Vampires Need Not...Apply? (16 page)

Here goes nothing.
She opened the door to his lab and found him sitting in his usual spot. “You don’t need to kill to drink blood, yanno. The bagged blood is donated by perfectly healthy living people who stay that way after leaving their deposit.” She held up a bag of blood. “Yummy. Yummy. O negative in my tummy.”

Antonio paused in his writing for a moment, but did not look up or acknowledge her presence.

“Boy, tough crowd tonight,” she said.

“It’s morning,” he grumbled.

“True. Did I ever tell you the one about the Spanish vampire physicist and the Goddess of Suicide who were tasked with unlocking a portal to another dimension in order to stop the destruction of the planet?”

He didn’t even crack a hint of a smile, but dammit if he didn’t look gorgeous. And not because he’d gone and showered or shaved or anything like that. Oh no. The man had a good centimeter of black stubble covering his angular jaw, his usual stylishly mussed hair was completely disheveled, and he’d removed his T-shirt and replaced it with a black apron that exposed his corded biceps and barely covered his well-formed pectorals.

Ixtab’s mind sputtered; he was simply too divine to be true. Gods, she couldn’t think or breathe or remember her damned name. How the hell would she be any use to him in this state?

“I’m waiting,” he said flatly, scribbling away.

“They were totally fucked.”

His head snapped up, and he glared at her. “That wasn’t funny. Not even a little.”

“I’m the Goddess of Suicide. What do you expect?”

He chuckled and returned to his formula.

He laughed?
It was a proud moment.

“So. Can I interest you in a bite?” she asked.

His eyes darted up, not completely reaching her face, then back to his writing again. “No thank you.”

Had he looked at her breasts? She had worn her low-cut black dress that hugged her upper torso and then flared slightly at the hips. She’d also made sure to put on her shorter veil, the one that landed just below her shoulders, specifically to show off her newly elevated bustline. Not that the girls had sagged before, but this contraption she’d purchased scooped them up and pushed them together. “Men of this era really like intermammary sulcus?” she’d asked the fitting room clerk, thinking this fad had gone out in the 1700s.

The woman had simply stared.

“Yes, of course. That’s a silly question.” Ixtab rotated in the mirror viewing her curvy, five-foot-eight frame. “You don’t think it makes my breasts look like a tiny butt?” Ixtab had asked.

The woman shook her head and assured Ixtab the garment would be worth every dime. She’d even convinced her to purchase matching pink, lacy “boy shorts,” insisting it was “all the rage with the men.” Ixtab still wasn’t sure why boys would want to wear pink lace or why men would wear the undergarments of boys when there was no room for their “man junk,” as she’d heard the youth called it nowadays.

Antonio’s eyes returned to Ixtab’s chest for a brief moment, as if he were struggling not to look, but couldn’t resist.

Oh. He did it again! Yippee!

Her joy then stumbled and tripped.
Oh, pita chips.
The clerk hadn’t told Ixtab what to do after the bra had done its job of attracting attention.

Maybe I am supposed to show him my breasts?
She suddenly wished she’d paid closer attention to the mating rituals of humans. Yes, yes, she understood the nitty-gritty basics; however, the finer details? It had seemed like a waste of time given the unlikeliness of ever having any nitty-gritty.

Hmmm…
She’d seen a few movies where mortals pretended to talk about one thing, but were really talking about sex. Perhaps she should give that a go.

Clear throat, shoulders back, and…
“You’re sure you’re not
hungry
?” She placed the bags on the table in front of him.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he said plainly.

“Perhaps a little
taste
might make you feel better.”

“No amount of blood will make me feel better,” he stated bleakly.

Okay. That didn’t work. Perhaps he missed the cues.

Or perhaps you should just show him your boys’ underwear?

Yes!
She reached for her hem, then caught a glimpse of sadness flickering in his eyes.
Oh, hell. Good job, goddess.

Abort seduction ploy.
She mentally sighed. “What will?”

“Are you offering your help?” he said as if he secretly desired it.

His undertone of desperation clawed at her insides. Gods, it was the damnedest thing, but his despair suddenly felt like her own. And not only did she feel uncontrollably compelled to help him, she also felt something pulling them together. Could it be fate?

Yes. Perhaps this was fate—the good, universal, intelligent fate, of course. Not that horrible snooty, “too good for you” sister of hers. Could this crazy, strong, sophisticated man, tinged with a feral darkness and armed with razor-sharp intelligence, be the answer to her prayers? There was only one way to find out.

Show him your panties?

No, you idiot! Your heart. Show him your heart.

A rush of courage washed over her, compelling her to open up. “I’ve never told anyone this,” she blurted, “but I wear my veil as a punishment for the innocent lives I’ve taken.”
There. I said it.
“To be clear, I do everything in my power to save people, but I can’t stop killing a few by accident. Including someone I once cared very deeply for. I’ve never forgiven myself.”

He crossed his arms and studied her with his dark green eyes. “Why are you here, Ixtab?”

“Why do
you
want me here?” she asked.

“Who says I do?” He got up, stepped around the table, and took several steps toward her.

“You. You told Fate you wanted me here.”

“Maybe I just didn’t want her.”

Ouch.
“I’m sure I deserved that after I killed your cat. And I did enjoy watching you suffer—just a little. And I’m sorry. I’m also very sorry for having you turned into a vampire. At least part of me is because it’s not what you wanted. The other part of me couldn’t be happier that you’re still alive.”

He questioned her with his eyes.

“Because of the saving humanity stuff,” she added quickly. “Obviously, I could never be into you—a vampire.” She poked him in the arm. “Much.”
Gods, that felt good!

He studied her with his cold eyes. “You’re like an infuriating child, you know that?”

True. So true. A slightly infuriating child with panache for death. “I’ve actually been told I’m a basket of fun. My sister Cimil says they should supersize me.”

Gods, why had she said that? This wasn’t the time for stupid jokes.

His full lips made a hard line. He turned back toward his table, sat on his stool, and began typing into his laptop. “My
pinche
luck.”

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Patience, Ixtab. He’s been through a lot.

“May I ask you a question?” she said calmly. “You clearly aren’t happy about being a vampire, so why continue working on the tablet? Why not let the world end? That could solve all your problems.”

“Like you, I answer to another power.”

“Oh, do you answer to chocolate-covered donuts, too? Sometimes they call out, ‘Eat meeee.’ Then it’s all over; I must obey.”

Gods dammit! I did it again. What the hell is wrong with me?

He slowly shook his head. “Are all deities so insane?” he grumbled.

Yes. But…
“Call me after you’ve lived seventy thousand years without anyone to share it with,” she snapped. She had her brethren, but they were all as miserable as she was, for the most part. “Sorry—I didn’t come here to pick another fight. I came to apologize for my lack of compassion toward you. And now I’m offering my help, if you want it.”

He lowered his head and let out a sigh. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. It feels like my life…” His voice trailed off into deep contemplation.

Don’t you do it. Don’t you dare crack a stupid joke!
“What? Feels like what?”
Good job.

“Would you stop talking? I’m trying to…” He looked down at his laptop.

Stop? Did she come equipped with that setting?

She looked at the man slouched over his notebook in front of her.
Oh, gods… you’ve only made things worse!
The heaviness in his shoulders tugged at her heartstrings. If only she could do something to ease his pain, but she was so bad at this. She didn’t know how to connect with him—or anyone, really.

Ixtab moved behind him and pressed her body and cheek against his bare back. “I am sorry,” she said quietly, placing her hands around his waist over the apron.

Antonio sucked in a sharp breath and jerked his spine straight. “Why do you keep touching me?” he said in a low, deep voice.

She sighed. “I don’t know.” Then she inhaled his scent, fully expecting him to pull away, but he didn’t.

Several moments ticked by, and she noticed that his heaviness began to lift, replaced with a heat that sieved through his skin and into her body. She felt their lights spark and tingle as they began to mingle. Her own heart began to thump in time with his.

Gods, what was happening to her? She instantly knew she would never get enough of this, of him. She was addicted.

She removed her hands from his tight waist, and then ran them up the bare skin of his sides, savoring the slope of his broad back.

She felt Antonio’s chest expanding and contracting at an accelerated pace, but he remained still as her hands moved under his apron, exploring the velvety, hard ripples of his abdomen. Gods, he felt so delicious, so perfectly firm and smooth, so masculine. She leaned into him a little harder, enjoying the feel of her breasts and stomach against the heat of his back. Gods, she’d never wanted a male like she wanted him. The way he reacted to her touch, almost like he needed it as much as she did.

Her hands moved slowly up his washboard abs and glided to his muscular, firm pectorals. They were so sensually male, so hard, though not as hard as the two tiny nipples she found. She explored them with the ends of her fingers, wanting nothing more than to feel them on the tip of her tongue. Would he let her touch him like that? Kiss his perfect chest, lick his insanely muscled stomach? She would have to remove her fortress of black fabric to do so.

Could she let him see her face, her body? Expose herself to him?

Yes, yes, she could. She’d let him see everything. She’d do just about anything to feel his entire naked body flush with hers, because if touching him with her hands felt this good, she could only imagine the pleasure of having him on top of her, writhing between her thighs, inside her.

“Antonio.” She folded her veil and placed a light kiss on his shoulder blade. “I want to show you something,” she whispered. She kissed him again, savoring the tiny shivers she coaxed from his body each time her lips touched his smooth, bronzed skin. Gods, she would enjoy this. She slowly began moving her hands down, down his chest, down his stomach—

He released a low groan, and he shifted on his chair, widening his legs.

“Gods, Antonio. What you do to me,” she whispered and then slid her hand to his groin. Her fingertips grazed the moist tip of his erection protruding from his waistband.

Antonio groaned again and then suddenly spun around, knocking Ixtab square in the jaw with his elbow.

She heard a loud crack and felt the floor leap up and smack her on the back of the head.
Ouch. That hurt.

* * *

Antonio stared down at Ixtab, who appeared to be unconscious.
Santa mierda!

“Ixtab! Ixtab!” She was out cold.

Dammit!
He’d have to be more careful with his new strength. He’d already torn two shirts, cracked the sink in half brushing his teeth, busted two doorknobs, and ripped open three pairs of button fly jeans—each time when he’d thought of Ixtab. Not like he had a fuck of a clue as to why he had that reaction toward her. The damned goddess pissed him off and mocked everything he held sacred. She was crass and lacked the fragile femininity he adored in his usual fare of one-night stands. But Christ almighty, if he didn’t find Ixtab’s smell the most addictive scent known to man—err—vampire. And her touch…?
Dios
, he’d never felt anything so fucking arousing in his entire life.

“Ixtab. Are you all right? Ixtab?”
Shit.

He hovered his ear above her mouth. At least, he thought it was her mouth. Not that he could see her face.

Her breath was shallow at best.

Santa Maria.
He grabbed her wrist to check for a pulse. Yes, there was a faint, slightly irregular beat—
caray!
A soft wave of throbbing tingles wrapped its way up his arm, over his shoulder, and spread through his body.

Joy. Light. Euphoria. Warmth.

Unable to pull away, he closed his eyes and allowed the sensation to saturate each corner of his body and mind. She was like a drug. A delicious, sensual drug that he now recalled tasting earlier when she’d touched him during their fight. Only then, he’d mistaken it for vampire adrenaline.

Now, come to think it, the sensation felt eerily similar to when she’d touched him in the hospital and the other time when he lay there dying.

This could not be a goddess of evil and death.

So what was she?

He slowly lifted her lacy veil, trying not to stare at the two firm breasts cloaked by snug black fabric. He swallowed hard.

As she lay there completely still, he realized he could make out the full outline of the body she tried so desperately to hide. She was actually quite lovely. A long, lean form with a small waist and curvy hips. And he already knew she was perfect in the breast department.

Of course, she was a goddess. Why wouldn’t she be perfect?

Her sister, Fate, had painted her out to be a monster. A killer. And Ixtab had admitted freely that she was.

So what did the face of this killer truly look like? He slowly lifted the veil. One inch. Then another. A smooth neck with light golden-brown skin revealed itself. No. It wasn’t the pale, corpse-like flesh he’d expected; it was simply beautiful.