Vampires Need Not...Apply? (20 page)

Take off her veil? Let him see her face?

Yes. She wanted this, too, she realized. She wanted him to see her. She needed him to gaze into her eyes and see her soul, to know if he might accept her for who she truly was.

This is it.

He gripped the edge of the fabric and began to pull.

The alarm buzzed behind him, and she suddenly jerked away from him.

His eyes instantly filled with irritation, and he stepped back, breaking their contact.

Oh no.
Did he think she was rejecting him? “Antonio, I-I…”

He turned away and shut off the alarm. “I’ve set up your… your toe-worship station in the living room,” he grumbled.

Toe-worship station?
Penelope and Kinich had really gone overboard with the groveling instructions.

“Antonio, I want to—”

“I’m an idiot,” he hissed under his breath.

“What? No, I—”

“I’ll be there shortly,” he said coldly.

Why wouldn’t he let her explain? Because if he did, he’d hear how his touch was the best thing she’d ever experienced. He’d hear how she wanted more, but simply needed a moment to work up the courage to take off her veil. Because it wasn’t just a veil; it was her armor, her penance, her way of thwarting the undeserved admiration of others.

“Very well, vampire.” She left the room feeling mildly deflated.
Gods
, she was so
bad
at this whole intimacy thing! She completely came apart around him like a total fool!

She wondered down the hall to the opulent living room, her mind spinning. She needed him to listen, to know her story: why she hid her face, how he looked exactly like Francisco, and how he could touch her when no one else could. She would tell him how he filled her with hope.

But how did one start such a conversation with a…

Damned stubborn, bossy vampire!
She huffed. Didn’t he know how hard this was for her? She had no experience with intimacy, physical or otherwise; it was completely unknown to her.

She rounded the corner into the living room and nearly tripped. A freshly lit log crackled in the fire pit, and white candles sprinkled every corner of the room with warm, flickering light. A pile of neatly folded, white, fluffy towels had been stacked next to an overstuffed armchair placed near the fire, along with a steaming metal tub of water that beckoned to her feet.

He’d done all this for her? None of this had been on the list.

Okay. Breathe. Breathe. You’re a goddess. You can make him listen. You are strong. You are strong. You are… so lame! Stop acting like a child.

She sat in the chair and carefully dipped her toes in the water. The smell of roses instantly penetrated her nostrils, and she threw back her head. Every woman should be given the gift of immortal groveling. At least once a year. And with a man like Antonio—fiercely masculine and obscenely handsome.
Who is completely peeved at you!

“Enjoying yourself?”

Ixtab looked up, but didn’t see anyone.

“Down here, Oh Divine One,” Antonio said petulantly.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, call me Ixtab.”

“Yes, Ixtab,” he said with a slow, deliberate pronunciation of each letter of her name and then flashed a fiercely carnal look her way.

She swooned right then and there. How could she say anything coherent when he looked at her that way?

She swallowed. “Antonio, I know you don’t trust me, and I keep making a huge mess of everything, but I-I…” She fumbled with her words and tugged at her neckline. It was getting very hot in there.

Without breaking his raw gaze, he dipped his head, fished her feet from the tub, and pushed it aside. He wrapped the left foot in a warm, soft towel and firmly grasped the right. “Close your eyes.”

“No. Wait,” she protested. “You don’t need to do this…” Her words trailed off as she became lost again in the sensation of his touch. Her nails dug into the padded arms of the chair. His hot, rough hands gently stroked her heel, but it felt as though he stroked her entire body.
Is this why so many human women get pedicures! Wow. Have I been missing out.

“Close your eyes. Relax,” he repeated briskly. This time she noticed his low, scratchy voice.
Ummm.
There was that itch again.

“I don’t want to close my eyes. I want to…”
Oh, gods, that feels incredible. What was I saying?

“Whatever pleases you,” he said coldly, his strong fingers began gently working each toe. Oh, this was too much. Not only was he touching her, but also the sensuality of his hands was a sultry bliss. She stared down at his bare chest with its chiseled definition, the firelight behind him illuminating his muscular biceps—large biceps that flexed while his hands caressed and massaged her foot. The sight of him was more erotic than she could bear.

An unintentional groan escaped her mouth.

Antonio froze and looked up at her veiled face.

Dammit.
She was making a fool of herself. He’d been tricked into this groveling scheme, forced to touch her. That’s not what she wanted. She wanted real. She wanted… him.

Okay, it was time for that talk. She snapped her foot away. “That’s enough. Antonio, there’s something—”

He swiped her foot and placed it firmly between his two hands. “I’m not done yet,” he growled.

Again, she snapped her foot away. “No. I think you are.”

His eyes lit with fury. “What? Not good enough for you? Is a disgusting vampire defiling the sanctity of your toes?” Again, he grabbed her foot.

“What? No. I only want to—”

He rose up on his knees, placing himself firmly between her thighs, and pushed her back in the seat. “I flew all the way down here to grovel for your pompous, arrogant ass over something that was an accident. So, I dare you to insult me again. I dare you to move another inch, Oh Divine One, before I’ve completed this foot rub.”

Why wouldn’t he let her speak, for gods’ sake? And why was he making her own immortal groveling so damned hard?

“Or what?” she seethed.

His eyes said,
I double-triple dare you to find out!

Dammit, she didn’t want to fight with him. She wanted to talk. She wanted to know if her heart, her soul, should dare to dream that Antonio might be the Universe granting her wish.

Let him finish the foot rub. Maybe he’ll calm down and then you can talk.
She grumbled like a petulant child and relaxed in the chair, signaling her submission. He sank back on his heels, grabbed the bottle of oil to his side, coated his hand, and spitefully jerked her foot directly in front of him.

He slathered each toe and then her heel and ankle. When his strong hand reached the lower calf muscle, he looked straight up the line of her leg and froze. She watched as his eyes zeroed in, right on her.

Oops.
She snapped her legs shut as his gaze turned from a deep olive green to charcoal black.

Uh-oh.
A vampire with black eyes only meant one of three things: hungry, angry, or inconsolably horny.

In her case it had to be… Well, it had to be…
He just looked at your womanly pride and joy. But he couldn’t possibly…

She tried to retrieve her foot but it was in vampire lockdown.

His head dipped and he placed his warm mouth forcefully over her pinkie toe. A tiny squeal involuntarily escaped her mouth followed by his groan.

“You liked that, did you?” he said in a gravelly voice. His mouth moved to her ankle and sucked. “You like having a disgusting vampire touch you, don’t you, Ixtab?”

Chest heaving, hands gripping the armchair for dear life, she replied, “I don’t think you’re disgusting—” She felt the faint scrape of a fang brush her lower calf as his hot tongue and mouth massaged their way up another inch. “I think you’re—Oh, gods.” Every touch, every miniscule point of contact felt like exquisite, little convulsions rocketing through her body. After thousands of years of being deprived of physical contact, every inch of her skin lit up with sensual explosions. She gripped the chair even harder.

“Say it. You think I’m what?” he asked with that heavy voice saturated with sex. One strong hand slid its way up her inner thigh while his mouth and tongue slowly worked their way up the inside of the other leg.

“Very… very…” She clamped her eyes shut and felt his sharp teeth scrape their way a little higher.

“Very what?” His hot breath bathed her inner thigh. Then one hand moved another inch and then another until she felt their roughness brush over her sensitive flesh between her legs.

She bucked lightly and her nipples hardened to sharp points. “Oh, gods.”
Naughty vampire.
No one had ever touched her like that. Ever. And the most arousing thing of all was how he took control. No shame or shyness. No permission asked. He simply did what pleased him. Gods be damned, but now she knew what she’d been missing out on all these thousands of years. In her wildest dreams she would never have imagined.

“Very sexy,” she finally answered with a breath.

“Good,” he replied and then ran one hot finger down the middle of her slick valley. “Now, show me how much you like me.”

Show him? Show him? If she did that, she would be grabbing that thick dark hair of his and riding his face like a drunk cowgirl who’d found the last bronking bucko on the planet.

His mouth worked an inch closer to her sensitive bud, and she knew only a moment of contact would be required. He withdrew his hand to make way for his mouth in the space she’d narrowly allowed him.
Oh, gods…

She glanced down to see the most erotic sight she’d ever witnessed. His one hand had reached down to free his hard cock from the confinement of those hot leather pants. She couldn’t see his manhood, but she saw the unmistakable, rhythmic pumping of his hand.

Holy deities of sex and sin, he was pleasuring himself to the view of her.

“Tu flor de mujer es tan exquisita.”
He groaned.

Had he just called her womanly bit an exquisite flower? Her mind swam in an endless, delicious mess of sexual images displayed before her.

The exact moment his mouth covered her flower, his free hand slid up her torso and clasped her breast over the fabric of her dress. With his large, firm touch he massaged her breast in time to the expert strokes of his delving tongue and pumping hand.

Holy deities of ancient Babylonia, she’d never experienced such a sensation.

“Don’t stop. Ohmygods. Don’t stop.”

His silky, hot tongue dipped and stroked and glided over the tiny bundle of sparkling nerves. They coiled with delicious tension. “Oh, gods, don’t stop.”

His hot, panting breath quickened with each tiny jab of his tongue. “Never. You taste so delicious. So fucking sweet.”

“Yes. Yes.” She was centimeters away from experiencing that wave of mind-crippling nirvana. She rocked her pelvis against his tongue. “Holy stars and moon, Francisco!”

He stopped.

She stopped.

Every creature on the planet stopped to tsk in her general direction.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Did I call him Francisco?

“Did you just say… ‘Holy stars and moon,
Francisco
?’ ” He scowled.

Yes… Yes, I did. Shit.

Before she could say a word, Antonio was gone.

Oh no. Oh no…

Maybe there was such a thing as second chances. But what she now needed was a third.

“What do you mean, you ‘lost’ Antonio?” Penelope asked from the other end of the cell phone.

Ixtab paced across the giant gourmet chef’s kitchen, glaring at the perfect little chocolate caramel soufflé. “Stop mocking me. Okay? It was a perfectly innocent mistake.”

“I’m not mocking you,” Penelope replied. “I’m confused.”

“I was talking to the soufflé.” Ixtab turned her back on the dessert, which served as a sad little reminder of how she’d wrecked the entire evening. “What’s there to be confused about? I lost him.”

I really, really lost him.
The one male in the Universe who’d perhaps been born for her.

“How does one ‘lose’ a vampire exactly?”

“Well, we were… um… Antonio and I were—”

Penelope squealed on the other end of the phone. “I knew it! I knew it! You do like him! And I could tell he’s totally into you, too. The way he pretends to hate you, it’s so fifth grade. So how was it? Did you?”

Ixtab cringed as she heard Kinich’s deep voice in the background over the phone.

“I think they did it,” Penelope told him.

“Did she keep the veil on?” Kinich asked.

“I don’t know. Let me ask,” she replied to him.

Ugh! Idiots.
“Yes. I kept the veil on, but we didn’t have sex.”
We might’ve if I hadn’t screwed it up.
Worst of all, she’d humiliated him. Now he would never trust her, and she would suffer an eternity without knowing what they really meant to each other.

“Why not? Were you too afraid? Because my mom told me what you look li—”

“I called him by another man’s name,” Ixtab blurted out. “In the heat of the moment.”

“Oh, that’s bad,” Penelope replied. “She called him another man’s name,” she repeated to Kinich, who began laughing hysterically in the background.

“Glad you find this funny,” Ixtab barked.

“Ssssh, honey. Let me finish talking to her.” Pause. “Sorry, Ixtab. I’m listening.”

“Good. Because he left and took the tablet with him.”

“Maybe he’s on his way back to New York,” Penelope offered.

Ixtab shrugged and turned around. The soufflé still sat there on the large granite island, still mocking her with its giant chocolaty goodness. “I checked with the Uchben. They haven’t seen him.”

“He probably took a commercial plane.”

Ixtab’s phone beeped. “Hold on.” She pulled the device from her ear and saw a text. It was from the Uchben chief.
Crapola.

She returned the phone to her ear. “The Uchben tracked him through Customs. He got on a flight to Spain.”

“I guess you’re going to Spain, then. Would you like me to text you the immortal groveling instructions?” Penelope offered.

“No, thanks. I’ve got it committed to memory.”