher confirming that he'd arrived and was waiting for her at the bar. He must have arrived right before she did. Punctual and polite. Two more points for the hot guy. She smiled. After her last few disappointing dates, tonight was looking very promising.

Alice stepped through the doors and was immediately hit with the strongest allergic reaction she'd ever had. Her vision misted, her eyes itched, and her headache felt like something large was pounding to escape her forehead. She pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose and held her breath, hoping the feeling would pass.

Crap. Not now. She'd had this kind of allergy attack before, but it usually only lasted a couple of seconds. She was hiking the last time this happened. Her headache flared up just as she'd passed a group of folks watching a track and field event. It was only after she'd climbed a ways away and stopped even thinking about what she’d seen that the feeling cleared.

Through what felt like a cloudy film over her eyes, Alice scanned the crowd around the bar for Christopher. She found him in intense discussion with the bartender, a pale woman with a mane of black braids sticking up from her head and an intricate rose tattoo that took up most of her chest.

Christopher looked so gorgeous Alice had to stop and collect herself. He filled out his jeans, sneakers, and t-shirt so perfectly, it was like they were tailored to show off the tapered lines of his waist, the curve of his shoulders, and the tight cording of his biceps. His hands were clenched so tightly around his glass, the skin on his fingers was almost white, and his eyebrows were furrowed with stress. The bartender kept mixing and handing out drinks to other patrons, but her expression of patient compassion didn't waver from Christopher's face. Neither seemed to have noticed Alice yet as she made her way carefully through the crowd, her headache getting worse the further she waded into the bar.

To her left, four big guys with mohawks were grunting loudly as they egged on a furious arm wrestling competition taking place at the next table between a petite, teenage girl in a floral dress and a looming beast of a man with skin so pale, he looked almost blue. Alice blinked, her headache spiking as she looked at them, and for a second it almost appeared like the men with mohawks had green skin and the teenager had flowers growing out of her hair. Alice shook her head. That's impossible. Alice's headache faded for a second and the flower woman was once more just a girl, the men were biker dudes, and the big guy was just being nice by pretending to strain against the girl's strength.

A bird flew across the rafters, nearly hitting Alice in the face and she let out a small squeal of alarm. What's a bird doing in here?

A hand gently cradled her elbow, and Alice recognized the callouses against her skin even before she turned to confirm Christopher had found her. His skin felt even colder than she remembered from the gallery, but it was strangely soothing in contrast to the hot roar of her headache.

Christopher smiled at her. "I’m glad you made it. Sorry, this place can be a bit much."

Alice didn't mind leaning on him a bit for balance as they made their way over to the bar. "It's okay. I think someone must be wearing a perfume or something that's aggravating my allergies. I was hoping you wouldn't mind if we went someplace else?"

Christopher shared a glance with the bartender. The woman leaned over the bar, stretching out a hand to Alice.

"Hi, I'm Lola. It's been a while since we had some fresh blood in here." Lola smiled, flashing white teeth. "That headache is your perception of reality getting threatened, and your body trying to fight it off. Ignore everything except me and Christopher and you'll feel a lot better."

What the hell? My perception of reality? Alice shook the bartender's hand automatically and her headache disappeared like turning off a light.

Alice sunk onto one of the padded barstools. The misty feeling still hung over her eyes and Alice tried to blink it away. What’s happening? A sensible, quiet voice inside her head was screaming at her to run away from this place as quickly as possible, but she was too curious to leave. She glanced at Christopher. He was looking at her with an expression of hope that warmed her down to her toes.

Christopher’s handsomeness was almost unreal in its perfection. His features were perfectly symmetrical, the only imperfection a tiny scar along one cheek above the line of his beard, and his tousled hair which seemed to fly in whatever direction it wanted. The bartender slid a pink drink across the bar and Alice grabbed it before it slid off the ledge.

"Good save." Lola winked and turned away to serve something bright green to a stocky man whose head barely reached the top of the counter.

Alice flinched as the bird flew past, barely missing her head. It landed on the shoulder of the young girl who was still arm wrestling.

"That poor bird." Alice blinked rapidly. The whole room looked like it was swimming behind a misty veil. "We should try to help it out of here, shouldn’t we? I bet that bartender has something we could use.”

Christopher settled on the stool next to Alice, looking at her with concern in his deep, brown eyes.

"That's not a bird. We can still go if you want. If we continue to stay here, I suspect your worldview is going to be changed forever. I know of another place where we could go if you’re not up for that."

Alice took a sip of the drink. It tasted divine, with an initial sweetness which gave way to a spicy aftertaste that nipped at the back of her throat all the way down. Alice shook her head. All this talk of challenging reality was a little weird, but she wasn't leaving the best cocktail she'd had in years.

"It's okay. I like it here. It's just not where I would have pictured our first date."

Christopher leaned back from her quickly, all trace of humor erased from his face. "Ms. Jones, I invited you here because there's a business arrangement I would like to discuss with you.

Alice felt a blush surge up into her cheeks. I’m such an idiot! Of course, this isn't a date. "Oh, right. I hadn't realized." She frantically scrambled for a shred of dignity. “What an interesting venue for a business meeting. What can I do for you?”

"I invited you here because I think the world would be a better place if you continued to live in it beyond your natural lifespan." Christopher’s tone was serious.

"What?" Her headache was brewing again behind her temple.

"I'm a vampire. And I think you would make a great vampire too."

The headache was back in full force, building like a wave of heat. She took a long gulp of her drink, but all she could taste now was the burn. Alice peered at Christopher, waiting for him to smile and admit that it was all just a big joke.

"Vampires don't exist.” Of course I end up on a non-date with a crazy person. “You’re certainly welcome to believe in whatever you want, but I think I’ll be going now," she said slowly.

Christopher reached forward to gently lay his hand on top of hers on the bar. "Wait just a moment. Look around. Look closer. Most humans ignore the supernatural with a stubbornness that lasts a lifetime, but you're an artist. You've been discovering beauty your whole life." His fingers rubbed along the top of her hand, sending little shivers of want up her arm. Why is it the hot ones are always unhinged? She shifted in her chair, trying to ignore what he was saying, but the misty feeling in front of her eyes was fading like an opaque veil becoming more transparent by the moment.

How is this possible? There was no denying that something was definitely happening.

Christopher's voice dropped to a low hum, sexy and strong. "It's up to you. You can go back to your old life. You can forget all of this, write me off as some nut you met at a gallery. But you have to decide."

"Decide what?" The headache pounded like a desert rave. What had Lola said? That the headache was the challenge to her perception? If Alice wanted it to stop, she knew what she had to do: focus on the grains of wood on the bar, look at her glass, look at what was sane.

Maybe it’s time for a little crazy. She remembered at the art gallery, shyly tucking herself away. If she hadn't taken a risk, she would never have met Christopher, wouldn't be here now. If there was something more to the world which she hadn't been able to see, didn't she owe it to herself to find the truth? Even if everything about this was utterly insane.

She straightened in her chair and looked out into the room, concentrating on every detail she could spot.

"That's it." She could hear the smile in Christopher's voice, even though she wasn't looking at him. "See the truth. There are more wonders in the world than we could see in twenty lifetimes."

She clutched his hand like a lifeline. The misty look of the room shimmered, and then ripped apart like a curtain tearing at the seams. Every memory when she'd thought she was having an allergic reaction flooded in all at once, with new vision.

Months ago she'd looked up to see low-flying airplanes and gotten a massive headache. Those weren't planes. They'd been brightly-scaled dragons flying together across the sky. The track and field event she'd seen had been an elaborate obstacle course of men and women transforming back and forth between animal and human forms as they overcame magical barriers.

"Ms. Jones?" Christopher gave her shoulder a little shake.

Alice blinked, frozen by fear and awe fighting each other under her skin. Everything I know about the world is wrong.

"Alice, are you okay?"

At the table less than ten feet away, the men with the mohawks looked like trolls from storybooks, their skin swamp green and their brightly-colored hair actually rocks sprouting from the top of their heads. A blue-skinned man with marble-white skin and hands like claws was arm wrestling with all his might against a woman with golden skin, flowers sprouting from her forehead, and rainbow wings fluttering from her back. On her shoulder sat a tiny brown-skinned man riding an oversized butterfly, a bow and arrow strapped to his shoulders.

"Alice?" Christopher's voice had been calling to her for the last minute, but she'd barely heard.

"There's so much." Her voice sounded like it was coming from far away.

Dragons, magic, vampires, everything was real.

"It's a lot," Christopher said. "Are you okay?"

Alice nodded. "I never knew the world was so...” She waved vaguely at the woman with wings. “That there are so many amazing things all around us. Will I always be able to see things this way?"

Christopher nodded. "Yes. Once you see this world, you can almost never un-see it. If you were really determined, you could probably convince yourself that this was just a dream, but if you want to continue seeing the truth, you'll see it forever."

A roar went up from behind them. The woman--"a pixie," Christopher whispered in her ear, his breath brushing against her neck spreading goosebumps down her back--had defeated the blue-skinned man in the arm wrestling contest. The pixie jumped up on the table, sending the tiny man riding the butterfly on her shoulder rocketing up into the air.

"Suck it, yeti boy!" the pixie squeaked in a high-pitched voice. "Suck it, everyone!" She threw up both middle fingers, and the yeti laughed. He scooped her up off the table and deposited her into his lap, where they started making out with loud slurping noises and groans. Everyone in the bar clapped and cheered, and Alice found herself clapping along.

"Let's get some air," Christopher said, holding out his arm for her.

She grabbed hold, appreciating Christopher’s help dismounting her bar stool. She turned to pay her tab, but Lola waved her off.

"Come back here after you and Chris have your talk." Lola smiled. "Good luck."

Alice nodded, smiling her thanks as she followed Christopher out the back door to the wide field behind the bar. The field was littered with a series of hay bales and low hurdles like at a horse riding competition. The sound of traffic from the street was almost a whisper, and the low murmur of voices from the bar and the roar of the wind through the trees were the only sounds Alice could hear in the still night.

The moon was bright and beamed down, highlighting Christopher's face into stark contrasts of black and white. He grinned and walked forward, effortlessly hopping onto the top of a ten-foot stack of bales; it was so high his feet swung level with Alice's head. He spread his hands out wide like a magician completing a trick and grinned. Alice noticed for the first time his front canines were two sharp points. A shiver ran down her spine.

Vampire.

He hadn't been lying. The ramifications struck her like a train.

Christopher Dal really is a vampire.

She'd spilled her wine on a vampire the first time she saw him.

She'd given her number to a vampire.

"This is crazy," she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

Christopher jumped down, landing effortlessly with barely a sound. "I know. Not everybody can handle the truth the way I believe you can. The fact that you're not running away is further evidence that I am right about you." He stepped closer. The scent from his body was woody with a slight musk, and it made her long to snuggle up against him and lick along his neck.

This isn't a date, he'd said.

It was hard for Alice to remember why he'd invited her here. With Christopher standing so close, the fabric of her dress brushed against his t-shirt when she breathed in and out. He leaned down and, for a second, she was sure he was going to kiss her. His fingertips caressed along her shoulders, brushing against a few tendrils of red hair which had come loose from her braid.

"You have the flexibility of mind to be a great vampire," he said. "And, believe me, the condition comes with some major advantages."

That’s right! He wants me to be a vampire!

Alice stepped back from him, distancing herself from the intoxication of his scent and the temptation of rubbing her cheek against the scruff of his beard. In the days since her photographs were displayed at Margot’s gallery, she'd barely gotten her head around the idea that she might actually be able to leave her crappy job and be a full time photographer. But becoming a vampire? That was a life change beyond her wildest dreams.

"Immortality is just the beginning," Christopher continued. He leaned back against the hay bale and crossed his arms like a chiseled model at a cover shoot. "You'll be able to smell emotions. With other vampires, they'd have to be cut and their blood exposed to the air, or you'll have to drink it directly, but with non-vampires, you can sense their feelings through their skin just by being close to them." He nodded to her. "Like right now, I can smell your amazement, and a tinge of fear at what I'm offering you."

Alice blushed scarlet. He could smell her emotions?

Christopher smiled. "You don't have to be embarrassed."

He stepped forward and she instinctively pressed closer. He cupped her face between his hands and leaned down until his breath brushed across her lips.

"That desire you feel?" He was so close. The strength of him, the power of him, was a pull stronger than she'd ever felt before. A thrill shot down spine, pooling in wetness between her legs. "I feel it too." His voice was like a purr. "You're so beautiful, I can barely stand it."

Kiss me! Kiss me! Alice hoped her blood was screaming it to him as strongly as she screamed in her own head. She reached forward to grab his waist, but he released her, withdrawing fast like her emotions burned him.

"But there's a few downsides to being a vampire." Christopher turned away, jumping back to the top of the hale bale, far from her. "The most important one is the sire compulsion. The vampire who turns you has absolute command over you. We call it hortari. The origin of the hortari was to protect the population from the strength and hunger of newly-turned vampires. A sire's will is binding no matter what the command, even if the sire didn't mean to issue a command."

"I would have to do whatever you tell me?"

Christopher nodded. "It's not a power to be taken lightly. You'll have supernatural strength, speed, and live forever, looking exactly as you are now, unless someone takes off your head or sets you on fire. You'll only receive nourishment from blood, although you can still enjoy the taste of food and drink. And knowing the emotional states of those around you is helpful in more situations than you'd think."

Alice felt lightheaded with all of the possibilities. Am I really considering becoming a vampire?

Christopher stood up on the top of the hay bale and flipped through the air in a tight somersault to land on tip-toe on the top of the narrow wall ten feet from him. Her heart leapt into her throat, sure he was going to break his neck before she remembered, Right. Vampire. He made another jump, this time landing on his hands and flipping back upright a few yards away with a smooth grace that would put the most experienced acrobat to shame.

That could be me.

The thought was more tempting than she'd anticipated. She'd live forever without aging. Forever with Christopher. She'd never felt so attuned to a man before, his kindness and attention at the gallery like a scene from her dearest dreams. The memory of his breath on her lips, the brush of his chest against her dress, teasing her breasts with that brief flutter of contact, sent new shivers of want coursing through her body. What would sex be like as a vampire? With all that strength and speed, it had to be super intense. If she drank Christopher’s blood while they were making love, she’d be able to feel everything he was feeling, enjoy the pleasure she was giving him. She swallowed to keep from drooling.

"Alice." Christopher's voice had an edge. "Your longing is calling to me. You must know, if I'm going to sire you, we can never be together. Not like that." His words splashed against her skin like a burst of cold water.

What?

"The sire compulsion is too strong. I could never make love to you knowing that if I phrased my words in the wrong way, you would lose your free will to choose."

"But, I want to be with you…"

He shook his head. "I take my responsibility as a sire seriously. Once I sire you, no matter how we might feel for each other, we would have to go our separate ways. My other sirelings would be your mentors to guide you through this life without robbing you of your agency. They're good people. I chose them the same way I chose you: I knew that they could make the world a better place if they had more time."

"But--"

Christopher stepped farther away from her. "There's a lot for you to think about. You know how to contact me when you have your answer. Take your time." He winked at her. "We have all the time in the world."

He turned away and disappeared around the corner of the bar before Alice could put the puzzle of her thoughts into something resembling a complete picture. Vampires are real. Dragons, pixies, what else was real out there? Witches? Werewolves? Ghosts? All those magical creatures were really out there. I could be one. She pressed her fingers against her forehead. I have time to decide.

Remembering that she still had to pay for her tab at the bar, Alice walked back into AUDREY's feeling like she was still half in a dream.

The sense of unreality strengthened when she arrived inside. The pixie and yeti had gone off to finish off their evening and the four trolls were singing a drinking song that was off-key, didn't rhyme, and seemed to have four different tunes at once.

At the bar, with her legs crossed to reveal an impressive amount of skin through a slit in her red dress, perched Margot Dal. The gallery owner raised a flute of champagne in Alice's direction and patted the empty stool next to her.

"Hey, hon. I heard Christopher gave you the pitch," Margot said. She smiled, revealing pointed canines.

"Holy shit, you're a…" Alice swallowed the word before she said it.

Margot licked her lips. "Yep, I'm a vampire. Actually, I’m Christopher's first sireling. He turned me centuries ago, back when being black, a woman, and a lesbian was immediately worthy of capital punishment.” She wrinkled her nose. “The world is...better now. Accepting an offer of near-invincibility was an easy choice for me." Margot eyed Alice. "But you have other choices. And there are costs to being what I am."

"Christopher mentioned the hortari whatsit. Does Christopher… has he ever made you do anything?"

Margot shook her head. "Never on purpose. He's always been very careful, but it’s ridiculously easy to slip up. He's a good sire that way; a lot of other vamps get off on the power to make sirelings dance to their tune. Christopher's brother, Rhys, is a piece of work that way. If you accept Christopher's offer, you'll definitely have to meet that ass-wipe, although you won’t be compelled to obey him." She set down her glass. "I don't mean to throw all of this at you at once, but you should have all the details." She held up her hand and counted off the points on each finger. "Becoming a vampire means you'll never get pregnant, but you'll never have your period again so that’s a win. You'll be able to eat all the food you want and never absorb any of it, so you’ll never gain a pound. Picture eating fudge non-stop for the rest of eternity and still looking as delightfully trim as you are right now. The only thing you’ll need to consume is blood."

Alice had never really thought about kids. She'd vaguely assumed it might happen eventually, but she'd never really pursued it. She'd always figured it was one of those things that just happened over time.

But I'd be able to see the world, explore all its beauties forever.

"You really drink blood?" Alice asked.

"Yeah, it takes some getting used to. Some old-school vamps drink directly from the neck, and during sex it's stupid fun, but mostly we have arrangements with blood banks where they give us the old bags that are no longer viable for humans."

"So, let's just say that I decide to become a vampire…" Alice said. It was surprisingly easy to consider once she'd wrapped her head around it. The sire compulsion was worrying, but if Christopher kept his word--and every instinct she had declared that he would--then he would stay away to allow her autonomy. Vampirism was a chance to have the time to accomplish everything she ever wanted. She would be an idiot to turn down this chance. But then...there was Christopher.

"Yes?" Margot sat forward, looking excited.

"Um, would you turn me? We're already friends and I trust you. And, uh, if Christopher's not my sire, then maybe…"

"Then he'd consider a relationship?" Margot chuckled at Alice's blush. "Sweetie, your hormones have been screaming at him since I pointed him in your direction at the gallery. But, sorry, I don't sire people. I'm happy to train other vamps' sirelings, and be a good friend to the rest of Christopher's sire line, but having my own sire line isn't something I've ever wanted. Sorry, hon, if you want all of this..." She gestured around at the hubbub of supernatural beings having fun around them. "Then Christopher's your best chance." Margot swung off of her bar stool. "It's all up to you." She pushed some cash across the bar at Lola. "I got your tab. Whatever you decide, definitely hit me up when you're ready for your next show."

Alice nodded, the gallery and her previous life feeling far away. At the end of the bar, a woman with bright red hair and horns coming out of her head cursed at the trolls to "shut the fuck up, or I will wish you into deep space!", and the trolls quieted down with minimal grumbles. A wolf was sleeping under one of the tables, a dish of what looked like beer cradled between his paws. Curled up against the wolf's back was an immense lioness who was chewing on the wolf's ear in a way that looked simultaneously intimate and annoying, but the wolf only grunted in his sleep and kicked his back legs.

"I want this," Alice said. She thought she said it too quietly for anyone to hear, but Lola's silky voice replied behind her,

"Then go get it."

Alice grinned and jumped off her stool. The future looked like it was going to be magical. She just had to find a way to keep Christopher in it.

Christopher sipped from his crystal glass of blood and leaned back against his long Chesterfield couch, the rounded back cushioning his head as he let out a long breath. He'd chosen blood donated by a yoga master to try and drink up a little calm, but it wasn't working.

He set his glass down before his grip threatened to shatter the antique and closed his eyes, willing himself to think about anything but Alice. Or the way the light hit her hair. Or the way the smell of her intense longing had so perfectly mirrored his own that it had taken centuries of self-control to not pull her to him and kiss her until her knees shook.

The world will benefit from her as a vampire, he told his cock, which was already half-hard at the mere memory of her. That growing part of him was hoping she'd turn down his offer, that she'd decide to stay human. It would mean only a few brief decades with her before he and the world lost that light in her eyes, but he'd be able to carry the memory of her touch, the feeling of her lips, with him through all the long years to come.

"It's her choice," he told his empty living room. He'd decorated his home in the 1920s during what Margot laughingly referred to as his Gatsby phase, and never bothered to change anything beyond the crucial updates for electricity, plumbing, and Wi-Fi. All the chairs and sofas were wide and cushioned, grand Oriental rugs covered bold black and white-checkered tiles, and paintings from forgotten masters took up most of the walls. Tiffany lamps blazed color along the Art Deco lines up the wall to the tall ceiling dripping with chandeliers.

Christopher picked up his glass, took a long gulp of the blood, and waited for the yogi's serenity to wash through him. He propped his slippered feet up on the couch and closed his eyes.

Rhys was growing bolder. Christopher's brother was beginning to make public claims that he was going to "clean up" the vampire community and "deal with dissenters", whatever that meant. Christopher had come home to a note scrawled on his fridge from his sireling, Danny, that Christopher's lieutenants-- the four vampires Christopher had turned directly--were going to be gathering the next day to discuss Rhys’s hateful rhetoric and what they were going to do about it. It wasn't as if the king would ever do anything. Christopher took a long sip of blood. His sire's leadership style of using hortari on his sirelings when needed and then apathetic neglect the rest of the time meant Rhys could get away with actual murder so long as his actions didn't impact the king's immediate comfort. Christopher would just have to be careful. As the eldest of the king's turned, Christopher was his sire’s heir apparent, but vampire tradition allowed for a challenge.

Perhaps now isn't the right time for siring a new vampire.

Christopher pushed down the selfish thought before he began to believe it. There was always trouble, in one form or another; if Alice wanted to become a vampire, his own wish for romance shouldn't hold her back.

The sound of his doorbell startled him so badly he spilled a splatter of blood down his shirt.

"Damn." He tried to brush it away, smearing the drops into gruesome finger painting across his chest.

The doorbell rang again and he called out, "Coming!" as he grabbed a jacket hanging by the door to hide the stains.

He checked the view-hole in the door, and his hand shook slightly as he opened the door.

"Alice," he said.

She looked amazing. Her eyes sparkled in the moonlight, and she'd changed into the green dress she'd worn at the gallery which hugged her lean curves. Excitement and fear came off of her skin in waves. He knew what she was going to say before she opened her mouth.

“I’m in. I want to be like you.” As soon as she said the words, the smell of excitement in her blood spiked, and she shifted her weight to her toes like a little dance. She was so lovely it hurt.

A small, petty voice in his head reminded him that Alice’s choice meant that she wanted to be a vampire more than she wanted to be with him. He pushed down the feeling.

“That’s wonderful news! Come on in.” Christopher stepped back to allow Alice inside, savoring the sweet scent of her as she walked by. The excitement rolling off her still warred with her fear, but under those, he could smell a thrilled arousal in Alice’s blood that gave him pause.

“You have such a beautiful home!” Alice twirled in the foyer, a wide, circular room lined with alternating panels of cherrywood and floor-to-ceiling windows. The moonlight spilled in, bathing Alice in a warm glow. She pointed to the windows. “I thought daylight was a no-no for your kind.” She stopped short. “Our kind?”

“Curtains.” Christopher pressed a code into his cell phone and reams of dark fabric lowered over the windows. Without the moonlight, the space felt darker, more intimate.

“This I like even more.” Alice’s voice was low. She stepped forward, her fingertips tracing the lines of his jacket. The slight brush of her touch made him bite back a groan. Everything about her called to him. She was so close, he could feel the heat radiating off her body, hear the blood coursing through her veins, and smell her desire. He tensed up, balling his fists, desperately trying to stop himself from leaning forward and capturing her lips. He couldn’t bring himself to move away, but he managed to not move any closer either.

She opened his jacket, her eyes widening at the splatter of blood across his shirt. She laughed, the sound so light and enchanting Christopher's fists clenched white.

"I'm glad I'm not the only one who has trouble keeping your shirt clean."

He laughed too, then cut himself off. I'm toast, we already have inside jokes. He shifted his weight so he stood infinitesimally closer and the beaded top of her dress brushed against his shirt.

“You know I can smell your emotions, Alice.” Christopher spoke, regretting each word as he formed it. He reached up to brush a fingertip along her face, her skin smooth and perfect. “We cannot be together, not in that way.”

“Actually,” Alice reached up to hold his hand against her face, leaning her cheek into his palm. “You said we couldn’t be together after I’ve been turned." She turned her head, placing a kiss on his skin that sent lines of fire down his arm and through his torso.

Yessss! Every cell in his body demanded.

Alice ran her other hand down his chest, her fingers tracing the pattern of red, making little circles. "Right now, I’m still human. And I want to have one, last, purely human experience before I’m changed forever. And I want it to be with you, Christopher.”

Her blood smelled of a primal desire boiling deeper than just saying farewell to her humanity. Christopher couldn't resist running his hands through her hair, caressing the back of her neck and watching the goosebumps rise along the trail of his fingers. This is such a bad idea. He was already half in love with her. Knowing what it would be like to really be with her, and then denying himself her touch for the rest of eternity, would be excruciating. Is a lifetime of pain worth it for just one night?

“I can see you thinking it over, weighing the pros and cons.” Alice smiled. “You may have vampire senses, but sometimes I can tell what you’re thinking.”

Alice stared up at him, questioning. She raised a hand to mirror his touch on her face, her nimble fingers tracing along the sharp edge of Christopher’s jawline, then dancing down to the sensitive surface of his mouth, and teasing across his bottom lip. He groaned, biting down gently on her fingertips.

But-- He was a man at war with himself, and each side was losing.

Alice pushed onto her tiptoes to align her mouth with his. “Don’t you want this?” She asked, before capturing his lips with her own.

All resistance, all composure fled Christopher’s being as he responded to Alice’s kiss, his passion flaring up to match hers. His hands roamed her body, discovering new territory, mapping the hills and valleys of her form.

"Gods, I want you so much," he groaned.

"Good, because if this is only going to be the one night..." Her voice hitched slightly. "Then we need to make it count."

Alice unbuttoned Christopher’s shirt, her mouth following her hands in a sensuous trail down his torso. He leaned his head back, reveling in the sensations from her lips, her tongue, her teeth. She lightly traced her tongue along the grooves of his six-pack, pleasure tickling down along every nerve ending.

In a sudden movement, Alice loosened Christopher's belt and swept Christopher’s pants and boxers to the ground. She raked her nails up his calves, winding her way up to where he needed her most.

"You don't need to do this." He was panting now, the sight of her sultry smile the most gorgeous thing he'd seen in five hundred years.

"Oh yes, I do." She licked her lips. "I'm going to bring you, my handsome vampire, to your knees."

He let out a groan of pleasure as she licked a line up his swollen shaft, teasing him with her mouth as her hands wound around to grasp his ass.

Her red hair spilled over her green dress in a sensuous wave, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist unwrapping her for much longer. She looked up, and her shockingly blue eyes pierced him as she finally took him into her mouth. She moaned around his hard length, sending waves of pleasure through Christopher’s body as he reveled in the feel of her lips and tongue dancing along his cock. He twined his fingers through her hair and watched, entranced, as she bobbed along his length.

Alice smiled as she released him with a pop, and Christopher struggled against his release. He wanted their first time together--their only time--to last.

Christopher pulled Alice to her feet, spinning her so her back was flat against his chest. He looked around the stark foyer. They'd barely moved four feet from the door since she arrived. He grabbed her under her knees and swung her up into his arms.

"We need the proper setting for this," he said.

She squealed and hugged his neck as he ran up the stairs two at a time, not caring about his crumpled pants lying in the middle of the foyer. The roaring desire in her veins smelled glorious.

"Christo--" He ran so fast, he kicked his bedroom door open and deposited Alice on the bed before she could finish the word. Her voice changed to a cooing, "ooo" when she saw the room. The ceiling was draped with hanging silk, the enormous four-poster bed piled high with pillows, and the crystal chandelier sparkled the light into rainbow prisms.

"This is amazing," she said, her hands still around his neck.

Christopher slid his hands around the contours of her dress, finding a single, long zipper that ran from her neck to her ass.

"This is far more so." With a low growl, he slowly unzipped her, following the zipper with a long trail of nips and kisses down her back. The dress slid easily off her body, and Christopher’s arousal grew when he realized she wasn't wearing anything underneath her dress.

He stood back in awe of her. Her breasts were everything he'd dreamed they would be, round and pert, her nipples already pebbled in arousal, and the slight indentations of her muscled core lean and perfect.

Alice raised an eyebrow at him, her stance confident in her nudity, and kissed him gently on the lips. She stroked his erect cock, her touch feeling so good a drop of pre-cum beaded at his tip.