Vampire Daddy: Paranormal Romance Page 2

  “You changed my clothes,” I repeat. Even to me, it sounds like a broken record, but I just can’t help it. The thought runs through my mind again, unbidden. He changed my clothes.

  “Trust me, you’ll be happier that I did. Now, we’re about to land. As to where we’re landing, it’s Ibiza.”

  “What? Is that in Japan?”

  He barks a laugh. “Not even a little bit, darling. Not even the tiniest bit. No. It’s a city in the Balearic islands. Off the coast of Spain.”

  “Oh,” I hear myself saying. “So I need to speak Spanish?”

  “Do you want to?”

  “I don’t know any Spanish.”

  “Then don’t worry about it. You’re not going to be in Spain. Not really. You’re going to be with me. The fact that it’s in Spain… well, it’s purely coincidental.”

  I shiver. “Okay. And if I refuse?”

  “Try. Just for fun. Try to refuse.”

  I open my mouth. The words don’t come. I close my mouth before I’m really done trying, and it doesn’t open again.

  “Go on, show me that good old American try!”

  I strain to open my mouth. I can feel the muscles activating themselves. I let out a scream, but my mouth still doesn’t open. Then finally it does, and I’m screaming. The captain must have heard, but there’s no sign that anyone other than the two of us is on-board.

  “You see?”

  “Fuck you,” I growl. “You can’t do this to me.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” he says, with a smile. “I can do whatever I like, and you’re just going to have to get used to that. Now, sit back and relax. We’re still two hours out of Ibiza, and then we’ve got an hour of driving to do. But once we’re there, you can tell me all about how much you hate living in the lap of luxury. How’s that?”

  He leans back and closes his eyes, taking another drink of his thick red beverage. It’s alcohol, I tell myself. Whatever it is. He’s just mixed some weird drink. But the smell isn’t alcoholic.

  I take another sip of grapefruit juice and tell myself that it’s all going to be alright, because there’s not a whole lot else I seem to be able to do.

  Three

  After the plane trip, there’s a drive. The drive is blessedly short, but then there’s the boat. I’ve been on boats. Plenty of times. So it’s not like I’ve never been out on the water.

  Granted, the Great Lakes aren’t that big. I’ve never been completely out of sight of land, or anything. And I’ve never been out in the ocean.

  The Mediterranean Sea isn’t exactly comparable to the Great Lakes. If anything, it’s a whole hell of a lot bigger, and a whole hell of a lot closer to ocean-sized waves. But this close to the coast, island-hopping like this? It’s barely anything.

  But just like my host said, it’s a long day. A long day that involves a whole lot of doing nothing. There was, I noticed, a bed in the back of the back of the airplane. A bed that I could have easily been convinced to make some use of.

  If my host thought about it, he certainly didn’t let me know. He certainly didn’t offer, either. No, I just waited for something to happen, and what happened was that we landed on an island where everything was written in Spanish.

  I recognized almost none of it. What little I did recognize was hard to differentiate from the stuff I didn’t, too, because everything sort of blended into a massive mixture of I don’t speak Spanish all together.

  All of that meant that by the time we finally pull up to the house, I’m tired. More than tired. I’m exhausted, and I’ve barely lifted a finger.

  The island is small. I was able to tell that from the fact that at some parts, I could see ocean way off in the distance on both sides. Of course, that was probably a mile or two, but it still amazed me. Then we eased off the main road, then into a stand of trees, then further.

  For his part, my host kept his head down as we drove, and his long-sleeved jacket was odd. It must have been uncomfortable. I was dressed in very light clothes, compared to what I was used to wearing day-to-day, and I still felt like it was too much. Too hot, too humid.

  The driver continues in silence, as if he’s completely used to all of this. Nothing strange to any of it, as far as he is concerned, I guess.

  Then the trees break, and surrounded on all four sides, the greenery pressing in against the walls, is a classical manor house in the traditional Spanish style.

  I’ve seen houses like this on television. No, ‘house’ is wrong. Mansion. It’s huge. One long hall appears to be nothing but windows. Twenty or thirty windows line it. The rest of the house is built as if it’s all designed to connect around to that, but even the short wing opposite it could be a house where I’m from, all by itself.

  “Oh my God,” I say, not realizing that I’m speaking out loud until he looks over at me.

  “You like it?”

  “It’s so big.”

  “I love it when women say that.”

  I blink and scowl. “You’re not serious.”

  He grins. “You’re quite right. It’s a large house. But then, it has to be.”

  The driver opens the door, and he steps out, immediately stuffing his hands into his pockets. The whole thing makes him look like some kind of private detective, trying to hide his identity as he tails a target. Then he steps in through the front door.

  I realize dimly that I’m supposed to follow him inside. After a moment, I do. The driver doesn’t bother to keep the door held for me, so I have to open it myself. The doors appear to be wooden, standing out against the stucco exterior. And it’s heavy, too. Once it starts moving it swings easily, though. And once I’m through, it closes again just as easily.

  “What kind of house is this?” I stand in the front room and look around. It’s dimly lit, by candles mounted on sconces in the walls. The floor beneath my feet is baked tile, the grout black but clean. The whole place is surprisingly immaculate.

  A woman steps through. She’s got dark features, a deep tan, and brown eyes that look at me like I’m about to be as smoldering as her expression is.

  “So he’s brought another of you, then?”

  I blink. “Another?”

  “You’ll get used to it around here,” she says. For a moment I think it’s intended to be polite.

  “Thanks?”

  “Don’t thank me,” she says. “Thank him. He does what he does for his own reasons. I’m not your friend. Just leave me alone, and I’ll leave you alone.”

  “Where are we?”

  “Don’t worry about where we are. Just get comfortable. There’s plenty to drink in the fridge. You stay out of my room, though, and you stay out of my way, you hear me?”

  “What?”

  “My stuff is off-limits. You can have whatever you want, you can do whatever. I don’t give a shit, okay? The Master wants you here, so you’re here. But I’m not your little puppet or whatever.”

  “I wouldn’t…”

  “Just get out of my way, will you? Don’t gawk around like some gilipollas.”

  I don’t know what the last part means, but the tone in her voice says that I don’t want to be it. I move out of her way, and lower my head, and pretend that none of this is super fucking weird. It’s about all I can do at this point.

  There’s a noise in the other room. I step through. It occurs to me as I do that the woman I just saw was walking around barefoot. There’s a rack against the wall covered in shoes. I take mine off and slip them into an open space.

  Then I go back to investigate the noise. It’s a kitchen. The light streams in from the open door, falling onto the counter. There’s a shining array of cookware and cutlery hanging against the wall, over the stove. I’m almost as impressed by the quality of the kitchen as I am about the entire house around it, which is saying quite a bit, if I might say so myself.

  There’s another noise. This time it’s behind me. Right behind me. I yelp and turn to see what it is, but something grabs me. A pair of arms. One slips aro
und my shoulders, pinning me where I stand, and the other reaches around and covers my mouth.

  “You thought you could come here?”

  I can’t turn to see who it is, but it’s a woman’s voice. And not one I recognize. I try to respond but the hand covering my mouth effectively prevents any answer.

  The hand around my shoulder slowly pulls away, but the hand clapped over my mouth tightens and takes up whatever slack the other leaves. A moment later I feel something hard and cold and sharp pressed against my skin. The hand snakes around in front of my throat.

  “The others, they may be willing to defend each other, at least a little bit. But you? You’re new. The way I see it, I get rid of you now, before there’s any pesky emotions in the way, and I’m one step closer to him.”

  I don’t need to ask who him is. I try to struggle free. Try to reach around and get away from her, to pull her hand away. The knife bites into my skin harder. She’s hesitating, but it’s only going to last a moment. In an instant, she’s going to get a good, solid cut going, and then…

  The grip loosens on my mouth. A metallic clatter sounds as the knife falls away from my throat, and then the girl isn’t pressed against me at all. I step forward, away from her, and I turn to look at who attacked me. At what’s happening.

  “I didn’t mean it,” she says. She’s tall, and she’s got sunny blond hair and a pretty face. I’d probably think of her as competition, too.

  The look on her face, though, is pure terror. I follow her eyes. The man who brought me here is standing in the doorway.

  “Now, Sarah. Is that any way to treat our new guest?”

  “I didn’t mean it,” she says again. “It was just a little…”

  “You’re going to leave that knife on the floor?”

  “Of course not, Ben. I didn’t mean to… I’ll get it right now.”

  She leans down and picks up the knife by the handle, and as she straightens, Ben crosses the room with two short strides. By the time she’s standing straight, he’s looking her evenly in the eyes.

  He’s a tall man, but she’s at least as tall. She looks afraid of him, though. Somehow her height, as impressive as it is, seems to count for nothing compared to him.

  “I want you to apologize to our new guest, Sarah. We want to welcome people into the family, don’t we?”

  “I’m sorry,” she says. Her eyes are wide and nervous. She looks over at me only for a moment as the words leave her mouth before she returns her gaze to the man in her face.

  “Now I want you to put the knife down, and I want you to give Hailey a hug and tell her how very, very sorry you are. Tell her that you owe her a big, huge favor, because she’s going to save your life now. Isn’t that right?”

  Four

  “Now I want you to put the knife down, and I want you to give Hailey a hug and tell her how very, very sorry you are. Tell her that you owe her a big, huge favor, because she’s going to save your life now. Isn’t that right?”

  I can’t help a laugh bubbling out. Sarah gives me a furious look. I can’t help it, though. It’s not that I find it funny. I find it all terrifying. I can’t stop myself from laughing because I’m panicking.

  “You’re joking, right?”

  He looks at me with a pleasant smile, halfway. Like an indulgent father.

  “Well? What’s the decision? Do we punish her for what she’s done?”

  I don’t notice Sarah moving until I hear the clatter of steel on ceramic and feel her arms around me all at the same time.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. Please, please, please, tell him you’re not upset with me. I’ll do anything you ask.”

  I’m not a terribly tall woman, but Sarah is, and as a result my face presses into her breasts. I move my hands up to her hips and push her away gently. She doesn’t let go easily.

  “Let go of me,” I say, perhaps a little more forcefully than I needed to. She does so immediately. Almost forcefully.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

  “Stop apologizing. You were going to kill me!”

  “So you think that she ought to be punished for what she’s done, is that what you’re saying?”

  Sarah’s eyes plead with me, but she says nothing.

  “Punished?” I look at him curiously. “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s a simple question. Do you think she should be punished, or don’t you?”

  “I mean… if she doesn’t do it again, then…”

  Ben looks at her. His only prompt is a subtle raising of his eyebrows, but Sarah seems to react immediately.

  “Please, I promise, I won’t. I promise. You’ll see… Hailey, was it? You’ll see. Trust me. Nobody was ever so good to you.”

  “Yeah,” I say softly. I don’t understand why she’s so afraid, but even I can see it on her face, as plain as day. She breathes out a long sigh of relief.

  “You’re not mad at me, are you, sir? I just…”

  “No,” he says. He traces the line of her jaw with his thumb. It’s a distinctly sexual gesture. One that I’m not sure that I appreciate seeing him do to another woman. I can almost understand how someone could be angry. Murder, though? That’s another question. “No, I’m not angry with you, pet. Go to your room, and think about what you’ve done.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she says. She’s sulking now, even pouting. But she goes off through the door, all the same.

  “Now, Hailey.”

  “Who was that?”

  “One of your sisters,” he says, with a smile that doesn’t quite touch his eyes. “You’ll meet them all, and you’ll be one of them, soon enough. In your own way.”

  “I don’t know,” I hear myself saying. “They’re pretty…”

  “They have very strong feelings, I suppose you might say.”

  I let out a low breath. That’s one way to put it, I guess. “I don’t understand.”

  “You’re new here. You’re going to take time to adjust, and I understand that. But you might come to regret taking the soft approach with Sarah, there. She’s young, like you are, and she’s still… fervent. But at the same time, her youth makes her a bit brash. Some of your other sisters, they may not bite so strongly, but I wouldn’t think that they’re going to let you go.”

  “I don’t have any sisters.”

  He smiles at me. “Of course you do. You’re mine, now.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “The word wife is so antiquated, I think. When you’ve been around as long as I have, you start to think beyond simple little things like ‘one man and one woman.’”

  I look at him with a confused expression. “You’re… what, fifty? Fifty-five tops?”

  He smiles. “You know, this is always my favorite part of adding a new woman to the house. The initial uncertainty. Not knowing what you’re dealing with. It’s so interesting. So fascinating.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “And you’re not going to,” he says. “But that’s alright. I can’t blame you for that.”

  “I don’t…”

  “Follow me,” The words seem to seep into my bones, and when he turns without another word, I follow without protest, in spite of myself. “I’d like to recharge after another long day.”

  He climbs up a staircase. The stairs seemed to be inset into the walls, and they’re impossibly sturdy under my feet. I like it.

  “I don’t understand what’s going on.”

  “No,” he says. “But you will.”

  He presses open a door. “This is your room,” he says, with a sweep of his arms.

  I step into the room and take in the furnishings. There’s a large shelf on my right, taking up most of the wall. It’s stocked with several dozen books, in various languages. Most of them, though, are English. A large four-post bed sits in the center of the room on the other side. It’s been stripped and cleaned, and the sheets sit on top.

  Besides those, there’s a large secretary, a writing desk, and
a tall highboy dresser.

  “You don’t have much yet,” he says. “But give it time.”

  I blink. Not much, he says, and yet this is almost as well-stocked as my entire house. Though, I spent most of my money on the house, leaving little for furnishings.

  “It’s lovely,” I say.

  I gasp when I feel his lips press against my neck from behind. It feels good, and I lean into it absently. The kiss alone feels as good as some of the more disappointing sex that I’ve had.

  “Oh, that feels good,” I purr. I feel his lips twist into a smile against my skin.

  Then he bites again. This time I’m less drunk, and less fucking insanely turned on, and it’s impossible not to think about the fact that his teeth press into me. They break the skin, and yet it’s almost painless. Almost pleasurable, even. I let out a gasp, and then…

  “God,” I growl.

  I feel him pull from my throat. My blood doesn’t just flow out of my artery, though it would flow hard. It feels as if it’s being pulled out. And then, as I feel myself growing weaker, and then weaker still… he stops. I wobble on weak knees and turn to him.

  “What was that?”

  “Let’s get you to bed,” he says softly. “You’ll want to get your rest after that. Watch out for your sisters. They’ll want to get to know you. Particularly after that entrance. You’ve made some interesting enemies, I tell you that.”

  Five

  When I started to regain my senses, I started to lose them again almost immediately as my eyes threatened to roll back in the pleasure.

  Fingers ran down my skin. It was impossibly sensitive, doubly so because he’d barely touched my side, nowhere near anything that should have felt so magnificent. But I felt it.

  “Are you awake?”

  Ben’s voice was soft and low. I groaned and nodded.

  His fingers continued exploring the flesh of my hip, where my shirt had ridden up while I slept. He didn’t stop there, though. Not now that he had confirmed that I was awake. His hand moved up my stomach, across the tight expanse of my stomach. He traces the lines of my muscles. They’re not visible, but you can feel them easily.