Taming the Vampire: A Paranormal Romance Novella (3 page)

She had no desire to watch the surgical
operation on her belly, so she let her eyes roam around Jack’s
apartment.

Liz wasn’t sure what she’d expected from a
vampire’s lair, but it wasn’t this. She herself wasn’t much of a
housekeeper—there were dust bunnies the size of cats in her
apartment, along with a sink full of dirty dishes and piles of
laundry on the floor—but there was something restful about the
order in here. The hundreds of books neatly shelved, giving off a
scent of leather bindings and old paper; the well-polished wood
floors, glowing in the amethyst and ruby and sapphire light of
stained glass lamps; and the mellow, soft brown leather of the
furniture. The fire on the hearth wasn’t lit, but a fragrance like
spice and wood smoke hung in the air.

Liz glanced down at Jack. He was frowning,
the muscles around his jaw tight as he used needle and thread to
draw the edges of her wound together. He wore a short-sleeved
shirt, dark blue, and his forearms flexed as he worked. She could
see the fine hairs on his skin, a small pale scar on one wrist, and
the latent strength in the big hands that sewed with such surgical
precision.

It was a strange sight, considering those
hands were usually busy fighting and killing demons.

Fighting and killing the demons who were
her
rightful prey.
She
was the Green Fae warrior
sworn to protect this city.

Was coming here a sign of weakness? A sign
that what Jack had said about her was true? That she wasn’t cut out
to be a demon hunter?

She’d always been afraid of weakness, even
before she’d known about her Fae heritage. Her mother had raised
her to be strong. She’d been a soldier, a master sergeant in the
Army, and one of the bravest women Liz had ever known.

She’d been killed by a roadside bomb in
Afghanistan ten years ago. At the memorial service, her grandfather
had taken her aside.

“Don’t shame her by crying,” he’d said. “If
you want to honor her, be strong.”

She’d always tried to be strong. And when she
learned at eighteen that she was descended from a line of elven
warriors—called the Green Fae because of the absinthe they drank,
in a yearly ritual that enhanced their powers—she’d thrown herself
into her new life with ferocious intensity.

No longer would she feel like the odd girl
out at school, trying to figure out who and what she was. She was
destined to be a warrior, a soldier like her mother, but waging war
against supernatural enemies instead of human ones.

She had dedicated herself to that mission,
mind and heart and body and soul. She would stand between the city
she loved and the darkness of the demon world.

She would be strong.

Liz closed her eyes. She couldn’t do what
she’d come here to do. She couldn’t beg Jack Morgan for
help—especially considering how humiliating the request would be.
She had to find a way to solve this on her own, to fight this thing
herself, to—

“Stop it.”

Her eyes snapped open, but Jack was still
focused on his work.

“Stop what?”

“Stop thinking whatever you were just
thinking. Your heart rate’s going up. Think about
something...soothing. Calming. Whatever.”

Damn that vampire anyway. Liz took a deep
breath and released it slowly, frowning down at him as he continued
to mend her torn flesh. His head was bent and she studied the way
the strong neck muscles rose into his black hair. His hair was
shorter around his ears. Funny how she’d never thought about ears
before. Jack’s were finely made, set close to his head, and—

He looked up suddenly, and Liz flushed brick
red.

“All done.” Seeing her face, he added, “You
look a little feverish. Maybe you should—”

“I’m not feverish,” she snapped. “It just
hurt a little, that’s all. I’ll be fine in a minute.”

An embarrassing lie, but not as embarrassing
as the truth.

“You were the one who wouldn’t go to the
hospital,” Jack said coldly. “I was a medic in World War I but that
was a hell of a long time ago, princess. I did the best I
could.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining.” She glanced down
at herself, and saw the cut had been bandaged neatly with gauze and
tape. “You did a good job,” she said, her voice as stiff as his had
been. “Thank you.” She glanced back at him and saw that he had
leaned back in his chair, arms folded.

“You’re welcome. Now you can return the favor
by telling me what did this to you. And then maybe we can come up
with a plan to stop it.”

We
, he’d said. Maybe this wouldn’t
be as impossible as...

“But first,” he went on, glancing at her
torso, “I think we need to get you a new shirt. If you don’t
mind.”

She bit her lip, realizing how ghastly she
must look. Not to mention that wearing a blood-spattered shirt in
front of a vampire was like waving a chocolate bar in front of a
woman with PMS.

“Sorry,” she said. “I’ll wash up a little,
too, if that’s all right.”

“Good idea.” He disappeared into his bedroom
and came out with a black tee shirt. “This will be big on you but
it’s better than what you’ve got.” He pointed at another door.
“Bathroom’s in there, princess. Take your time.”

A minute later Liz was gritting her teeth as
she pulled off the blood-encrusted shirt, moving carefully so she
wouldn’t pull her stitches loose. Her cotton bra had gotten blood
on it too, and it stank of sweat. Liz threw it in the trash along
with her shirt and looked down at her bare torso.

Cuts and bruises, dirt and dried blood.
Around her waist, a bulky bandage. Liz smiled grimly as she thought
about her mission here. She’d never looked or felt less sexy in her
entire life.

Not that this was about sex—in the
traditional sense, anyway. She wasn’t here to seduce Jack Morgan.
What she was proposing was more like a business transaction.

God, she had to be out of her mind. Was this
really the last option?

Taking a deep breath, Liz turned on the
faucet and found a washcloth, dabbing at her skin until she was
reasonably clean, if not exactly presentable. Then she pulled on
Jack’s tee-shirt. It reached the middle of her thighs and the short
sleeves hung past her elbows, but it was clean and
smelled...good.

Another deep breath and she was ready to go
back out there.

Back to the vampire.

Jack looked up when the door opened, and held
back a smile at the sight of Liz Marlowe, the arrogant, badass
warrior, in a pair of dirty jeans and a tee shirt that hung down to
her knees. She looked uncomfortable, even vulnerable, and a part of
him—not the nicest part, he had to admit—relished that.

Her friend Celia had tried to explain once
why Liz hated vampires so much. It turned out she’d been attacked
by a vamp back when she was newly called. She’d killed him, but not
before he’d marked her—a thing no warrior would ever forget or
forgive.

Jack’s eyes went to her neck.

There they were—nearly invisible to the human
eye, but unmistakable to a vampire who knew what to look for. Two
scars, pale as moonlight, marking an otherwise flawless throat.

There was no warning. One moment he was
himself—controlled, detached. The next, blood lust stabbed through
him. Only a powerful effort kept him from showing it. His incisors
ached unbearably, burning like fire, as his fangs threatened to
burst through his gums. He recognized one of the ancient instincts
of his kind—to obliterate the marks of another vampire with his
own.

His hands clenched into fists for the few
seconds it took him to beat down the impulse. Normally, a vampire
only felt that particular pull when he wanted to lay claim to
someone of the opposite sex. Jack hadn’t felt that urge in more
than twenty years, and never for a human.

It was clearly an aberration, brought on by
all the blood he’d seen and smelled on her and the fact that he’d
been subduing his basic instincts for decades. He cleared his
throat.

“So, princess. Now that you’re not bleeding
to death, have a seat and tell me about the thing you faced
tonight.”

He was under control again, thank God, and
Liz hadn’t noticed anything. She was focused on the story she was
telling him now. At her description of a shadowy form she could
never see clearly, the grip of something like tentacles, the tang
of ocean water, and the slash of icy talons, he knew.

A cold weight settled in his stomach.

“Child of the Kraken,” he muttered to
himself. “God damn the luck.”

The last time one of those surfaced, an
entire village on the coast of South America had been
slaughtered.

Liz heard him and sat up straighter in her
chair.

“Child of the Kraken? But...the Kraken is a
sea monster. I’ve never heard of one venturing toward a coastline,
much less coming on land.”

“The Kraken lives in the deep ocean and stays
there. The Children of the Kraken are also ocean dwellers, but they
can and do come to shore once in a while—usually when something is
out of balance in their realm. They hide in the shadows and kill in
the shadows. They’re deadly, elusive, and almost impossible to
destroy.”

Liz stared at him in silence for a
moment.

“I know a way to destroy it.”

Her heart was pounding. This was it. This was
the time to tell him, to ask him, to—

“Celia found this ancient text,” she
began.

He waved that off. “Nothing you and Celia
have come up with is enough to stop this thing. You’ve been dealing
with the supernatural for what, a few years? I’ve been a vampire
for more than a century. I wish you and Celia would—”

“Run away and play?” She shook her head.
“Just shut up and listen, all right? Celia was looking for a way to
augment my power. And she found it.”

She clenched her hands into fists. “There’s
this ritual,” she said, speaking rapidly and looking down at the
floor. “And if we do the ritual...it’s simple really, a chant and
some herbs and...”

Her face was hot. Her wound was
throbbing.

“And then...”

Her fingernails bit into her palms as she
willed herself to continue. She felt like she was choking.

“...if we have sex...”

Okay, it was out, no taking it back now.

“Your power will flow into me for one night
and I’ll be strong enough to defeat the...thing. Creature. Kraken.
Whatever.”

Dead silence in the room, except for the
pounding of her heart.

When Jack finally spoke his voice sounded
cautious.

“Enhanced hearing is one of the perks of
being a vampire, but I wouldn’t lay odds I just heard what I think
I heard. So let me go over a few points.” He cleared his throat.
“We do a ritual...”

“Yes.”

“Then we have sex...”

God damn him to hell. “Yes.”

“Then all my power flows into you, you kick
the Kraken’s ass, and everyone goes home happy?”

“That’s the idea,” she said, finally looking
up. His expression was unreadable, but at least he didn’t seem to
be laughing at her. Not yet, anyway.

“Why you?” he asked.

“What?”

“If the ritual combines our powers, why do
you have to be the conduit? Why not me?”

She stared at him. “
That’s
what
you’re worried about? Which one of us does the actual fighting?
People are dying out there, you selfish son of a—”

“Save it, princess. Save it for someone who
doesn’t know you as well as I do. There’s no way you would’ve come
here with this little proposal if it was the other way around. If I
was the one taking
your
power to go fight the Kraken.”

Anger made her voice shake. “God, that’s so
typical. You don’t give a damn about the world, do you? Just as
long as you can get your macho kicks and pretend to be a hero,
you—”

“Me? That’s a laugh. You’re the glory hound
in this room. You’ve resented me ever since you were called,
because I’m better at your job than you are. Faster, stronger,
smarter—”

Liz’s reaction was instantaneous. She crossed
the space between them before she knew she intended to move.

“I hate you,” she said, her face inches from
his. Her fingers dug into his shoulders and her right knee hovered
over his groin.

Jack didn’t move at all. His shoulders were
like rock, and his expression was amused. “Careful you don’t pull
out your stitches, sweetheart. And careful with that knee. I’d hate
to see you damage the only part of me you’ve ever admitted you
need.”

Liz pushed herself off him and backed away a
few paces. “I don’t need you. Not any part of you. Just forget I
came here, vampire, and go back to whatever you—”

“Forget it? Not a chance. I’m going to
treasure this memory for years. The night I was propositioned by
Liz Marlowe.”

He grinned at her. “You look so sexy, too,”
he went on, looking her over with an expression that made her want
to sink through the floor. “The dirty face, the torn jeans—and of
course the stitches I just put in your gut. Yeah, you make quite a
picture, Liz. Did you think I’d actually want to perform this
ritual of yours?”

To her shame, Liz had to bite her lower lip
to keep it from trembling.

“Okay, so I was stupid to come here. I won’t
make that mistake again.” She lifted her chin. “But don’t worry
about the Kraken. There’s a vampire in Montreal I can go to with
this. Maybe he won’t be as...
particular
as you are.”

With that she turned and walked out, slamming
the door behind her.

It took a long time for his fists to
unclench.

Etienne. She must mean Etienne. There weren’t
many vampires who fought on the side of the elven warriors, and
Etienne du Lac lived in Montreal.

Jack rose to his feet and began to pace.
Would she go straight from him to the other vampire, or would she
go home first and get some rest? She had a warrior’s accelerated
healing, but her body needed sleep to knit itself together. If she
had any sense she’d take a night to heal, but Liz was so
reckless…