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by Tracey H. Kitts
Category: Erotica/Erotic Romance/Romance
Description: Sandra Ashton is a witch who suddenly finds herself dating three vampires. So, what do you do when you've got three immortal beings professing their undying or is that undead love for you? You agree to what they like to call, 'joint custody'. Rating: Spicy/Carnal.
eBook Publisher: New Concepts Publishing, 2009
eBookwise Release Date: June 2009
177 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [392 KB]
Reading time: 251-351 min.
How do dead men attract so many live women? I can't, for the life of me, understand it. It was Halloween night, and I was yet again trying to unravel this mystery. I might have had more success without the alcohol. But I'd been suckered into the whole situation, anyway.
I was at a bachelorette party in a club called Lucy's. Who the hell has their bachelorette party on Halloween night? My friend, Karen. While I watched the tall, leggy blond celebrating her last night as a free woman, I got distracted by ... the wildlife.
One of the main attractions at Lucy's was its dancers. Taking center stage was a luscious piece of meat by the name of Alex. He was a weretiger. I knew this because he'd purred at me earlier. His lithe body moved easily to the music, like a well-oiled machine. He was beautiful, but I didn't pay much attention. While he gyrated to some of Ms. Lennox's greatest hits, I found what sweet dreams were made of--and it wasn't on stage.
He was around six-feet tall with long auburn hair and the most magnificent backside I'd ever seen. I couldn't wait to see what his front looked like. While I took in the view, the lyrics of the song combined with my blood alcohol level made me think I might like to be used by him. Better yet, what it might be to abuse him.
Whoever he was, I was willing to bet he wasn't human. The really hot ones rarely are. Everyone knows Lucy's isn't run by humans, though the patrons are almost exclusively human, but I was still surprised to come across someone so obviously ... other.
As I watched him, I knew he was aware of my gaze. How could he not be? As my grandmother would have said, I was "staring a hole through him." On my way to the restroom, I had to force myself to look away from the redheaded stranger before I ran into a table.
My red dress was still in good shape, even after a night of bar hopping with a bunch of drunken twenty-something's. It was strappy and short, but not short enough to look slutty. The color went well with my dark hair, and I ran a hand through my long wavy locks as means of freshening up. After rummaging in my little red evening bag, I powdered my nose and reapplied lipstick before leaving the restroom. If that tall, handsome ... whatever he was decided to look my way, I wanted to give him something worth looking at.
I reentered the main room, and he turned toward me as if he'd read my mind. His hair fell in a silken mass about his shoulders as he turned. His eyes were a stunning shade of green, which matched his shirt perfectly and complemented his hair. I admit that I have a weakness for redheads, but this one made me literally weak.
The top few buttons on his shirt were undone and I tried not to stare at the pulse in his throat as he approached. My smile just wasn't working, and I'm sure I looked as nervous as I felt. Before he could get closer, I walked out the back door. Yes, I know it was a cowardly thing to do, but I wasn't about to pick up a strange preternatural being. I'd also had quite enough of the party and was taking out my cell phone to call a cab when I froze.
Something was coming toward me. I looked around and realized I'd walked out into a dark alley. Stupid is too mild a word. Whatever it was, it growled as it approached, and I saw amber eyes glowing in the darkness.
"Going somewhere?" a deep voice growled.
Before I could answer, I was pinned against the wall. My cell phone fell to the ground along with my purse. A werewolf had flung himself at me and was pinning me by the throat against the wall. I could barely breathe, let alone summon up a scream.
He leaned in and began to sniff my midriff as if he were breathing in a steak on the grill. But before he could bite into my flesh, he was gone. I hit the ground and stared in numb shock as the redheaded stranger flung the werewolf down the alley as if he weighed nothing.
The wolf yelped like an injured dog and ran, but my savior didn't pursue. As the stranger turned to me, his eyes glowed as well and with his long hair now covering his face, they were all I could see.
"My name is Navarre," he said, and his voice was like velvet. "I don't know who you are Miss, but you should stay out of dark alleys."
"Well, Sandra, it looks as if my dinner has escaped this evening."
Then I understood. He was a vampire. I looked into his eyes once more and knew what Navarre wanted as a reward. I tilted my head and instantly felt his lips pressed against my throat. I'm not sure the exact moment he bit me. Excitement and arousal coursed through my veins like the greatest thrill. He smelled of expensive cologne and his hair fell across my face as he embraced me. Just as the pleasure became almost too much, I felt the slightest pain, and he withdrew from me.
Navarre thanked me for my generous reward, and I made it home safely that night.
"You may think I'm crazy, but that won't be my last visit to Lucy's. Blame it on my weakness for redheads, but I'm going back for more," I told my sister.
"You're crazy," Priscilla said with a laugh.
"You should have seen him," I insisted while fumbling around in the cabinet for some aspirin.
"Are you going to tell Zanna?" she asked.
"I wasn't planning on it."
Zanna is my grandmother, though we've always called her by her first name. She's also a witch, like most of our ancestors, which might explain some of the odd behaviors of my family, but certainly not all of them. She runs a shop in town called "Potions, lotions, and other wicked notions."
"But, I thought you were working today?" Priscilla asked.
"So, those marks are obvious," she teased.
As she said this my sister rose from her chair and pulled back my hair, exposing Navarre's bite.
"You have a point." I sighed. "I'll just wear a turtleneck until it heals."
"Oh," she said, dropping my hair back into place. "I've got just the thing," she assured me as she took off toward her room.
Priscilla and I both live with our grandmother. Our parents died when we were young, and life with her is just about all we've ever known. Zanna has a large, though very strange, home built by her great grandparents years ago. The style is eclectic, to say the least. It's not exactly Victorian, but it's close. Priscilla lives at the top of what we used to call "the tower" when we were little, and I live in the guesthouse which is connected through the greenhouse.
There are plants growing all over our home. Whether it is in the greenhouse, or up the side of the porch. At a glance, it might look overgrown. But upon closer inspection, you can see how lush everything is and that the place is actually well tended. It's almost like one big garden that just happens to have a house in the middle of it.
While I took some aspirin, I heard something crash at the top of the stairs.
"Not another of your remedies, Pris," I yelled. "The last one broke me out in hives."
"This one will work," she called.
From the sound of things, she was already on her way downstairs.
"Here," she said, holding a little jar out in front of her.
"What's in it?" I asked.
I took a whiff of the contents and nearly passed out.
"Don't ask," she answered. "Just rub a little bit of this over the bite and it will be well by morning."