Page 5 of Her Vampire

I feel my womb going tight and tense inside of me, screaming at me, What the hell are you doing? Are you stupid? Go with him. Now. Now. Now.

Desire like I’ve never felt before flames in me, my mind filling with images of me tearing off that suit jacket, running my fingernails down his bulging chest muscles and his rock hard abs.

“Look at me,” he says firmly.

I stare into his eyes.

“I promise I’m not going to hurt you.”

I want to shoot him another feisty reply, but as I stare at him I feel like I know him. Like I’ve known him for a long time. Or like I’ve been waiting for him my whole life. It’s a stupid feeling, really, one I should ignore. My life has taught me better than this. And yet it rises within me like a deafening conflagration of fireworks.

“If I’m going to catch a ride with you,” I say, “you need to let me do something first.”

“Okay …”

“I’m going to need to record a video of us together, stating the time and the place, and then upload it to my social media. When I get home, I’ll delete the video.”

“Sure,” he says. “Whatever makes you feel safe, Tammy. As I said, I’d never hurt you.”

“This is so weird,” I mutter, giggling despite myself as I take out my phone.

Chipper grins the whole time I’m talking into the camera and, when I’m done, he licks my face and then Torsten’s. Torsten smells of cologne and something deeper, muskier, up close.

I can’t quite place it.

All I know is it swirls all through me, right down to my center, so loud I can barely hear the doubts whispering in my mind.Chapter ThreeTorstenI guide the sleek black Jaguar through the night, Chipper curled up contentedly in the back seat and my woman sitting at my side, her scent filling the car that I have to use every tool of self-control I have not to pounce on her right here.

Somehow, I’ve managed to keep the blood-lust at bay, but only by pulling a sheet of coldness over me, that is uncomfortable even to me. Even with that shield of cold, every sinew inside of me is straining to get closer to her, to tear down her coat and free those alluring breasts, burying my face in them and sucking and biting, fuck, biting and drawing the blood from them and …

Stop, stop.

I beat down the vampire instinct and focus on the road instead, crossing the bridge in the late-night traffic, a slow swell of it even at this hour. Every time Tammy twitches beside me, I can’t stop imagining her naked and fresh, her body a canvas ready for me to paint.

I feel my seed, that impossible thing, flaring inside of me in its primal desire to fire inside of her and create a life, an impossible fucking life.

I think of those long-ago battles and how the warriors would claim women afterward, the savage way they’d take them, a practice I never partook in. But I feel the savage emerging in me now, the years falling away so that I’m a Viking warrior again, and here is my prize, my well-earned prize, with her voluptuous curves and her lips made for sucking, for wrapping around my engorged manhood and taking right me right down to the root.

Stop, stop.

If I let my excitement flare too brightly, I might lose control and leap on her right here. My fangs are buzzing like electric saws, roaring, hungry to be near her throat, her breasts, the gorgeous meatiness of her thighs. I clench down on the steering wheel so hard I feel it straining under the pressure, ready to snap off completely. I have to relax my grip before I send up catapulting off the bridge.

“Hard day at the office?” Tammy asks.

“Not particularly,” I say. “Why?”

“Because you look like you want to kill someone,” she giggles.

The sound of her laughter is like music. It’s all too easy to imagine her laughing like that while standing over our children’s cribs, which is a thought I need to dash from my mind soon before it enslaves me. The image is too sun-bright, something I’ll never get to experience. I don’t even know if the amulet works.

Or if Tammy is the one.

No, that’s a fucking lie.

She is the one.

I can feel it.

All my long years have led to this, all the battles and the fighting and the hunger and the self-restraint has led me to this woman.

“No,” I say, forcing a smirk. “I suppose I’m just thinking.”

“Care to share?” she says.

“I’m wondering who you are, Tammy,” I say.

“Um, okay,” she says, laughing a little.

“What’s funny?”

“It’s just that people usually don’t care about who I am. You know, I’m not a stick-thin cheerleader, so why would they?”

“I’m interested,” I growl, wanting to find every bastard who has ever told her she’s less than perfect and make them realize just how mortal they are.

---