Real Vampires Live Large (6 page)

“Where's Blade?” I pushed Valdez off the bed. “Turn your back.” When he did, I hightailed it to the bathroom and the robe I knew Jerry kept on the back of the door. It dragged the ground, but was a nice thick terry that covered me from neck to toe.

“Blade's downstairs. He and Mara are having words.”
Valdez was back on the bed again, glaring at my purse. It was ringing, “Phantom of the Opera.” I love Broadway show tunes and you can imagine why Phantom is one of my faves.
“You gonna answer this?”

I dove for the purse and fished out the phone just as it stopped. A beep and I saw that I had missed ten calls with five voice messages. Scrolling through the system, it was easy to see that most of the calls had been from the fire department. My day employees had called too. And the vamp who filled in some nights for me had just left message number six.

“Blade and Mara? What kind of words?”

“They're not fighting each other?” Mara MacTavish is the widow of Blade's best friend, the one the vamp hunter had taken out. That fang necklace thing. Mara was not taking her loss well and who could blame her. She's obsessed with making Brent Westwood pay. I have no problem with that. What I do have a problem with is that she seems determined to use Blade,
my
Jeremy Blade, to do her dirty work. Okay, maybe that's not entirely true. Mara is more than capable of ripping Westwood's throat out. But the billionaire is proving to be too damned wily for even a vampire to catch.

No surprise there. Blade's all for the revenge thing. If Mara weren't super sexy with the whole Scottish lass deal going for her, I would say let them have at it. But, while Jerry and I are on again, off again, that doesn't mean I like his off periods from me to be spent with beautiful women. Yeah, I'm perverse. I've always been happy to spend more than my share of off time with beautiful men when I can get them.

While I'd been lost in my dismal thoughts, the phone had started up again.

“Hello.”

“Glory, finally! Are you all right?” Lacy Devereau, my shape-shifter day worker. She's actually a werecat. You can imagine what Valdez, überdog, thinks of her.

“I'm fine, Lacy. I'm at Blade's.” I settled back on the pillows. My vamp healing sleep had taken care of any residual aches and pains from being dragged to the roof. “I guess you've seen the shop.”

“Yeah.” Big sigh. “And I had to fight like hell to get to my apartment to pick up a few things. They're investigating the cause of the fire and are supposed to be inspecting the building, but no one will tell me when we might be able to move back in.”

“I've got some messages from the fire department, maybe that will tell me something.” I mentally checked my bank balance. How long could I afford to keep my employees on the payroll without any income coming in? Answer: two days, three tops. “In the daylight, what does the shop look like? Do you think we can salvage anything?”

“Windows blown out. Everything soaked with water and some kind of chemicals.” Another big sigh. “Burglar bars will keep looters out, but I'm not sure there's anything they'd want anyway. It looks pretty bad to me.”

“That's what I thought when I saw it last night.” I looked at Valdez who was obviously taking a nap. “You'd better look for another job, Lacy. I hate to lose you, but I don't know when or if we'll be able to reopen.” I paid my employees minimum wage plus commission. The kind of people I hired didn't come with references and PhDs.

Lacy is a hard worker, good with customers and a were-kitty who knows what I am and understands my weird schedule. I also had another vamp and a college student working for me. The mortal student was a merchandising major who did it for the love of the clothes. She spent more than she earned, maybe because she had a daddy bankrolling her.

“I've got some money saved and Damian is letting me stay at the castle until the apartments are livable again.” Lacy giggled. “I have to share a bathroom with Florence. I don't see how you guys do it on a regular basis.”

My roomie believes in the power of long soaks in fragrant bath salts. Sharing a bathroom with her is a challenge that I suddenly missed so much tears stung my eyes.

“Are you saying you'll help me fix up the shop? If it can be done?”

“Sure. You're going to need someone to handle the daylight hours. You know any repairs are gonna have to be made then.”

“Yeah. My life is complicated.” For a moment I missed Las Vegas. I'd spent a few decades there working as a dancer in a club/casino right off The Strip. No one questioned a night owl in Vegas. Austin was a tougher sell. But Austin is full of vamps and other immortals. I'm getting really comfortable being surrounded by my own kind.

“Glory? You do think we can get the shop going again, don't you?” Lacy cleared her throat. “I've had a lot of jobs over the years and working for you—”

“Say no more. We'll figure it out. Together.” My phone beeped again, incoming call. “Thanks, Lacy. I'll get back to you as soon as I know anything. Say hi to Flo for me and ask her to loan you some of her brown sugar body scrub. It's to die for.” I disconnected and took the other call.

“Ms. St. Clair? This is Steve Fleming with the Austin fire department, arson division.”

“Umm, yes. What can I do for you?” I hate dealing with government bureaucracy. I know from experience that they have a nine-to-five kind of mentality. Getting them to wait until the sun goes down is a bitch. I usually have to whammy them into cooperating. Or get a friendly mortal or shifter like Lacy to do the daytime thing for me.

“I need to get a statement from you and ask you some questions. Could you meet me at the site?” Steve had a nice deep voice with a Texas drawl I found interesting. Valdez snorted in his sleep and rubbed his nose on Blade's pillow. Blade. I'd moved to Texas with the idea of hooking up with a cowboy type. But Blade in a Western shirt was close enough for me.

“When? Mr. er, Officer, er, Detective—” What the heck did you call an arson investigator anyway?

“Lieutenant Fleming, but call me Steve, ma'am. I understand from Ms. Devereau that you're a night person. Works for me. I'm on the night shift myself. How about meeting me in about an hour, in front of your shop?”

I glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “Ten o'clock?”

“Right. Is that possible?”

“Sure. And call me Glory. See you there.” I lay back and rubbed my forehead. The business meant a lot to me. This fire had been personal and whoever had started it was going to pay. Big time.

Five

"You're frowning.” Jerry stood in the doorway with a glass of what looked like my favorite beverage in his hand. “Valdez, get your mangy hide off my bed.”

I grinned and gave Valdez a shove. He jumped down quickly. He knew better than to cross Jerry. I don't know what my boyfriend has on the dog, but it must be pretty serious.

“I'll be downstairs. Call if you need me.”
Valdez stretched, gave Jerry a tail wag as he walked by and disappeared down the hall.

“He never obeys
me
like that.”

“Take a firm hand with him, Gloriana. He's here to serve you.” Jerry sat on the edge of the bed and handed me the glass.

“Funny how that works. He's here to serve me, but if I want to go out alone . . .” I sniffed. Fangtastic in AB negative, my favorite. I took a sip.

“Not going to happen. He's here to
guard
you. Something he can't do locked in your apartment while you're out God knows where.”

“I admit he saved me. But Jerry—”

“No buts.”

I gave up for the moment and took a swallow of Fangtastic. Drinking fake blood is probably like drinking a diet decaf when you really want the full shot of caffeine and sugar. Pretty good, but nothing like the real deal straight from the source. Hey, I've evolved enough to survive on it.

“Thanks for the drink anyway. But,”—I held up my hand when he opened his mouth—“if I decide I want to go out alone, or with Flo, or anyone for that matter, I will. Sans dog.”

“Promise you won't do anything foolish. Just to prove your independence.” He watched me sip my drink. I licked my lips and his eyes narrowed.

“I
am
independent. Get used to the idea.” Like that would ever happen. After four hundred years, I'd finally snapped to the fact that Jerry wasn't changing. Period. And this protective thing would really be pretty flattering if it weren't so damned invasive.

“I've been thinking about recent events. Valdez has proved his worth, but now I think he needs help.” Jerry frowned.

I sat up. “Of course Valdez has proved himself. He managed fine without any help.” The rejuvenating effect of fake blood was doing its thing. I was alert and a little pissed that I'd basically been talking to the hand.

“It's something we can discuss later.” Jerry frowned, picked up his pillow and tossed it on the floor. “That damned dog stinks like smoke. We'll send him to a groomer in the morning. Louise will take him.”

Jerry's housekeeper. “Warn her that Valdez isn't exactly thrilled to go to those places. I took him once, to an all-night place in Vegas. After he finally quit terrifying the staff, he let a female groomer, a cute young thing, bathe him. Then he got the poor girl fired because she accused him of sexual harassment, claimed he talked to her and made, um, lewd propositions while she was bathing him.”

“He won't do that again or he'll answer to me. Until he completes his duties to my satisfaction, he knows I won't tolerate problems.” Blade watched me closely when I lay back and stretched. Oops, that pesky robe just wouldn't stay closed. “What kind of lewd propositions?”

“Wouldn't you like to know.” Bingo. Jerry's eyes gleamed and he reached for the robe's tie. “Maybe you can make me talk, with the right method of persuasion.”

“To hell with the dog. I have my own lewd proposition. Starting with you naked.”

“Careful. You'll spill my drink.” I took a long swallow. “This is the good stuff. I can only afford O positive.”

“I'll buy you a case of the damned stuff if you put down that glass.”

I grinned when he opened the robe and laid me bare. I sucked in my stomach. Habit and a good habit at that. No matter what Jerry said, a tummy bulge is not sexy. Jerry ran a hand over it, then teased the curls between my legs.

“You look very good to me, lass. But if the Cheetos gave you pain, I say forget about them.” He stroked his hand up to cup one of my breasts.

Easy to forget everything when his hands were on me. He was dressed in a black polo and jeans. Strong, masculine and his smile showed me fangs that had me aching for him. There's nothing better than sex with a vampire. Take my word for it. Feeding from each other while doing the deed is beyond orgasmic. We'd done a little fang action in his secret garden, but I was always up for a rerun.

“I'm supposed to meet an arson investigator at my shop in an hour.” I drained my glass, set it on the nightstand, then shrugged out of the robe.

“Then we'll have to hurry.” Jerry ripped his shirt off over his head and then stood. Vamp speed had his jeans off and sailing across the room in less time than you could say hot body. I reached for him and brought him down on top of me. I cradled him between my legs and kissed him. We were comfortable lovers together. But last night had proved, to me anyway, that we still had things to show each other. I nipped his ear with my fangs then flipped him off of me.

“What's this?” Jerry grinned up at me.

“Roll over.” I gave him a shove and he lay on his stomach, his head on his arms.

“Are you giving me a massage?”

“Huh?” I was a little distracted. Muscular male buns do that to me. Not to mention a strong back that has scars from his warrior days, prevampire. He'd kicked off his shoes and even his feet were sexy. I ran my hands up the backs of his hairy legs, then leaned down to nibble a path up to his backside. His muscles twitched against my tongue. I pushed his legs apart and found those sacs that were firm and warm. I tasted them until he groaned and reached for me.

“Nay, warrior. I would pleasure ye.” The actress in me had always been good with an accent.

“You torture me, lass. I want my hands on you.” No acting from Jerry. He was in pain.

“Forget it. Hold on to the headboard. This is my treat.” I raised his hips and slipped under him. I touched him, stroked him, then pushed my fangs into the sweet spot inside his thigh.

“Good God, Gloriana!” He jerked and I heard the headboard crack.

I tasted his essence, his blood, then his maleness. Before I knew it, he was on top of me in another of his vamp moves, pushing inside me before I offered my neck and he drank. I felt the pull of his mouth all through me. Waves of pleasure curled my toes and had me scoring his back with my nails. By the time we'd collapsed next to each other in a tangle of sheets, I knew I was going to be very late for my date with the arson investigator. And I could not care less.

"Are you ever going to get out of that bed?”

I looked up and met Mara's gaze. I didn't bother to erase the dreamy look I probably still had on my face, along with whisker burns . . . Well, you get it and so did she. She dumped a laundry basket on the bed.

“Louise folded your laundry for you.” Mara held up a T-shirt, one of my favorites from the annual Austin Bat Festival. “Are you sure you can fit in this?” She held it up to her B cup chest. “It'll be quite a stretch.”