Big Beautiful Witches: I Married A Warlock (5 page)

A dark shadow approached the passenger side of his car as he idled at the light, and he rolled down the window.  That would be suicidal for most people; he wasn’t most people.

It was a vampire, and she was clearly high on Red X, and hustling to get some money for her next fix. Her pupils were so huge and black they’d swallowed the irises, but other than that she was still beautiful, ageless, pale as ivory, her lips like two petals of a blood red rose.

She smiled, showing a gleam of fang. “Hey, handsome.  Want to party?”

He tamped down on a surge of irritation.  “Back off.  You’re two blocks outside the Graveyard.”

Her eyes blazed with anger. “You don’t want to say no to me, Breather.  Open your door and let me show you the best time you’ve ever had…or you won’t live another sixty seconds.”

Erik threw back his head and laughed. He’d been propositioned many times over the years, but this had to be the least appetizing offer ever.

And clearly the Red X had fogged her brain and clouded her judgment, or she would have recognized the mortal danger she was in.

“Step away from my car if you want to live,” he said coldly, knowing she wouldn’t. Counting on it.

She hissed like a singed cat and her lips curled back, revealing fully extended fangs.  She reared her head back for the strike – and then made a surprised gurgling sound for a split second before she collapsed to the ground in a pile of steaming flesh.

Erik’s wand, tip still glowing blue, retreated to the leather sheath strapped on his arm. No need for calling a cleanup crew; the sunrise would take care of that.

He felt the tiniest twinge as he drove away, but shoved it to the back of his mind.  Whether he had accepted her repellant proposition or not, her sole intention was to kill him, drain him, and rob his cooling corpse, and if she’d attacked a human, or a non-human with less power and training then him, they wouldn’t have stood a chance.

Chapter Five

“Miss me?” Maizie said as she breezed into Stasik’s living room. 

His room was decorated in a modernized version of the era when he’d been turned; gas lamps converted to electricity lit the room.  The walls were adorned with original paintings from 1800s Impressionist masters. 

Several groupings of overstuffed sofas and loveseats, with needlepointed fox hunting scenes, were arranged throughout the room. Stasik, as always, was on the sofa facing the door.   He’d stayed alive for so long by never letting his guard down.

He patted the pillow on the couch next to him.

“Come let me show you how much.”

Maizie flashed him a smile, but instead of rushing over to him, she began peeling her clothing off by the doorway. She dropped her jacket on the floor, then pulled her shirt up over her head, slowly.

She wanted Stasik every bit as much as he wanted her. She burned with desire for him…which is why she delighted in making him wait, in performing a slow, sensual strip tease as his need for her grew and grew.  

Stasik leaned back on his couch and watched her, his eyes darkening.  She closed her eyes as she kicked off her boots and slowly shimmied out of her jeans; looking at him distracted her. His thick glossy black hair flowed to his shoulders, begging for her to run her fingers through it. His upper lip had the sensual curve of a cupid’s bow. He wore a blouson-style shirt like an 1800s pirate, knotted in the front, and black silk jeans, and he was barefoot.

“You do love to torture me, don’t you?”

His voice was right in her ear.   Maizie started and bit back a shriek.  Stasik was standing right next to her, a smug smile curling his lips. 

Stasik moved like a cat, lightning fast and utterly silent.

He pressed her up against the velvet flocked wallpaper, with the silk of his shirt and trousers sliding against her skin. “Bastard!” she gasped, and he grabbed her hair with both hands and tangled his fingers in it, tipping her head back to brush his mouth against hers. She moaned, and he pulled back ever so slightly.

“You love it,” he murmured, burying his face in her sweet, fragrant hair.

“It’s true,” she said, tilting her head to the side, showing him the sweet curve of her neck that he loved to nibble. “Nice guys put me to sleep.”

He ran his tongue over her neck and she tensed, waiting for the sensuous heat that would flood her when his fangs sank in, but he pulled away. “I fed before you came,” he said. At the look of hurt that flashed through her green eyes, he added “I feed on you too much. I don’t want to weaken you.”

“I can’t be weakened,” she said angrily.

“Bullshit. You need to keep a certain volume of blood pumping through your body just as any mortal does.”  He kissed her neck gently. “It was a boy that I fed off, in case it matters.  And you know that I’m not inclined in that direction.”

She shrugged, struggling to keep her tone casual. “You can do what you want. We’re not exclusive.”

“Again, bullshit.  I haven’t been with another woman for anything other than feeding since the first night that I was with you.”

“You haven’t?” Her voice shook slightly as she said it, and she instantly hated herself for it. He’d hired her for her strength. She was a vicious fighter and a powerful firestarter.  And she’d grown up in a neighborhood where showing any vulnerability could get you killed.

And here she was, falling in love with an immortal being who could never truly be hers.  

“Of course I haven’t. You’re all that I want.  And you haven’t been with anyone else either.” It was a statement, not a question.

As they spoke, he kept her pressed up against the wall, and she could feel the thick length of his erection pulsing against her toned, muscular stomach. His fingers slowly stroked the side of her face, sending ripples of desire through her.

“Aren’t you self-confident.” But it was true.

“No, just observant.  If you’d been with someone else, I would have smelled it on you.” He nipped her neck ever so gently, and she whimpered, remembering other nights when he’d sunk in his fangs and flooded her body with instant heat. “And I’d probably have tracked him down and killed him.”

“Really?” she breathed. She should have been angry over such arrogance, such possessiveness, but instead, she was incredibly turned on. And oddly moved.

He wanted only her. And he didn’t want her to be with anybody else.

“Just something for you to keep in mind.” In a swift, sudden movement, he grabbed her bra and ripped it open in front, freeing her small, perfect breasts. Like half an apple, tipped with the sweetest cherries, he’d told her. He bent down to suck on her nipple, drawing it into her mouth, and heat flooded her body.   She moaned and arched her back.

Then he released her and stepped back, his hands still on her shoulders, holding her pinned firmly against the wall. He was much stronger and faster than her, but she could barbecue him like a shish-kebob within a minute.  They were well matched, two fierce warriors.

Except that their relationship came with an expiration date.

He looked at her face. “What?” he asked her.

“You know what.” She struggled to keep her tone light. “It’s just…I don’t want to fall for you. All right, I already have fallen for you. I don’t want to fall for you even more. This can’t work.”

“I know. Even if it weren’t far too risky to try to turn you, you’d be giving up your mortal life.   Your ability to have children.”

“Actually, I hate children.  Never wanted children.”

He looked at her skeptically. “You’re not just saying that?”

“Good God, no.  I truly hate children.  Even when I was a child I hated children.  They’re annoying, whiny, and unreasonable.”

She took a long hard look at him. “So you’re saying that you…you’ve thought about it? Turning me?”

“Of course I’ve thought about it.  And I would never risk it.” There was only a ten percent survival rate for vampire turnings, whether it was a magical or non-magical subject. 

“That should be my choice, shouldn’t it?” Angry heat flashed through her. 

“Should it?  I’m the one that loves you. I’d rather live with you for your mortal lifespan than know that I’m the one that killed you.”

“You…” Her jaw dropped. Had he just said the L word? Out loud? To her?

“My decision on this is final.” 

“There are newer ways to turn vampires. There are methods with science behind them, done in some clinics…”

“Highly illegal, and still far from guaranteed success. There is no one hundred percent safe method of turning a vampire.”

“Fifty percent, at the clinics. That’s not bad odds, is it?”

He tilted her face back up and looked her in the eyes, pleadingly. “Let’s not do this now,” he murmured persuasively.

“But I…”

Before she could speak, he was kissing his way down her chest, and then down her stomach, and hot flowers of pleasure bloomed under his soft lips, spreading open wide. 

He kissed the outside of her black cotton thong, then stripped the thong off, pulling it down until it rested at her ankles.

“Yes,” she whimpered, and spread her legs wide to accept him, leaning back against the wall and clutching at his silky hair.

His tongue lashed at her, swirling around the swollen bud of her clitoris, nudging at it, and she let out a strangled moan of pleasure as his fingers spread her labia open wide.  He buried his face in between her legs and sucked at her, delighting in her shudders of pleasure until finally her fingers tightened and she cried out and his mouth was filled with the sweet juices of her release.

“My turn,” she said, as he climbed to his feet. She sank to her knees, undid the buttons of his silk trousers, and yanked them down quickly.

Then she sank down to her knees.

Chapter Six

“Do these bitches ever sleep?” Maizie moaned, sucking hard on an extra large coffee.  It was seven a.m.  and already there was a small knot of customers crowded on to the front steps of Fiona’s shop, which technically didn’t open for two more hours. She, Renoir and Fiona were at The Witch’s Brew stocking up on caffeine before they trooped next door to deal with the horde.

“Who cares? Those bitches are my paying customers.  And since when do you need a lot of sleep? So if you’re bitching about lack of sleep, it means you were up all night.”

 “Maizie clearly got rode hard and put up wet last night,” Renoir observed, looking her up and down with a critical eye. “She’s wearing a man’s shirt, vampire I’m guessing by the 18
^th
century style, same pants and boots she was wearing yesterday, and no bra. She hasn’t even been home to change. Girl, you a ho!” He delightedly held up his hand to high five her. Grudgingly, she held up her hand and let him slap it without pausing in a lengthy swallow of coffee.

“Let’s see, Renoir got reamed by an elf, Maizie got some hot fang action, and last night I kept company with my magic vibrating wand. Screw both of you,” Fiona muttered.  She was probably oversharing, but she was tired and crabby and frustrated after a night of dreaming about Erik and everything she wanted him to do to her.

“What?” Renoir looked shocked.  “You and warrior boy didn’t get it on last night? Because he clearly wanted to tap that bodacious ass.”

“Warrior boy? Do tell.” Maizie perked up

Oh crud. Maizie was going to be mad…

“Nothing,” Fiona said hastily.

Renoir took a deep breath, the way he always did when he was about to launch into one of his lengthy diatribes.  “Well, that bitch who gave birth to Fiona got Fiona so upset that she tried to commit suicide by rushing off into the Graveyard after dark without her purse, so she left her wand and all her protection spells behind…”

“WHAT!”  The coffee cup exploded in Maizie’s hand, hot coffee splattered her and Fiona, and smoke sizzled from her hair. “You have got to be fucking kidding me. Tell me you’re kidding me.” There was murder in her gaze.

“Renoir! You made her mad on purpose! You tattle-taling little snitch!” Fiona kicked at him, but he moved out of her reach.

“Serves you right,” he said primly. “If you get killed I won’t have a job, and nobody else will hire me, on account of my sexually harassing all the cute male customers.”

“And then,” Renoir added, turning back to Maizie, “Right after that, the hottest warlock I’ve ever seen, said his name was Erik Bloodstone, showed up looking for Fiona, and he went and fetched her back, and obviously she’d been attacked because she came limping back with him, and her knee was bleeding and her hair was all kinds of messed up.”

“I don’t know where to begin with my utter rage,” Maizie snapped, eyes sparking. “First of all, if your mother comes to visit again, I’m staying. End of story. You act like a psycho when she’s in the same room as you. Secondly, if you ever run off into the Graveyard after dark, without protection, don’t worry about anything killing you.  I will kill you myself. And bring you back to life. And kill you again.  Don’t think I won’t, I have access to zombie powder and I’m not afraid to use it. How could you be so stupid! How!” She let loose a flood of curses. 

Rosalind walked out to the patio and stared at the shards of exploded cup. “Again?” she said. “Is that the third time this week? Today’s Tuesday. What day does the week start on, again?  I think it was the third time this week.  I’ll go get a broom.”

“Why didn’t you and Erik go at it, anyway?” Maizie asked as they walked next door. “I mean, he’s not my type, but you’ve always had a thing for him.  He’s back in town after three years on the front line, and you can’t throw a little action his way? You are going to wear that magic vibrating wand out, at this rate.”

“He asked me to be his consultant on some warehouse theft job, kissed me on the forehead and left. That’s why,” Fiona said miserably.

“Huh. Maybe he’s gay.” Maizie mused.

“Oh, please. Girl, don’t insult my Gaydar. If he were that way inclined, I would have climbed him like a tree.” Renoir rolled his eyes at her as Fiona pushed past the crowd of customers, smacked her hand on the protection rune on the doorframe, and watched the door unlock itself and swing open.