Hot Summer Bites: A Castle of Dark Dreams Novella (A Penguin Special from Berkley Sensation) (2 page)

Chapter One

Taurin Veris thought about ripping out Deimos’s throat.
How long had it been since he’d done something just for the hell of it? Too long.

Yeah, but then he’d have to listen to everyone bitching at him. So he controlled the urge. Deimos trailed him out of the Castle of Dark Dreams and into the Texas night.

Taurin gave the “No, uh-uh, won’t do it, definitely not” routine another shot. “Look, I need downtime. I just got back from searching for Dacian in some of the crappiest places on earth and came up empty. So I don’t want to hear about any damn reporter. Get someone else to deal with her.”

“Everyone else is busy.” Deimos caught up with him. “Sparkle thinks she could be trouble.”

“Then it’s true, because Sparkle wrote the book on trouble.” If he walked faster, would Deimos give up?

“No, you don’t get it. She’s an investigative reporter, and she’s here rooting around for a sensational story. She got a tip that Live the Fantasy does all kinds of weird sexual fantasies.”

“And I’m supposed to care why?” This was an
adult
theme park. Rumors of sex would sell more tickets. It was all good. Why was Deimos bent out of shape?

The whites of Deimos’s eyes showed. All the way around. “But what happens if she accidentally finds out there’re a bunch of nonhuman entities living here? You’ll all have to move.”

That got his attention. He was happy here, and he’d be damned if he’d let another nosy snoop ruin that. It had happened once, but it wouldn’t happen again. “So what’s Sparkle suggest?”

Taurin usually enjoyed his nightly walk. He could take a look at what was going on in the park, or if he wanted something different, he could cross Seawall Boulevard and walk along the beach. He never tired of the Gulf. Galveston was more home to him than any other place had been in six hundred years. And he intended it to stay that way.

“Keep her busy. Show her around the park. Don’t give her time to do much poking.” Deimos got more enthusiastic with each word. “I’m planning a midnight beach party for next Monday. Eric, Brynn, and Conall will all be off.” He grinned. “You can bring the reporter with you. Let her see everything’s cool.”

“
You’re
planning a beach party?” The only thing Deimos ever planned was his next action-hero move. “Never mind. About this showing-her-around thing, I have a job. I can’t spend all week keeping her nose pointed in the right direction. And what about during the day? Who’s going to keep her out of trouble then?”

Deimos looked triumphant. “Sparkle took care of that. She told Holgarth about the problem, and he cleared your slate for the week. Now you can spend all the time you want with her. And they just hired a new guy to help with the tours and stuff during the day. A wereshark. Needs to be near the water. He’ll keep her busy while you’re down. I have her name and room number here somewhere.” He rooted around in his pocket until he found a piece of paper. “She’s in room 218, and her name’s Kristin Hughes.”

“Where the hell does Sparkle get off going to Holgarth about . . .” Taurin rounded on Deimos, every sense alert. “Did you say Kristin Hughes?”

Deimos nodded, a little uncertain now. “Yeah. You know her?”

Taurin grew still, that completely motionless state that allowed him to hear even the flow of his victim’s blood. It was the silence of a hunting predator. “Oh, I know her all right. Tell Sparkle I’ll keep the lady so distracted she won’t know which way is up.” Who would’ve thought he’d cross paths with her again? But it looked like the bitch was back.

Deimos nodded happily and hurried away. Probably afraid Taurin would change his mind if he hung around. No chance of that. He turned back toward the castle, his walk forgotten.

First he’d tell Holgarth his plans, and the wizard could pass it on to the others. Taurin would have to meet this wereshark. Make sure they were on the same page. Kristin and the shark would be perfect together. They had lots in common—a killer instinct and a taste for blood. Okay, so he had a taste for blood, too. But he liked to think that he retained some semblance of humanity.

Then he’d pay a visit to Ms. Hughes and welcome her to the Castle of Dark Dreams. So she thought Live the Fantasy was all about sex? He’d give her so much sex to write about that she wouldn’t even notice if Holgarth whacked her over the head with his wand and turned her into a leech. Oh, wait, she already was one. Taurin knew his smile showed lots of fang.

Kristin Hughes wrote two kinds of stories
—the impact of global warming on the United States’ economy kind, and werewolves roaming the Minnesota forests kind. Serious and fluff. The fluff paid better. She was in the Castle of Dark Dreams looking for some heavy-duty fluff.

She lay sprawled across the crimson bedspread of her decadent four-poster bed, which fit right in with the rest of her authentic-looking castle chamber. The room was all massive dark wood, rich fabrics, and jewel-tone colors. It screamed erotic. A far cry from stumbling through the Minnesota underbrush looking for werewolves.

But she was after something much different here. A few days ago she’d gotten an anonymous e-mail claiming that the whole park was a sexual playground, not the G-rated, role-playing, fun-for-all place it advertised. She was here to dig up the truth, and if she was really lucky, she’d find kinky sex around every corner. Kinky sex in unexpected places sold like crazy.

Only one possible dark cloud lurked on her horizon. The last time she’d done a story in Texas, she’d stirred up real trouble for herself. She’d written an article on a group of vampire wannabes in San Antonio. Vampires? How twisted was that?

She’d paid a mole to infiltrate the group and feed her info. He’d made her think they’d welcome the publicity. Most gatherings of the strange-and-unusual were all about getting attention. Uh, why else would anyone claim he was a vampire?

Anyway, once the public read her stuff, the curious descended on the weird group. All the publicity scared the vamps off, and they left town toting their coffins behind them. How was she to know they wanted to keep everything hush hush?

Kristin frowned. Now came the bad part. For months afterward, this crazy guy named Veris—maybe that wasn’t even his real name—had made her life hell. He’d found all kinds of creative ways to put a hurting on her career, and he’d made sure she knew it was payback for the San Antonio thing. None of her investigative skills helped her ID him. Once he stopped, she swore she’d never do another Texas story. But here she was. This was too good to pass up.

Kristin opened her Live the Fantasy brochure and tried to decide where she’d start. They had fantasies going on in the castle right now. It would make sense to take in one of those first. Pretty convenient to have a theme park attraction and hotel all rolled into one. Now or tomorrow night? She was pretty tired after her flight. Maybe she’d wait until—

A knock interrupted her train of thought. Kristin frowned. She wasn’t expecting anyone. Climbing from the comfort of her bed, she went to the door and opened it.

Oh. My. God. The man leaning against the doorjamb with arms crossed over his chest was . . . was . . .
Okay, need oxygen to keep brain working. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out
. Basic description—a little over six feet tall, dark shaggy hair, dark do-me eyes, shirtless, worn jeans riding low on hips, shirtless, scuffed biker boots, and shirtless.

“Hey, sweetcheeks. I’m Taurin, the castle handyman. Right now I’m Air-conditioning Man, here to save you from a hot night.” Pregnant pause. “Unless a hot night excites you.”

“Air-conditioning? It’s fine.” Now for the not-so-basic description: broad, bare chest, powerful pecs, impressive abs, and would he notice if she pulled off her top? Yeah, he would. But the sweat wending a meandering path between her breasts was getting on her nerves. Maybe her air-conditioning wasn’t so fine.

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” He strode past her to the thermostat and stood staring at it. A loud clanking noise came from the air vents and the air shut down. “See. I got here just in time.”

“You betcha.” Woo-hoo, would you look at that butt—round, tight, and totally drool-worthy. She’d need a bib by the time he fixed the air-conditioning.

“Lucky for you I have my tool belt loaded.” His voice lowered to a husky murmur. “I have a tool for every need. Long, strong, and able to get into tight places.”

“Uh-huh.” Was it physically possible for her tongue to get tangled in her vocal cords? Must be, because she sure was having trouble talking. She dropped her gaze. Yep, there was his tool belt. And his screwdriver had this big, firm, strong-looking handle that was so . . . so . . . symbolic.

He pulled the cover off the thermostat and did some fiddling with the innards. “Here for a vacation?”

“Sort of.” Now that she’d gotten over her initial shock, she started to wonder about a hotel employee showing up shirtless. Unless . . . unless the castle was totally into sexual excess. Then a hot handyman would make lots of sense. The thought, admittedly out there, cheered her. “I’m a freelance writer, and I thought I’d do a story”—read exposé—“about the park.”

He continued tinkering with the thermostat. Hmm, the noise had been in the vents, so she didn’t see why he was fooling with the thermostat. But what did she know about air conditioners?

“You should start with a Castle of Dark Dreams fantasy.” He glanced at his watch while she glanced at the play of smooth muscle across his back. “I’m almost done here, and then I can quit for the night. How about we go down to the great hall together, and I’ll introduce you to the park’s fantasy world? Call it a welcome gift.”

Kristin considered his “gift.” Why not experience her first fantasy with him? If she was looking for the sexual underbelly of this park, he was as good a place to start as any. Darkly sensual and wickedly tempting, he would make a perfect guide to all the sinfully delicious secrets of Live the Fantasy.

In fact, if she worked things right, she might be able to keep him for the whole week.
Whoa, rein in stampeding lust.
She’d have lots of fun researching this article, but it was still all about the job. Besides, he’d only offered to guide her through one fantasy, not strip off her clothes and then make wild, planet-exploding love with her.

She sighed. Okay, so that was
her
fantasy. She’d lived most of her life in small-town North Dakota where absolutely nothing unusual ever happened. Can we say boring with a big, bold capital
B
?

Mom and Dad were great people, but they were convinced that once she reached the age when her hormonal tide was at flood stage, she’d slip from their grasp and be swept away by waves of sexual depravity. Her parents had kept her on such a tight leash she still had a collar mark around her neck, metaphorically speaking of course.

So when she finally escaped to college and afterward to the big, bad city, Kristin probably overcompensated a little by searching out stories that didn’t reek of ordinary small-town America. And anything that promised kinky sex had her instant attention.

“Sounds like an offer I can’t turn down.” She slipped her sandals on. No matter what might happen during the fantasy, Kristin’s cup of vicarious sensuality was full. “Let’s go.”

He guided her out the door and closed it behind him. “Why don’t you go down to the great hall, and I’ll meet you there. I have to drop my tool belt in my room and put on a shirt.”

“Sure.” She wanted to know about that shirt, but decided not to ask. He might actually have a good reason for not wearing one. Kristin liked her take on his shirtless state better—namely that the castle was dedicated to sex, so she’d be meeting shirtless, hot bods around every decadent corner. Ignoring the elevator, she headed for the winding stone stairs.

Taurin watched from narrowed eyes as she disappeared down the stairs. She’d been a surprise. He’d never seen Kristin Hughes. In San Antonio, she’d sent someone else in to do her dirty work, and he’d pictured a dried-up, vicious hag, because . . . Fine, so a dried-up, vicious hag would be easier to hate.

Not that he hated her less just because she had long black hair, big blue eyes, and pouty lips that would drive a man crazy if she chose to put them on any part of his body. And just because she had great breasts, an excellent ass, and long, long legs didn’t affect his feelings for her in the least. He’d bet she was dried up and vicious on the inside.

He took the elevator down to the floor below the great hall. The dungeon was there, along with all the vampires’ rooms. No windows, so it was the only part of the castle that sunlight couldn’t reach. Taurin slipped on a black T-shirt and was on his way up to the great hall when he met Eric.

At one time he’d thought Eric was responsible for his brother’s death, but then he’d found out that Dacian wasn’t dead at all. Now he was glad to have Eric on his side. “She’s upstairs waiting for me. I’m doing a fantasy with her. How about if I take your part this time?”

Eric raised one sardonic brow. “You want to be Eric the Evil?”

Taurin knew his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “No, I want to be Taurin the Hot, able to fulfill a certain nosy freelance writer’s sexual fantasies so she won’t have time to notice that some of us have fangs or alternate forms.”

“No problem. But don’t use my plaid. I’m the only Highland vampire in the house.”

“Your plaid’s safe. I’m going traditional. Long black cape and . . . Well, guess that’s it. A long black cape. Nothing else.” Taurin tried to ratchet down his anticipatory rush. He shouldn’t be looking forward to this so much, because that gave her an importance she didn’t deserve.

“Taking it over the top, aren’t you? Be careful.” Eric looked a little uneasy. “Holgarth may be a lawyer as well as a wizard, but we don’t need him wearing his attorney’s hat to defend you on an indecent exposure charge.”

“The woman wants a sensational story, so I’ll give her what she wants.” Taurin put on his mock-shock expression. “
Indecent
exposure? Hey, anything I expose isn’t just decent, it’s damn good.”

Call him cynical, but down through the centuries he’d learned that most women were all about externals. Show a female a great body, and she was all over it. Emotions were just so much excess baggage. Granted, he’d pretty much stuck with female night feeders since he became vampire, but he’d bet human females had the same take on sex. “And if she comes unglued, we can make sure she doesn’t remember a thing.”