VAMPIRE ROMANCE: Moonlight Desires Complete Series (Books 1, 2, &3) (Paranormal Romance Collection, Paranormal Shape Shifter Romance With Sex) (Vampire Romance Boxed Set) (5 page)

Chapter Three

There was a day when Suze was 22 and Shana was 18 when the elder became all too aware of who this Baker was and what he was about. Despite her young age at the time, Suze was as headstrong and driven as a woman ten years her senior. Much of this had to do with the parenting that fell in her lap so often for so many years. Their Mother had a habit of up and leaving when parenting two children was just too much. She would return in a few days or a few weeks. Contact was sparse. While a loving man, their father was more likely found drinking at the VFW than on the couch watching made-for-TV movies with his daughters.

              As such, Suze felt maternal concern for Shana from a young age. Always a complex case, Shana was an overachiever in school yet never seemed to run with the right crowd outside of it. For a while, Suze felt that Shana lingering in a graveyard was better than her lingering in an alleyway. When Shana revealed she was spending so much time there because of a boy, Suze found it strange but acknowledged that love had peculiar ways. But then she heard something grim from her pal Rosa.

              Rosa and Suze met hanging out at the same biker bar. They shared an affinity for a greasy guy on a hog and would take turns playing one another's wing lady. The bar was actually where Suze met Nate, even though Nate's biking days would soon end after a nasty spill left him with a bad back. Anyway, Rosa was a practitioner of Santeria, a Voudon-like faith popular in Central America and the Caribbean. Its rituals involve candles, incantations and the occasional sacrifice of this or that livestock.

              In fact, Suze's favorite nights at the bar were the ones when Rosa would attract a sizable crowd with her tales of zombies and supernatural happenings which she had learned about through her worship community. One night, Rosa told of a woman who went missing years back after she was seduced by a mysterious man. He would only really show himself to her in the twilight. Police said he was a drifter, the Santerians believed he was a blood sucker.

              After a ritual in Lake View Cemetery one night, when the Santerians sacrificed a live goat, Rosa returned to the site after congregation had dispersed in search of her car keys. Two gaunt figures were dragging a woman away by her arms. The woman was twitching, writhing, unable to post up on her own two feet. In the trio's wake was the goat, repositioned from where the worshippers had left it. As any person in her right mind would, Rosa stepped carefully so as not to attract attention from the receding trio. But her heart sank when the woman, in whatever excruciating throes gripped her, wrenched her head around and shrieked at Rosa. Goat's blood caked the woman's maw, and Rosa recognized the face from the ‘Missing Persons’ ads a few years before. But in the time since the disappearance, the woman's eyes had grown vacant, her skin sallow, her canine teeth long.

              The vampire, Rosa explained, is susceptible to the same survivalist follies as the typical mortal human. Just as a stranged sailor may be driven to drink the very salt water which would dehydrate him further, the starving vampire has been known to sample whatever blood is accessible. No blood but a human's sustains a vampire. In fact, the blood of any other species is as good as toxic. If the vampire is lucky, it will purge the intake after some period, and if not, that blood will corrode its undead insides like battery acid in a paper cup.

              Rosa said a lot of shit to make sure only the gnarliest, most depraved bikers remained at the end of her tales. Those were usually the only ones she found, that would fist her by the dumpster or tie her to a bike in such a way that they could ride while fucking. So Suze only half believed her, but she couldn't shake the feeling that her sister was in a similar danger as the girl in Rosa's story, whether Backer was a vampire or not.

              In her motherly way, Suze passed the rumor forward to Shana, which prompted Shana to roll her eyes and lock herself in her room for the rest of the night. When she found Shana crying in the front yard one night, the night that Baker initially tried to bite her, to drink her blood by the Haserot Angel, she hugged her sister and reminded her that a man who loves you will not try to take anything from you.

              Untold emotions, new and old alike, rushed through Suze's head as she sat on the edge of Shana's bed. In her adult life, in her time as a wife and mother, she had not felt an anger so seething and adolescent as the one she felt now. Part of this anger was against herself, for not coming down harder on her sister's congress with the undead. On the precipice of giving her sister a good talking to, Nate rushed into the room huffing. Fear was not in his eyes as much as all over his face like grease paint.

"Honey. Come on."

"One second, I just..."

"Suzanne, now." It was the quiver in his voice which persuaded his wife. Her brow crested in concern and she followed.

              Affixed to the front door was a map of Cleveland, with various red dots marking areas of a significance which the couple could not discern. Based on the device pinning the map to the door, an ice pick, they were sure that these landmarks were of the utmost grim nature. For the sake of their son's peace of mind on the eve of his first communion, they decided to place the ice pick and map in a plastic bag and hold off on calling the police.

Chapter Four

Around 9 PM, Shana slipped out. She managed to make it to the cemetery by 9:45, just in time to catch Baker closing up his mausoleum. The vampire was casually clad in a Budweiser branded jacket that seemed to date back to the 40s. Like a drone bee visiting its queen, Shana was drawn to her lover's outline. Had she been aware of anything besides her lover, she would have noticed that her panties were damp.

              In fact, Baker was caught off guard when he found himself in the middle of a long kiss. This visit was unexpected, and somehow he didn't even notice her sneak up. Nothing turned Baker on quite like Shana's eyes when she was in a trance state, wholly given over to him, this post-life being. He ran his icy hand against her thigh and her knees buckled. He caught her by the armpits, a zone swiftly transmuted erogenous by the vampire's touch. Breath came from deep inside her.

              The only thing Shana desired in this earthly life was to be ravaged by the vampire. Running from Baker's bite the previous night did not liberate her from the grip of mortal danger. Instead, it left her longing for some fulfillment which she could not define. While her living, breathing body was repulsed by the vampire's nip into her pulmonary––his feast on her blood––a ravenous death drive colonized her libido. The instinct to survive as a mortal and her acute thirst for profound pleasure were sworn nemeses. In this moment, the hedonism was winning.

              Clothing started to peel off, but Baker laid his hand on her bare breast in a halting motion. The corpse-cold palm on her nipple induced a minuscule climax. "Not now."

Shana pressed his hand against her breast and she gasped as he gave a gentle squeeze.

"Babe I've gotta go. Gonna be late."

Breathlessly she bellowed, "late?"

"Night school. Don't want to spend my eternity doing bitch work at the power plant." A dagger turned in Shana's belly. "Aw, lighten up. I'm gonna be moving up on this world. Aren't you happy for me?"

Shana caught herself in this state, and self-awareness shocked her into consciousness. "Yes."

"We can pick this up later."

"Yes. Go to school."

Baker gave her a little kiss and thought to himself, “You are mine: my love, my feast.” But he said, "I will leave now."

              Baker climbed into his truck. The closest garment to Shana when she sunk to the ground was her shawl. She covered her chest, leaned against the mausoleum and wept. She wept for the life back east she was so ready to leave behind, for the power she forfeited to this man she had left behind so long ago. She wept for the fact that control seemed to be a distant memory, a talent lost like violin to an amputee.

              So she walked. She roamed Cleveland, taking a tour of its boarded up houses––some rather haunted looking, some just sad in their desertion––and its desolate 24/7 convenience stores.

              Lust unfulfilled and body wired from the 11-hour nap she took earlier in the day, no amount of distance covered would possibly tire out her body. But as her feet wandered, so did her mind, and by the time the sun started to color the night sky a lighter hue, a magenta, she was no longer fixated on her own futility.

              When she arrived back at the family home, Shana still felt as awake as if she had gotten a full night sleep. Absolving Suze of some morning responsibilities, Shana took it upon herself to root through the pantry and whip up some breakfast. The makings were there for pancakes, eggs, breakfast sausage. Any grogginess the family felt upon waking that Sunday morning was dissolved in a heap of protein and carbs. The only thing Suze had to worry about was the coffee, since Shana didn’t know how to work a stovetop percolator. This morning found Suze a blank slate, her anger over Shana and Baker not so much dissipated as totally forgotten. They had a very nice breakfast together.

              Suze got Luke all dressed up again, more quickly and with a lot less pain than for the photo session yesterday. Nate dressed up in a smart suit that he made sure to only wear three times a year to prevent wear, and next to his son you’d swear that they were traveling from town to town trying to sell tonics in an old timey medicine show.

“Now remember, honey. Don’t just snatch that wafer like you haven’t eaten in a week. Receive communion by making a throne: one hand under the other to receive our great king.”

“Yes, Mom.”

              The sisters, oddly enough, matched perfectly, wearing dresses cropped close, ornamented with lace. They wore silver necklaces and tasteful flats. Black, perhaps hereditarily, made the sisters elegant. They took turns adjusting one another’s hair, suggesting little make-up tweaks.

“And remember, Luke, to give a little bow when the person before you is receiving communion. You don’t want to bump your head into the dish of wafers and make that poor priest drop it.”

“Will I go to Heck if I do that?”

Suze chuckled. “No! But you’ll hold things up for everyone else and they might wish you were going to Heck.”

“Mike Haley says if make the priest mad you go to Heck.”

“We’ll see if the Haleys even show up today, hun.”

              Before they all departed for the cathedral, Suze did a quick workout in the basement, wishing she had some time to hit the gym. Well, it's always hard to get over there with company over.

              The truth is that Shana hadn’t been to a church in a good number of years. She wasn’t particularly religious, and felt weirded out about Catholicism in general ever since she took a class about cults in college. All the weird stuff was there, she thought. The confessions were a form of hazing, degrading yourself by telling a faceless listener all of your sins so you could seek his approval. The ritual was primitive in nature, what with the blood drinking and trance-inducing organ. Even the word “mass” seemed to suggest that individuals should be made faceless, identityless in worship. She knew that it was a beautiful religion to some people, and always respected those who attained something spiritually greater thought it. She was just not one of those people.

At the church, “You feel so small in this place, don’t you Suze?”

“We’re all small in comparison to the Creator, aren’t we Shana?”

Shana just gave a little, “hmm,” and went on feeling small.

              There was a panoply of colors in the cathedral that day, a detail which seemed to miff Suze. A glare was shot at Nate when he mentioned how people finally didn't look so drab in here for once. Suze believed you should dress modestly in front of the lord, for only he was great. It's impossible to tell how such Calvinism found its way into a lifelong Catholic's head.

              Luke and all of the other kids filed out of the church to get their group photo taken. The priest kindly requested that the families stay seated inside and enjoy the choir. Soon enough, a processional of small children entered the church and camera flashes swarmed like so many ultrabright fireflies, with various utterances of “so precious” and “eat him/her up” expressing a greater reverence for the kids' skill at playing dress-up than for the holy trinity these kids were dressed up to honor.

              Emotionally susceptible from the previous night, Shana let the air of revelry seep into her, experiencing a wholesome, godly bliss. This was an opportunity to feel rejuvenated, so she let her mind race through all there was to feel happy about. This week she had seen her sister’s family so happy together, seen little Luke grow up in the most adorable way. She was happy that her sister hadn't changed despite getting so into this God stuff, and for that matter, that Nate hadn't changed much either. They were good together, and she always had faith in there relationship.

              And of course, Baker made her happy, that beautiful man who had helped reawaken parts of her that she didn’t even know were in hibernation. The time she shared with him over the course of the past few days was brief, but it transported her into some better version of herself. Just recalling his image drew Shana into a waking dream, a fantasy world grafted over current reality. The thought of his kiss made the faces in the pews run together into the one, the procession of children a snake adorned in fabric and human skin.

              When it came time for everyone to take their seats, Shana remained standing. Suze had to tug her down by the dress sleeve, and Shana’s butt hit the wood seat with a thud that people seated a few seats away in each direction felt. People were generally too focused on the adorable children undergoing a rite of passage to even notice. Suze, though, noticed and scowled.

“Receive the body of Christ,” ordered the Father Florio.

“Amen,” said Sarah Johanski.

“Receive the body of Christ.”

“Amen,” said Mark Halperin.

              The movement of Shana’s head implied that she was looking around the church, taking in an environment totally alien to her. Her sister gave a pinch on the arm and nudged towards the pulpit. Naturally, Shana yelped, and Suze glared again. But when Shana yelped, she didn’t even realize what had caused her pain. She was not present in the church, but in Lake View, snuggling with Baker on the turf in front of the Haserot angel. He was whispering nonsense in her ear, but it was the most beautiful poetry she ever had heard.

“Receive the body of Christ.”

“Amen,” said Joanne Jenkins.

“Receive the body of Christ.”

“Amen,” said Paul Goudreau.

              Nate and Suze were getting anxious, since Luke was just about to go up. Suze tried to get Shana’s attention, to direct her gaze at Luke, but while Shana pointed her head in the right direction, her eyes were blank. Baker was licking the small valleys that make up her outer ear. She breathed heavily out of her mouth. Some may say that this style breathing was not appropriate for church, but the truth is that an asthmatic or morbidly obese worshipper was prone to equally labored breath. The vampire’s nose nuzzled the hairline on Shana’s neck, the tip of his cold nose poking directly at the skin over Shana’s brain stem. Fingers travelled slowly up her thigh. Suze tugged at Shana’s dress sleeve as Luke neared the pulpit.

“Receive the body of Christ.”

“Amen,” said Lorna DeBruzzi.

“Receive the body of Christ.”

“Amen,” said William Powell.

              Suze took out her phone and started to frame the photo she would take of her boy receiving his wafer. Nate reminded, “turn the flash off, honey. Don’t want to create a nuisance.” The mother shot her third glare of the last few minutes, but followed suit. Nate sunk a little into the pew. It was a good thing that Suze was so focused on the picture, because right then she would have caught Shana rubbing the crotch of her black dress in a circular motion.

“Receive the body of Christ.”

“Amen,” said Elizabeth Barundi.

Luke gave a little bow as Elizabeth received her communion. Suze melted and clutched her heart. “Precious thing. Precious little, Luke.”

              The look on Shana’s face was easily misinterpreted as one of familial adoration for a boy who was taking his first step towards becoming a man. This was at least what Suze interpreted for the brief second she glimpsed at Shana. Indeed, Suze thought, she had done good work raising a pious child if even her errant sister––comitting adulterous acts with the undead––could recognize the beauty of this holy moment which her son participated in.

              As Luke left behind the pulpit Suze turned to each side to praise her son. Her husband gripped her hand when she turned right towards him. They each shed a tear. But when Suze turned left towards Shana, she felt an awful nausea. Her sister was racing out of the pew, rather rudely at that, not waiting for anyone to even move their legs to let her go. As Shana rounded the bench’s edge into the walkway, her eyes caught Suze’s and she mouthed “bathroom.” The rudeness shocked Suze. How could she just watch her nephew and then run? People held their piss during long car rides and even until commercial breaks, but Shana couldn’t even exercise the minimum decorum required to show respect to the Lord and all who worshipped him?

              The pipe organ was resonating the whole building by the time Shana got to a stall and locked it behind her. Baker, this whole time, had never exited her mind, had never ceased in stirring her into an absolute frenzy. The organ vibrated her whole body. She dug through her purse and grabbed a little lipstick looking thing, her pocket vibrator. Squatting over the toilet, she went to work with it on herself. Baker slowly sucked on each of her vagina's lips before parting them with his fingers and lapping on the more sensitive regions. The organ grew louder, purifying the church with its holy chords.

Baker licked in a straight line from her clit up to the cleft of her chin, working his way from her navel to the space between her plump, sensitive breasts to her trachea along the way. He braced her rear with his arms and pulled her upright as he rolled onto his back. As he lay on the cemetery grass, flat as a corpse, Shana mounted him. The choir hit a high note and Shana did too, defiling the entire occasion quite literally single-handedly.