Ancient Blood: Deep Red Part 3

"I'm trying to be serious!" Matthew snarled, fangs elongating as he thrust Vincent backwards onto the couch.

Vincent stood, punching Matthew in the shoulder hard enough to stagger the other Immaculate. "Yo, you still got a lot of kick there, genius."

"I have told you a thousand times not to say yo!"

"Sorry. Now let's get on with this. I walk in the room and say 'good evening.' Then I take a load off, after I hold out the chair for my wife, of course."

"Good." Matthew's eyes, which had glowed lavender in his vampiric rage, dulled to a more human color. "You've actually done well today, Vincent. I'm surprised."

"You know, there was a time when I shared a table with Senators in Rome." Vincent leaned back on the coach, resting a booted foot across his opposite knee. "You wouldn't have recognized ol' Vincent back then, kid."

"What happened to you?" Matthew folded his arms across his chest.

"Lots of s.h.i.+t I don't want to talk about. You know some of it. Things got real bad for me for about nineteen hundred years, then I met you and Adam and-well things have gotten better."

Matthew offered a friendly grin. "Getting girlie on me?"

"Nah." Vincent shrugged. "It's just that you two bookends ain't as bad as I'm always saying. You're good kids. Just don't take yourselves so seriously. So what's next with this cla.s.s course?"

"Well, I've taken the liberty of choosing an appropriate wardrobe for you -" "I've got a lot of cool clothes of my own."

"I'm afraid snakeskin pants and leather vests won't fit in at Sir Edward's. The Network gave me an unlimited budget for your clothes, so I've gotten the best I could off the rack. Of course they'll need to be altered for a perfect fit, but the Network has a tailor who will be joining us tomorrow to fit both you and-your wife."

"Ah!" Vincent leapt to his feet, wagging a finger in Matthew's face. "You almost slipped with her name. If you weren't so good at using magic to hide your thoughts, I'd have picked your brain the minute I walked in here."

"Vincent, you'd get lost in my brain."

"Think you're so special because you're a genius," Vincent muttered. "It's all right. Most punks your age still think they're G.o.d's gift to vampirism. So when is my Baroness wife getting here?"

Matthew glanced at the fine gold watch on his wrist. "Should be directly. Her plane was scheduled to land around five o'clock."

Before the men could speak any further, the sound of a motorcycle outside the house nabbed their attention. Vincent lifted his chin and sniffed the air. At the familiar scent, his heart began hammering like a mortal's after an Olympic sprint.

"G.o.dd.a.m.n," Vincent murmured. "You expecting a visit from Trixie?"

Just the thought of Trixie made Vincent's blood boil and his c.o.c.k stir. In his entire long, debauched life he'd never met a female who moved him more than the delectable Georgia peach. She was all woman-even enough to satisfy Vincent's carnal cravings. She was tough, smart, and stacked as an Amazon queen.

They'd met in this very house at a Christmas party Matthew and Dulcie threw for friends and family. Vincent had been a little surprised to be invited, considering he wasn't family and he and the twins usually argued too much to be considered friends. The bookends sure shocked him sometimes. And he'd never been more shocked than when he'd stepped into the kitchen and seen Trixie standing there. She seemed to scream s.e.x-all five feet eleven inches of her poured into a long black dress that hugged her rounded hips and b.r.e.a.s.t.s big and firm enough to make a vamp lose his teeth. Her black hair had been twisted into a braid as thick as his wrist, and when she looked at him with her enormous green eyes, he had to remind himself to breathe. She must have felt the same way, because they'd spent the party in each other's company and then slipped away to a ritzy hotel where they made love all day long. For the first time in his life, it was Vincent who nearly pa.s.sed out from excess. It had been just one night, though. Trixie had disappeared in the morning, saying she had a Network a.s.signment that couldn't wait. She was also an agent, and that meant it might be hard for them to spend as much time together as he'd have liked. He'd told himself getting close to any woman was stupid. Women that stirred more than just your c.o.c.k meant trouble. That he well knew.

Vincent swallowed as he heard Dulcie answer the front door. Trixie's scent grew stronger, and her voice echoed in his ears. She stepped into the den, her tall, curvaceous body covered in a black tank top and snug jeans, a leather jacket slung over one of her creamy shoulders. Reflective shades covered her eyes, but she slipped them off and smiled, revealing the tips of her fangs.

"Vincent Dilorenzo." Her sultry voice, touched by an adorable Georgia accent, made him tingle. "Been a long time, baby."

"Not for our kind." He shrugged. "How's work?"

"Not bad. I'm looking forward to this a.s.signment." She strode across the room and slipped her arms around his neck, planting a kiss on his lips. Instinctively, their tongues touched, then she pulled way, winking at him before greeting Matthew. "Good to see you again. So have you managed to tame our wild man?"

"He's doing well, but he'll probably improve even more now that you two can practice together."

"Ah, I like the sound of that." Vincent tossed her his most wolfish look.

She grinned. "This is business, honey."

"You know what I say, Trix, always mix business with pleasure."

"First, we should stop calling each other by our real names. From now on you're Vikenti and I'm Baroness Katrina Othman."

"Got it. I've been working on a little background for our characters." Vincent took a step closer to her and traced a fingertip along her collarbone. "We're crazy about each other, even though we think it's fine to bed down other people. Still, whenever we can, we screw the pants off each other. You especially enjoy giving head -"

Trixie's fist connected with Vincent's jaw, nearly snapping his head from his shoulders.

"That's why I never answered any of your phone calls, Vikenti!" "That was really tacky, Vincent," Matthew stated.

"All right. I'm sorry." Vincent sighed, wiping blood from his lip. "Really, Trix-uh, Katrina. No offence. Truce?"

Trixie's face relaxed from its angry grimace.

"Great." Vincent grasped her arms and dragged her to his chest, kissing her full on the mouth. Though she struggled a bit at first, he felt her s.h.i.+ver with desire at the taste of his blood.

I want you so bad, Trix, he concentrated on sending her his thoughts. You're so d.a.m.n beautiful. We can make it work, you know.

I told you before, it can't work between us, Dilorenzo.

Say you didn't miss me.

I missed you.

Say we can start pretending to be married tonight.

Let me think about it.

Think hard, because, honey, I already am.

He discreetly hugged her closer, so his c.o.c.k pressed to her belly. He heard her heartbeat quicken and smiled.

At least she wasn't any more immune to him than he was to her.

"Man, I couldn't wait to get the h.e.l.l out of that house," Vincent said as soon as Matthew closed his front door behind Vincent and Trixie. They'd spent the night and part of the morning preparing for their roles. As they strolled to their Harleys, each slipped on sungla.s.ses to protect their sensitive eyes against the nine o'clock brightness.

Trixie mounted her bike and adjusted her helmet, glancing at Vincent. "I think it's nice of Matthew to spend part of his vacation helping us out. Maybe if you stopped acting like a rebellious two thousand year old teenager, preparing for this a.s.signment wouldn't be so difficult."

"I'm not trying to be difficult," Vincent said. "Look, I know the genius is a good guy, but there are times when he has to break that stick he's got up his a.s.s."

"Maybe if you showed a little of that privileged Roman blood you're always talking about, he might not feel he has to work so hard at making you respectable."

"You know the clothes he picked for me ain't so bad."

"Aren't so bad," she corrected. "And you look pretty cute in them."

"Cute." Vincent flashed his fangs along with his smile. He placed a hand on her thigh and ma.s.saged gently. "I think I like that. Since we're going to be married, what do you say we start sharing a bedroom?"

Trixie winked. "I thought you'd never ask. Your hotel room or mine?" "Mine. I'm still an old fas.h.i.+oned kind of guy. Don't expect the lady to pay." "We're both on Network budget, big spender." He grinned. "Shucks. I was hoping you wouldn't notice."

"I'll swing by my hotel, get my stuff, and meet you at your room. Where are you staying?"

"Poet's Manor."

Trixie grinned, and he felt the rush of her erotic memories mingle with his own thoughts. They'd spent their one night of incomparable pleasure in that hotel.

Poet's Manor was owned by a vampire even older than Vincent. He had connections to descendants of the vampires who'd landed on the island of Atlantis thousands of years ago and had been a part of the Network almost since it was formed. Poet's Manor was not only a haven for all vamps, but the Network's North American headquarters. It was also one of the cla.s.siest hotels in Boston and they had great room service.

"Meet you there in an hour and half," she said.

Vincent waved as her bike glided down the street. He mounted his own but didn't head to the hotel. He had a couple of stops to make first.

Vincent, wearing only black silk boxers, stood by the drawn curtains in his room in Poet's Manor. He caught Trixie's scent long before she tapped on the door.

"Yeah. Come in!"

He stared as she stepped inside, lugging a duffel bag, her sungla.s.ses pushed up on top of her head. Her black hair looked wild from her ride, but she got s.e.xier every time he saw her.

Trixie's green eyes raked him from face to foot, and she offered a slow smile. "Well well. Silk. Nice."

"A little something I picked up from the genius. He has drawers full of these things. Must work because you should hear the mating calls that come from that house."

"I'm looking forward to making some of our own." Trixie tossed her bag on the floor and flung her jacket on top of it. Vincent tried to control his heartbeat as he watched her tug off her boots and jeans, revealing long, smooth legs and a cute b.u.t.t exposed in black hip-hugging ladies' boxers. She dropped her sungla.s.ses on the table. After removing her tank top and bra, she tossed them on one of the chairs near the breakfast table where Vincent stood, his c.o.c.k straining against the silk boxers. She shook out her hair, her full b.r.e.a.s.t.s bouncing, and reached for the bottle of brandy standing on the table next to a black velvet jewelry box.

"My favorite kind," she said before taking a long sip from the bottle. "I know. That's why I got it."

"Sweet of you, Dilorenzo." She looped her arms around his neck, her lips hovering over his.

"Vikenti," he reminded her before claiming her lips. He growled with pleasure upon feeling the softness of her bare b.r.e.a.s.t.s against his chest. Reluctantly, he broke the kiss and ran his fingertip over her full lips. "You know, we didn't get a chance to do much right last time-other than f.u.c.king each other silly."

She grinned. "It was all right to me." "Seeing how we're married and all -" "We're acting."

"Humor me, will you?" Vincent growled. He was trying to show her he wasn't just interested in her gorgeous body. He'd actually thought about her long after the s.e.x faded and he hadn't had such feelings for a woman since ancient Rome. Of course he couldn't come out and tell her that, but she was a smart chick. She could read between the lines.

"I got this for you." He handed her the jewelry box.

"You didn't have to do that."

"Yeah, I did. I think you were p.i.s.sed the last time we saw each other."

"I wasn't p.i.s.sed. Just a little disappointed. It was stupid, really. What did I expect? Commitment from a one day stand?"

"Just open the d.a.m.n box, will you?"

"I'm opening it!" Her snarl faded as she looked at the contents. Her green eyes gazed into his. "Vincent, I can't take this."

"Sure you can."

"But it's a -"

"We're supposed to be married, aren't we?"

"But the Network is providing all the accessories."

"Not this." He took her hand. "Are you going to let me put this on?"

He felt her tremble as she tried to pull away. "Let me go. You're taking this way too seriously."

"You and the genius have been riding me all night to take the a.s.signment seriously."

"When a man gives me a rock like this, I want it to be for real, not playacting!" she hissed.

"Who says it ain't for real?" he bellowed, then fell silent, his heart pounding. He wiped his palms on his thighs. G.o.d, he must be nuts. She was right. They were only playacting. There was no way in h.e.l.l he meant the implications that accompanied a gift like the ring.

She drew a deep breath and reached for the box. "You're right. I'm sorry. Maybe I'm the one taking this too seriously. I'll wear the d.a.m.n ring until the job is over."

"Fine." "Good."

"Great." He ripped the square cut ruby encircled with diamonds from the box and slipped it onto the third finger of her left hand.

She admired the ring. "It looks good."

"For as much as it cost me it better."

"No one told you to buy a f.u.c.king engagement ring!"

"Just shut up and come here!" Vincent dragged her to his chest and kissed her. His palms splayed over her smooth back and down to her boxers. He slipped his hands into the waistband and cupped her b.u.t.tocks, his palms caressing the satiny skin. Squatting in front of her, he pressed soft kisses to her belly, tickling her navel with his tongue as he tugged the boxers to her knees, revealing her sleek, creamy thighs. She sighed with pleasure when he ran his tongue over her c.l.i.t, closing his eyes at the delicious taste of her little nub. His lips traced the gentle swell of her belly just above the dark patch of hair between her perfect legs. Kissing her thighs and the delicate curve of each knee, he slipped the boxers down to her ankles.

Trixie stepped out of her boxers and ran her fingers through his wavy black hair as he lapped her c.l.i.t. She sighed. "I almost forgot how good you feel, Vincent."

"I'll make sure you remember." He stood, sweeping her into his arms and carrying her to the adjoining bathroom.

He had one of the best suites at Poet's Manor, so the bathroom included a black tile shower the size of a small room. There was lots of s.p.a.ce for playing with more than just a rubber ducky.

While Trixie turned on the faucet and stepped under the stream of hot water, Vincent tore off his boxers and reached for a cake of sweet smelling soap in the little gla.s.s swan-shaped dish by the sink.

Trixie lathered her hair with shampoo, her eyes closed against the suds. He took her hands and kissed her palms, then began rinsing her waist-length black hair. The sight of her naked body beaded with moisture was enough to make him rock hard. d.a.m.n, he wanted to be deep inside her now! But even more he wanted to take his time. Since he'd met her, this woman had been haunting his dreams.

He finished with her hair and began lathering the soap over her shoulders, moving down to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He worked the slick suds over each soft, warm globe, using his thumbs to circle her dark pink nipples until she sighed. After rinsing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, he couldn't resist licking the hardened nipples. Closing his eyes, he used the tip of his tongue to trace circles around one areola, slowly moving closer to the tight little nub at its center. His tongue flicked over it and she gasped, tangling her fingers in his hair. Pleased laughter rumbled in his chest as he moved to her other nipple and repeated his actions.

Opening his eyes, he lifted his head and met her pa.s.sionate gaze. The tips of her beautiful white fangs shone against lips curved upward in an alluring smile. He soaped her stomach, hips, and a.s.s. Squeezing each cheek, he let his palms trail to her thighs. The muscles of her legs were long and firm. He continued was.h.i.+ng them as once again he buried his mouth between her legs. He closed his eyes, rubbing her calves while his tongue stimulated her c.l.i.t to a hard little nub of sensitivity. Vincent placed the soap aside and began rinsing her body, running his hands over every inch of her. By the time he reached her nipples again, his hands shook slightly. His c.o.c.k felt ready to explode from desire. When she grasped it in her warm fist, he groaned aloud.