The Comanche Vampire (8 page)

He stripped her emerald blouse from her body with
force and tossed it away.
 
Ned ripped the
lacy, fragile bit of lingerie she used as a bra off and buried his face in her
full breasts.
 
With his hands on her hips
to keep her in place, he licked each of her nipples until they stood proud and
pink.
 
Beneath his touch her skin burned
with a fever heat and he gloried in it.
 
Aware of such, he heard her pulse beat frantic through her veins and
listened to her soft words although he didn’t bother to hear what she said.

With one hand, he jerked his shirt off, the buttons
scattering as if tossed by the wind god and then undid the zipper of her
jeans.
 
“Take them off,” he grunted.
 
Anne jerked the pants down to her ankles,
then kicked them off.
 
Her panties
vanished with the jeans and he seized her into his arms, lifting her from the
floor.
 

Ned carried her the short distance to his bed and
tossed her onto the quilt as he removed his pants.
 
He wore nothing beneath them and once
released, his cock stood hard and firm.

When he thrust two fingers into her pussy, Ned
found her wet and willing.
 
He inhaled
the fragrance wafting from between her legs and grinned.
 
Without any further caresses or finesse, he
plunged his cock into her waiting space and filled it.
 
Her heat seared him, burned him, and took him
into the heart of her fire. Ned cried out as he sank as far into Anne as he
could go. Pleasure seized his body with such completeness he didn’t think, just
felt.

Ned drowned in sensation, his body tingling, nerves
bursting with wild delight.
 
He hadn’t
felt this alive in so long and he forgot for the moment, he wasn’t a man but a
creature of the night fueled by blood. When the tension mounted and every fiber
of his physical being strained to climax, Ned devoured her with kisses.
 
He rode her hard and fast like a stallion…he
used her but never abused Anne.
 
Even in
his roughest caresses, he maintained enough control not to hurt or harm.
 

Judging by her reaction, the woman gloried in
it.
 
She writhed beneath him like a
sidewinder in the desert, yipping the way coyotes sometimes did beneath a full
moon.
 
She bumped and ground her hips
against his torso in the same rhythm and they moved together toward an
explosive culmination.
 
When they came,
the world exploded in sensation and light, sweat and seed, darkness and
delight.
 
It was as close to life as he’d
been in over a hundred years. She shrieked with the force of it but Ned shouted
her down, his Comanche cries older than time.
 
To another woman less schooled in his people, his outburst might’ve been
frightening but Anne seemed to love it.

Scarlet flushed Anne’s face and throat as she cried
out.
 
As the red receded Ned flopped down
beside her and propped up on one elbow.
 
Anne wore a contented little smile he enjoyed.
 
He’d forgotten he still wore the scalp
feathers until she reached up to touch them.
 
“I almost thought I was being ravished by a Comanche warrior,” she said in
her rich voice.
 

You were, but
I can’t tell you that.
 
Aloud, he
chuckled. “It might’ve been pretty close.”

This time she blushed. “I didn’t expect this,” she
said. “But, Ned, I’m glad.”

“Me, too,” he replied but he almost called her on
the lie.
 
She wanted it, all but told him
she would, but he wasn’t complaining.
“Wow,” Anne whispered as her fingers strayed to touch his cheeks, his nose, and
his lips. “You’re one sexy Indian.
 
I
could make this a habit.”

So could Ned.
 
He wanted to wallow in the boneless peace, the intimate moments after
their wild joining. He longed to keep her, to have and hold her but he knew
better.
 
Anne represented something he
couldn’t own or enjoy.
 
He shut his eyes,
swamped with regret he’d gone this far and flooded with sadness it’d end.
 
Although he wanted to lie beside her, let his
hands roam across her skin, make love to her again in a bit, he leaped up.

“Coffee’s ready,” he said as he groped in the
closet for a fresh shirt. “I’ll go pour while you get dressed.”

Anne’s smile wilted and her face changed.
 
Ned caught the faint glimmer of tears in her
eyes and turned away.
 
“Sure,” she said
after a moment, her voice huskier than before. “If that’s what you want, let’s
drink the fucking coffee.”

Each word struck him with the force of an enemy’s
arrow and delivered hurt.
 
Ned turned to
her. “Anne,” he began then faltered.
 
He
stared at her for a long moment while she met his gaze without blinking.
 
He wondered what to say and how to say
it.
 
Still fumbling, Ned continued,
“You’re beautiful and what happened, it’s the best for me in longer than you
could ever know.
 
I’d like to do it again
and again…”

Her smile returned, more radiant than ever. “Then
let’s.”

He shook his head. “But you don’t really know me or
what I am.
 
I’d be trouble for you, Anne,
and I don’t want to be a problem. I don’t want things to end badly and they
would, sooner or later.”

“Spoken like a man who’s been burned,” Anne said
softly.
 
Ned had but not in any way she’d
understand.
 
“What we did here felt
good.
 
It
is
good.”

Ned nodded.
 
He didn’t trust himself to speak.
 
Anne, naked as the day she’d been born, stood and faced him.
 
“Then give it a chance, Ned. That’s all I’m
asking.”

Every scrap of sense he possessed warned him to
refuse but something in his soul caved.
 
“All right, Anne,” he said with dignity.

She wrapped her arms around him in a hug.
 
Skin to skin, the embrace almost undermined
any effort to stay out of bed.
 
As if she
realized it, Anne stepped back after a few moments. “Go pour me a cup of coffee,”
she said. “I take it
black
.”

Chapter
Four

Ned
padded into the kitchen on bare feet clad in fresh jeans and an unbuttoned
shirt he’d pulled from the closet.
 
He
reached for two mugs and then glanced at the clock.
 
Three fifteen in the morning seemed far too
early to drink coffee.
 
While he didn’t
require sleep, Anne would.
 
Too much
caffeine and conversation might leave her wired and weary.
 
Besides, if they talked until dawn and Ned
kept his promise to lead her over the back roads to Lawton, she’d notice his
extreme pallor.
 
He hated questions and
she’d have plenty.
 
As he debated whether
or not to pour some brew, Anne entered the room.

She
wore one of his old flannel shirts over her clothes and flashed him a
smile.
 
Then she glanced at the empty
cups and looked up at him with a question in her eyes.
 
“I wasn’t sure if you wanted coffee now or not.
If you want to sleep, it might keep you awake.”

“What
about you?”

“I
don’t sleep much.” Truth sometimes came easiest. “Coffee won’t bother me, so
it’s up to you.”

A
smile flickered around the edges of her mouth like heat lightning. “I’ve got
all day Sunday to sleep if I want,” Anne said. “I’m up for coffee and we can
talk.”

Ned
liked to listen to her voice and he’d love to chat.
 
He longed to know more about this woman and
understand why someone like her possessed an interest in him.
 
But personal conversations twanged his nerves
tight because no matter what, he had to lie at some point.
 
He could tweak the facts but someone sharp
might notice the thin weave of his stories or the gaps in facts.
 
Anne, he figured, would catch the
discrepancies.
 
He wanted to know her
despite the risk so he nodded. “Sure.”

At
his faux-marble topped Formica table Ned sat across from Anne and cradled his
coffee cup in one hand.
 
She blew on the
surface of her drink to cool it and he noticed her lips were a little swollen,
almost bruised from his kisses.
 
The
erotic effect on his cock made Ned glad the table hid his bulge.
 
“So,” she said. “I told you I’m from Texas,
from a little town called Rusk.
 
What
about you?”

“I’m
from Texas, too,” Ned said.
 
It wasn’t a
complete falsehood.
 
He’d been born and
raised out in the
Comancheria
, now part of the Lone
Star state. “I’m from south of Wichita Falls, Archer City.”

He
wasn’t but Archer City was near enough to where he’d been whelped in
Quahadi
territory.
 
Anne smiled. “Oh, I’ve been to Archer City.
 
It’s Larry
McMurtry
,
the author’s hometown and he has all those bookstores.
 
Plus, it’s
Thalia
in some of his novels like
The Last
Picture Show.”

“That’s
it.” Ned had visited the place too.
 
He’d
read
McMurtry’s
Lonesome
Dove
series because of the author’s depiction of Comanche life and Buffalo
Hump.
 
Ned read the other books too.
 
He’d even thought about spending a few
seasons there but decided the town was too small to fill his needs.
 
He would stand out larger than life.
 
“Some of my family’s lived here, on this
property, though for years.
 
My grandpa
left it to me.”

If
he’d learned anything, Ned knew how to separate the generations.
 
Until about eight years ago, he’d lived in
Kansas for a time as Eddie Big Eagle.
 
Should Anne have doubts and checked, his story should hold.
 
“You’re lucky,” she said. “It’s nice.
 
Oh, it’s a small house but I bet you have an
incredible view in the daylight.”
“Yeah, it’s all right.” Ned loved his land, the sole good thing in his cursed
never-ending existence but he downplayed it now.

“What
about your family?” she asked after a long sip of coffee. “Do your parents
still live at Archer City?”

Ned
shook his head. “No, they’re long gone. I’m the only one left out of my bunch.”

A
sorrowful look darkened her eyes. “I’m sorry.
 
I’m from a huge family.
 
My
parents still live in Rusk, same house where I grew up.
 
I’ve got two brothers and a sister, one
living grandparent, and more aunts, uncles, and cousins than I can count.
 
When I go home, there’s always a big
get-together.
 
If you don’t have anywhere
to go for holidays, I’d love to take you back home with me sometime.”

Oh,
sure. Ned knew her family would welcome a former Comanche warrior who killed,
mutilated and raped along the Brazos in the 1800’s, one who also happened to be
an undead vampire living on human blood.
 
His consternation must’ve shown in his expression because Anne reached
across the table to grasp his hand. “If you’re worried they wouldn’t want you
around because you’re Comanche, don’t.
 
We’re a mixed bunch, with all kinds of different nationalities,
heritage, religions, and sexual preferences.
 
We’ve got gays and Goths and Asians to Swedes.
 
No one will judge if you come.”

“I’ll
keep it in mind, then.” Ned forced a smile.
 
All the major holidays were months away so it wouldn’t be an issue.
 
Long before Thanksgiving, he and Anne would
part ways.
 
A twinge of regret shot
through his body at the idea but he knew it had to be.

He
tuned into her voice as she said, “So you’re a one and only? No siblings?”

He’d
counted six brothers, once, and four sisters but Ned shook his head. “No, I had
some but they’re gone too.”
 
At her
shocked expression, he realized he shouldn’t have mentioned them because now
he’d need to think up a swift explanation.
 
Before he had to lie about a collective car wreck, a fire at home, or
some other such tragedy, he added, “It’s not something I want to talk about.”

She
put down her cup and wrapped his free hand with both of hers. “I understand, Ned,
but I’m sorry you lost them.”

Now
seemed like a good time to shift the conversation away from his hard to explain
past so he nodded. “Thanks. So where’d you go to school?”

“University
of Texas at Austin,” Anne said.
 
After a
few moments she removed her hands and picked up her cup. “I was there for both
college and grad school.
 
I’ve been
teaching at a little junior college back in Jacksonville, Texas but I took the
chance to come here.
 
I’m really filling
in for a professor on sabbatical.
 
After
the year ends, there’s no guarantee I’ll keep the job, or that they’ll offer me
tenure.”