Holiday with a Vampire 4 (11 page)

Chapter 5

T
hey rounded the bend in the road and the massive front of the plantation house came into view. Two-story and square, its row of columns formed stark white bones. The dark windows looked out from the red brickwork—almost like empty eyes with no soul.

“It looks frighteningly beautiful to you, doesn’t it?”

His words echoed her thoughts. Angel stared at him for a moment. How had he done it?

“I’m not frightened,” she lied. It was more of a half-truth, really. She wasn’t frightened, just wary. Cautious. Who knew if the floorboards were too rotten to walk on and might give way or if the old lath-and-plaster ceilings would cave in? No. That wasn’t what scared her. No one knew where she was. He could do anything to her, and no one would ever know. A full-body shiver traveled from her head to her toes, and she slowed down.

“You’re shivering.”

“Temperature change,” she muttered. “Are you sure it’s safe?”

He laughed. “I assure you, my home is hardly in disrepair. In fact, once I light a few candles, you might find it quite—”

“Romantic?”

His eyes sparkled. “I was going to say
endearing,
but if you prefer
romantic,
I’ll go with that.”

As they mounted the wide set of steps leading to the portico, the double doors swung wide open on their own. Angel gasped.

“Sorry, I do tend to have a bit of dramatic flair in me. Probably the Irish side coming out. Welcome to my home.” He snapped his fingers and the house came ablaze with light. Hundreds of candles, some in chandeliers, others in wall sconces, gave a warm glow to the sand-colored marble floor in the entryway. It was streaked with veins of rust-red and white. Just ahead of them stood a black table, liberally adorned with golden filigree embellishments and topped with a huge blue cut-crystal vase of enormous pure white Casablanca lilies. Their heady, sweet fragrance increased with the heat of the candles. A heart-shaped, double curving staircase swung upward, and the two staircases joined at a central landing overlooking the entry hall.

Everything looked pristine, as if the cleaning staff had only been there minutes before. The black banister gleamed, and nothing marred the yellow watered silk on the walls.

“It’s like, like a...”

“Mausoleum?” he suggested.

“I was thinking more like a museum. It’s beautiful. I haven’t seen anything like it.”

A fierce gleam of pride filled his eyes, his shoulders pulling back a tad more. “I’ve never brought anyone here before.”

Angel didn’t know if she believed that or if it was the Irish blarney in him making an appearance.

“Where shall we start?”

“Start?”

“You are here for a full tour, are you not?”

A giddy sense of delight made her limbs tingle. “Yes!”

“Here—let me just get rid of our coats and we shall begin.” He lightly pulled her jacket off her arm and together with his tossed it off to the side where they disappeared in a poof of smoky particles.

“No way. Now how did you do that?”

“Materializing objects. Another useful, if somewhat boring, skill. A vampire simply concentrates the energy at their core and either calls the object into being or dissipates it.”

“Will I get my coat back?”

“Oh, most certainly. That is, if you want to leave.” His words sent a tremor through her, causing her belly to swoop and tighten. Everything Cullen said and did was sexy times three with whipped cream and a cherry on top. He just did something that managed to turn all her good common sense inside out and upside down.

“How about the parlor or the dining room? Shall we start there?” Angel mutely nodded, still too stunned to get the words to form properly with her tongue. He grasped her hand in his, sending another shock of awareness into her system of not only how right
her hand felt in his but how much she liked him holding her hand.

Chapter 6

E
ach room was more spectacular than the last. Hanging on the damask-covered walls, and grouped on exotic handcrafted wooden tables, were precious works of art and priceless museum-quality antiques spanning centuries. The luxurious burgundy wool carpets were thick and plush beneath her feet, covering gleaming, highly polished wide-plank wood floors. And every shiny surface reflected their passage down the long hallway. There was no indication in the massive house that anyone else was present.

A frisson of alarm reminded her once again that she was alone with a stranger, thousands of miles away in a place that no one would think to look for her. And yet, foolishly she felt no fear, only a rising excitement as she followed Cullen from room to room.

“That enormous, ornate glass monstrosity once belonged in the palace of the Medicis,” Cullen said, a tinge of pride to his voice. They both gazed at the elegant curves and fantastic hues in a handblown Venetian chandelier crafted to look like a twist of vines, leaves and flowers. His comment was an understatement that hardly conveyed the chandelier’s delicacy and beauty.

Cullen didn’t seem to be one to exaggerate anything. In fact, if anything he undersold the qualities of what he talked about, which made her think. If he truly believed the locket was important enough to offer a half million for it, perhaps she ought to take him seriously and find out why it was worth that much for him to possess it. Not that she was tempted—even for a million—but curiosity ate at her.

“I have to confess I’m a bit envious,” Angel said softly. “Your collection is very impressive.” She glanced at his profile. Cullen was handsome, but he was masking something deeper. Like his collection, he kept the truth about himself hidden. While he’d told her he was a vampire, he was still keeping something else from her. Something that mattered more to him than revealing who and what he was.

He caught her staring at him. “Not nearly as impressive as the gardens. But it is difficult to fully appreciate them in the dark.”

“Could we go and see them anyway?”

Cullen gave her a genuine smile. “Of course.”

Angel couldn’t help but return his smile. He took her hand in his and led her through a set of French doors and down the stone steps of the veranda. They meandered along the graveled paths until they came to an ancient magnolia tree with a marble bench at its base. Moonlight filtered through the leaves, creating dapples of shadow even in the darkness. The warm night air was rich with the heavy, sweet scent of orange blossoms.

“This is one of my favorite spots in the garden. From here you can see the sun rise over the water.”

Angel tilted her head. “I thought vampires burned up in sunlight.”

Cullen shook his head. “Just a fabrication of the entertainment industry. If we did burn in sunlight, we’d never be able to blend into the population so well. It simply gives us a headache if we’re out in it too long without eye protection. Why else do you think it’s fashionable to wear big sunglasses in Hollywood?”

They sat on the marble bench in the garden. The tinkle of the water from the fountain spilling into the reflection pool below blended with the crickets in a kind of magical music.

It all seemed very lonely to Angel: the enormous museum-like house that looked as if no one lived there, the big wide bed that no one slept in, the bench on which they sat, which was perfect for two. What was the point of living an eternity if you were doomed to end up alone anyway? Her heart squeezed in discomfort. Cullen might be smooth and charming, but he had to be lonely. Damn lonely. Angel couldn’t believe it, but she actually felt sorry for the vampire.

“Belle Eau is amazing.”

“Thank you,” he said softly. “It’s been a long time since I’ve shared it with anyone who could appreciate it as I do.”

“You truly do love it here, don’t you?”

“It was my last mortal home.”

“Is that why you like antiques, because they remind you of a happier time?”

He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, and stared at his clasped hands for a moment. “I enjoy them because they are beautiful, like you.”

Part of Angel wanted to be flattered, but the cautious part of her wanted to know what he was hiding and couldn’t let the matter rest. “What was your life like before you became a vampire?”

“Really nothing of consequence,” he said ruefully and with self-deprecating charm. “A rural plantation owner steeped in his own amusements and convinced of his superiority.”

She looked at his aristocratic profile limned by the dappled moonlight and asked softly into the breeze, “And who changed that?”

He whipped his head up to face her, his eyes narrowing. “You’re a perceptive little thing, aren’t you?”

Angel shook her head. “No. I just know how to spot heartbreak when I see it.”

His lips thinned. “Not so much heartbreak as a rude awakening.”

“So, there was someone who escaped even your powers of seduction?”

He leaned back, sliding his hand about her wrist. “Is that what I am doing, seducing you?” His thumb rubbed an arc along the sensitive underside of her wrist.

Angel liked this teasing side of him. “You’re changing the subject and it won’t work. You’ll find I can be very determined.”

“Very well.” He didn’t move his hand, but continued to stroke her wrist, making the throbbing sensation spread out along every nerve ending. “Just be aware I can be as equally determined.”

He was close enough that Angel could see the flecks of silver in his blue eyes. He was close enough to kiss. All she had to do was lean in to feel him. Her skin tightened and heat threaded through her veins.

Angel dropped her gaze, letting it linger on his mouth. What happened when one kissed a vampire? Didn’t their fangs get in the way? Every time he’d smiled, his teeth had been white and even, perfectly normal. “Do you have fangs?”

He chuckled. “Would you like to see exactly what I’ve got?” His keen gaze gave her the distinct feeling of being mentally undressed. Angel shivered in response, but nodded, curiosity beating out fear.

* * *

It didn’t take all that much to release his fangs. Just being around Angelica was arousing enough to make his gums throb. Her elevated heart rate and pounding pulse were only more of a tease. The fact was he’d been holding them back for the better part of the evening for fear of scaring her.

Cullen released his fangs. They slide down easily, with the familiar audible
flick,
the tips digging into his lower lip. An aching thirst started in the back of his throat.

Angelica gasped, her free hand covering her open mouth. She slowly dropped it back down to her side. Cullen moved his hand away from hers, unsure of her reaction. Was she afraid of him now? That would delay his plan.

“Do you mind if I touch them?”

Cullen found her curiosity, rather than outright repulsion, quite endearing. But it was dangerous, not just for her, but for them both. The temptation to feed was too great.

For a second, he hesitated. Fangs were incredibly sensitive. The sensation of her stroking them would be just as potent as if he’d unzipped his pants and let her touch his shaft. Considering how long it had been since he’d had any real connection to a woman beyond the physical, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to contain his rising blood lust. “Probably better you don’t. I haven’t eaten in a while,” he murmured.

“They’re a lot bigger than I thought they’d be.”

“It’s all proportional, I assure you.” Inwardly Cullen laughed. If things went as intended, he’d be showing her a lot more than just his fangs.

Angelica nibbled at her lip. “So, you really are a vampire, then?”

“Fangs and all.”

She pulled a waxy green leaf from the nearby foliage and smoothed it between her fingers. “How’d you get to be one?”

Bitter bile welled up in the back of Cullen’s throat, turning his thirst sour. He didn’t want to talk about Marie, not now, and especially not with Angelica. He wanted to be able to place all his focus on her to ensure the seduction took. “In the usual ways, I suppose.”

She frowned. “That’s it?”

“That’s all I can tell you at the moment.”

“So, someone bit you.”

A heavy silence fell between them, pulsating in the velvet depths of the night like a heart. He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Not if he didn’t want to give himself away.

“Have you ever turned anyone else into a vampire?”

Now, that was outright laughable. Cullen had never gotten the chance. First, he had no idea what ingredients Marie had used to concoct the potion that changed him. Second, after forty years on his own, he’d been elated to find that there actually were other vampires around, but he’d been ostracized by them. The local vampire clan could not plainly identify his maker within their ranks. He’d been left summarily alone to figure out what his powers were and how to use them. Turning others into vampires had been too low on his list of priorities for him to care. What he needed to do was survive and break the curse that held him in perpetual servitude to the locket. “No,” he replied.

Angelica locked her gaze with his. “Then how do propose to do it if I decide I want immortality after all?”

“I thought we might discover that together,” he said, a husky edge to his voice.

Her skin contracted into goose bumps, and Cullen had the ridiculous urge to smooth them out with his hands. He shouldn’t have been so pleased with her reaction—but he was. While it meant he was a step closer to getting her to willingly hand over the locket and regain the life he’d once had, it also meant more than that.

As he stared into her warm brown eyes, a startling thought took root in the back of his mind. What if his original mission had changed? What if he really wanted to have purpose and meaning in his life again?

His heart twisted at the thought of her suffering a fate similar to his, all because of a locket that had to be given to him freely in order to break Marie’s curse. Whatever she wished for would not turn out as she expected. That was all he could count on...unless the curse was broken.

The shushing rush of blood beneath Angelica’s smooth skin called to him, spiking his hunger and his desire to feed. The pressure in his fangs and his hardening shaft were equal. She enticed him on many different levels.

He leaned in, letting the lush scent of her arouse him further, making the need to feed on her lips just as real, just as potent as the need to feast upon the hot, sweet offering beneath her flesh. Cullen held his impulses in check. He just wanted a kiss. That was all. Just a kiss.

The soft sound of her breath catching as he gently brushed his mouth against hers drove rational thoughts out of his mind. The kiss started out pure enough, but the sweet flavor of cinnamon and chocolate and something that was uniquely Angelica drove through his chest with a pointed need, sharper than any stake.

Even with Marie, while there had been carnal pleasures, there had never been this: the taste of desire born of admiration. Even while he knew he had no business listening in on her thoughts, Cullen could still hear them, loud and clear. She thought him someone special. Totally out of her league.

How very wrong she was on that score. She may have been born with the name Angelica, but truly in all ways, her shortened moniker fit her. She was to him an angel. Pure. Lovely. Ethereal.

It was not he who was beyond her touch, but completely the opposite. She was lush beauty. Vibrant. Alive.

Angel leaned into him, her full breasts and soft curves pressing into his chest, her arms twining about his neck like a determined kudzu vine. The kiss turned deeper, and with every fresh taste of her, he found his thirst grew more persistent.

* * *

Angel had never been kissed like this. Cullen did more than arouse her—he tore into her very fantasies, making the line between imagination and reality blur and fuse into one.

Every touch of his sure, firm hands on her kicked up her need another notch. The way he cupped her breasts and teased them, the way he pulled her onto his lap and hugged her close, made her feel provocative and beautiful. Unlike her make-out sessions with Alex, nothing about this made her feel as if she were trying too hard. It came easily, seamlessly, like breathing, but much more.

He traced kisses along the edge of her jaw and down along the length of her neck, the pressure of his mouth winding up the core of her tighter and tighter. His fangs scraped a path along the curve of her neck and shoulder, making her gasp. His hands slipping around the flair of her hip drew her closer to him, until he’d scooted her onto his lap where his obvious arousal pressed against her hip. Angel writhed, needing release. She was profoundly grateful they were alone, even if they were outdoors.

Cullen pulled back a fraction, fierce desire making his eyes look electric blue. “You know, I realize I was remiss in my tour,” he said, need adding a hoarse, rough edge to the Irish lilt of his words. “I never did show you my bedroom.”

Angel nipped lightly at his bottom lip, drawing her teeth along the edge of it. He kissed her hard, the power of it stealing away her breath.

Her head buzzed. But the second he broke the mind-blowing kiss, she took a much-needed sip of air. “Are you trying to seduce me, Cullen McCormack?” Even to her own ears, the raw need in her voice was clear.

His eyes gleamed, his grip on her bottom tightening. “Absolutely.”