Casa Dracula 3 - The Bride Of Casa Dracula (25 page)

Hayden’s was a seafood restaurant, and our group was served huge quantities of prawns, crab, scallops, and oysters, and the white wine flowed. Ian was sitting at Gigi’s table, and I could hear her peals of laughter over other voices.

As we finished our meal with after-dinner drinks and desserts, Gigi came by each table and handed out a list. “Two-hour time limit, everyone!”

“What is that?” I asked the man next to me.

“It’s for the scavenger hunt. Each table is a team. Can you run in those shoes?”

“Like the wind.”

Ninety minutes later, my dress was hiked up to my hips as I balanced on his shoulders and pried off a nautical street sign (Anemone Way, for 125 points). When I spotted the flashing red light of the police car, I shouted, “Cheese it! It’s the cops!” to my team. My partner nearly dropped me, but another teammate caught me. I made it safely to the ground, handed one of the guys the sign, and we scattered in all directions.

The emergency plan was to meet back at Hayden’s. I was the first from my group to return. My stomach cramped with a craving for something red, and I went to the bar. “What red wines do you have by the glass?” I asked the bartender.

I felt someone standing close behind me. I looked into the mirror above the bar. “Hello, Ian.”

“Hello, Young Lady.”

The bartender handed me a drinks menu and I turned to Ian and asked, “Where’s your group?”

“They’re on their way back with our haul. I believe they had to collect one last lawn gnome.”

“One hundred and ten points,” I said. “That might give you the win. Although we did get a photo with twins, which is worth two hundred points. They’re fraternal, not identical, twins, but it still counts.”

“It will be a close contest.” His smile showed only in his eyes, and they crinkled at the corners.

I looked down at the menu and said, “I need something red to drink, or maybe I’ll get a burger.”

“I know a place,” he said.

“You always do.”

We said good-bye to those members of Gigi’s party who were straggling in, dragging traffic cones, cases of Spam, and Dalmatians, and walked down the main road through town. We commented on the charm of the town, the quaint architecture, the sound of the water, safe topics.

Ian led me down a dark side street and to a small but lovely stone building, with wild California grape scaling the walls and covering them in red-hued leaves. Light glowed through the amber windows. Bar None was painted in delicate black script on an unobtrusive driftwood sign.

Instead of going to the front entrance, Ian said, “This way,” and we went in the small alley between buildings. He knocked on a side door.

“Your life is full of back alleys and side doors,” I said. “Is anyone going to answer? Is this even a restaurant?”

“It’s just the sort of restaurant you need.”

The door opened a few inches, a gaunt man dressed in a gray shirt and black slacks peered out, and then he opened the door fully. “Welcome, sir!” he said. We stepped into a hallway with plastered walls and a dark plank floor.

“Hello, Nelson. This is my friend Milagro.”

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Milagro.” Nelson walked toward the end of the hall, saying, “We’re quiet this evening, but I hope we can offer something to please you.”

We followed him upstairs to a large landing with a rough-hewn wooden door. Nelson opened it and we walked into a cozy room that looked more like a living room than a restaurant. Oxblood leather armchairs were grouped with sofas in conversational areas. Seascapes hung on the pale blue walls, and seashells and nautical ephemera decorated tables and walls.

A few attractive middle-aged couples sat here and there, sipping what looked like red wine. They looked at us as we walked in and smiled in recognition at Ian. Nelson showed us to two chairs in a corner. “Your server will be with you shortly, and if there’s anything else you want…”

“Thank you, Nelson,” Ian said, and the man left us.

“I don’t see any food. I don’t see any food because this is a vampire bar,” I said. I had been to a vampire bar once before. It had been filled with young vamps and their thralls, all black leather and PVC. This was a different scene. “This town is a vampire hangout, so I should have expected a vampire bar, right?”

“It’s one of the town’s attractions. I assumed you knew about it.”

“Oswald tries to protect me from things he thinks will shock or offend me.”

“He has gentlemanly instincts,” Ian said. “Although you don’t seem to be pleased about his efforts.”

“I like to make those choices myself. I’m not a hothouse flower.”

“I’ve never mistaken you for one.”

An attractive waitress came to our table, wearing the same black and gray combination as Nelson. “Good evening. May I tell you our specials?”

“Sure,” I said, waiting for her to describe some local sheep breed, or maybe even fish blood.

She signaled to other staff, who came forward. “We have Helen, who is a lactovegetarian and B positive,” she said, and a young woman smiled pleasantly, all whole-grain goodness.

The waitress smiled toward a buff young man. “We have an excellent O positive, Bob, a personal trainer, who is on a high-vitamin and antioxidant regimen.” Bob nodded his head toward us, then stepped back.

“We’ve also got something very rare-Sandra,” she said as another woman came forward. “She’s been completely organic for twenty years and is AB negative.”

“You’re talking about these people,” I said quietly.

“We draw the blood and serve it at body temperature,” the waitress assured me. “You can witness the draw if you like. We guarantee the quality and source.”

Ian sighed and said, “Bring us a bottle of your freshest animal.”

“But…,” she began before realizing he was serious. “We have a refreshing wild otter, caught and released after harvest just this morning.”

“That will be fine,” Ian said.

As she went to get our drinks, I slumped back against the chair. “Why, why, why.”

“Because we are vampires.”

“Go ahead, then. Have a glass of Sandra or Bob.”

“My taste for human blood has been somewhat spoiled by something finer,” he said lightly.

We sat silently until the waitress came back and poured the otter blood in wineglasses for us. She topped them with a salty Italian mineral water, added dashes of Worcestershire sauce and Tabasco, and a squeeze of lime. I tasted mine. It was pleasantly briny and the citrus set off the depth of the otter. “Very nice. Thank you.”

The blood went zinging into my system, reviving me. I looked up to see Ian watching me. Other things started zinging in my body. I listened to the music, a romantic old Van Morrison song. “Cornelia told me that you taught her to like all kinds of music.”

“She gives me too much credit. She’s always loved music.”

Like a tumbler in a lock clicking into place, I realized something. “You’re Mercedes’s investor.” He nodded. “Why didn’t she say anything to me?”

“Mercedes thought it was a good idea to keep friendship and money separate, and I agreed.”

“Oh, so I wouldn’t feel compelled to be nice to you on her behalf.”

The corner of his mouth twitched upward. “No, she didn’t want you to feel guilty on her behalf the next time you and I had some conflict. She seemed to think it was bound to happen.”

“Mercedes is one smart galleta.”

“Without a doubt.”

“When are we going to argue next?”

“Soon, I imagine,” he said.

“You’re probably right.” I realized we’d both shifted in our seats to mirror each other’s positions. I remembered seeing him for the first time and how he’d made me think sex, sex, sex.

I said, “It seems like a long time since we first met. I was so clueless about your kind, stuck out there at the ranch with Winnie hating me and Edna treating me like some two-bit skank.”

“You were holding your own, Young Lady.”

“I thought you were flirting with me just because I was there.”

“Not so. I’d gone there especially to meet you. Cornelia insisted on coming along, complicating matters as she does. From all reports, I expected you to be a rather obvious fortune-hunter.”

“The Council still tries to buy me with money.”

“When it’s affection that you value. I would have had better luck with you if I’d offered you a kitten,” he said and smiled. “I thought you’d be impressed with me, because-”

“Because you’re an impressive man. Women want you and men want to be you.”

“You’re mocking me now,” he said.

“A little. But it’s still true.” We sat quietly and finally I put my hand on his, and that simple contact made the warmth rush through me. I trembled with the sensation. “You feel that, too, don’t you? Something different than with others.”

“It’s always been different with you, Milagro. Every time you’re near…” He stopped speaking and I looked into his dark brown eyes and I felt us breathing in time with each other.

In a matter of moments, he had paid and we were out the door, in the alley. My thoughts were a filthy mess of selfish justifications. I thought of Nancy’s trifecta, and I thought of my true love for Oswald, and I thought of having one last night of wanton sluttery, and I thought that sex with Ian would stop my recurring fantasies of him. But more than anything, I thought, I want him, I want him, and all my morals and ethics were nothing compared to the way my blood recognized and desired his, moving in me like the ocean to the pull of the moon.

Ian shoved me against the rough stone wall and kissed me, his mouth tasting the way I remembered, but more delicious in its familiarity. His leg parted my thighs as his lips went to my neck.

My hands were running down his back, pulling him to me. His scent aroused me, too, and the feel of the muscles under his clothes. We made our way, grabbing and kissing, to a modern house on a hillside street.

As soon as we were inside, I began yanking off his jacket and his shirt. We undressed as we moved to the master bedroom. I shrugged out of my coat, and he pulled off my dress, leaving me only in panties, bra, and heels. He went to the fireplace, lighting a match under the kindling, and in seconds flames flickered yellow and blue.

It was as if my every capillary came alive and the entire surface of my skin was erogenous. My blood rushed up to meet his touch, and I had to feel all of him. I rushed to unbuckle his belt and pull down his slacks while he was trying to take off his shoes and socks. We would have fallen over, but he held me around the waist and soon we were naked, clutching each other.

I spread my fingers out on his chest and his muscular shoulders, thinking him beautiful, loving the look of him.

He pushed me back and lifted me atop the dresser. I wrapped my legs around his waist, and I began nipping his skin. His smooth self-control was gone, and he shuddered as I stroked him.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the gleam of the gold penknife. I grabbed it and pulled away far enough from Ian to open it. “Ian.”

“Yes,” he said, and I did something I’d never done before. I didn’t hesitate, but quickly drew the blade across his shoulder, deep enough to break the skin. I pressed my mouth to the blood that welled there. Pleasure, exquisite and crimson, engulfed me in the seconds before the skin smoothed over the wound. I cut him again on his chest, this time using my tongue to pry the cut open for additional seconds of pleasure.

My body opened to him instinctively and my blood called out so insistently that I handed Ian the knife and said, “Hurry.”

He scored an arc on the upper curve of my breast, but instead of pain, it was an amazing release. His body shook as he drank my blood and we moved against each other. Handing the knife back and forth. Once holding our palms together against the blade, then smearing the blended blood on each other.

We licked and bit each other like animals. No, like vampires.

When we were done, I kept my legs and arms around him and he carried me over to the bed, where we collapsed panting.

“You’re intoxicating,” I said and used the tip of the knife to prick his neck. I sucked at the thick drop of blood and moaned.

“You’re the only one I’ve ever let take my blood.”

I knew it wasn’t true, but I wasn’t going to bring up his parents’ abuse now.

“My own girl,” he said, using his endearment for me.

“Do you call Ilena that?”

“Only you,” he said, and I wanted to believe it.

We spent the night in a mad tumble across every surface of the room, and all through the hours we savored each other’s blood. I felt liberated from caution and able to use my strength without fear of hurting him.

I wanted the night to last forever, but dawn came as we were in the shower, exhausted but sliding our soapy hands over each other, still kissing and biting.

When we came out of the bathroom, wrapped in towels, the sight of the bedsheets flecked with drying blood did not bother me.

I leaned against Ian and said, “I’ll have to go soon.”

“Why?”

“This was my last hurrah. I’ve got to get home.”

He stepped away from me suddenly. “Aren’t you staying?”

“I’ve already stayed too long. Now we both move on. You to Ilena, and me to my marriage.”

He looked astounded, then angry. “How long do I have to wait for you to get over your childish infatuation with Grant?”

“I love Oswald.”

“If you love him, why are you here with me?”

“I don’t know…” I said and I didn’t. “Because every time you’re around, you make my life more confused. Things with Oswald were fabulous until you gave me your blood.”

“If I hadn’t, you would have died.”

“If I hadn’t been with you, I wouldn’t have been hurt.”

“You asked me to accompany you that night,” he said. “You continue to act as if all of this is merely accidental, that we are merely accidental.”

“It is, and we are. I didn’t intend this. I don’t want to want you.”

Ian stared at me a moment and then he said, “Get out. Get out of my life.” He turned and left the room.

I don’t know where he went, but he wasn’t in the living room when I collected my clothes and dressed.

I’d been wrong: I had been able to hurt Ian.