I can't remember eating, or sitting down, but at some point we did retire to a dark little corner of the bar. We sipped port. And that's when the story began to take shape....
(Excerpt from Mortal Bite)
Sparkle dust was in the air, tickling his nose. The amber-colored candle
on the table filled the air with the fragrance of blood oranges, Anne’s
favorite scent. He should know, he chuckled to himself, since Marcus had placed
hundreds of them throughout his villa for her.
Paolo watched faeries dance with trolls, and idly ran his gaze over a scantily
clad woman in black with huge breasts as she undulated and massaged her body
over her partner’s. There were werewolves, storm troopers, kings and queens.
Some men and women danced with partners of their own sex, some cavorted in
groups.
He removed his cape and left it dangling over his chair as he went in
search for a good glass of
The scent of jasmine was strong as he edged his way between the dancers
and a table filled with donuts of every size, color and confection. The
pastries were resting on a bed of candy corn and caramel popcorn. Paolo’s teeth
ached at the thought of tasting the over-sweet treats.
Lucius would have loved this. Paolo
smiled as he mused how sick the boy would have been the next day.
Something soft bumped into his backside. Something that smelled
wonderful.
He turned and brushed intimately against a beautiful, auburn-haired woman
with green eyes, whose curves made the most of a white Renaissance gown with a
plunging neckline . Feathered wings were sewn on the back of the dress, and her
long, draping sleeves almost touched the floor when her hands were down. Everything
he’d lectured himself about not getting involved with mortal women flew away
with the blink of his eye.
Upon seeing Paolo, she raised her palms to her face and hitched her
breath, as if startled.
“Oh, my. What have we here?” she said.
To a mortal, the loud music would have made it impossible to hear what
she said. Paolo could hear every breath, every syllable rolling off her pink
tongue as clearly as if she’d whispered it in his ear. Something silky slid
down his spine as a door within him opened.
“I am a vampire, madam, at your service.” Paolo bowed and kissed her
extended fingers.
Did I make her offer her hand, or
did she volunteer it?
“But your lips are warm. That means you are an imposter.” She smiled and
the world lit up.
“I assure you, madam, I am no imposter.” He felt his groin go rigid. He
noted the blue pulsing vein at her neck quicken as her heart fluttered, sending
her scent to his waiting nostrils.
She turned and gazed over her shoulder at a young man dancing madly into
oblivion. Her partner did not notice his date had been distracted by the charms
a new dark visitor. Someone who could be dangerous to her health.
Modern men. So naïve. They let
their women wander way too much, allowing them to be gobbled up by
straycatchers…
She turned and looked up at him, as though she was expecting Paolo to say
something.
“Would you like some refreshment?” he finally asked her. His insides
began to flutter in tandem with the beating of her heart.
Her eyes took on a momentary sparkle that thrilled Paolo. She turned and
regarded her young dancing partner without much interest. Putting her hands
aside her mouth, she shouted to him, “Johnny!”
The blond dancer jerked, then broke out in a toothy grin, raising his
palms and undulating his torso in tune with the grinding music. Paolo didn’t
like the sexual sway and suggestive jest aimed at his new interest.
“I’m getting something to drink,” the woman mouthed her words silently
and followed it by drinking from an imaginary glass in her right hand.
Johnny gave her the thumbs up and started to go back to his wild
gyrations, but hesitated as he looked at Paolo. A frown of worry marred his
sunny countenance
She shook her head and waved him away from across the dance floor. Paolo
heard her say, “No problem. You have fun,” but doubted Johnny had heard a
thing.
A glittery faerie dancer came up behind Johnny and slid under his knees,
pressing into his backside that drew a whoop from him. The young man was
instantly distracted by the way the little one rubbed herself all over his
trousers.
Paolo’s new friend leaned back and laughed, her neck and shoulders
sparkling with glitter. He could smell how good she would taste. He saw as well
as felt what she liked sexually and knew he could satisfy her—do things, make
her feel things, she had never dreamed possible. He stole glances while she was
distracted by the bodies writhing on the dance floor and the sparkle of the
costumes.
Then she turned. Paolo and his mortal beauty and her red lips faced each
other fully at last. Her reddish-brown curls called to his fingers as his mouth
anticipated kissing her, tasting her, making her shudder in his arms.
The woman was waiting for him to lead the way. Paolo held his breath. He
wanted to be sure she was coming of her own accord. He refrained from glamoring
her.
Does it matter?
He decided that tonight it did.
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Sharon Hamilton
Life is one fool thing after another.
Love is two fool things after each other.
