The Vampire and the Werewolf: A New Orleans Christmas
Click on image to enlarge.
by Louisa Bacio
Category: Erotica/Paranormal Erotica/Gay Fiction
Description: Vampires and werewolves don't mix ... or do they? Before there were three, there were two. When a vampire swoops in to save Trevor from a rogue gang's blood sport, the werewolf must fight his own inhibitions. The magic of New Orleans and the holiday season bring together these two unlikely lovers.
eBook Publisher: Ravenous Romance, 2011 2011
eBookwise Release Date: February 2012
2 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [98 KB]
Reading time: 58-82 min.
"...Ms. Bacio sets the pages ablaze in this sexy Christmas tale featuring two irresistible characters from her The Vampire, The Witch
A piercing scream shattered the silence of the cool winter's eve. Despite the boughs of holly hanging over the residential balconies and the singing of Christmas carols from a nearby bar, the darkness of the night closed in on his soul. Trevor Pack wrestled with his conscience. He could either tuck his head under, find another spot to spend the evening, or he could go explore the sounds of distress.
Did he really have a choice?
He cocked his head to the side, listening for another indication of trouble, hoping for silence.
"Somebody, please help me," a frightened female voice cried out. Damn, if that somebody had to be him.
He pushed aside the cardboard and blanket holding together his makeshift shelter, and looked out into the alley. Through the shadows, he saw a man holding a blond woman against the brick wall. She hit his shoulders with her fists, but nothing seemed to faze the attacker. A breeze whipped through the walkway, and Trevor lifted his nose, taking in the scents carried on the airstream. Just as the scent registered, the man yanked the woman's head to the side, and he sunk his teeth into her neck.
"Hey, leave her alone," Trevor shouted. He stood up, tripping over his covers, and attempting to right his balance. Some hero to the rescue.
The man hissed and pulled away. Blood spurted from the woman's neck, and she screamed again, before going limp in a faint. "Now see what you made me go and do," the man said. He stopped and ran his tongue over the woman's neck, halting the flow of blood. "She'll save until I'm done with you."
The vamp dropped his victim to the street, her head thumped against the cement, and her legs splayed out. Trevor winced, imaging the damage done. Internally, the burning flowed from his belly and out through his limbs. His fingers curled under and his nails grew, cutting into the palms of his hands. Not now, he told himself, keep it under control. Shifting now probably would be more dangerous than remaining in human form. Better to take the vampire unaware with his strength. He wouldn't see Trevor coming at him.
Trevor spread his legs, readying himself for an attack. "I said, leave her alone. Step away from her."
"Oh, I'll step away," the vamp said, "if only to kill you first. Instead of the main course, she can be a light dessert."
He licked his lips, cleaning off the blonde's blood and starting forward with his hands outstretched. Trevor knew that as a vampire, the other man could move incredibly fast, but instead, he paced toward him steadfastly. Of all the streets, why had Trevor chosen this alley to crash for the night? He wished that he was on the other side of the vampire, with the exit within reach. Instead, in order to escape -- with or without the woman -- he had to go through the attacker.
Behind him lay a dead end. That had been one of the selling points of this location. He only had to worry about weather, and potential attacks from one direction. He hadn't thought about being trapped.
Moving with lightning speed, the vampire struck out, slamming Trevor against a fire escape, the rusted metal ripping through his jacket and shirt, and tearing through the flesh of his shoulder. A warm wetness flowed down his back. He countered, too slowly, to the right, and the vamp moved with him, nails slicing down the side of his face, and across his arm. A punch to his gut barreled him over, and he flailed out, striking the vamp in the face and knocking him back.
The once living man looked momentarily stunned. He rubbed his jaw, and stretched it to the side. Trevor heard an audible snap and the bones shifted back into place.
"Quite the right hook you have there," he said. "Something tells me that you might be more than you seem. What are you?" He leaned forward, sniffing the air.
Edge of surprise taken away, Trevor countered: "Something you don't want to deal with. Now get out of my way, and let me take the girl."
"Let you have the girl?" the vampire started to laugh. "Now what would be the fun in that?"
He bent backward, stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled. A rustling sounded from behind Trevor, and he turned sideways to see the cause, making sure to keep the vamp in his sights. Two other vampires had joined their little beating party.
"You didn't expect me to play fair, did you?" the vampire asked. "Let's get 'em boys."
Trevor circled, waiting to see where the next attack would come from. His right foot was kicked out from under him, while someone else jabbed him in the stomach. He clutched his side as he fell, while another kicked him in the ribs, and then his face. Pain streaked across his body, and he hid his head within his arms, protecting it.
Suddenly, the assault ceased. Trevor continued to lay in safe mode, anticipating the next strike.
Lawrence patrolled the streets, watching and listening for trouble. For some reason, the closer it got to holidays, such as Christmas, the more active and careless the rogue vampires became. It was as if the miserable wretches wanted to infect their unhappiness on everyone else.
He'd been hunting this particular group, the "Outlaws," for a few weeks. They'd left a few battered bodies carelessly discarded, but off Bourbon Street, a few beaten up drunks weren't missed. The alley ahead seemed to be one of their favorite hunting grounds.
For years, Lawrence had lived on the outskirts of society. He knew that he could never really get close to others, that he wouldn't be accepted. If he did get close to somebody, like he unfortunately had once long ago, then that person would end up dying and he'd end up alone. Instead, he kept people at a distance. He circulated, took lovers--female and male--and took the lifeblood that he needed to survive, but he never gave his heart away.
New Orleans--the Big Easy--was the perfect place for a person like him. For a creature of the night, the city never slept. The city had created him, and he thought it only fair to give back. He could go out at midnight, and humanity swelled on the streets. No one thought ill of his behavior. No one questioned why he slept during the day and came out only when the sun set. He lived from sundown to sunrise. It wasn't until he came to the French Quarter that he really began to live.
Although he guarded his heart, he always possessed a conscience. He strived to help others, especially the less fortunate. Over the years, he'd opened his home to many a wayward soul, helped them get back into the groove, and out on their own. He never invested himself.
As he turned into the alley, he glanced behind him, watching for any passersby who may be in danger. Ahead, he heard sounds of a fight. A woman lay on the floor, and he stopped to check on her. The moment he touched her, she opened her eyes. Terror streaked through, and she opened her mouth to scream.