Love and Brimstone

STORY EXCERPT

The next evening, Anastazia drove up to the gate of Hawthorne’s estate at five till seven. It was impossible to see the house past the high, vine-covered wall. Before she rolled to a stop, the gate opened. She pulled through, watching it close behind her in the rearview mirror.

In the distance, lights glowed behind a thick stand of trees. The driveway, unpaved gravel but well maintained and nearly as smooth as asphalt, wound up a slight rise through a small wooded area before emerging in a large field. The house towered over the clearing. Large, but not one of those hideous hotel mansions with fifty rooms.

If Hawthorne sought to impress her, he failed. It was a little smaller than the house she grew up in. Bianca and Eric Proctor didn’t believe in keeping up with the Joneses—they’d kept up with the Hiltons. And the Trumps. When they died, Taz couldn’t bear to live in the monstrosity and scaled down to a condo just large enough to keep her and Robertson from tripping over each other every time they turned around.

A uniformed valet waited by the front steps and opened her door as soon as she stopped. Albert Thompson met her at the front door. “Good evening, Ms. Proctor.”

“Mr. Thompson.” She looked away from his eyes. Something still nagged her about him, like she knew him from somewhere. He seemed so familiar. She must have seen him in court before or something.

Robertson. That was it. He reminded her a lot of Robertson.

“Please, follow me.” He led her through the front entrance, which she was relieved to see wasn’t garishly decorated in what she thought of as faux old riche style. The decor was fairly modern, an odd mix that could only be called country Scandinavian. Not sterile, not a fake hunting lodge. Somewhere between home and hotel, striking just the right tone.

They passed a large formal banquet room and continued toward the back of the house to a small, comfortable dining room which, from the sound and scent, lay in close proximity to the kitchen. The round table seated six, but had been set for two.

“Please, have a seat. Mr. Hawthorne will be with you in a moment.” Thompson disappeared through another door, and she caught a glimpse of kitchen cabinets and tile floors as it swung shut behind him. A whiff of what she hoped was dinner drifted through to her. Something smelled really good.

Turning her attention to the walls, she realized the built-in shelves were filled not with stuffy antique books, but an eclectic assortment of mostly modern paperbacks and hardbacks in a wide variety of topics from best-selling fiction to nonfiction.

“I hope you don’t have any food allergies.”

She started and turned toward the man’s voice. She never heard the kitchen door swing open. Her host, she presumed, stood in the doorway. He held a large salad bowl filled with greens. Stepping forward, he set it on the table.

“I’m sorry I startled you.” He walked over and extended his hand. “Matthias Hawthorne.”

Her eyes met his. She offered her hand then blinked to stave off vertigo. He had the deepest, clearest blue eyes she’d ever seen. She felt she could get lost in his…

Not in the eyes!

She forced her eyes up, searching for safety. His sandy-brown hair was lightly sprinkled with grey around the temples. Finally dropping her gaze to his hand, she took a breath, feeling more than seeing his unwavering gaze. Hawthorne wore a quiet strength, an air of pleasant confidence.

“Nice to meet you. Anastazia Proctor.”

His grip felt cool and firm, but not pissing-contest strong. Hesitant to release his hand at first, she eventually did before risking another glance at his face. Something else about his eyes, the way the outer edges downturned slightly, gave him a careworn expression.

“I’m glad you accepted my invitation.” When he smiled, it softened his strong jaw, removed years from his eyes. Now she couldn’t tell if he was fifty-five or forty.

He motioned to the table. “I’ll be right back. Feel free to dig in.” He had the lightest trace of an accent, but from where she couldn’t say. Brit? Aussie? She’d have to check him out.

He moved quickly on his feet, gracefully. His arms looked strong, but not overly muscled. She could tell from the lay of his shirt along his torso he carried maybe an extra ten pounds, if that. He didn’t strike her as a gym rat. She watched him disappear through the kitchen door, noticing how his khakis clung to his firm backside.

Yum.

She shook her head. What? This is an interview, not a date. Good grief, what the hell’s wrong with me?

But her heart fluttered at an unsteady pace. Or was that her stomach? It felt like Hawthorne touched her very soul with those eyes, drawing her in.

She was pulling out a chair when he reappeared with two more bowls—vegetables—and returned to the kitchen. He returned with a small serving tray and a bowl of bread.

He’d rolled the sleeves of his chambray shirt up to his elbows, and there was a small spot of something near the third button. Whoops, a little gravy, perhaps?

“Roast beef. I hope you like it.”

“You cooked?”

His eyes twinkled as he reached for her salad bowl and served. “Dinner, yes. Dessert, no. My chef gets credit for that.”

“Somehow, I didn’t picture you as the domestic type.”

“How did you picture me?”

“Frankly, I don’t know. I suppose I didn’t.”

“I eat plenty of meals on the road, Ms. Proctor.” She liked how he didn’t assume he could use her first name, or any variety thereof. It really pissed her off when someone did. “When I get the chance to stay home and cook, especially for company, I take it. In fact, I have to be on a plane early tomorrow morning for Paris, so I’m afraid our dinner won’t last too late.”

She strangled the unexpected pang of disappointment that announcement dredged up in her. “Business?”

“Yes. Unfortunately.” His face clouded for a moment, and then it passed. “What did you think of our offer?”

“We haven’t discussed numbers yet.” The roast tasted delicious.

“Ah, yes.” He took a bite. “What’s your salary requirement?”

“I’m not used to doing business like this, Mr. Hawthorne.”

“Call me Matthias, please.”

“Mr. Hawthorne, if I take this job, and I’m not saying I will, I prefer to keep it professional.”

 

ADULT EXCERPT

 

“Hey,” he whispered. “You okay?”

She nodded, instinctively pressing herself against him. “That was intense.”

“Yes, it was.”

“Is that what it felt like when you started reading my thoughts?”

“I’ve been doing it a lot longer. Not just yours, but I can read yours easily because of…what you did for me.”

“You said you didn’t know if I could read minds.”

“I didn’t, not for sure. Not until tonight. After I realized how powerful you are, I assumed you could. I needed to see if you could do it without an established physical…connection.”

She rolled to face him, eyes closed. She kissed him, hoping he wouldn’t pull away.

He didn’t.

She thought about how warm his emotions had felt, knowing a lot of that was about her, his intense feelings. And she wanted him.

Really wanted him.

Pressing against him, she kissed him harder, moaning when his hands worked under her shirt to the waistband of her jeans.

She helped him remove his shirt while he parted her from hers, and they kissed, bare chested, exploring with lips and tongues, passion so strong both could barely breathe.

“I want you, Matthias,” she thought, trying not to make it a command. “I really, really want you.”

He smiled. “Anastazia, your wish is my command.”

They slipped out of their pants. She thought he would take her then, but he didn’t. Instead, he ran his hands over her body. He felt smooth and strong, and his fingers explored every contour and curve as if he’d known her his entire life.

She gasped when his tongue traced delicate circles across her belly. He trailed lower, working his lips down her flesh, his breath hot on her skin. He gently pushed her legs apart with his hands. Softly, he blew on her clit, making her whimper.

She wanted, needed him.

“Please,” she whispered. “Don’t stop.”

She felt the heat of his breath on her just before he flicked his tongue up and over her clit. She closed her eyes and moaned. This was better than she’d ever imagined it could be.

And she’d spent plenty of nights before all this happened imagining what Matthias Hawthorne might be like in bed.

He lazily circled her clit with his tongue, making her throb and sending a flood of heat to her mound. She wanted more from him. Needed more.

She didn’t care if he was reading her mind or not when he sucked her nub between his lips and lightly sucked. An explosion ripped all conscious thought from her. She plunged her fingers into his hair, holding on as he relentlessly drew her orgasm out, made it seemingly last forever.

When she couldn’t take it anymore, he rolled on top of her, teased her, kissed her. He pressed the head of his cock against her, not quite entering, and whispered in her ear, “Do you really want me to?”

“Yes,” she begged. “Please!”

He kissed her again. “I want you to taste me. I want you to have all of me.”

Her eyes flew open. “What?”

“Fair is fair,” he said, kissing her again.

Suddenly, she knew. As she closed her eyes and kissed him, she knew she was more powerful, even though he was older. She knew what he was offering.

And she wanted him—all of him.

Propped on one elbow, he used his other hand, gently guiding her. He tipped his head to the side, his lips near her ear, positioning her mouth against his neck for the best access. She felt his warm breath against her cheek. Between her legs his cock pressed so firmly, tantalizingly close, but not entering. She wanted him inside her, to become one with him. He resisted her attempts to thrust against him. He cupped the nape of her neck with his hand. She flicked out her tongue and lapped at his shoulder, enjoying the salty taste of his flesh.

“Just feel it,” he whispered. Then he thrust his cock hard and deep into her, drawing another moan from her. He felt so large, so hard inside her she bit down at the base of his neck where it gave way to his shoulder.

He pressed her mouth firmly against his neck as he gasped, “Harder,” and thrust again. She did, feeling his flesh give way beneath her teeth. She tasted him, and he moaned in her head as he thrust—

“Do it—oh, God, Taz, take it all from me, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted—”

—deep into her. Her head spinning, his blood tasted like warm, red wine. She wrapped her legs around his waist and dug her fingers into his back, trying to become one with him.

Brimstone Blues

STORY EXCERPT

“What do you mean your grandfather’s coming to visit?” Anastazia Proctor threw back the covers, jumped out of bed, and paced the room. This was too much, too soon. “No more surprises. That’s what you said, you promised me!”

So much for no more surprises.

Matthias swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, Taz. I meant to tell you, but with everything that happened—”

She turned on him. “How old is he?”

Matthias shook his head. “I don’t remember exactly.”

“Matthias!”

He ran a hand through his sandy-brown hair. “At least eight hundred.” His voice sounded so quiet she almost couldn’t hear him, even with her super-duper whackadoo vampire hearing.

Taz held her head in her hands. She still struggled to come to grips with her new “lifestyle.” Learning she was a vampire and that her life had been a lie, falling in love with a vampire hunk who happened to be her boss, and unwittingly contributing to the death of her new fiancé’s handsome cousin because her powers made her lose self-control and go totally batshit—all within the space of less than two weeks—was a hell of a mind trip.

Now this.

“Matthias, I can’t take any more surprises. I can’t! I want a normal freaking life. I don’t want to find out about eight-hundred-year-old grandfathers, or thousand-year-old aunts, or talking cats or…or…giraffes or whatever. I want my life back. I want to be a corporate lawyer with a normal fiancé, and I want this friggin’ feeling of my skin crawling off my body to go away!” She ran her hands up and down her arms as the sensation enveloped her again.

Matthias gathered her in his strong arms, folding her against his chest. “I know, cara. I’m sorry. I say that a lot, don’t I?” His voice always soothed her, a trace of what she now knew was a British accent.

She hugged him back. “It’s not your fault. Well, it is, but it’s not.” She thought for a moment, then pushed him away. “No, I take that back. It is your fault.”

“I swear there are no thousand-year-old aunts or talking giraffes.”

His playful half smile and incredibly deep, blue eyes melted her. Matthias Hawthorne looked like a handsome executive in his mid-forties, not a six-hundred-and-nine-year-old vampire.

She suspiciously eyed him. “You’re sure?”

“If you want, I’ll call Grandfather and ask him to wait a few days.”

Stepping away, she closed her eyes and rubbed her hands along her arms. She still felt like her skin was one size too small for her body and wondered if or when that sensation would go away, or if it was yet another side effect of what happened to her last week in Yellowstone.

She sighed. “I don’t know. I guess it doesn’t matter, does it?” Rafe had only been dead seven days, but it already felt like years. Will it ever get any easier?

She let Matthias coax her back to bed, but with the latest revelation, she wasn’t in the mood to do anything more than cuddle. Her dreams took her back to Yellowstone.

 

ADULT EXCERPT

 

Matthias knew Taz was special just from Tim’s many reports about her abilities and progress through the years. Thank God he’d had the sense to place Tim there, working for her parents to help raise her and guide her without revealing anything about her powers or special nature. Tim had trained her well.

Matthias had wanted to spend years easing her into the truth, give her time to get to know him, and hopefully fall in love with him the way he’d loved her.

What a mess.

Could he ever make it up to her? She blamed herself—wrongly—for Rafe’s death. What if he’d waited to bring Taz in? He’d wanted to hire her to work for him and start the agonizingly long process of gently exposing her to everything so the final truth wouldn’t shock or overwhelm her—which was exactly what had happened.

Had he not been greedy, had he waited, Rafe would still be alive. So wasn’t the ultimate blame his to bear?

Even in sleep, Taz still held a barrier in her mind. She was far stronger than she knew, scared of her powers, and terrified of losing control again after almost killing Caroline. She was a true force of nature and would go on to do great things.

“I love you, cara,” he sent to her, feeling her heartbeat under his palm. “I love you more than life. I will die for you, because I couldn’t bear to lose this kind of love twice in my life.”

In sleep, she cuddled closer to him and he kissed her neck. “I love you, Taz,” he whispered, closing his eyes. “Please don’t ever leave me.”

* * * *

Matthias awoke before dawn the next morning with Taz tantalizingly pressed against him. When he tried to shift position, his morning erection ended up nestled in the cleft of her ass, and he stifled a moan. She turned to face him and slowly rolled her hips. He couldn’t resist, nudging against her, gasping as his cock easily slid into her already-wet pussy.

She must have been having really good dreams to be that ready, but she wasn’t totally awake, caught in the twilight between sleep and dawn. That much he knew from what little he could sense through her mental barrier.

He closed his eyes and slowly stroked into her, debating whether or not to wake her up. If she was having wonderful dreams, he didn’t want to spoil that for her, not after the horrific past few days she’d had. He folded her against his chest and savored her scent, the feel of her body against his as he slowly made love to her.

After many long minutes, her arms tightened around him. She nuzzled his neck, her tongue tasting his flesh.

“Anastazia,” he whispered in her ear. “I love you so much.”

Her legs tightened around him as her hands traced his spine down to his hips. She was waking up. He felt her awareness grow as her pulse quickened. Taking this as his cue, he gently rolled on top of her and slid a hand between their bodies. In the dim light he kissed her, breathing her name through her lips as he gently explored with his tongue.

His fingers parted her labia and found her pussy. She moaned, one hand tangling in his hair and pulling his mouth roughly against hers. Now she was awake and wanting more.

He stroked her swollen clit with his fingers, drawing gasping, keening cries from her, feeling her reactions through his body. When she climaxed, her muscles squeezed his cock, nearly finishing him right there.