Just One Bite - Volume 04

Just One Bite Volume 4

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JUST ONE BITE Volume 4 Copyright © 2011 Respective Authors Cover art by Amanda Kelsey

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This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events, or locales is coincidental. All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever with out written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

First All Romance eBooks publication: November 2011

Table of Contents 1 10 18 28 38 47 57 66 75 84 93 101

Gathered Here This Night by Ada Maria Soto The Run by Rachel Maria Gallagher Human by Sarah Gilman NC-17 by Debra Anastasia A Fair Exchange by Ana Hart Blood on Love by Alessia Brio Night Carnival by Kathryn Meyer Griffith To Love Again by Allie Ritch Reflection of Love by Juliet Cardin How Much is that Vampire in the Window by Ann Hinnenkamp Inhuman Resources by Melisse Aires Ritual Ink by Joely Sue Burkhart

Gathered Here This Night by Ada Marie Soto Simon leaned against the balustrade and looked out at the city lights. He wondered how they would look in a week. Would they be darker, brighter, would they sparkle in the same way, or would they be dull and flat? He let himself sway slightly to the music coming through the bay doors. Rachmaninoff‘s Piano Concerto No. 2. Not that Simon could have told you that just a few years earlier but it was one of Anne‘s favorites. The big hit of 1901. Simon always told her she was showing her age. She‘d give him a shove and tease him about his Nirvana albums. He heard her bare feet on the rough tile of the balcony. She was telling him she was there. Her arms slid around his waist and her cheek rested against his shoulder. ―What are you thinking about?‖ she asked. ―Nothing.‖ ―Second thoughts?‖ ―No.‖ ―Liar.‖ Simon turned around and pulled her close. He placed a kiss on the side of her head. She‘d cut her hair short again. She said it was the same bob she‘d had in 1922. He took a breath and wondered how she‘d smell in the morning. He hoped that it wouldn‘t change too much. To him she always smelled sweet. She sighed contently against his neck. With her breath he felt himself filled with certainty and knew it was time. ―I was thinking…‖ ―Be careful.‖ ―I was thinking, we should get married.‖ 1

Ada Marie Soto Anne pulled away and levelled a look at him. Simon tried to hide the fear of her refusal even though he knew it was useless. ―You do know what‘s happening tonight, right?‖ she asked. ―I mean after you turn me into an undead, bloodsucking, creature of the night. I think we should get married. You know, have our friends there, my family.‖ She raised a single perfectly arched eyebrow. He was sure she‘d been practicing that move since 1966. ―And you just thought of this?‖ Simon slipped his hand into his pocket. He‘d first thought about it about five minutes after they met. If it weren‘t for the whole vampire thing he would have proposed years ago. Possibly on their first date. ―You get to put permanent claim on my ass in a few hours, I think I‘m within my rights to ask to stick a ring on your finger and give dirty looks to all the men who are going to be eyeing you up for the rest of eternity. ―Within your rights?‖ She gave a ballsy little head shake she‘d probably picked up in the 70s. He grinned then pulled a velvet box from his pocket and dropped to one knee. ―Anne DeLay, fairest thing under the moon light whom I love, quite literally, more than life itself, will you do me the honour of allowing me to marry you?‖ He opened the box. Anne gave a little squeak and put her hands to her mouth. He‘d spent a year looking for the right ring. He found one that had a large opal surrounded by emeralds and diamonds and held in place by sculpted gold flowers and the hands of two beautiful women. The dealer assured him it was made in 1890, the year Anne was born. ―You really want to marry me?‖ There was a tiny quiver in her voice. 2

Just One Bite: Gathered Here This Night ―More than anything. I was thinking the rose garden in the park just after sunset. We can get a judge or maybe one of our friends could get one of those Universal Life Church things. I‘m going to have the rest of eternity to spend with you and I want…‖ Simon swallowed hard. ―I want to do it as your husband.‖ Anne blinked away a couple of tears then nodded and held out her hand. Simon could feel his own pulse begin to calm and knew Anne could hear it. He wasn‘t actually sure what he would have done if she‘d said no. He slipped the ring on her finger. Her hands were cold but they‘d be warm soon enough. She‘d glut herself on prepacked blood so she could control herself when the time came. Simon had laid in the stock himself, type AB and a bit of O. Early on he‘d been told of changes gone bad, of souls that fought too hard and bodies that didn‘t survive the change. To Simon the stories sounded less supernatural and more like immediate hemolytic transfusion reaction complicated by hypovolemia and shock. So along with making sure she‘d be a blood type match to him he‘d also subtly set aside plasma, adrenalin, some extra type AB, abacavir, type III Interferon and a defibrillation cart that was due for retirement. He knew it wasn‘t particularly romantic or ritualistic but he was a doctor first and initiate vampire second. He wanted to get through the night some flavor of alive. Anne pulled him roughly to his feet and he stumbled, trying to keep his balance. Soon that wouldn‘t be a problem either. He‘d be able to match her strength for strength. She kissed him, driving him into their loft. He ran his tongue along the points of her fangs which had already dropped. He loved the way it made her moan and heat up. He wondered if his own fangs would be as sensitive. They collapsed onto their bed, her hands slipping under his shirt and his working their way under her dress. He rolled over pinning her beneath him. There was a knock on the door. 3

Ada Marie Soto Simon closed his eyes. ―It‘s Meg,‖ he mumbled. ―I know.‖ ―Maybe if we ignore her she‘ll go away.‖ ―I can hear you two in there,‖ Marguerite d‘Anduza called from the other side of the door. ―And I can smell the two of you down the hall.‖ Simon groaned as Anne wiggled out from under him to open the door. ―You two should be saving it for later,‖ Meg admonished as she swooped in. ―How ya‘ doing, Meg?‖ Simon asked. Meg smiled at him. ―It‘s not 1349.‖ That was her standard greeting. Simon could only assume that 1349 had been one bitch of a year. He wondered if in seven centuries he‘d be standing in front of some terrified mortal and saying ‗Hey, it‘s not 1994‘ (Cobain died, his dad split and Jenny Thompson kicked his ass so hard he cried in front of his class). Meg shrugged off her coat revealing a flowing black dress that was moulded to her figure and pooled around her feet. Simon blinked a few times. It was the first time he‘d seen Meg in anything but jeans. Simon was still trying to unrumple himself when Anne decided to show off her ring. Meg turned a sharp eye towards him. ―Young man, you and I need to have a little chat.‖ Simon didn‘t try to hide his fear. He‘d learned that you can‘t hide emotions from people who can hear your heart race and smell your sweat. And he was afraid. Meg might have only been five foot two but she had seven centuries and royal blood behind her and as leader of Anne‘s undead coffee club if she decided not to like him things could get tricky. Officially they called themselves a coven. Simon called them the coffee club. They got together every week or so, poured themselves blood, wine, or occasionally coffee and proceeded to gossip about what was in the news or bitch about how things were so much better when they were young (except for Meg who‘d been through a couple rounds of the black plague). 4

Just One Bite: Gathered Here This Night Before Meg could start the interrogation there was another knock on the door and Roderick let himself in. Simon relaxed a little. Roderick was the only male in the coven and easily the least blood thirsty of the lot. If anyone could keep Meg from killing him outright it was Roderick. He was dressed in skin tight black everything with black eyeliner and black nail polish, which meant he hadn‘t dressed up at all. He looked around. ―Okay, who did what?‖ Anne held out her hand. Roderick gave a squeak possibly an octave higher than Anne‘s then turned to Simon. ―Oh sweetie, we need to talk.‖ ―That‘s just what I was saying.‖ Meg pointed towards the kitchen door and Simon went where pointed. ―You two are not allowed to hurt him in any permanent fashion,‖ Anne called out just as the door swung shut. Simon turned to face the jury. ―You proposed to her.‖ Simon could feel the cold radiating from Meg‘s stare. ―Yes, I did.‖ ―And being bound by immortal blood isn‘t enough?‖ Simon took a very deep breath. ―No. It‘s not. I love her. As important as this is, it is, at the end of the day, a biological exercise. I want to stand up in front of people I care about and let them know that I love her.‖ Roderick all but melted. Meg squinted at him. ―Love fades. Passion, lust, most of these things do not make it through even one mortal lifetime. What makes you think you won‘t be begging for a divorce in 50 years?‖ Simon had the answer to that question ready. He‘d assumed Anne would be the one asking it. ―Because I like her too. She‘s my best friend. She makes me happy. She makes me laugh. Even if there wasn‘t lust or love I‘d want to go through tonight because I want her in my life. But there is lust and love and that just makes it better. Makes it special. Makes her special.‖ 5

Ada Marie Soto Roderick was making little cooing noises. Meg still looked like she wasn‘t buying it even if Simon‘s heart rate was telling her the truth. ―Special?‖ Simon wasn‘t sure how to explain. He stared up at the kitchen ceiling still smudged black from Anne‘s last cooking attempt. ―When I was about three months into my residency I was going to drop out. I was miserable. I couldn‘t do anything right, I couldn‘t answer any questions right, the nurses hated me, the other residence hated me, the patients didn‘t like me, I‘d just lost all mojo. I didn‘t know how to be a doctor and I didn‘t know how to be me anymore. Then one night I‘m down in the ER at about three in the morning, the place is filled with drunks and I turn around and Anne is standing there and she is wearing this little black dress and I mean little. You could have stuck the whole thing in a standard sized envelope. She looked like a goddess. And if that wasn‘t stunning enough in each hand she had a pizza. She walked over to me, dropped the pizzas on the nurses‘ station, gave me the dirtiest kiss possible and walked out, right in front of everyone. And after that…‖ Simon gave a little shrug. ―After that the mojo came back, I got good at being me again. Now any woman who‘ll show up at your work dressed like a sex goddess is special and worth keeping and any woman who will bring you double pepperoni to work at 3 AM is special and worth keeping. One that will do both and offer immortality? I am many things but I‘m not an idiot. Anne is one in a century and then some and I truly, honestly love her. I just hope she loves me or at least doesn‘t get tired of me too quickly.‖ Roderick yanked him into a hug. Simon struggled for breath. ―Oh, sweetie of course she loves you.‖ Roderick let him go but still held him at arm‘s length. ―I have known Annie since she was breaking in her first fangs and believe me she has crushed more men under her stilettos than I have and in half the time. She never once said one word about putting someone through the big makeover until she met you.‖ 6

Just One Bite: Gathered Here This Night Simon hadn‘t known that. He knew she hadn‘t made another vampire but not that she‘d never even considered it. Meg sighed. ―I am afraid he‘s right. Anne has always shied away from the idea of offering the change to anyone. At least until you showed up.‖ Simon knew that couldn‘t just be a matter of romance. While Anne had never shared the details he knew she hadn‘t been given the option of becoming what she was. The knowledge that he was the first person she was willing to go down this road with puffed up his ego just that little bit more. ―I will do my best to make sure she never regrets it.‖ ―Damn right you will.‖ With that parting comment Meg left and Roderick pulled him into another hug.

Simon was sure the coven was screwing with him, that this was some sort of hazing. They were standing around chatting, sipping wine and mostly ignoring him. He felt like he‘d wandered into someone else‘s cocktail party. He took another sip of his orange juice and tried to keep calm. He could feel his heart pounding so hard that he was sure the completely mortal couple across the hall could hear it. Simon heard a throat clear. He turned and saw Anne standing behind him. He could have died from just the sight. She was wrapped in the same dress as the first night they‘d met. It was dark blue like a summer sky at dusk. It hugged her body and flowed around her knees. It had been at a jazz concert in the park and she had been standing there by herself, just moving to the music. Simon watched her move for an hour before getting up the courage to go to her and say hello. The room got quiet. Meg approached and Anne went to her. Simon put down his drink and stood up straight.

7

Ada Marie Soto ―Doctor Simon Anderson, we have all gathered here this night to ask a question of you. Tonight you will, if you agree, be killed and, with luck, resurrected into a new and extended life where you may see the stars in a thousand years but you will never again see the sun. Do you accept this offer?‖ ―Yes.‖ Simon didn‘t even hesitate. His eyes were locked on Anne but what he saw was forever stretched out in front of him with her by his side. Meg turned to Anne. ―Anne DeLay, do you agree to give of your blood to bring this man to the other side and then guide him with the wisdom of your greater years?‖ Anne smiled. Simon‘s heart swelled. ―Yes,‖ she answered, her sweet voice ringing through the room. ―Then so it shall be.‖ A heavy chair was brought over and Simon sat. He felt Roderick‘s hands on his shoulders. He knew at some point his body would panic and he would fight and it would be Roderick‘s job to hold him in place. Anne stood in front of him. ―Are you sure?‖ she asked one last time. ―Yes.‖ Simon reached up and brushed her cheek. ―I love you. No matter what happens tonight.‖ ―I love you too.‖ Simon‘s heart gave an extra thump in the middle of its racing. He started to pray to anyone listening that he would get to hear those four words again. He was aware of the audience as Anne‘s fingers went to the buttons of his shirt. Her fingers were warm and felt so delicate as she caressed his chest. She pulled the shirt over his head then straddled his thighs. She gave a wicked little smirk and Simon just knew she wasn‘t wearing underwear. He pushed down the sudden desire to call a halt to the bloodletting and just drag her back to bed. She kissed him. Her lips tasted of blood and her mouth was hot. Simon knew it could be their last kiss or the first of millions. He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around her 8

Just One Bite: Gathered Here This Night waist. He breathed deep trying to pull in her sent and flavor. She pulled away from the kiss and rested her cheek against his before placing small gentle kisses along the line of his jaw. Finally her lips started to work their way down his neck. Simon held her tight. ―I love you,‖ Anne whispered against his throat. He felt more than heard the words and then her fangs slipped in.

9

The Run by Rachel Maria Gallagher Despite the circumstances there isn‘t any other place I would want to be than where I am right now. Right now is half frozen pressed against a moldy brick wall and hiding behind some old crates that reek of rotten food and foul grime. Regardless I couldn‘t feel the cold seeping through my cloak, or the smell of trash that should have brought me to my knees. All of it took a backseat to the arms wrapped around my shoulders pressing me close to make our profile smaller. I could hear the boots and curses of the Hunters stalking through the alleyway searching. The Hunters were the reason we were hiding in this alley. If something didn‘t change, and soon, the Hunters would be the reason we were dead in that alley. Fear was trying to rise up again but all I could focus on was how soft his neck was against my cheek. I had been caught before. The only reason I still have my sanity and my life, was currently breathing right into my ear. I slid my hands up and held on tight, not from fear, which I assumed he thought. I did it because I am rarely afforded the privilege of being wrapped in his arms. I wasn‘t going to pass up an opportunity like that even if the timing couldn‘t be worse. I call him Bear. The night I was captured three months ago I was getting beaten. They were giving me a slow and painful trip to the grave. I looked up and in between the boots stomping my head I saw a bear. Or at least that was what my fizzled brain perceived from the giant man. He is one-eyed, has a scar from a Hunter blade from his left eyebrow to his jaw, with a constant scruff from shaving with his ankle knife. Years of living on the edge and constant vigilance chiseled anything called 10

Just One Bite: The Run handsome from him. But he makes me feel safe every time I look at him. I think it amuses him that I am not afraid like most people, smart people, are. His face changes when he looks my way and to me he is perfect. The second day after the rescue as he was tending my wounds I was still a bit woozy and called him my bear. He gave me a full smile, eye twinkling, dimple on his right cheek and all. That smile changed everything. Even with my debilitating shyness I decided from that day on I would make him smile every day. I don‘t talk a lot but when I do it is for him and that smile. I am not shy because I am afraid even though I have been afraid for so long it seems normal. It is just that I would rather be invisible. This is really funny when you think about it. I am a Mutja. The world prefers to call us mutants, freaks, prey. Our term is Mutja and it is not our choice to be one. Sometimes between the age of sixteen and nineteen people develop a mark, or a brand, a death sentence really. Along with the mark comes a talent or ability. Overnight we become freaks, we become hunted, we become outcasts. Those with people who love them find ways to make it to Sanctuary, a free city state for Mutja and outcasts of all sorts. Those with nothing start running. Some of them make it, some don‘t. Most don‘t even know where Sanctuary is because no one ever dreams of becoming Mutja or facing social suicide by asking. My mark showed up on my cheek on my sixteenth birthday. Happy birthday to me. I have been on the run ever since. No idea where I was going or how to get there, just go. I was running and dreaming of being free, and being able to live again, when the Hunters found me. I had given up all hope until Bear found me. Because of Bear I have hope again. Bear is a Mutja like me, but so much more. Bear is a Runner. Bear is a Mutja willing to leave Sanctuary and live back on the outside. Bear finds Mutja‘s on the run and helps bring them home. Staying one step in front of the Hunters, risking everything, trying to help others 11

Rachel Maria Gallagher live a life that he would never have and they would never get if he didn‘t find them. Bear has been helping me run and we are in the last town before Sanctuary. I should have known it would be the hardest, the most suspicious, and the most prone to being full of Hunters. The hope Bear had rekindled was on the edge of going out. The bounty for free Mutja is high, but in these border towns the price is our lives. My talent is invisibility. You would think having the ability to turn invisible would be not only amazing, but very useful. For me it‘s awkward to say the least. It seems my invisibility is linked to my emotions. I have no physical control of what part of me turns invisible. The most embarrassing is when my head blinks out. Because my life has been full of luck it happens nearly every time Bear looks me in the eye. Think of it as extreme blushing. He always grins a lopsided smile and then brushes his hand against my invisible cheek. Somehow his touch calms me and I blink back. Part of me is always invisible because part of me is always feeling. Luckily it‘s just me and not my clothes along with me. It‘s an arm this moment, a leg the next. Really I don‘t notice it anymore because I try to stay as covered as I can. I felt Bear squeeze me and tap a code onto my shoulder bringing me back to our current crisis. Bear has been teaching me to survive and part of that is communicating without talking. Over the last months I have learned numerous silent signals. Bear finished tapping and I knew what he was going to do. I nodded that I understood. The night had been pure insanity since being ambushed heading for the safe house Bear normally used in this town. But running is something I understand and I was prepared. The next instant the crates we were hiding behind flew forward crashing into the hunters. Yeah, Bear‘s Mutja talent is telekinesis, moving objects with is mind. The grunts of the Hunters were enough for us to know they were surprised and off their feet. This would buy us only a few seconds but I was already running. I was lifting my skirts with one hand and 12

Just One Bite: The Run holding the cloak from flapping in the other. We were running fast and silent. I felt Bear behind me pushing me with his presence. I‘ve run a lot in my life and as Mutja running is second nature. With Bear I‘ve learned running is better when someone has your back. Bear guided us down one street and towards another. I trusted he knew where he was going. The streets aren‘t exactly safe but they are safer than that alley full of Hunters. I turned and glanced at my Bear as we sprinted down yet another side street. The footfalls of our pursuers getting more and more quiet. I love him, but more I trust him. I have never trusted anyone before and I know that whatever comes I will never leave him. Where he goes I go, even running over ice caked cobble streets. Maybe it‘s a Mutja ability, or just friendship, but he always knows what I need at any given moment. As we are running to find a safe place to catch our breath he turns his head, gives me one of his smiles, and winks at me. That is when I know. We are going to be okay. One last sudden pull on my hand and I‘m pressed tightly once again into his arms. He has found us a spot under some rickety stairs. ―Here,‖ he growls in my ear as he catches his breath. I look up into his face, my favorite face, not knowing if he could see me and every emotion I felt blazing through my eyes. I reached up and moved a strand of hair out of his good eye. The hair I reached for moved and I felt the heat of his forehead against my fingers, but there was no hand to be seen. He unerringly grabbed my hand, which had yet to make an appearance, and brought it to his cheek. My hand reappeared as my fingers melted into his grip. ―We are going with Plan B, See See,‖ Bear whispered over my nose. I smiled into his eyes. His name for me always makes me smile. It is short for ―Now you see me, now you don‘t.‖ Bear gave me that name while I was recovering from my capture. Emotions were flashing through me faster than ever before. Fear, comfort, anger, pain, and hope caused me to literally flash in and 13

Rachel Maria Gallagher out of being invisible. Bear would hold my hand whether he could see it or not and whisper. ―Don‘t be afraid, I see you.‖ It would calm me enough that he could change my bandages or limp to a safer location. The names just stuck. He was Bear and I was See See. Our given names didn‘t matter in the Mutja world anyway. Bear listened intently for several minutes before his posture gave away that he thought we were safe. ―We wait here for full dark. Then we are moving to the hovel district. We can find an abandoned shack or house to get a little sleep in. We will jump a caravan to get out of the gates in the morning. We can‘t risk going back towards the safe house and giving it away.‖ Maybe it was the emotion of the day or I maybe I was feeling bold. To be this close to the end and to have everything on the edge of falling apart again was too much. I grabbed his arms, opened them up, and snuggled right into his lap. I don‘t know what I was expecting but his tight grip holding me in return surprised me. He arranged our cloaks so we were covered and hidden from view. In the warmth of his arms and with his breath caressing my ear I fell asleep in minutes. Sometime later I woke up to humming in my ear. I smiled in the warmth of his chest. I know he felt me smile because his chuckle followed a moment later. ―See See, it‘s time to move.‖ Bear hugged me tight and tipped my chin up so I could look him in the eye. ―I see you,‖ he whispered. Then light as a feather he kissed me slowly on my lips. I was stunned and shock combined with a host of other emotions washed through my body. Bear gave me one of his smiles and then helped me to my feet. His grasp on my hand never wavered as we painstakingly made our way around town in the darkness. Bear moves like a shadow in the twilight, the darkness, and the dawn. He is almost invisible, and that always makes me smile. We made the poor district in short order. The change in the streets, buildings, and overall atmosphere was tangible. It just 14

Just One Bite: The Run happens the poor district is the side of town closest to Sanctuary. As we were approaching and searching a series of empty houses to find a place to sleep we heard the distinct sound of Hunter boots. We froze and eased back into the darkness between two buildings. They searched one of the empty buildings across the street in silence. When they didn‘t find their prey they came back onto the street, closer to us, and started talking. ―The male is the one we want.‖ The voice was like a knife to my heart. The other one turned and asked, ―What about the girl?‖ ―I couldn‘t recognize the female but hey, any two for one is worth it. Captain says they will go to ground until they go for the gate. A bonus to the one who captures the tele-freak. I want patrols throughout the night, all through town, everywhere. The guards on the gates have been alerted to search every caravan.‖ They passed right over us and entered the house on our other side. We held our position motionless. What were we going to do now? The gate was the only way out of this hole. I turned my head and looked at Bear. He tilted his head and reached for my cheek. Yeah, I was a bit of a mess. I opened my hands up and sure enough they weren‘t to be seen either. The Hunters were moving to the next house down the line and Bear tapped my arms. ―No fear. Trust me?‖ ―Always‖ I whispered. He took my hand, or at least what was at the bottom of my sleeve, and we crept out from between the buildings. Experience told me we weren‘t making a sound. My heart told me everyone could hear us. The remainder of the night was one run and hide after another. We were ducking in and out of buildings as patrols constantly circled the dank houses and alleys. Every time I thought they had us Bear found a way through the net. The city slept in silence as we played a game of life and death on the 15

Rachel Maria Gallagher streets. We didn‘t speak another word the rest of the night but every time there was light enough to see each other we connected. Over and over he would mouth, ―I see you.‖ And I would caress his hand and face every chance I got. I needed him to understand that I was with him even if he couldn‘t really see me. Finally the wall of the city was in front of us. The stone on this side of town was rough and unfinished. No one cared about looks here, only function. The stone rose over twenty feet high and wide enough for three men to walk abreast on the top. Without a rope, just trusting Bear to find grips in the stone, we began working our way up. The muscles in my hands and back were aching and stretched thin as we approached the top of the wall. Bear stopped and signaled me to climb up beside him. I did, and then just held on for life trying to calm my breathing as we finished this insane escape. Bear reached over and tapped ―Stay. I look,‖ on my left hand. I nodded understanding. Not that I could have moved at that moment anyways. Leaning against the stone as tightly as I could I prayed not for the first time that we would make it another moment, another hour, another day. After what seemed like hours but was more like minutes I felt a hand on the top of my head. I looked up and in the pre dawn light saw the fall of a hooded cloak and a hand stretched out to grab me. Trust, love, and everything I never dared to dream of was reaching out to me. I grabbed his hand without hesitating and was slowly pulled up the last couple of feet of wall. When I was safely on top I saw a soldier lying a few feet away in an unnatural position. His neck was obviously broken. I nodded the necessity of it, kill or be killed. Bear grabbed the guard‘s belt pouch and knife. Then stood up and opened his hand towards me. I reached out and instead of letting him lead me I swung myself into his arms. He held me in a deathly tight grip for a second before letting me go. I leaned up and despite not 16

Just One Bite: The Run knowing if he really could see the love in my eyes I kissed him. It was long and passionate. When it was over I mouthed against the cold wind whipping us on the wall how much I loved him. Then he stepped in close and opened to me and we kissed with all our hearts. There against the crenellations of the city wall with a murdered guard lying at our feet. Funny how desperation makes anything work. A moment, an hour later, we released each other and then without another word began to go down the outside of the wall. Twenty feet below us was freedom and tomorrow. Those final moments of praying the growing light didn‘t give us away, a patrol didn‘t see us, a relief for the dead guard above didn‘t come, that our hands didn‘t slip, or that any of a hundred things that could go wrong were the longest of the whole dark night. As the sun started to rise over the city a cry was heard high on the walls. Bear tightened his grip on my hand as we ran but it didn‘t matter now. It was way too late to catch us. The sound of the soldiers cries were soon drowned out by the chirping of the morning birds and the sound of the river that was the border of Sanctuary getting closer with every step. I smiled wide and held up our hands to the light. Both were visible and tightly connected. I turned my head to look at my future. Something I have felt but never believed came rushing through me. Hope. He must have sensed me looking at him and gave me his smile. Before he could speak I said, ―I see you too.‖

17

Human by Sarah Gilman Rhea sat down in an alley, prepared to spend her first night as a human in the cold behind a dumpster, but a smile remained on her face. Demon, no more. Human, at last. ―Hello.‖ Her body jerked. She knocked over a bag filled with cans and jars, the clamor loud in the narrow alley. Straining to see in the darkness, she brushed her messy curls out of her face and focused on the faint outline of a tall, human figure standing near the dumpster. A mugger? ―I have no money.‖ ―I‘m not here to steal from you.‖ His voice chilly, he stepped closer. Headlights from a passing car silhouetted the man for a brief moment. He stood between her and the street, dressed only in blue jeans. A set of folded wings with thick, silvery feathers framed his body from head to toe. Oh, shit. A mugger would have been better news. Rhea scrambled to her feet. Without the protection of the dumpster, the frigid breeze hit her full force. She shivered in her black shirt and pants, her only possessions left from her previous existence. ―You‘re an angel.‖ ―Yes.‖ Only the demon hunters would trudge into an alley and speak to a former resident of hell. A shudder wracked her spine. ―You‘ve come here to kill me?‖ ―Yes,‖ he said, his voice calm. ―You may be flesh and blood now, but your soul is still that of a demon.‖ 18

Just One Bite: Human She grounded herself in a fighting stance. Had she still been a true demon, she could have seen clearly in the dark and fought him with hellfire. Now she possessed only the body of a freezing, weak-from-hunger human. ―Think what you want. I wasn‘t looking for redemption.‖ ―Then why did you become human?‖ A hint of curiosity shaded his voice. If he hadn‘t intended to kill her, she would have thought his mild tenor pleasant. ―Freedom. As a demon, I was a slave.‖ He shook his head. ―Leaving hell must have been…well, hell. I will give credit where credit is due. Bravo.‖ The praise would have meant more, but light from another passing car glinted off a blade in the angel‘s hand. Too bad humans couldn‘t see him, not that they could help. Her mouth went dry. She could see him, and he had sensed her presence. What if she still had some demon in her, after all? She had no desire to discuss her personal issues with a demon hunter, but perhaps his interest would keep her breathing. ―There is a demon I need to kill.‖ ―That‘s my job.‖ He lunged forward and seized her by the hair. She thrashed and clawed at his skin, but he held her tight against his chest. The tip of the blade dug into her back below her left shoulder, stinging, aiming for her heart. ―The master demon, Rancor.‖ She struggled to breathe under his crushing grip. ―I know where to find him.‖ ―Liar,‖ he said, but he didn‘t drive the blade any deeper. ―No one knows where he is. He even evades my ability to sense your kind. I‘ve hunted him for years.‖ ―I was supposed to join his harem and mate with him tomorrow morning.‖ Acid rose in her throat. The angel pulled the blade out of her skin, but he didn‘t let her loose. ―Where?‖

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Sarah Gilman ―Don‘t insult my intelligence,‖ she said into his shoulder. ―First, you need to promise to let me live. Angels can‘t break promises, right?‖ ―That‘s why we rarely make them.‖ Curiosity returned to his voice. ―Why would you want your intended mate dead?‖ ―Would you want to be number seventy-eight in a master demon‘s harem? I was born a demon, but I‘m also a woman with self respect.‖ She struggled in his unrelenting grip to tilt her head and meet his gaze, colorless in the dark. ―He‘ll be able to sense me, even though I‘m human now, so I won‘t be truly free until he‘s dead. I have to find a way to kill him. You want him dead, too. Help me.‖ The angel released her body, but held her wrist in a crushing grip and yanked her toward the street. ―Letting you go is out of question. You‘re going to lead me to Rancor. If you cooperate, I‘ll consider leniency.‖ That’s a start. She stayed quiet as they hurried down the deserted sidewalk lit by flickering neon signs and the one street lamp that had escaped vandals. After several blocks, they closed in on the waterfront area. People laughed and mingled in front of brightly lit restaurants, bars, and theaters. Under the functioning streetlights, she got her first good look at her captor‘s face. Framed by mahogany hair, his blue eyes narrowed when he glanced at her. Cold, hungry, and exhausted, she dragged her feet, but the angel forced her forward. The scent of the ocean filled the air. The saltwater can’t hurt me now that I’m human…right? She shuddered. The angel kept going until they reached a large hotel on the water. ―There‘s a credit card in your pocket.‖ The angel met her gaze and dropped her wrist. ―Purchase a room. Do not misbehave.‖ Rhea eyed the exit beyond a group of chatting tourists, but she lacked the energy to run. Not that she would get far. She 20

Just One Bite: Human did as she was told, and a few minutes later, she swiped the keycard and stepped into an elegant room. The angel crossed the space and stared out the window at the ocean. He reached over one shoulder and scratched the arch of a wing. Another shudder shook her body. ―Did you choose a hotel by the water just to torture me?‖ He turned and met her gaze, his stare neutral. ―I doubt we‘ll have to seek out Rancor. Rumor has it he‘s extremely possessive of his harem. He‘ll show up to claim you, sooner rather than later, but not here by the saltwater. This way, you can rest first. You look half dead.‖ ―Thanks,‖ she murmured, bewildered that he gave a rat‘s ass how she felt. ―You‘re welcome,‖ he said, his tone emotionless. ―Feel free to call for room service.‖ Room service. The words rang in her ears like bells. She snatched the phone from the table and ordered the first items she saw on the menu. The corners of the angel‘s mouth curved upwards as she spoke into the phone. She hung up and tapped her fingers on her knee. ―Eggs and bacon for dinner?‖ His grin broadened. She scowled. ―I‘m so glad the fact that I‘m starving amuses you.‖ His smile vanished and he stared at her for a long moment. ―I‘ve never seen a demon act so human.‖ ―I‘m human now, damn you. It‘s not an act.‖ She lifted her chin. His grin returned. ―What‘s your name?‖ ―Rhea.‖ ―Not a very demonic name.‖ She folded her arms. ―I chose a new one.‖ He cocked his head to the side, his gaze steady, thoughtful. ―Stop staring at me.‖ 21

Sarah Gilman The angel shrugged and turned back to the window. ―We‘re going to the beach first thing in the morning.‖ She tensed. ―Why?‖ ―If you‘re truly human now, you have nothing to fear.‖ He glanced at her and arched an eyebrow. ―The saltwater will tell me all I need to know about the state of your soul.‖ Her stomach in knots, she went into the bathroom, washed the grime off her skin, and checked her back. The cut hurt, but appeared minor. The food arrived a few minutes later and she polished off every last bite. The angel didn‘t budge from his position at the window, his face in profile, his arms folded, his silver feathers brushing the floor. Rhea studied his face and the appealing contrast of his brown hair and gem-blue eyes. Heat rose to her cheeks as she remembered being crushed against his bare chest. She had been busy fearing for her life at the time, but murderous intent aside, his arms had been the first warmth she‘d experienced on Earth. What would that embrace be like if he didn‘t want her dead? She set the tray aside. ―Did you mean it?‖ ―What?‖ She stood and looked him in the eye. ―Before, you said you‘d consider leniency if I cooperated.‖ She swallowed. ―Did you mean that? Or will you kill me if I fail the saltwater test?‖ Unprecedented kindness filled his voice. ―I promise I‘ll spare you if you really have started your life over as a human, Rhea.‖ A promise, from an angel? She took a step back. He leaned forward and his gaze darkened. ―I also promise that if you‘re deceiving me, I‘ll rip you to pieces before I deliver the fatal blow.‖ A distant, ear-splitting howl filled the air. Rhea rushed to the window and craned her neck, searching for the source of the hellish sound. No demon in sight. She let out a long sigh. A human couple walked hand in hand along the hotel sidewalk, 22

Just One Bite: Human oblivious to the preternatural screeching. ―He wants me to hear him. He‘s threatening me.‖ Or, is my soul still demonic, allowing me to hear him? The angel shut the curtains. His arm brushed hers and the contact sent a pleasant shock up her arm to her chest. He shivered and met her gaze, his eyebrows pressed together. A long silence passed. He cleared his throat. ―Don‘t worry. He won‘t come within a mile of the shore. Get some sleep.‖ Despite her exhaustion, her gaze shifted to the blade strapped to the angel‘s waist. ―You want me to trust you? My back still stings from you almost killing me an hour ago.‖ ―I‘m giving you the benefit of the doubt for now, so I need to make sure you‘re safe, as I would for any human in a demon‘s path.‖ For any human. Why did the words fill her with acute disappointment? She let her gaze travel down the angel‘s body. He was lean and sculpted, no surprise considering he hunted demons. His wings curved and trailed behind him, the embodiment of physical power and elegance. A few small, silver feathers stuck up here and there, as did his unruly hair. She fought back a smile. ―I didn‘t ask you your name,‖ she whispered. ―It‘s Daniel.‖ ―Thank you for giving me a chance, Daniel.‖ She turned and got into bed.

A beam of morning light streamed in through a gap in the curtains. Rhea stretched and opened her eyes. Daniel sat on the dresser, his wings extended to either side along the wall, spanning the length of the room. Daniel got to his feet and handed her a bottle of water. ―We need to go to the beach now.‖ 23

Sarah Gilman She finished half the bottle in a few quick gulps. ―Rancor‘s screams have been getting closer.‖ He gazed toward the curtains. ―I have no doubt he‘s going to come for you, proximity to the beach be damned. Assuming you pass the test, the closer you are to the water, the safer you‘ll be. Come. Let‘s go.‖ A garden path led from the hotel lobby to the deserted beach. A cold wind blew from the north. The rising sun bathed the sand in red and gold. Rhea sucked in a breath as they approached the waves, old instincts urging her to flee the saltwater that would burn demon flesh like acid. She fisted her hands at her sides. You’re not a demon anymore. You have nothing to fear. ―Go on,‖ Daniel said, tension in his voice. Hesitating a yard from the waves, she sighed. ―When I took my first steps away from hell, I really didn‘t care if I lived or died, so long as I escaped a life in the harem.‖ ―And now?‖ ―Now, I‘m…scared.‖ She took a step closer to the water, every muscle tense. ―I very much want to survive this.‖ ―So human.‖ The angel took a step closer and his feathers brushed her arm. He rested his hand on her shoulder. ―Touch the water, Rhea.‖ Rancor bellowed, the sound much closer than before. Too close. Rhea spun around, her pulse pounding in her ears. Daniel‘s feathers stood on end as he gazed toward the bluffs. Blond and pale skinned, Rancor stood where the sand met the grass, dressed in dark, metro-sexual clothing. He blew her a kiss with one hand as he grasped himself with the other. Daniel spread his wings and flew at the master demon. Rancor snarled, revealing jagged teeth. Flames erupted along his body. A blur of feathers, Daniel twisted in midair and kicked the demon in the ribs, the crack of breaking bone loud enough to 24

Just One Bite: Human reach Rhea‘s ears. Rancor‘s hands morphed into claws and he slashed at the angel, drawing blood across his shoulder. Daniel didn‘t even flinch and drew his blade. Leaving a hole in his defense, the demon stabbed his lengthening claws at his opponent‘s stomach. Daniel evaded the strike and raised his blade for a killing blow, but Rancor released an explosive blast of hellfire that swallowed them both. ―Daniel!‖ Rhea whirled around and faced the waves. If he wasn‘t dead, Daniel needed the saltwater to heal. But what if it kills me? Her feet frozen in place, she glanced back. The flames had diminished. Rancor stood over the angel‘s crumpled form and turned in her direction. He pulled Daniel‘s blade out of his shoulder and threw it to the ground. Rhea took a step back toward the waves. The demon held out his hand. ―Come, Serpine, enough of this foolishness.‖ ―My name is Rhea.‖ She lifted her chin. ―And I‘ll never be one of your whores.‖ Rancor snarled and sprinted toward her. A movement drew her attention back to Daniel. He lifted a blackened hand to his face. He’s alive. I have to survive and help him. Please, let this work… Rhea pivoted and dove into the waves. Aside from the cold that shocked the breath from her lungs, no pain accompanied the water. She lifted her hands and stared at her unharmed skin. Yes! Rancor staggered to a halt at the edge of the wet sand, his face twisted with fury. ―You can‘t stay in there forever, my darling.‖ ―I don‘t intend to.‖ Daniel doesn’t have long. The demon‘s black eyes widened as she sprinted out of the water. She threw her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist. 25

Sarah Gilman Rancor screamed and his skin sizzled. He shoved her away, but he stumbled in the loose sand and fell. A wave crashed over his body. Rhea turned away from the quivering remains of the demon and rushed to Daniel. Severe burns covered his body and only blacked stubs remained of his feathers. He breathed slow and shallow. ―Daniel.‖ Her voice shook. Still soaked with seawater, she rested her hand on his shoulder. ―God, I hope this works…‖ She lifted her fingers. His skin healed before her eyes where the seawater touched it. Eyes closed, he turned his burnt face toward her and mumbled, ―Rhea?‖ She pulled off her soaked shirt, held it over his body, and wrung it out. He shuddered as the water ran over his skin. ―More,‖ he whispered. She squeezed every drop out of her shirt and did the same with her pants. She didn‘t care that she stood there in her black bra and panties. Burns still covered most of Daniel‘s body. ―Can you walk?‖ He pushed himself into a sitting position, but failed to stand. Rhea grasped his arms and dragged him back across the sand and into the waves. He sank under the surface. Shivering, she lifted his face above the surface. ―Daniel?‖ He opened his eyes and shot to his feet, every inch of his skin healed. ―Where is he?‖ ―He‘s dead.‖ She pointed to the few bones that remained. His gaze traveled over her body. ―Are you hurt?‖ ―No.‖ She lifted her arms, seawater dripping from her skin. Daniel moved back to shore, extended his wings, and shook out his intact feathers. Rhea followed and threw her arms around his shoulders. 26

Just One Bite: Human His fingers trailed from her neck to her bare back, sending an electric current down her spine. ―So, you‘re truly human.‖ She nodded against his chest. ―I wouldn‘t have believed it if I hadn‘t seen it for myself. And you saved me. Thank you.‖ He sighed and released her. ―I didn‘t block the hellfire when I should have. I was too focused on making the kill.‖ He shoved a hand through his hair. ―The idea that he‘d touch you ignited a rage in me I‘ve never felt before.‖ She fidgeted. The silence lengthened. ―I passed the test. Am I free to go?‖ He frowned and shook his head. ―Why not?‖ She took a step back. He cocked his head to the side. ―You have no money, no place to stay, no legal identity. I think you should stay with me while you build your human life.‖ He paused. ―Yes, you are free to go. But I hope you won‘t.‖ ―I don‘t understand,‖ she whispered. ―I‘m just one of many humans now—‖ He leaned down and stroked strands of wet hair off her face. His fingers lingered on her jaw. ―You‘ve left your demonic existence behind. You‘re as fascinating to me as you are beautiful.‖ Daniel slanted his mouth across hers, his icy blue eyes open. Holding his gaze, she eased deeper into the kiss. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her body flush against his. She sank into the embrace, relishing in the skin-toskin warmth. He spread his wings and pulled her down to sit in the sand. She leaned against his chest and the waves teased their toes. ―Yes.‖ She pressed her lips to his shoulder. ―I‘ll stay.‖

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NC-17 by Debra Anastasia Trixie was ridiculously excited even though she was only buying one ticket for Sterling Steel‘s newest 3-D motion picture. She tried to keep her head down as she ordered her wagon-sized popcorn with extra butter and a giant vat of soda. She would‘ve checked her watch, but she could never keep a working one on her body. Her knitting group called her a serial appliance killer after one too many electronics gave its life because it dared to exist too close to Trixie. Cars, cell phones, and laptops all died horrible deaths whenever they were in her possession. Her parents blamed her problem on the four separate times she was nearly struck by lightening as a baby. ―That‘s why you have such curly hair, my love!‖ Her mother thought Trixie‘s abnormality was an interesting quirk. Her mother also had a working watch. After purchasing her ridiculously large snacks, Trixie stood in line behind a busload of kids from a local camp to wait her turn for the ticket ripper to do his worst. Unfortunately, the ticket ripper was a chatty bastard that had soul-sucked a bored usher into his diatribe about the Steel movies. ―I‘ve no idea how that franchise stays afloat. And now they have money for 3-D? That production company must be drug runners to keep ol‘ Sterling on the payroll ‗cause he ain‘t pulling in the numbers at the box office.‖ The usher nodded while the ripper loudly snorted and continued, ―There‘s like one chick in the whole world that sees his ‗masterpieces‘.‖ The ripper put the word masterpiece in pretend air quotes. Trixie wanted to beat him to death with the air quotes after his next comment. ―And that chick? She comes here. I swear she must have 100 cats and no life at all. What a freak show.‖ He ripped 28

Just One Bite: NC-17 the last day camp admission and half-heartedly held out a hand for Trixie‘s ticket. She had it poking from between her pinkie and ring finger while juggling her containers. She met his eyes as he tore her ticket. He swallowed his embarrassment at being caught in the act of talking about Trixie while she listened. His words laid in between them like a load of crap at a dog show --obvious and unexpected. ―I only have two cats. And they were rescues.‖ Trixie raised her chin a bit and her ocean of soda threatened to spill over. She didn‘t bother telling the jerk that the kittens were sort of on the broken side --choosing to use a potted plant instead of a litter box. ―Theater fourteen is the last one on the right.‖ He dropped her ticket stub on top of her popcorn bucket. Blushing, Trixie made her way to the theater. She couldn‘t deny that the Steel movie phenomenon was unusual. The critics had great fun picking apart each film with gusto. Sterling was sort of a cliché. The actor that played the lead was never seen outside of filming. But Trixie wasn‘t here for the plot. She wasn‘t even here for the popcorn, though that was a huge bonus. One of the things everyone mocked about the movies was Sterling‘s tag line. His motto. The critics thought it was cheesy when Sterling looked dead into the camera and proclaimed, ―The energy to do good is in you!‖ But for years Trixie waited on the edge of her seat. Because when Steel said that? He spoke straight to her vagina. It was like her genitals had a conversation with the movie star every damn time. She would sigh and swoon at his perfect eyebrow cocked with the promise and a dare. The critics might hate it; people might not go to his movies anymore, but for Trixie? That moment was a connection as real as the rocking stadium seat she collapsed in. She arranged her purse, popcorn, drink, and 3-D glasses while the previews came on. Instead of watching the trailers she scanned her crowd. 29

Debra Anastasia There were three other patrons. A father and son were bundled together looking excited, which made Trixie smile. An old man was close to the screen snoring contently. The lights went dim and the opening scenes of the movie were very dark. Just as Trixie settled back, ready and willing to get her girly bits roaring at the screen, a flutter of people pouring in the entrance caught her attention. The lighting was horrible, but it looked as if maybe fifteen people marched into the room. The new people scattered around the theater. Trixie fell into the familiar rhythm of her favorite escape. It was such a predictable Steel plot, she felt like she was watching this one on DVD instead of fresh on the screen. The only difference was the addition of the 3-D technology. When Trixie finally got to see the bulge in Steel‘s white tights, she thought her cooter would actually bust out of her jeans and hump the screen. The evil Ragests were looking for the fabled Source, which held unimaginable power. They did this in every past movie and had always failed. They were determined little buggers though. Steel had to be witty and wise to thwart their devious plans. Always the Ragests found a fake Source. But this time Steel looked worried. Trixie wondered if the critics would finally hail Sterling‘s obviously on point acting. She glanced over her shoulder and was startled. All the late people were closer to her theater chair than she remembered from when they snuck in. She shook off her concern and slurped on her soda. Smiling, she wondering to herself if the 3-D glasses were making the objects in the room appear closer than they actually were. In the movie, Sterling was working himself up into his tagline. Trixie tuned out the public setting and waited, squirming for her moment. Sterling looked into the camera, his deep green eyes finding hers, like they never failed to do. Instead of the eyebrow and the smirking grin though, he looked intently at her.

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Just One Bite: NC-17 ―The energy to do good is in you!‖ he delivered his line like his life depended on it. He extended his hand and with the glasses, it looked like she could almost touch his fingertips. She sat on her hands and let the warm flush of his dialogue creep down from her face and up from her toes until it hit her between the legs. She sighed. Sterling looked forlorn and dejected as he turned from the screen. Trixie fanned herself a bit, taking a cool sip of soda. She glanced up again and the late group was closer still. Taking off the glasses, she assessed them. They had definitely moved. She could hit each with popcorn if she tried. She pushed her glasses onto her head and let her gorgeous Sterling go fuzzy. In a blink they were closer yet. After a quick glance around, Trixie noticed the father, son, and snoring old man were missing. She stood to use the bathroom, needing some distance to think clearly. She trotted down the stairs and shuffled into the hall. After finding the bathroom, Trixie chose a stall in the empty ladies‘ room and made some room for more soda. She was paranoid, of course. Trixie was perfectly safe. After a pretty effective potty pep talk, Trixie decided to go back to her seat. On the return trip she would really pay attention to where the latecomers were sitting. Unlocking the stall, it was as if she was in a Synchronized Toilet Olympic event when every single stall opened as well. Silver dressed women from the late group stepped out. The automatic flushes engaged in one sonic boom. Trixie stopped and looked from one lady to another. They so closely resembled each other, it was like they were all twins. To add to their oddness, the ladies left their dark glasses in place, as if they were still viewing the movie. While Trixie went to the sink to wash her hands, the ladies didn‘t move. ―Great movie.‖ She tried to break the ice while she counted the strange ladies. Eight. They didn‘t respond. ―You guys like to get your money‘s worth out of those 3-D glasses.‖ 31

Debra Anastasia Awkwardness rushed into the room like that white rabbit from Alice in Wonderland. ―Alrighty then. See you in there.‖ Trixie put her hands under the Excel-O-Rator hand dryer and briefly wondered if they recycled jet engines to make these bad larrys. The super powered dryer was in the process of blowing the skin right off her hand when it cut out, smoking. As usual, electronics and Trixie ended in disaster. She hurried out of the bathroom and headed back into the movie. She hated the thought of not supporting Sterling, even though he would never know she watched. As far as she knew, every customer counted with the box office ratings. She couldn‘t walk out on his 3-D debut. His sad resignation bothered her. She looked over her shoulder to hold the door for the person behind her, and the droid ladies were in a perfect, straight, line waiting. Trixie had wanted to note the remaining silver-clothed people, but with the army of drone peers behind her, she just found her seat and sank into it. If these freaks kept being scary, she wasn‘t sure how much longer she would be able to hold out and watch her favorite guy in popping hologram form. Trixie slipped the glasses on and tried to concentrate. Sterling reached for her again, his hand so close to the end of her nose. ―The power to do good is in you, Trixie.‖ ―Holy crap.‖ She held her heart. Surely she had misheard her crush saying her name. ―Trixie. You‘re the Source. It‘s you. Touch me.‖ Sterling held out his pristine glove and wiggled his fingers. ―I‘m losing my mind. The sugar in this giant soda has melted my brain.‖ Trixie looked around to see if anyone else was surprised that she was having a conversation with the screen. The silver people were just a seat away now, completely surrounding her. She had not seen any of them move. The sound system reverberated with his plea, ―Touch me now!‖ 32

Just One Bite: NC-17 All the silver people eerily turned their heads at once, at the exact same time. Fear grabbed Trixie‘s throat. Trixie reached out a hand and squeezed. The unsettling feeling of sliding out of her own skin was breathtaking. If she hadn‘t been steadied in his arms, she would‘ve fallen. ―Are you okay?‖ He brushed the hair away from her face like he did to all of his beautiful damsels in distress. ―I‘ve no idea. Am I in your movie?‖ Trixie had no good place to put her hands. Well, she had a great idea where to put her hands but it would totally crank this movie from a PG rating to an NC-17 in a hot minute. ―Trixie, we have no time. The Ragests have finally figured out the Source. They were in the dark for the longest time, until they realized that years ago I had trapped us all in a movie. When they produced this film in 3-D, the Ragests knew that they could escape and get into your world.‖ He pulled her closer and whispered in her ear. Possibly for privacy, but the sensation made Trixie just want to suck his tongue in her mouth like a vacuum. ―They know you‘re special. If they touch you, they become real. Your world can‘t handle them. How many were there?‖ He pulled her from his whispering stance to gaze into her eyes like she was the smartest person in any room. Her words dripped out slowly, as if his sexy self was a quicksand filter. ―A bunch.‖ He touched her cheek, his rough glove stroking the curve. ―Think, Source. Think.‖ ―Fifteen. Eight ladies and the rest men.‖ She waited while he calculated in his gorgeous head. Stupid and dazed, standing in a movie, Trixie thought of the three customers that had gone missing. The same instinct that forced her to adopt the kittens demanded that she snap out of her fog and catch the hell up.

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Debra Anastasia ―We have three people in there that need help. What can we do?‖ She pushed away from his chest and stood on her own two feet. ―They will be lost. You must stay here with me. If the Ragests can touch you, they can use your force to escape this prison. I can‘t get into that world.‖ He hit her with his matinee come-hither stare. Her panties almost exploded. She shook her head. ―There‘s a child. I can‘t.‖ Her backbone straightened. ―We‘ve just moments, I can‘t teach you how to make the most of your powers in mere seconds.‖ He struck a pensive pose and his cape swirled around his ankles. 3-D was great and all, but face-to-face Sterling‘s white tights were a little bit seethrough. There were no secrets in his pants. Trixie fanned herself. ―Powers? The only thing I can do regularly is gain weight and blow things up.‖ Dramatic music was piped in. The lighting hinted at a plot twist. ―You blow things up because you‘re the Source of tremendous good energy. You would need to control it as a weapon.‖ Trixie was most likely dreaming. She realized that now. Tons of good energy festering in her just didn‘t add up. It wasn‘t like she had perfect skin or legs for days. She was just a regular, plain girl. ―As much as that would be so much more awesome then dooming all the things? I know that‘s not true.‖ ―Trix, tell me why you beat up the bullies in grade school that liked to steal lunch money from the nerds.‖ He squinted and nodded like he already knew the answer. ―Um, they pissed me off so I came up behind them and knocked their stupid heads together. Then I got detention.‖ That wasn‘t superhero material. 34

Just One Bite: NC-17 ―Tell me why you keep a shovel in your car?‖ He pantomimed shoveling. She threw up her hands. ―I stop and bury dead animals on the side of the road. If I can still tell what they are, or if it was a pet or had a cute face.‖ She was just a road kill Grim Reaper. ―Tell me why you came back to the movie after the restroom?‖ He peeled off his glove and looked up at her from under his lashes. ―How about we leave that part out?‖ She didn‘t want to embarrass the man in his own movie even if it was a dream. ―Say it.‖ Sterling stepped closer. ―I didn‘t want you to have to be alone.‖ She shrugged and looked at her feet. ―I say all of that? That‘s the kind of good that separates the cowards from the warriors. Come here, Trix.‖ He grabbed her up again. She tried not to let the fact that Sterling had given her a cutesy nickname kill her dead just when her life was getting good. He slowly touched her cheek without the glove. Blue sparks flew from her face to his fingertips. ―Shit!‖ She gasped. He put his hand in the center of her chest and drew the outline of a heart. ―This is where your power is. If you want to fight, send your energy from here.‖ His green eyes were so close and intense. From the theater she heard whimpering. ―The little boy?‖ Sterling nodded. ―They are tormenting him with images. That‘s all they can do right now. Unless you fail, then they‘ll make your world their playground.‖ She swallowed and pushed away from Steel. The blue arcs of energy created a snapping, monochromatic rainbow between them before breaking the connection. 35

Debra Anastasia ―I have to try.‖ One half of his mouth lifted in a knowing grin. ―I knew you would. I‘ve been watching you too, all these years.‖ With that Trixie was sucked back into the theater. She fell to the popcorn-scented carpet. The Ragest snapped their heads in her direction, like sea nymphs to a song. Before she could blink, all were within arms‘ reach. Smiling now, their teeth were like daggers. She didn‘t move. Trixie closed her eyes during the wave of panic. When it crested, Trixie felt the heart drawn on her skin by Sterling. Deeper she went. To the good energy. She smiled when she found it, the perfection. She had an ocean to draw from. Her eyes opened as she let the energy fill her. As the Ragests touched her skin, instead of becoming a gateway to something more, she became a perfect coffin for each and every one. The room glowed blue as the Ragests exploded one after another into nothing. From her seat on the ground, Trixie could see the little boy, eyes wide, but safe on the floor. His father and the old man stood up from where they had been held captive behind the chairs. It was then she noticed the ticket ripper and the usher, slack-jawed by the door. Obviously their check for contraband food had given them an eyeful. She wrinkled her nose as she noticed they had both wet their pants from fright. In the mêlée, obviously one of the witnesses or victims had called 911 because the room began to fill with various people in uniform. His voice was quiet in the din. She picked her 3-D glasses from the floor and turned towards him. ―The good energy is in you.‖ Sterling bowed his head and blew her a kiss. Trixie shook her head. ―I‘m coming.‖ With that she fought her way to the screen and stood on a front row as the bystanders rubbed their eyes. The screen enveloped Trixie‘s body and absorbed her like a pond. 36

Just One Bite: NC-17 In an instant the ending for the new 3-D Steel film changed all across America. The hero dipped Trixie elaborately and kissed her deeply on the lips. The resulting energy-charged fireworks blacked out entire towns.

37

A Fair Exchange by Ana Hart I grimaced around the bitterness that lingered just at the back of my mouth, at the bile that burned in my throat. Sarelia was dangerous. Powerful. An elder spirit of the Lower World. My palms grew slick at the very thought of what I was about to do. Suicide, Malorie had cried as I had left her hospital room that morning after yet another sleepless night rife with indecision. Daniel, you will get yourself killed. Perhaps, baby, perhaps. But at least I’ll die trying to save you. I had chosen a rather secluded spot for the event that would either be my single greatest success or my single greatest moment of stupidity. The canopy of the forest arced above me and as I pushed deeper into the coolness of the trees, I imagined their branches reaching out to embrace me, giving me strength. I was going to need it. The clearing opened before me in an almost perfect circle, though its true perfection was marred by the gurgling stream that slashed through the short grass, essentially dividing the clearing in half. It would suit. From the pockets of my jacket I dug out a handful of odds and ends – an assortment of rugged gemstones, a lighter, a pocketknife, and a bundled twist of sweetgrass held together with some old twine. The gemstones I cast before me onto the ground in a haphazard design, not caring where they fell. It was the gesture, not the placement, that Sarelia would be expecting. The sweetgrass and the lighter I tucked back into my pocket, saving them for later. I was trying my best to be optimistic that there was going to be a later. 38

Just One Bite: A Fair Exchange That left the pocketknife. I had picked it up at a convenience store on the drive over. It was shiny and new, but most importantly, it was sharp. I fumbled with it for a few seconds while my heart hammered away at my ribcage, drumming out a desperate cadence. This was it. I had called up Sarelia once before several years ago. By accident. It had been the single most frightening moment of my life. Yet, there I was, intent on a repeat performance. I promise I‘m not a masochist. But I did force myself to watch as I pressed the tip of the blade against my right palm, nicking myself just deep enough to draw up blood. Blood and gemstones. It wasn‘t the fanciest of offerings but it was simple, blunt. It got straight to the point. No pun intended. I pocketed the knife once more as I turned my palm earthwards, letting my blood drip down, scattering itself amongst the randomly placed stones. I closed my eyes and drew in a breath. My hand throbbed. My stomach churned. My legs began to tremble. No, I scolded my body as I slowly silenced all my physical complaints one by one, clearing my mind, pushing away my fears. I drew my energy close until my entire body pulsed with it. The energies of the forest swirled about me, brushing up against my power, and I drew it in as well, letting the ancient energies mingle with my own. Sarelia. The single word resounded within the emptiness of my mind, pulsing in time to the power that thrummed through my body. Sarelia. I felt my heart slow as my consciousness expanded, my mind reaching, searching. Sarelia. ―Daniel.‖ I fought to keep my pulse slow, my breathing even. I could still feel the energies of the forest swirling around me, moving with and against my own, yet now they were joined by another power. A power far greater than mine. Slowly, carefully, I opened my eyes.

39

Ana Hart A woman made of fire and air, of earth and water, stood before me. She seemed insubstantial and yet so solid, so…real. Her skin was of a molten gold with tattoos swirling over her body in varying shades of tawny and chocolate brown. They were ever-changing, ever-shifting. It made it difficult to look upon her for too long. Fiery hair fell wild about her bare shoulders, framing a face that was both feral and lovely. Her eyes, an ethereal swirl of blue and green, watched me most carefully. At the moment they were pale and soft and free of any emotion that I might possibly be able to detect but I knew all too well how quickly they could darken and flash with her fury. I eagerly lost myself in that gaze – anything to keep me from allowing my own eyes to roam over her body. She would have easily put any Victoria‘s Secret model to shame. She also insisted upon wearing a dress as translucent as a dragonfly‘s wings. I filled my mind with thoughts of Malorie as I quickly shoved my hands into the pockets of my jeans to keep them from shaking. Well, at very least, to keep Sarelia from seeing them shake. ―Malorie is ill,‖ I finally managed after several moments of working my tongue about within my suddenly too-dry mouth in vain. In reply, Sarelia arched a thin eyebrow. She didn‘t even seem mildly moved. ―And so?‖ the spirit purred. She spoke so softly and yet her voice easily seemed to fill the clearing. I tried to pretend like that didn‘t bother me in the slightest. ―And so…‖ I paused to wet my lips. I cleared my throat. I stalled as long as I possibly dared before continuing, ―And so, I need your help.‖ It happened in the time it would have taken me to blink but I could have sworn I saw Sarelia‘s eyes flash. Then again, it might just have been a trick of the light. In fact, her face still gave no indication as to whether she was pleased or pissed by my calling on her and that in itself worried me. Hell, everything about this little interlude worried me. 40

Just One Bite: A Fair Exchange ―The doctors don‘t know what‘s wrong,‖ I continued quietly, my eyes intent upon Sarelia‘s face, searching for any flicker of emotion the spirit might give away. ―But she‘s dying. I can feel it. I tried to root out the source of the sickness myself but…but it‘s too deep and I‘m not skilled enough in the healing arts. I was afraid I‘d do more harm than good…‖ My voice finally trailed off into a silence that was almost unbearable. We stood in that silence for several long minutes before Sarelia finally deigned to speak. The power held in her voice alone was enough to make my arm hairs stand on end. ―And so, you thought to call me up from the Lower World so that I might utilize my precious time in driving a sickness from the body of a singular mortal girl who is of no consequence to me?‖ Well, shit, when you put it that way… ―Yes,‖ I tried to say, though my voice came out as little more than a croak. I swallowed hard against my ever-mounting fear as I reached within myself, drawing on some of my power, giving myself just enough of a taste to lend me strength. ―Yes,‖ I tried again and that time my voice carried. ―I did.‖ Sarelia‘s expression was dark and cold as her eyes swept over me. Those eyes stripped me bare and left me standing there, completely exposed as she so casually searched my soul. I shivered, knowing she would find me wanting. ―And what, pray tell, do you intend to offer me in compensation for my time and resources?‖ I clenched my hands within the pockets of my jeans as I forced myself to hold her gaze, piercing though it was. Suddenly, seeing the elder spirit once more after so many years, my offering seemed far too meager – insulting even. But I had nothing else to give. ―I brought you some gifts—‖ Sarelia cut me off with a laugh. It was not a merry sound. 41

Ana Hart ―A handful of gemstones and a couple drops of your blood, dear boy? How sweet.‖ She smiled then, flashing me a set of pearly whites and I immediately felt my heart sink. ―But, I‘m afraid that in the business of exchanging gifts, the exchange in question must be a fair one, would you not agree?‖ I nodded dumbly. What else could I do? I needed her help. For Malorie, I would pay the price. ―What would you have of me, then?‖ The question was pointless. I knew what she would answer and yet I asked it anyway. I needed to hear her say it. ―I would have you, dear boy.‖ A fair exchange. A life for a life. ―You would see me dead.‖ Despite myself, I felt a tremble race along my body. I was young. I had not yet stopped to consider that I might have to meet death so soon. But, to my surprise, Sarelia shook her head as she took a step towards me, another laugh bubbling up from her throat as she did so. There was a lightness to the sound. ―No,‖ she purred as she continued to approach, closing the distance between us in a matter of a few short strides. ―I would see you reborn.‖ Her mouth fell against mine, hot and hungry, sucking the very air from my lungs in a rush of searing heat. My mind railed against the contact, struggling to regain control of the limbs that no longer seemed to listen so that I might push the spirit away. But my body was no longer my own. With one kiss, Sarelia had stolen my willpower in its entirety. With one caress, I was completely consumed. I stood helpless as all thoughts of Malorie slowly drifted away upon the wind like so many flecks of ash. We fell together to the earth in a breathless tangle of limbs and heated flesh. Writhing. Gasping. Moaning. We burned together as creatures constructed of lust and lust alone and in the haze, my very clothes seemed to melt away. Nothing else existed in such a space. Nothing save for Sarelia and myself. 42

Just One Bite: A Fair Exchange I opened my eyes and immediately regretted it. I didn‘t even remember closing them. Beneath me, Sarelia writhed, blinding in her brilliance, every curve awash with a searing golden light. Her hair fanned out around her face like long tendrils of flame that licked along the grass, devouring it slowly. But it was her eyes that I could not bear to meet—her eyes, as dark as a moonless night and yet hotter than smoldering coals. They hooked into me nice and deep, holding me frozen atop her, threatening to never let go. ―Take me, Daniel,‖ she commanded and her voice surrounded me, filled me. Every inch of my skin thrummed with the power of those words. My mind resisted quietly, a faint voice that was easily lost in the searing waves of desire that crashed about me while my body moved of its own accord, eagerly obedient. My blood roared in my ears, an inferno that raced along my body, licking, lashing, tearing me apart, ripping me from the inside until there was nothing left. I was hollow. I was hungry. My lips blazed across Sarelia‘s skin, kissing, biting, licking. I devoured her, drinking in her heat, her very essence, and still I hungered for more. ―Take me, Daniel,‖ she breathed against my mouth and I felt myself snarl in response, the sound rumbling up from the very depths of my soul. Primal. Feral. Sarelia chuckled then, the sound low and dark as it purred from her beautiful golden throat. Think I‘m funny, eh? My hands struck out, fingers wrapping like manacles about her slender wrists, nails digging into her soft skin as I pinned her arms to the earth on either side of her face, trapping her beneath me. She hissed. She writhed. She arched upwards, bucking her body as if to throw me. But I was strong, stronger than I had ever been before. I drank in her power, her heat, and I laughed. I triumphed. I was merciless as I moved against her, hips pulsing in a fierce rhythm, taking her as she had so commanded of me. Growling and bucking, my teeth closed about the elegant curve 43

Ana Hart of her neck, sucking deeply of the sweetness of her skin as I bore downwards into her perfect form. I was an animal. She tasted of summer. I couldn‘t get enough. I tasted over every inch of her that I could reach. I was greedy. Insatiable. And I didn‘t give a fuck. For hours, it seemed, we moved as one—hours that stretched into another lifetime in its entirety and for each moment that passed, I felt like a god. The energy, the power, the fire, it pulsed through my veins in a rush of mingled pain and pleasure and I embraced it like a longlost friend for as long as I could bear it. But I could not hold it forever. My release came suddenly and without warning and with it, a sense of relief that washed through my limbs as I felt my body and my mind become joined once more. I was my own man again. ―It is done,‖ Sarelia breathed against my ear, sending a shiver jolting down my spine. Suddenly, I found the heat of her body to be almost unbearable and I rolled from atop her with a groan, eager to put some space between us. Shaking, panting, I struggled to my feet as my eyes cast about for my clothing. I found them resting in a neat pile next to the stream, each piece carefully folded and waiting for me. I didn‘t even bother questioning it. Nothing made sense anymore, anyway. ―Malorie?‖ I croaked, my voice hoarse as I struggled back into my jeans, my eyes uneasily slipping back to land on Sarelia‘s form where she stood but a few feet away, calm and clothed once more. She merely arched a slender eyebrow at me as if speech was so far above her. I growled then, embracing my newfound bestiality. ―Our bargain, Sarelia.‖ ―Heal her yourself,‖ the spirit purred, turning her back on me as she began to prowl towards the edge of the clearing. Her indifference was infuriating. I stalked after her. ―Damn you, Sarelia! We had a deal,‖ I snarled, my fingers moving to close about her shoulder so that I might wrench her around to face me once more. She was quicker. 44

Just One Bite: A Fair Exchange ―Silly boy,‖ she hissed, her eyes dark as she spun about of her own accord. ―I have given you the power you need. Now, heal the silly chit yourself and leave me be.‖ I stood dumbfounded for several moments as I held Sarelia‘s gaze, searching for any hint of guile that might have been lurking there. I found none. ―The power? So, that‘s it? You‘re just…going to let me go?‖ I didn‘t understand. I hadn‘t asked for any power. I had only asked that she heal Malorie. But Sarelia had said something…I would see you reborn. My eyes narrowed. ―You never give something for nothing, Sarelia. What‘s in this for you?‖ She smiled. Her smile was almost as infuriating as her indifference, for it was cold and mocking. I wanted nothing more than to slap it from her face but I resisted, more from a sense of self-preservation than that of willpower. ―It was a fair exchange,‖ she whispered and there was a finality to the words. I stood and watched her go, silent and yet wary. I knew this wasn‘t over. I could feel it in my bones. No matter what Sarelia said, there was something else she was after. We would meet again. And I would be ready. ―Malorie,‖ I murmured into the sudden stillness of the clearing as I hurriedly gathered up the rest of my things. In my jacket pocket, I found the lighter and the bundle of the sweetgrass once more. Hands shaking, I lit the dried twist of grass and as the smoke began to curl from the end of the bundle, I began to make my way slowly about the edge of the clearing. I completed the circle, watching as the smoke wafted into the space, dismissing any remnants of Sarelia‘s energy that might have remained. I was thorough. I was stalling. What would Malorie say when next she saw me? How could I possibly explain what had happened? I couldn‘t. No, I wouldn‘t. She would be well and that was all that mattered. Let 45

Ana Hart her family think their prayers had finally been answered. Let it be a miracle. I sold my soul for you, baby. I gave away myself for you. Well, at the very least, Sarelia had been right about one thing –it was a fair exchange. But for whom, exactly?

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Blood on Love by Alessia Brio At thirteen, I thought I was the only person on the planet who could smell what people were thinking. At seventeen, I knew better. At thirteen, the world was black and white. Merciless absolutes. At seventeen, I began to see the terrible beauty of color. At thirteen, I cut myself to feel white pain. Voluntary pain. Cleansing pain. It muted, temporarily, the jet-black pain of solitude. At seventeen, however, I cut myself to smell the mystery of blood and taste a force more powerful than death. It‘s no wonder the vampire mythos is so popular, but the books and movies have it all wrong. The only blood with any real power is our own. Mom knew I cut. How could she not? I never bothered to hide it. She never bothered to care. Without my father, she wilted like the big baskets of flowers behind the funeral home, just taking up space until collection day, when the trash truck took her to the life dump. Her thoughts, too, smelled of dying roses. The spring of my sixteenth year, surrounded by the loamy scent of fresh graves, I saw L‘Aran for the first time. I have no doubt it was not the first time he saw me. He thought familiar smells. Strong and enticing with a hint of metallic danger. Like blood. I rolled my eyes when he told me his name, and he apologized for his parents‘ infatuation with dragon lore. Having been christened Jadzia, I sympathized. He offered his condolences, but I told him she‘d died years ago. He ran his fingertips over the lattice of my scars, and I smelled his 47

Alessia Brio understanding. My life slipped onto a different set of tracks. Just like that. I was about to ask him what he was doing at the cemetery when a whistle pierced our connection. His head whipped toward the sound moments before he ran off, leaving my arms tingling with the memory of his touch. I didn‘t see him again for months, but I‘d sense his presence in the wee hours of the dawn. I touched myself where and how I wanted him to touch me, and I smelled his cinnamon desire, red as the burning horizon. The mundane continued to swirl around me, gnat-like. I paid it little attention. An aunt had legal guardianship until my looming majority, but she cared only about the trust from my parents‘ estate. From the smell of her, it was substantial. Underlying that smell, however, was the dank odor of mutant cells multiplying at an impressive rate. In weeks, I would be free of her. L‘Aran showed up again at her funeral. I smelled him long before I saw him, tucked behind the large oak at the edge of the property. His presence baffled me. Confusion smells like a carnival, both tawdry and intriguing. When the ritual ended, we walked together along the gravel path. I didn‘t need to ask the questions that danced inside. ―When one of us dies, they are preoccupied. I can get away for a while.‖ My first glimpse of belonging. It smelled of the sea. I took L‘Aran‘s hand, and he smiled. ―My mom?‖ ―And your aunt. The dormant generation. As was my father‘s. Did you know your grandparents?‖ I shook my head, remembering the whispered tale of their disappearance, as another piece of my puzzle slid into place. L‘Aran squeezed my hand. ―Am I in danger?‖ 48

Just One Bite: Blood on Love I smelled his impulse to lie, and my heart skipped a beat when instead he nodded. The warmth of acceptance eclipsed the expected fear. ―Who are they?‖ Before he could answer, the whistle. Cold and shrill and demanding. ―Take me with you,‖ I blurted. ―Don‘t be afraid. They‘ll protect you.‖ I smelled, rather than heard, the last bit. ―I‘m not afraid,‖ I whimpered in frustration. ―I just want to be with you.‖ Summer was hot and lonely and so dry my tears evaporated before they could drip from my eyes. I ached for L‘Aran, in turn worried then angry, and distracted myself by volunteering at the homeless shelter downtown. The smells of desperation and decay were more depressing than those of my own self-pity. I cut again. And again. Just to convince myself that I was alive. It was never my intent to garner pity or even to harm myself, as odd as that might sound. It was more self-preservation than self-destruction, although no counselor I ever encountered understood the distinction. I marveled that I could still bleed, when I felt so hollow. I anonymously gifted large chunks of my inheritance to those who still carried a lingering peppermint scent of hope. That autumn, on the morning after the first frost, I woke to a cacophony. At first I thought it one of those obnoxious political discussion programs originating from the television. The figures surrounding my bed argued, seemingly oblivious to the fact that they were in my bedroom. They smelled like church incense, but it originated from their robes, not their minds. The fog of sleep disappeared the moment I heard them mention L‘Aran‘s abduction. They had my attention, but even my shouting failed to garner theirs so absorbed were they in their bickering.

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Alessia Brio I dressed quickly and threw some essentials into a backpack. Credit card, cash, ID, phone, charger, toothbrush. Pausing, I glanced over my shoulder at the package of razor blades on the bathroom counter. Some girls had stuffed animals for comfort. I had my blades. Hoofing it toward the cemetery, I wondered how long it would take for them to notice I was gone. I sat, my back against L‘Aran‘s oak tree, and closed my eyes. There wasn‘t a soul in sight. I could smell anyone approaching well before I could see them, anyway. Or so I still believed.

I dreamt of my childhood, the patchwork of houses and schools, friends left behind with promises to keep in touch until I simply stopped trying. The immediacy of youth is not conducive to long distance friendships, even with the best of intentions. It always felt to me as if we were fleeing a nebulous threat rather than the job transfer explanation. Now I knew the accuracy of my intuition. ―You came.‖ L‘Aran‘s thoughts carried the scent of milk chocolate pleasure. I threw myself into his arms, elated. It took a moment for the significance of his presence to sink in. ―You faked your own kidnapping?‖ ―Not exactly.‖ He held me at arms‘ length, and I smelled his truth. ―There was a real attempt. I just...took advantage of it. We have to move fast. They‘ll look here. The others, too.‖ He led me down to the river, and we waded along its banks. I assumed it was to hide our trail. In a way, I soon learned, I was right. Those searching for us could track us by our water, and the river provided a form of static interference. It jammed their radar, so to speak. For hours, L‘Aran thought-spoke as we trudged through the muck. I absorbed as much as I felt my brain could hold, from 50

Just One Bite: Blood on Love the history of hunting our kind—labeled Sensors by those who sought to mimic our abilities by dissecting our brains—to the wild and evolving variations in those abilities. Everything from pyrokinesis to precognition to, well, smelling thoughts. We were a race hidden in plain view, a not-so-secret society of misfits and nut cases. We could mate, I learned, with another of our kind, but the children of such unions were dead ends. Not only were they without extrasensory abilities of any kind, they were sterile. No grandbabies on that path. Only mating with a mundane, as regular humans were called, would consistently pass along the genetic material necessary to propagate our kind. Even then, the extrasensory abilities always skipped a generation. I studied L‘Aran as he info dumped. Tall and lithe, almost elfish in an Orlando Bloom fashion. He seemed so strong and self-assured. I would‘ve been attracted to him in any situation. Our innate bond and its inherent danger only added to his mystique. How surreal this life twist. And yet it felt right, like coming home. I belonged. In hindsight, I should‘ve paid closer attention to L‘Aran‘s words instead of drifting into a fantasy of our future. But, when he started into the genetics and the experiments and the selective breeding programs, I zoned. I tripped over a fallen tree limb and landed on my knees. L‘Aran extended his hand to help me up, his eyes widening when he saw the blood trickling down my calf. ―Sharp rock,‖ I shrugged. ―I‘m okay.‖ So much can change in an instant. I saw two of them emerge from the trees along the riverbank ahead, beckoning to L‘Aran. I saw L‘Aran turn away. I smelled his icy terror when he discovered several hunters on the opposite bank. I saw him dive. I felt his arms, pulling me beneath the surface. The muddy water muted my senses. I could neither see nor smell. Doubly blinded.

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Alessia Brio We swam, his hand wrapped around my wrist, pausing only when necessary to breathe. Like a crocodile, just my nose would pierce the surface, take air, and resubmerge. Each time, I would attempt to scent our pursuers. Nothing. Then again, I couldn‘t smell them earlier. Their thoughts were either shielded... or unscented. I didn‘t like what the latter implied. L‘Aran could stay under far longer than I, abnormally so. For each of his breaths, I needed four or five. I experienced a moment of panic when we lost contact, then his hand again found me. Perhaps he could see through the muddy water as well. It seemed like hours, but it was probably far less. I stopped. My body refused to swim another stroke. I‘d been on the go since abruptly waking, without any form of sustenance beyond L‘Aran‘s presence. Danger or no, I simply had to rest. My head rose above the water, relieved to take an unrestrained breath, only to have a scream pull the air from my lungs when I discovered the hand holding my wrist was not L‘Aran‘s.

The chokehold came from behind, and a cold breath rasped against my ear. ―Quiet, fool! The hunters are still around.‖ To the other, he continued, ―At least four of them.‖ I tried to fathom their thoughts, but all I smelled was truck stop air freshener. No doubt intentional, and powerful enough to cover damned near any psychic stench. They weren‘t without a sense of humor, which was some small comfort. ―Where‘s L‘Aran?‖ I demanded. Struggling was pointless. They were both bigger, faster, and clearly stronger. The curtain of air freshener weakened somewhat, and I smelled their confusion. ―He either escaped, or the hunters got him.‖ ―He would never leave me.‖ How I knew that with such certainty was just another mystery. 52

Just One Bite: Blood on Love ―This is, regretfully, true.‖ He threw back his hood, revealing a gentle countenance. ―Young lady, we require your assistance. It is most urgent.‖ Looks like Gandalf, talks like Alfred Pennyworth, I thought, but I replied, ―Talk to me... and turn off that damned smell.‖ They led me to what appeared to be an old fishing cabin a short distance away and took turns answering my questions. The hunters were the muscle behind a consortium that sought to subjugate Sensors. This much I knew from L‘Aran. He feared them. He did not, however, fear my captors. They were benevolent, for the most part, yet controlling. Much like parents, but far broader in scope. I likened them to a clumsy version of Dune‘s Bene Gesserit. ―What will they do to L‘Aran?‖ ―If you can imagine it, they will do it. And then some. I am certain their first order of business will be to harvest his sperm.‖ I winced, physically and emotionally. Could there be a greater theft of being? ―That is the least of it. They will then begin to... experiment. Time is not on our side.‖ I felt helpless and completely out of my league, yet these men obviously believed I was L‘Aran‘s best chance for survival. It made me realize how little I actually knew about a guy I‘d come to think of as my life partner. Hell, aside from a starring role in my fantasies, I had little indication he felt more than a deep kinship. Doubts began to weave their stench into my thoughts, and I shook myself. Friend or lover, it didn‘t matter. L‘Aran needed me, and I was determined to rise to the occasion. If I failed, after all, the distinction was moot. What was it he‘d said just before the attack? I struggled to recall his words, wishing again I‘d paid closer attention to detail. They only think they know everything about me. 53

Alessia Brio ―Tell me all you know about L‘Aran‘s abilities.‖ They looked at one another, then at me. We do not speak aloud of such things. Even insects have been used for eavesdropping. ―Oh, please. If the hunters were that powerful, we‘d all be toast by now.‖ I rose and grabbed my waterlogged backpack, intending to set off on my own quest. ―We believe L‘Aran to be more powerful than he‘s allowed us to see,‖ they conceded. And we believe him also more powerful than he knows himself. His blood is like nothing we’ve seen thus far. I glared at them. The others aren’t the only ones who experiment, then, are they? ―We collect information.‖ The defensiveness was so sour, I could taste as well as smell it. The lie followed. ―We do not attempt to manipulate it.‖ I moved toward the door. ―Your blood is very similar to L‘Aran‘s.‖ The words— and their truth—hit me like a blow to the back of the head. Before I could stop to think, I turned and hurled my acrid fury at them. They collapsed like rag dolls, unconscious but apparently otherwise unharmed. ―Well, now,‖ I grinned in surprise. ―Go, me!‖

Blood. They seemed to believe that our abilities originated in the blood. If so, then my blood was my power. As was L‘Aran‘s. And ours was similar, they‘d said. An idea began to form. I followed the rutted dirt road from the cabin toward town. I had precious little information, and less time. The streets looked foreign, as if I‘d been plopped into an alternate reality. Everything and nothing had changed. Paranoia 54

Just One Bite: Blood on Love greeted me with every person I passed, and as I neared the cemetery—the only point of reference I had—it intensified. I climbed the fence at the back of the property, where the stately stone and wrought iron rising from the pampered shrubbery gave way to waist-high chain link threaded with Virginia creeper. A doe looked up from her grazing, and held my gaze long enough for me to wonder if she was what she seemed before ambling away. As I made my way toward my mother‘s grave, I fished in my backpack until my hand found what it sought. Looking at the pale yellow moon, large and low on the horizon, I made a short slice across my forearm. Blood on death. My blood dripped onto the grass and seemed to glow there, viscous and alive. Instantly, I felt the vigilance of the night.

A group of hunters arrived first, as expected, followed moments later by a cadre of the others. It looked like confrontation between an order of monks and a band of outlaws. Had I not been desperate to free L‘Aran, I would‘ve been amused by the absurdity of it all. He was near. I could smell the maelstrom of his thoughts, outrage and concern and overwhelming love. Love for me! I turned toward the hunters and took a step. Behind me, the others closed the distance. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a robed figure bend to collect my blood from the grass. He fell, stricken by an unseen force, just as L‘Aran stepped from the midst of the hunters. One of them attempted to prevent him from moving toward me. I smelled L‘Aran‘s lightning blue determination a split second before the hunter, too, fell. 55

Alessia Brio We ran, then, toward each other. L‘Aran, I swear, flew. It seemed his feet barely touched the grass, whereas mine felt like they were made of lead. He looked gallant in the moonlight, eyes blazing and dark hair streaming behind. When his hand grasped mine, relief nearly knocked me from my feet. Only the cold hands that fell on my shoulders prevented it. They pulled me away despite my resistance, and I tried in vain to summon whatever force I‘d used back at the cabin. L‘Aran was looking at his hand, at my blood glistening on his skin, and I smelled his spark of intuition. It happened quickly, but I saw it in cinematic slow motion. He lifted his hand to his mouth and bit, tearing a chunk of flesh from the base of his thumb. His blood, like mine, glowed with power, and I felt the one holding me tense. The others edged closer on all sides. I threw an elbow and heard a grunt. It wasn‘t enough to break free, but it did allow me to extend my other arm toward L‘Aran. The intensity of our contact—his blood to mine, mingling—lit up the night. Blood on love. He pulled me, effortlessly, from the others‘ grasp and delivered a toe-curling kiss. ―Let‘s get out of here.‖ We left them there, stunned, glaring at one another, and no doubt plotting their next moves. Their game had changed, and it was our turn to make the rules.

56

Night Carnival by Kathryn Meyer Griffith No one lives forever, and oh, how well I‘d learned that sad truth. In the space of a short month I‘d lost my husband of fifteen years, Jeffrey, and my eccentric mother, Evelyn. One to a freak car accident and the other to a quick-spreading cancer. They were the only people in the world who‘d ever loved me and the only people I‘d ever cared about. In my entire strange solitary life. A life I sometimes felt wasn‘t even mine. Now here I sit in my mother‘s empty house, the night before it‘s to go on the selling block. Bargain seekers, some old friends of my mother‘s, but mostly strangers, have traipsed through it in the last three days scooping up whatever was in it. Some stuff I sold cheaply and some I gave away. I wanted little from my childhood home. Mainly mementos. Letters, various precious books and photos. That‘s all. Tomorrow morning I‘d drive back to my home hundreds of miles away leaving the selling of the nearly worthless house (it really was in disrepair) to a friendly real estate agent who promised she‘d sell the place and get something, at least, for it. Eventually. I hoped she was right. I could use the money. My mother‘s medical bills, my own huge remaining mortgage, and the tiny problem of my husband‘s nonexistent life insurance policy had disintegrated my financial life. I was flat busted broke. Damn, and as of this morning, with a cold-blooded phone call from my heartless boss, I was also jobless. Could things get any worse? I didn‘t think so. How in the world had I ended up at thirty-seven husbandless, motherless, jobless and broke? What a pickle. I ran my trembling hands through my short hair and dropped my head into my arms. I was so tired. Tired of keeping

Kathryn Meyer Griffith my head above water. Tired of being lonely. Scared. Worrying constantly over what I‘d do next. Sitting alone in the echoing house made me restless; so uneasy I could hardly bear it. This house and I had a history and not a good one. Since I‘d been a child I‘d lie, shivering, in my bed and be terrified of the night‘s mysteries. Thinking there were ghosts, zombies and worse things hovering or lurching out there looking to hurt me. I don‘t know why, I just did. I‘d listen to the nocturnal winds outside the walls. Calling me. Usually in the fall when the air was crisp and the leaves of brilliant crimson, gold and orange were drifting to the ground. When the yearly carnival came to town and set up in the middle of the forest. I never went. My young self was scared of the woods and the feelings that engulfed me when I even thought of going. That was when I was a child. I was a child no longer. I slipped into my coat and walked out onto the back porch. Around me the woods, packed with night creatures calling to each other, was filling with an autumn fog. It flowed around like a live thing, swirling and clustering in darker shadows. The trees were whispering. I could smell rain in the air. I shivered. I‘d never felt more alone. Out of place. Out of body. That‘s when I heard the haunting music. Irresistibly beckoning. It mingled with the fog, rose and fell on the night breezes and reminded me of a kind of eerie calliope melody; warped from the cheerful dirges of my childhood memories. It came from the wooded meadow down by the stream about a mile away where the carnivals usually ensconced themselves. But it was awfully late in the season for a carnival. I walked through the dark mist and trees drawn forward by the spooky music and as I got closer, the heavenly aromas of cotton candy, funnel cakes and roasted hot dogs. How well I knew the way, though I‘d never traveled it before. 58

Just One Bite: Night Carnival The carnival was there beneath the towering trees, a strange looking collection of people and objects. In a clearing was a huge carousel, slowly going around in circles, and a large worn-looking tent. The sounds of a show in progress were seeping through the wind-tugged canvas. The eerie tune was coming from the carousel whose wooden painted horses, on closer inspection, looked more demonic than whimsical. I cautiously strolled past it; tiny lights strung along the outlines of the big top and in the nearby trees illuminating my way, and could have sworn the horses‘ eyes followed me and their stirruped mouths grinned fiendishly. Muffled neighs hung on the air behind me. I didn‘t dare look back. A gauntlet of shabby booths with shadowy people inside hawking either food or games for the unsuspecting rubes lined the midway. It was late in the evening so there weren‘t many customers left wandering about, mostly lingerers and teenage boys looking for mischief. I passed a fortuneteller‘s brightly colored tent. A sign bouncing in the wind on gold chains above the entrance said: DO YOU WANT TO KNOW YOUR FUTURE? Yeah, tell me my future. Will it have less death or more in it than my recent past? Will I ever be happy? Find where I belong? Love again? Will I even care? It made me almost laugh, but my lips refused to move. Perhaps I‘d return to have my fortune read later. The noises from the big top were winding down, the applause weakly sporadic. Pulling my coat tighter around me, I slipped inside and stood in the gloom taking in the act of the moment, and by the emptiness of the place, the final one of the night. I was surprised to see that there were animals in the center ring. Huge lions, tigers and leopards that seemed to float across the sawdust. They growled and pranced about; did amazing tricks, with no human in sight to control them. Strange. But they were magnificent. So clever. The elephants came next. 59

Kathryn Meyer Griffith Again, astonishingly intelligent. Enormous and weird. Their outlines seemed to shimmer with a reddish light. When the animals exited, a clown and his friends moved around and through the crowd entertaining the remaining meager audience, performing little sleigh-of-hands or magician‘s tricks. Very civilized. Even elegant. As the carnival‘s inhabitants and animals, the clowns were also unusual. The main one was tall and dressed peculiarly in somber clothes of black and red. A long billowing cape with a silken lining the hue of blood. A high hat like eighteenth century gentleman used to wear. From the moment he‘d entered the ring he‘d turned his gaze on me, locking me in, and I couldn‘t look away. It was as if he were speaking only to me. I got up and moved to the first row of bleachers, sitting, entranced as he floated before me. His face was ivory paint and his clown persona was one of great sorrow. His lips downturned, tears painted on his cheeks. Piercing ebony eyes glittered in the semi dark, raccoon smudges encircling them. They were the sadness eyes I‘d ever seen. They made me want to cry for all the unhappiness in the world, his and mine included. His partner clowns were as strikingly macabre as he, dressed in inky clothes with melancholy clown faces, and yet they, everyone, seemed to defer to him. I was struck then by how strange it all was. The funerallike music. The weird carousel horses, the phantom-like animals and the ghoulish clowns. The other acts I‘d glimpsed in the murky corners staring at me as if I were the main attraction. The whole carnival. Other than the Ferris wheel and the carousel, I‘d seen no other rides outside, no animals in or out of cages. Just the carnies that ran the booths, the performers scurrying around the big top and a small gathering of fair goers. The thick fog had crowded around the tent and it was as if I was in another alien world. Lost in thought, fear beginning to creep in around the edges, I looked up and there he was. My dark clown. Because that was what I‘d begin to think of him as. 60

Just One Bite: Night Carnival His black eyes bored into mine and I couldn‘t resist him when he reached out his hand to me. A cold hand. He leaned down, his face so near I saw the hunger in his eyes. ―I‘ve been waiting a very long time for you, Angela. And, at long last, here you are.‖ I was startled. ―How do you know my name?‖ ―I know everything about you. You‘ve always been lonely, have never felt as if you belonged in the world you live in, and more than anything you seek acceptance and…love. I‘m the one who called you here.‖ I would have pulled away but he wouldn‘t allow me. His hold on me an iron vise. Everyone was watching with voracious eyes yet no one was moving to help me. The calliope music, a new tune, now softer and more insistent, had me enthralled. I couldn‘t move and was truly frightened. Every nerve in my body alert to the danger I knew this place and this…man…might represent. There was something here I didn‘t understand. Something unnatural. ―Who are you?‖ I asked softly as he led me from the big top and through the midway. I couldn‘t escape. A bug frozen in amber. A sacrifice being led to the slaughter. All the people were gone. The booths abandoned and the lights dimmed. The machines stilled. Pools of blackness had filled in parts of our pathway. I caught a sweet whiff of candy apples as we turned a corner. It made me realize how hungry I was. I hadn‘t had supper. Too busy crying. I could have sworn, out of the corners of my eyes and slinking just beyond my sight, there were wraithlike luminescent creatures flitting between the shadows beyond the booths and tents. Following us. Watching with unearthly glowing eyes. Had to be my imagination. We arrived at and entered the fortuneteller‘s tent. There was no one there but us. Me and the clown. I sat and watched him sit and wash the makeup from his face. Change his clothes. 61

Kathryn Meyer Griffith Black shirt and pants. He wasn‘t modest, didn‘t turn his back, and I noticed how muscled he was, how pale his skin. A beautiful looking man. Every inch of him. Soon he was sitting across a table from me, my hands captured in his. ―You asked who I am,‖ he spoke in a deeply hypnotic voice and I felt myself sliding away. ―I‘m a vampire. An ancient one.‖ I didn‘t believe in vampires. Who believed in such craziness? Was this man insane? He nodded as if he‘d read my thoughts. He smiled and his fangs gleamed white. My heart banged against my chest. His hold on my hands tightened. ―Oh, we exist all right, but we‘re not always the evil creatures of legend. As you humans, we can be good or wicked. Killers or saviors. I, and my family, glean our…sustenance,‖ he smiled then, ―from society‘s transients, the sickly and murderers; have lived in the carnival a long time and travel the world in disguise. As performers, human and animal. High wire walkers. Illusionists. Clowns. It‘s how we live. I tell the audience I‘m descended from a long line of clowns – from my great-greatgreat grandfather on down, but it‘s only been me. Always me. The same with the others.‖ He smiled again and shrugged. ―I‘ve been searching six long centuries.‖ ―For what?‖ I whispered. ―For you, Angela. My eternal love. The woman I‘ve been waiting for my whole long lonely existence. I‘ve waited long enough. You‘re ready. All obstacles have been removed and it‘s time. I claim you now. Finally.‖ ―Obstacles?‖ ―I had to let you live your human life first. Grow up. Marry. Have children. Before I summoned you.‖ ―I have no children.‖ 62

Just One Bite: Night Carnival ―I know. Now you have no husband. No parents. No family.‖ I nodded. I almost begged him to let me go but looked into his eyes, eyes as deep as forever, not cruel, but dark and powerful, and I knew who he was. He was the one I was meant to be with. Oh, I‘d loved my husband dearly, but through the years I‘d always felt something missing. That I wasn‘t living my true life. There was something I had to find. Someone. Someday. Somewhere. I just never knew where to look. How was I to have known the love of my life was a vampire. ―I know you don‘t want to accept what I am, but in time you will. You‘ll accept our world and our life. It can be an exciting wondrous life. There‘s so much I can show you. So much you‘ll be able to do. Magical things. The life of a vampire is so much more than you could ever imagine.‖ I’m going to die. I’m going to…. ―Don‘t be afraid. I‘d never hurt you.‖ He stood up and I had no will but to follow him behind the curtained off section of the tent. Inside it was a different world. A soft bed and furniture, lit candles, and the end of all I‘d ever known before as he laid me gently down to the silk pillow and his lips touched mine. I thought they‘d be cold, but they weren‘t. My clothes melted away and so did his. His arms were strong and his lovemaking surprisingly vital. I‘d never been loved, adored, possessed as I was by him that night. And I did die…but not in the way I‘d feared. Outside the wind moaned, covering mine, and the rain danced on the tent‘s canvas. The night had absorbed me and I knew I‘d never be returning to anyone‘s house ever again. Never to the human world again. I‘d begun my true life. The following morning when the mists cleared the carnival was gone. The meadow empty. 63

Kathryn Meyer Griffith The carnival on the edge of town seemed to appear from nowhere out of the dark fog one misty fall night. The tiny fireflies, blinking on and off, flocked to it. The Ferris wheel, adorned in miniature lights that sparkled into the night, went round and round operated by invisible hands, never completely stopping unless it was taking on or letting off riders. The calliope, as the breathing horses galloped around the carousel and snapped their sharp hooves at the beasts in front and rear of them, played magical music that mesmerized the milling crowd of rubes. It made a person think of days gone by and nights never seen before. It made certain people, the evil of heart or the wicked, listen to the persuasive voices in the night beckoning them to their well-deserved deaths. I‘d walked from our tent, trailed by the ghostly remnants of these same victims, the souls of those I‘d drained of their blood over the last years, as they chattered, schemed and whispered in the shadows. They couldn‘t hurt me; they couldn‘t hurt anyone anymore, trapped and helpless as they were in the afterlife. They were with me always. They trailed me, unseen by all eyes but mine as I entered the big top, and flew up high to huddle and hide in the murky crevices of the tent. The show was on. The colored lights kaleidoscoped through the air and tinted the people in muted colors. Popcorn, cotton candy and fried foods‘ sweet aromas filled the air. Clowns fashioned balloon animals for the children and the music rose and fell. I saw some of the shape shifters in the shadows changing into their animal forms. The massive lions, tigers and elephants I‘d seen that first night. I smiled at a few, and waved, as they charged into the ring and began their acts. I‘d become good friends with some of them. Outside the sheltering tent a soft rain could be heard tapping on the canvas. A normal night. 64

Just One Bite: Night Carnival I stood outside the main ring, in my sexy glittering costume that showed off my shiny long hair, marble white skin and perfect figure, waiting for my cue to enter. For a second or two I watched the high wire performers as they twirled above the audience; the jugglers with their faultless skills, and the incredible magicians who performed, making not one mistake in their acts. Not one. Dominic, my lover, in his clown guise was out there spellbinding the crowd. His painted face reflecting a smiling façade, as did mine, these days. The sorrowful one was gone. I‘d picked out my prey for the evening, a middle-aged man in the second row, a serial killer whose vicious thoughts I‘d already picked up on. He‘d be dead by the end of the night and the world would be rid of his evil; my thirst quenched in the same flash of my fangs. I‘d been surprised how easily the killing had come to me. Being a vampire. The traveling carnival life with Dominic and the other vampires. They‘d welcomed me with open arms and my life was full. Complete and happy in a way I‘d never experienced before. I had a family. I loved being a creature of the night. Never growing old. Never feeling pain, cold or heat. Sleeping each night besides a man I knew adored me as much as I adored him. Someone who would kill or die for me. A powerful leader who commanded respect and obedience. It was a strange life but not a hard one. I enjoyed the performing and traveling. A new country and town every few days. Dominic gestured to me and held out this hand. I ran to him and, with him, faced the boisterous crowd. My blood hummed. My eyes smiled at him and his smiled in return. Our act was perfect. Appreciated. Applauded. As it always was…and would always be…forever.

65

To Love Again by Allie Ritch One of the problems with being reincarnated is that you don‘t always remember your enemies from a previous life. And when you‘re as powerful a sorceress as I am, you make a lot of enemies. The warlock I‘d run into earlier tonight must have been one of them, and now I had a pack of reapers on my tail. Reapers are nasty creatures: a solid ton of muscle topped by snapping jaws and the scythe-like appendages that gave them their name. With their armor, they look like giant insects, and they‘re damn hard to kill. I had half a dozen after me at the moment. Their pursuit was nearly silent as they followed me down littered alleys, around the corners of dirty brick buildings, and into the shadowy recesses of the city park. Only the clickclack of their pointy feet told me how close they were at my back. Although I ran like a track star, eating up the ground with my pounding boots, they were just as fast. I barely ducked and spun in time to see a sharp sickle slice through the air right where my neck should have been. A lock of my hair drifted down after it, letting me know I was a bit slow. Thankfully there was one thing I‘d never forgotten, not in any of my reincarnations. I always remembered my magic. The words of a defense spell tripped easily off my tongue, calling forth a swirl of blue flame along my arms. This fire did not burn, at least not me, but felt like hot dishwater dribbling down into my palms. With a quick flick of my wrists, I sent it barreling into the nearest reaper. The creature‘s breastplate sizzled and caved in, and its innards were already dissolving before its body dropped to the ground.

Just One Bite: To Love Again Other beings might have been intimidated by this show of power. Not these guys. Although they were fickle about following orders, reapers were relentless when hunting someone who‘d cheated death. Everyone was supposed to go when their time came. Permanently. Reincarnations and the other supernaturals who thwarted death were considered an abomination. The remaining reapers stalked me as a pack. I had to mix magic with brute force when they closed in tight. Repellant spells and blasts of magic fire bought me room, but I was sorely outgunned when it came to the muscle. I kicked hard, heard the satisfying crunch of a mandible breaking, and leapt out of reach of those blade-like arms. In return, I took a thwack to the gut that stole my breath and was tossed like a rag doll. It looked like my latest life was about to end. Still huffing for air, I forced myself to my feet, determined to go out fighting. A pair of reapers came at me in tandem while their twins circled around behind me. I‘d only managed to take down two, curse it. I must be losing my touch. With an underhand pitch, I threw a fireball at the slavering attacker on my right. The missile left a hole clean through the creature‘s torso, but I didn‘t have time to admire my handiwork. I was already punching the underside of another‘s arm to deflect a killing blow and kicking its two buddies back. Then I was flying again, only I could have sworn I‘d felt human hands throw me. I landed in an undignified heap a good twenty feet away, sliding to a stop on the dewy grass. As soon as my head cleared, I sprang back up, ready for attack. None came. There in the distance, the reapers had a new foe to contend with, and this newcomer was packing a sword and a whole lot more muscle. A man had come to my rescue. He had hair like midnight, eyes of steel, and skin the color of milky moonlight. The way he moved was poetry, lethal grace and strength turned into art. Within minutes, he had the reapers chopped into little bloody pieces, and he didn‘t even look winded. 67

Allie Ritch His gaze found mine. Wiping his sword clean, he returned it to the sheath on his back and strode closer. He was only average height for a man, but he seemed much bigger. The thought came out of nowhere that he‘d been very tall for his generation. How the hell did I know that? When I got a better look at his face, my heart stuttered. I knew this man. Not just his looks, but the feel of his skin, the weight of his body over mine, the silky glide of his cock between my legs. We‘d been lovers once. ―Are you all right, love?‖ The deep timbre of his voice sent a sensual shiver all the way to my toes. ―I am now.‖ I didn‘t bother trying to fake my way through this one. ―Who are you?‖ He didn‘t answer in words. Instead, he grabbed the back of my neck, pulled me flush against his body, and claimed my mouth. His demeanor was aggressive, tinged by something like desperation, but his lips were gentle. And as he molded them to mine and swept his tongue behind my teeth, a dam seemed to burst inside my mind. I saw images, a cascade of memories from my previous lives: making love with him by the river, dancing with him in a grand ballroom, kissing him beneath glittering city lights. ―Griffin.‖ The name came to me without thought, accompanied by a love so deep and bittersweet the emotion almost choked me. ―You remember,‖ he whispered. He still held me so close our breath mingled—close enough for me to feel the hard length of his erection behind his leather pants. My sex responded with a welcoming rush of cream. Then he was kissing me again, drinking me in like he couldn‘t get enough. I gave everything I had and took more this time. Slipping my tongue past the seam of his lips, I tried to devour him. Which was how I felt the sharp prick of his fangs. I jerked back. ―You‘re a vampire.‖ 68

Just One Bite: To Love Again With my hands flat against his solid chest, I gave a shove and added a pulse of magic to it when he didn‘t step back. He finally released me. Griffin looked amused. ―Of course I‘m a vampire. I was a vampire the first time we met.‖ My memories were still fuzzy regarding him. My past lives tended to return to me in bits and pieces, although lately I‘d been retrieving larger and larger chunks. I didn‘t know whether to worry about that development or not. ―I don‘t like being manhandled,‖ I told him. He just smiled, flashing those pearly fangs. ―I know. You like to be in control.‖ His grin faded. ―But you‘re in trouble again, Kara. You need to come with me now so I can keep you safe.‖ The sound of my name, my original name, resonated deep inside me. I was known as Carol in this life, but that name had never felt quite right. Kara. Yes, I was Kara, or had been a long, long time ago. Again I felt a sliver of memory slip into place. ―You haven‘t kept me safe before. You tried, but you couldn‘t.‖ ―No.‖ The shadows deepened across Griffin‘s face. ―I was young and foolish the first time, Kara. A fledging vampire without the strength to protect you. But I have dedicated my existence to growing stronger, to gaining enough power to defend what‘s mine. This time will be different.‖ What he said made sense to me, yet I had no clear memory of what he was talking about. I trusted him, though. And I loved him with a passion so fierce it brought tears to my eyes. In the distance, I heard sounds of pursuit. Someone was coming—more reapers or something worse, I couldn‘t say. Griffin didn‘t even turn his head at the noise. He just held out his hand to me. ―Come with me. Please.‖ My hand was in his before I even realized I‘d moved. 69

Allie Ritch He remained visibly alert, scanning the bushes and parked cars as he led me out of the park and along side streets into the historic part of downtown. Even after he let me into one of the dark, empty brick houses set back from the street, he still held my hand. The place was clean, but unfurnished except for the bedroom in back. I lit the candles in the room with no more than a thought. There were dozens of them set on the floor and in every niche of the walls. The only other décor was the thick drapery covering the window and the low bed turned out in jewel tones and silk. ―Planning to seduce me?‖ I asked playfully. Griffin stared at me like he‘d eat me up. ―Yes.‖ Just like that, heat exploded across my skin, more powerful than any magic I‘d ever wielded. My nipples tightened, and I almost felt giddy when I realized my panties were damp. I knew I should wait. There were so many things I didn‘t know, didn‘t remember about him. I should be asking a million questions. Instead, I stepped into him when he took me in his arms and turned my face up for his kiss. There was no gentleness in him this time. Urgency consumed him, overcame both of us, and it felt amazing. His sword hit the hardwood floor with a loud thunk. I shoved his shirt off his broad shoulders and lifted my arms so he could peel off my top. His skin felt warm and alive where I kissed his neck and chest and paused to flick one male nipple with my tongue. A giggle escaped me when he tossed me on the bed. The sound instantly turned into a moan when he stripped off the rest of my clothes and slid his body over mine. ―I didn‘t think I‘d reach you in time.‖ Griffin whispered the words against my naked skin between kisses. ―I thought I‘d lost you again. Oh, Kara, it‘s been too long.‖ His hair was silky between my fingers as I grasped the back of his head. I forced him to hold a kiss while he unbuckled his belt and discarded his pants. When he lowered himself again, 70

Just One Bite: To Love Again my sigh was one of relief and joy. His hips shoved my thighs wide apart. The blunt head of his erection circled my opening until the dusky tip was slick and shiny, and then he pushed it inside me with one hard, steady thrust. It felt like he was coming home. The hot length of his cock stretching me was familiar, yet new enough to feel special and exciting. It was like going back and making love for the first time with all the knowledge of each other we‘d gained over the years. He knew just how to caress me, how to angle his hips to hit that sweet spot deep inside. As he rocked into me, he chanted words of love in several different languages. I found myself saying them back. A keening noise escaped me when he slid one fang over my nipple and began to suckle. His strokes grew shorter and deeper, creating a firestorm of pleasure in my womb. Then he sank his fangs into the swell of my breast. Tears seeped from my eyes, and I cried out in ecstasy as he brought me to climax with a final lunge. He held tight over me, drinking and spending his seed until he‘d drained me of rapture and filled me with his warmth. With a last lick, he sealed the small wounds. He rolled to my side and tucked me close, and I was pleased to feel him breathing hard—something vampires rarely do. ―I missed you,‖ I said. And I had. I‘d missed him this entire life without knowing why I felt empty. Griffin kissed my forehead and turned onto his side so he could look at me. ―We don‘t have to be apart. Let me turn you, Kara. We can be together forever.‖ A drizzle of cold snuck through me. He‘d asked me that before. The first time, I think, and several times since then. I swore I heard an echo as I responded the same way I had in the past. ―I‘ll lose my powers. I‘ll be nothing but a fledgling vampire. Defenseless.‖

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Allie Ritch ―You don‘t know that you‘ll lose your powers.‖ His voice took on an edge now. ―You‘ve escaped death. You‘re extremely powerful. Every time you‘ve been reincarnated, you‘ve even grown to look the same as you did the first time. You may be strong enough to keep your powers through the transition. Even if you don‘t, you won‘t be defenseless. I‘ll always protect you.‖ Except he hadn‘t kept me safe. The first time, we‘d just finished making love, and Griffin had drunk deeply from me. I always liked when he bit me and took my blood during sex. It raised my pleasure to another level and made me feel like I was a part of him. But he‘d been young and inexperienced, and he‘d taken enough to weaken me. There would have been no danger if I‘d had time to recuperate and regain my strength, but our enemies had chosen that moment to strike. ―The other vampires were afraid.‖ I could remember now. ―Your relationship with me worried them. They thought you were making an alliance, trying to grow powerful enough to challenge them. There were four of them, and they came at us while we were vulnerable.‖ Griffin‘s gaze turned haunted. ―I should have sensed them. I should have been more careful with you. We were outnumbered, and they were older, stronger. I fought as hard as I could.‖ ―You won. You killed them.‖ ―Only after I saw what they did to you.‖ He touched my breast where the sword blade had pierced it. ―They spitted you, love. Madness gave me the strength to finish them off, but I was too late.‖ I could still feel the agony of the blade inside me. ―I was dying. You offered to turn me.‖ ―You said no.‖ Tears glittered in his eyes. ―I should have turned you anyhow. I shouldn‘t have asked. How could you choose death over me?‖

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Just One Bite: To Love Again ―I chose death over undeath,‖ I answered. ―And I came back to you.‖ He rested his forehead against mine. ―Yes, you came back. You‘ve come back again and again, and so we‘re trapped in this endless hell. This is the anniversary of your death, Kara. For centuries, I have loved you. And for centuries, you‘ve died on me, always on this day. A drowning, a carriage accident, disease—death always comes for you, and I can‘t stop it. Sometimes I find you early so that we have years together. Other times I‘m too late, and all I can do is visit your grave. You come back to me, but you leave me over and over again. Damn you.‖ His mouth crashed into mine, carrying several lifetimes‘ worth of pain and longing. Through every life, he was with me. My one. My only. He shuddered and came up for air. ―Don‘t leave me. Don‘t leave me this time. I‘m not that weak fool who first dared to love you. I can keep you safe, and I can teach you to be strong. Do this for us, Kara. Let me turn you.‖ Could I do it? Could I learn to exist as something else— a vampire, the undead? The thought terrified me. Yet when I tried to picture an eternity carrying on as we were now, it broke my heart. He deserved so much more. ―Choose me,‖ he pleaded, laying his heart bare. ―Griffin, I—‖ The words died in my throat. Very slowly, I looked down and stared dumbly at the sword point protruding from my chest. For one stupid moment, I thought I was experiencing a memory from the distant past. Then the blade retracted, and I saw the blood staining the sheets. ―No.‖ Griffin whispered the word. ―Noooo!‖ He was out of the bed so fast I never saw him move. Turning my head was awkward and painful, but I had to see. Griffin was like a madman, punching and clawing and kicking the warlock who‘d snuck up on us. Either my enemy hadn‘t 73

Allie Ritch realized I had company, or he was arrogant to the point of stupidity. The fight was ill matched from the outset. Within minutes, the warlock had bled out too badly to fight anymore. Regaining his sword, Griffin lopped off his opponent‘s head with a single stroke and sent it spinning to a stop in the corner of the room. He hurried back to the bed and leaned over me with the most wrenching agony I‘d ever seen on anyone‘s face. Except I had seen it before, stamped into his handsome features every time I‘d died. I remembered now, each and every instance spanning the hundreds of years our souls had been intertwined. ―Please, Kara. Please, love, I‘m begging you. Let me save you. Give me your permission to turn you.‖ That he still asked instead of forcing the issue touched me even as the pain started to pull me under. Griffin was everything I wanted: a ruthless warrior and a gentleman, a generous lover and a friend. We‘d love again. I would make sure of it. ―My love.‖ I whispered the endearment with the last of my strength. Then I said the scariest words I‘d ever uttered in any life. ―I do.‖ His kiss upon my neck was the last thing I felt before awakening to my new life.

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Reflections of Love by Juliet Cardin Cold air surrounds me. Though a fire burns brightly in the hearth, its warmth does not reach me. I am alone in this place that has been my home for almost a century. My memories are my companions on the long and lonely days and nights I face. It is unbearable, this waiting. I do not live here alone, there is one other. My love resides here also. While she rests her weary head down in our room each night, I can sense the distance between us. In my despair, I watch, and wait, and hope. Days have stretched into weeks. Weeks, into months. Months, into years. And still, we remain together. And yet, apart. Lately, I grow afraid. I have seen the look on my love‘s face as she stares at me, and yet, does not see me. And I have begun to feel her anger and frustration; it rises like the tide I see from the far window. Two nights past I watched the woman I love walk right up to me and say, ―It‘s all your fault.‖ Her face contorted with pain, her fists balled in anger. Nothing I could do would comfort her. Even as she placed her arms on either side of me and laid her weary head against me, I could only watch in vain. After a shared moment or two, she abruptly backed away, looking at me with regret and defeat. A lock of her soft hair hung in her face. Oh, what I would give if only I could brush it aside for her. ―I can take the sight of you no more.‖ Her voice was low, devoid of any emotion. Her blue eyes told a story of sadness and longing, one that I would gladly rewrite if given the chance.

Juliet Cardin I wanted to stop her words but I could not reply. ―I will not look upon you again with anything but contempt. Always you drive the ones I would love out of my life.‖ She paused. ―If only…‖ Then she fled from the room. Please don’t go. Alone I was. Cursed in my immortality to spend eternity in this old house, but please, not alone. I went from bedroom to bedroom, to hall, to kitchen, even to the modernized bathrooms. Wandering endlessly, alone. This old place was both home, and prison to me. Forever it seems, I must watch the woman I love come and go, while I remain. There was a time when she swore to love me forever. We, both immortal, thought surely our love would defy all time. A beginning with no end. How we came to be eternal beings, I know not. Only that one moment when I thought death was knocking upon my door and had surely arrived to take me away, instead, I was made whole again. Then, surviving any illness or mishap that came my way. A mystery, and whether it be gift or curse, sometimes I wonder. Providence brought us both together. A boon for our wounded hearts. Before our union, we had each watched our loved ones age and then pass away. Such heartache we endured, almost too great to bear. Both of us, hurt, confused and disillusioned with our curse, thought to hide ourselves away from the world. Moving from town to town, always on our own throughout the endless years. Never becoming close to anyone. No friends, no acquaintances, no one. Until one fateful moment we came together, our destiny‘s brushing, colliding. I remember distinctly, one cold afternoon in the middle of autumn, so long ago… The thought of spending another winter alone was weighing on me and I left my lodgings to wander the village. I walked along, contemplating life, when I saw a lady coming toward me on the street. Passing others, I most times kept my head down, avoiding contact of the eyes. The eyes are the 76

Just One Bite: Reflection of Love windows to the soul, and if someone saw in my eyes the truth of me, well, they may discover my terrible secret. But that afternoon was different. I was drawn to look upon the lovely vision as she passed me on the street. Our eyes did meet, locking as we journeyed along. We each took only a couple of steps beyond one another, before we stopped. Her hair was the color of russet sunset, and most assuredly more stunning to look upon. ―Excuse me, beautiful lady, might I walk with you a while?‖ I boldly asked, instantly smitten. To my great surprise, she agreed. We strolled and talked and even laughed. Before we knew it, the moon was cresting the sky, the afternoon had turned to nightfall. I walked her to her place of lodging, in the small town where we both temporarily resided. After that night, we met again, each day for several days, I, growing more and more captivated by her. I still recall our very first kiss. Beneath a giant oak, we‘d sheltered from an unexpected rainfall. Her lips, so very soft, and sweet. The idea of revealing myself to her was so frightening. The dreaded thought of watching her grow old and die was worse. To my great relief, and extreme delight, my love revealed her immortality to me first. How brave she was. When I revealed my secret as well, we rejoiced that we had been brought together. No longer would we be alone. We bought this home together, pledged our love in a secret ceremony and lived in happiness, content with each other‘s company. Isolation was a necessity; rarely did we venture far or make ourselves too familiar with the small near-by village. High walls encircle the forest that surrounds our home. The forest is thick and vast, shielding us from curious eyes. Since I have not aged since my thirtieth birthday, or my love, since hers, we must guard our privacy. We did not mind. We had each other‘s company to bask in. 77

Juliet Cardin But now…now her love fades, it surly does. After all these years, she cannot love me still. Can she? I have tried so hard to be there for her. Always listening, even though I can no longer reply. Always watching. Does she not feel how much I love her? My silence is as much a curse to me as this place is. It frightens me how she risks venturing out, seeking companionship, as I can offer it no more. When she is not here, the sound of nothingness surrounds me. Taunts me. Ah. But she returns. I hear the front doors shut and the tread of footsteps upon the floor. I rush to the entranceway, but she walks past me, on the arm of another man. I try to catch her eye on the stairway, and yet, she brushes on. My love. She insults me again with yet another man. This is all my fault. If only I were not silent. If only I could tell her of my love. I rush to the bedroom in time to see her kiss her pretty pet and then leave him for a moment. ―I shall return with wine,‖ she tells him, her voice cool. Never even meets his eyes. From across the room, the fellow spies me and walks over to stand before me. ―You are handsome,‖ he tells me. Thank you. He reaches out and touches me gently. My love returns and I flee. Barely catching sight of the soulless smile upon her lips and the wine bottle clasped in her hand. I cannot stand to watch them. Into my memories I escape to a time when I could feel her touch upon my skin. The warmth of her lips brushing against mine… 78

Just One Bite: Reflection of Love I lay her down in that same bed upstairs and slowly undress her. Our desperate hands are everywhere. Teasing, tempting. Her breasts—aching for my touch, my kiss—lay bare. My lips travel down her neck to her shoulder, then lower, and when she can stand no more, I take her pebbled nipple into my mouth and suckle upon it. First one breast, then the other. ―How I love you my darling,‖ she tells me. ―Forever.‖ ―Yes. Forever.‖ I remember settling between her thighs, which open to me in welcome. Gently, I enter her. Ever so slowly. ―You are mine,‖ I say. ―Yes, yours, my love.‖ Then, I am fully inside of her and we are truly one. The magic begins. I start to move, to thrust within her, back and forth, faster and faster…. Until… I break from the spell. I cannot help it. I must watch them. Even if it tears my heart out, I must see with my own eyes the level of her faithlessness. I am silent as I return to the bedroom. She has allowed her fellow to lay her upon the bed. Our bed. And he is kissing her. I strain to catch a glimpse of her. To see the expression on her face as she loves another while I am in the room. And yet, what is this? I see her break the kiss and stand to her feet. ―What is wrong?‖ the man asks her. She turns her back to him and looks at me across the room. ―I cannot.‖ The handsome fellow is upset. He rises to his feet and begins to button his shirt. ―It is your loss.‖ He stomps from the room in anger. 79

Juliet Cardin I see my love flinch as the door slams. Still, she looks at me. Then walks toward me. Closer, she comes. ―This is your fault. What is wrong with you?‖ Is it so wrong that I love you? She is frustrated and paces madly back and forth before me. As she crosses she stares at me in a rage. Peace, my love. A frightening flash passes over her eyes. ―I can take no more,‖ she yells, and runs from the room. A storm is brewing. I can hear the thunder crashing in the sky and the beginning of rain upon the roof. Lightening lights up the windows all around me. I fear this is not the only storm I must face tonight. Quickly, I follow. Down the long passageway many times I catch sight of her torment. Soon, she is stomping down the stairs. I watch helplessly as she descends. She hastens across the entranceway, where she finally pauses before the doors. Please don’t go. She puts her hands upon the doors and bows her head in defeat. A moment goes by and I watch as her head lifts up. She glances back over her shoulder at the table before me, and in a few quick steps closes the distance between us. When I think that she will gentle now, she instead picks up a heavy candelabra and glares at me defiantly. ―Bother me no more.‖ I flee just in time but hear a crash and then a thump as her weapon of choice hits the floor. But she is not content to stop there. Onward she goes, across the floor and steps up to the landing where I witness her wrath. Please my love. Stop. 80

Just One Bite: Reflection of Love I see the destructive heavy weight clasped in her hand once more. She raises her arm and I flee. Crash. I watch her as she storms down the hall and again, strikes out in fury, over and over. Crash. Crash. Crash. I rush on ahead and now await her in the bedroom, where I know she will come. Her visage is dark as she enters and comes before me, slowly and menacingly. ―Look upon me no more foul, loathsome wretch,‖ she says to me. Stop. But she does not. She throws the candelabra and it hits its mark. Glass shatters and falls to the floor. I feel myself falling. Falling. Before I too, land upon the floor. My mind is reeling, my body is shaking. My body? My hands I see splayed before me, surrounded by shards of glass. And yet, I am untouched. A dark curl dances before my eyes. Oh. It is my hair I see. I lift my arm before my face, and wiggle my chilled fingers in front of me. Then I touch my skin, and my hair, before I accept that I am real. ―My love?‖ comes a questioning voice from steps away. I lift my head and settle my sites upon the woman I love. ―Yes, it is I.‖ Unmindful of the glass, she comes and kneels before me. Takes my hand in hers. ―So cold.‖ Her touch is warm, and so longingly missed. I pull gently from her grip and reach out my greedy hands to feel more of her. I want to touch her everywhere at once. It seems an eternity before I finally feel her lips on mine. Where they belong. Holding her is as holding the other half of myself. Together, we are one. She breaks away and I am bereft. ―Tell me. Tell me how this has come to be?‖ she begs. 81

Juliet Cardin After a long breath, I begin. ―A curse, my love. A jealous, vengeful witch came knocking on our door while you walked the grounds.‖ ―A witch?‖ ―Yes. He was quite handsome, I admit.‖ ―And then?‖ ―He swore you belonged to him, that he‘d searched for you for years. Though I tried to speak sense to him, he refused to listen. He cursed me. Put me in the mirrors before I could stop him, so I could watch you betray me, he said, as you betrayed him.‖ She looks at me in shock. ―All this time?‖ ―Yes.‖ Though my words are painful, it is a blessing to once again hear my own voice. ―You have been here all this time? And seen…?‖ She hangs her head in shame. I lift up her chin with my hand. ―Yes, I‘ve seen. Seen you mourn for me day and night for decades. Seen the light in your eyes die a slow death. Witnessed your acceptance with bravery and grace. And watched you berate your own image time and again, every time you attempted to seek out a new love.‖ ―I thought you had left me. I returned home that afternoon—so clearly I remember it—and found the house empty. I searched for you, first round the house, then the grounds, and then in the village. You were gone. So utterly gone. And I, I felt as though I died that day. I waited for you to return, for days, and weeks, months, and then years. When I could no longer stand the loneliness, I betrayed you. I am so sorry.‖ ―Those other men. I saw them arrive with hope and a gleam in their eye. And I saw you send them away—untouched, and in misery.‖ ―They were not you. I hoped to ease the pain of my loss, but being with them only made it worse. Forgive me?‖ 82

Just One Bite: Reflection of Love She reaches out and I pull her into my embrace. My lips rest upon her hair, and then her face. ―Nothing to forgive, my love. Your heart was ever mine.‖ ―My hatred of my own image, smashing the mirrors…it is what set you free.‖ ―The witch didn‘t count on that, dearest.‖ She holds me tight. ―Now you are free and we are together.‖ ―Forever, my love, my life.‖ ―Yes,‖ she agrees. ―Forever.‖

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How Much is that Vampire in the Window by Ann Hinnenkamp Inconceivable. Salvatore glared out of the floor-to-ceiling window at two middle-aged, human women and tried to dampen the rage boiling in his gut. Ignorant fools. Even with the two-inch bulletproof glass separating him from the simpering pair, he could hear every whispered syllable. Didn‘t they realize what they were gaping at? Vampires could hear a pin drop a city block away. Try as he might, he couldn‘t shut out the hormonally supplemented duo‘s words. ―I don‘t know, Martha,‖ the blond with gray roots and dangerously stretched polyester pants suit began, ―I still vote for the one three stalls back. The one with the dreamy smile and washboard abs. This dark one looks like he‘d just as soon break your neck as drink your blood. That shock collar would never stop him.‖ ―I know, I know, Peg,‖ the redhead said and tried to raise an eyebrow. No luck. Her face remained an immovable mask. Salvatore could smell the Botox from his perch on the velvet-draped throne. ―There‘s something about this one,‖ the frozen-faced Martha continued. ―Something primal. Beastly. And see how white he is around his mouth. That‘s what Betty said to look for. The whiter they are around the mouth, the hungrier they are. The hungrier they are, the more intense it is when they drink from you. This is my first time. I want it to be fantastic.‖ A television screen to Salvatore‘s left came to life. The words, ―Smile,‖ and ―Open your shirt to the waist,‖ flashed in

Just One Bite: How Much is that Vampire in the Window three-second intervals. He watched it through three cycles and then turned back to the women. He fumbled with the buttons at the top of his shirt and froze. Despite his great thirst, he couldn‘t make his hands continue the task. ―Come on, Sucker,‖ Peg shouted. ―We don‘t got all night.‖ She motioned ripping off her shirt. ―Show us what you got. What, are you one of those handsome but stupid ones?‖ The rage simmering in his belly roared to life. He sprang out of the throne, hit the glass and snarled his fury at the now terrified suburban housewives. As the women screamed and left his field of vision, the shock collar sent a few hundred volts into his revved up system. Not enough to do serious damage but it certainly got his attention. He fell back onto the throne. A shade dropped from the ceiling, hiding him from view. The television screen flickered and Slick Dick appeared, his triple chins shaking as he whipped his head back and forth. ―Salvatore, Salvatore,‖ he began, ―I thought you knew how this works. Isn‘t that what you said last night when you begged me to take you on?‖ Salvatore nodded. ―Yes, Mr. Dick. I can assure…‖ ―Because that‘s not how it looked to me,‖ Dick droned on. ―So, let‘s go over this again. See that red button? The one that lights up when a customer makes a selection. See it there?‖ Salvatore glanced at the small button, shaped like a heart with fangs. ―That‘s the one,‖ Slick Dick said. ―That little button is your sweet spot. Your job is to get the nice middle aged women with large butts and even larger bank accounts to press the button on their side of the glass and light up your counterpart there. You do that and we all win. I get my money, you get your dinner and the customer gets a hell of a story to tell at their next book club meeting. Easy peasy.‖ ―I understand how it works,‖ Salvatore said through clenched fangs. 85

Ann Hinnenkamp Slick Dick took a herculean swig from an unlabeled, sweating bottle and smacked his lips. ―Let‘s hope you do, Sal. ‗Cause remember, you came to me. Slick Dick doesn‘t force anyone to work for him. I run everything on the up and up. Not like some of those low-class suck joints. You‘re free to leave whenever you want. You got that, Sal?‖ ―Yes.‖ Dick leaned in, all pretense of camaraderie gone. ―Because I don‘t give a shit how many centuries you‘ve been on this ball. I don‘t care how many Kings the great Salvatore counseled or how many villas you owned.‖ He let out a thunderous belch. ―That‘s all gone the way of the dinosaurs for you, hasn‘t it, Sal? All I care about is that little button going off.‖ He backed away from the camera and plastered on a smile. ―We got an understanding here, Sal? Huh? Cause if we don‘t, there‘s the door.‖ Slick Dick pointed to the door behind Salvatore. ―Use it.‖ The screen went dark. After a few moments, the shade lifted, exposing Salvatore once again to the eager shoppers. During the next half hour he tried his best to appear harmless and yet dangerous at the same time. Sexy and yet playful. Naughty and yet nice. Everything as requested in the Slick Dick How To Get That Button Lit manual given to him during his sign up procedure the night before. He could simply leave. Dick hadn‘t been lying about his freedom. After a stop to remove the accursed collar, he could walk out the door and never look back. But then what? He refused to join a coven. Never again would he call another vampire Master. Not after centuries of being one of the lone travelers. A vampire beholden to no one. How could something as impersonal as the human stock market have done this to him? All his millions—evaporated. And if there was one thing Salvatore knew it was no matter which century you found yourself in, it was better to be rich than poor. It wasn‘t like the good old days when you could sip from a human and none would be the wiser. These days if a vampire put 86

Just One Bite: How Much is that Vampire in the Window one foot wrong, the executioners would be after him before the last swallow, stake at the ready. So for now, he must grit his fangs and partner with Mr. Dick. A vampire had to eat. A young woman came into view. Her long chestnut hair hid her face as she stared not at the cells filled with vampires but at the floor. The bright print dress seemed out of place on her body, slouched in on itself. When she stopped directly in front of Salvatore‘s window, he was surprised at how much he wanted this wounded creature to choose him. She called to him, this little one, in a way he hadn‘t encountered in centuries. She lifted her chin and he took in brown eyes, dark rimmed and filled with pain. Old eyes they were. Hopeless eyes. What could possibly have happened to one so young to cause the agony that screamed from her soul, straight through the glass, to tug at his long-dormant heartstrings? Puzzlement crossed her features and then her eyes widened and her mouth shaped into an O of surprise. Without further hesitation, her hand slapped at his button. A few things happened at once. Salvatore‘s corresponding button flashed red, the television screen displayed a picture of Slick Dick giving the thumbs up sign and somewhere deep in his cold, lonely heart, the Vampire felt pleasure. On the other side of the glass, the woman finished the financial transaction with a machine on the wall. Salvatore was astonished at how much fifteen minutes with him was worth. With the transaction complete, the small door to the right clicked open. The customer was now free to come in and join the Vampire for their ―shared experience.‖ The woman hesitated, her hand on the doorknob. Just when he thought she was about to bolt, she looked up at his face, took a deep breath and came in. Immediately, his shade lowered and a voice sounded from the overhead speakers. ―Thank you for choosing Richard Henderson‘s House of Earthly Delights. For your protection, our 87

Ann Hinnenkamp love doctors are monitoring the vampire‘s every move. However we assure you, no part of your time together is being recorded. That would be illegal. If at the end of your time, you wish to prolong your visit, simply put your card in the slot for the reduced additional rate. So, relax and enjoy. Your music choice will begin momentarily. A minute went by as Salvatore stared at the woman who stood back to the door, shaking so badly he could hear her knees knocking. The song, Please Release Me, Let Me Go, started. He struggled to hide a smile. ―I‘ve never done this before,‖ she said. ―You‘ll have to tell me what to do.‖ Her voice came low and deep with a smoker‘s rasp. From her, it sounded good. More than good. Sexy and…delicious. Salvatore‘s mouth watered and fear punched at him. Hunger burned the back of his throat. He‘d left it too long this time. Would he lose control with her? Surely his love doctor would use the collar if he went too far. Something about this wounded human moved him. He wanted their exchange to be pleasurable for her. That meant control. ―Please,‖ she whispered. ―Why are you just standing there? I don‘t know what to do.‖ The screen above the woman‘s head flickered to life. Slick Dick appeared, gave him the ‗get on with it‘ signal, and pointed at his watch. Salvatore ignored him and stepped toward the human. ―Forgive me,‖ he said. She tensed and he responded by raising his arms, palms up, in the universal sign of peace. ―I will not do anything without your consent. And you have but to whisper the word ‗collar‘ and hundreds of volts of electricity will shoot through my body. You are…safe.‖ She took a deep breath and her shoulders relaxed a fraction. ―So, how do we go about this?‖ Her arm swept the room. ―This place is so small.‖

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Just One Bite: How Much is that Vampire in the Window He ignored what her rapid heartbeat did to his thirst and gave her his best attempt at a charming smile. ―We only need enough room for the two of us.‖ He went to the throne and sat. Salvatore began with a gesture he‘d used countless times over the centuries. His arm extended in a graceful line, fingers slightly curved as he focused his will on the shaking human before him. In this manner, he‘d drawn his prey to him. Young or old, they‘d come to him. Rich or poor, they‘d been unable to resist his power. Above all, he was a predator. True, he was in a cage but it was a cage of his own making and the old dance remained the same—mark your prey, draw them to you and feast. ―Come to me,‖ he commanded. The woman took two steps and stopped. Salvatore was surprised. Who knew such a strong will lived within this fragile bird. She shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. ―Don‘t do that. At least, not yet.‖ She studied him with bleak eyes. ―You look…you‘re so like him.‖ The bleak eyes filled with tears. Salvatore thought he understood now. The sorrow and loss bleeding off her had to do with a death. But whose? ―What was his name?‖ he asked. She flinched and shook her head. ―Why should it matter to you?‖ When he opened his mouth to answer, she raised a hand to silence him. ―Please, no false sympathy. I‘ve had enough of that thrown my way.‖ She ran a hand through her thick hair, leaving it fetchingly tousled. ―So, am I supposed to sit on your lap?‖ He nodded. ―I need you close.‖ ―Put your arms on the outside of the chair,‖ she directed. Salvatore complied and tried to appear harmless. He didn‘t want to rip into her throat and drink her dry. Oh, no. Not him. Butter wouldn‘t melt in his mouth. Actually, with his low body temperature, it probably wouldn‘t. She came to him then. Still hesitant. Still shaking. When she settled her tense backside on his lap, Salvatore gripped the sides of the throne in an effort not to crush her to him. To further 89

Ann Hinnenkamp test his control, her scent, clean and laced with lilac, washed over him. Shaking fingers traced the line of his jaw, the arch of his eyebrows, and the curve of his bottom lip. ―So like him,‖ she whispered as a tear slipped down her cheek. Her light touch intensified the fire at the back of his throat. ―Where would you like your mark?‖ he asked, surprised that he still had reason enough to form the question. ―Some place I can hide it. Here.‖ She pushed her sleeve up past her elbow. ―There, do it there.‖ Salvatore lunged but she pulled away. ―Wait.‖ ―Madam,‖ he said through clenched teeth. ―Never tease a vampire.‖ ―Sorry, I…Is it true when you drink I won‘t be able to think of anything else?‖ ―Oh, yes. I can assure you, after the first sip your only thought will be of me.‖ ―Good. Okay.‖ She looked him full in the eyes. Her pain screamed at him again. ―I don‘t care if it only lasts a moment.‖ She offered her arm to him. ―Please, take the pain away. I‘ll go mad soon if you don‘t.‖ He needed no further prompting. Quicker than her human eyes could track, one arm snaked around her slim waist. His other hand grabbed her forearm in a vise-grip and drew it to his lips. If he hadn‘t been so hungry, he would have prolonged the procedure. Anticipation of the first sip was almost as sweet as the act itself. But not today. His fangs punctured her skin. He ignored her gasp as hot, wet velvet poured over his parched tongue. Gods, she was delightful. No trace of drugs or sickness. Liquid heaven and all for him. Once past his mouth, the blood spread quickly, rehydrating his moisture-starved cells. Pull after pull he took from her. It had been so long. His need was so great.

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Just One Bite: How Much is that Vampire in the Window As his head cleared, her sweet moans stirred another part of his starved anatomy. His erection brushed against her backside as she wiggled seductively in his lap. He could not take her. Not without a pre-signed form of consent. Sex was another sure way to have the executioners after him. Once again, he missed the good old days. As he pushed aside his physical need, his mental powers grew and her memories crashed in on him. Maria was her name. Carlos had been her husband. They‘d been friends since their mothers had put them in the same playpen. First, as rarely separated children, then as adolescents who pretended to hate each other and finally as lovers in every sense of the word. Theirs was a true love. Soul mates they‘d been. Salvatore stole a moment to let their love wash through him. So pure an emotion, it brought tears to his eyes and a bonedeep longing for someone lost to him for centuries. His remembered pain brought hers to the surface. Carlos‘ life, cut so short because of her. If only the neighborhood drug lord hadn‘t wanted her. If only she‘d given in and slept with the pig, Carlos would still be with her, smiling at her when they woke in each other‘s arms. The shock of Carlos‘ death in a drive-by shooting had brought on a miscarriage. Now, Maria had nothing, was nothing. She‘d lost the other half of her soul and was left an empty husk. The pain was too great. He ripped his mouth away and broke from her memories. Her relaxed expression made her look like a teenager. But he knew the pain would return. His bloodkiss brought only temporary relief. Risking a visit from the executioners, he stared deeply into her eyes and imposed his will. ―Carlos would die again if he saw you like this. Would you throw away that which he loved most? For him, Mia.‖ he used Carlos‘ pet name for her. ―For Carlos, you must go on and find happiness with another.‖ Salvatore poured his power into her, willing her to heed his words. Maria‘s faced displayed a slideshow of emotions. First surprise followed by grief, wonderment, understanding and 91

Ann Hinnenkamp finally, a ghost of a smile. She cupped his cheek as her smile widened. ―You‘re right. I understand how it should be now.‖ Shyly, she placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. ―Thank you.‖ She rose and straightened her dress. A gong sounded. ―Alas, your time is up,‖ the speaker voice chimed in. ―If you wish to continue this pleasure filled experience, simply put your card in the slot for our special per-minute reduced rate.‖ ―I think I‘m good to go. No offense.‖ Maria walked to the door. ―Maria,‖ he called after her. When she turned, he took in her improved posture and soft smile. ―Don‘t come back here. This is no place for you.‖ She nodded and walked out of his life. As soon as the door shut, Slick Dick was back on the screen shaking his head. ―You were doing great, Sal, just great. Right up to the time you told the score not to come back. Repeat business, Sal. That‘s what we‘re all about here. Remember that.‖ ―Sure, Dick. Anything you say.‖ ―You good for another go-round or you want me to clock you out?‖ ―By all means, raise my shade. I‘ve only begun.‖ Dick beamed back at him. ―Now that‘s what I like to hear. You‘re going to fit in just fine.‖ The screen went blank and Salvatore‘s shade rose. An old man was passing and Salvatore smiled seductively at him. He had the way of it now. In Slick Dick‘s establishment he would grow strong again. Gorge himself if he wanted to. Start building his finances. And sometime soon, he would take a night off and pay a visit to the drug lord who had ordered Carlos‘ hit. Mustn‘t let all the old skills rust away. He was a predator after all. The old man hit his button. Salvatore smiled in anticipation.

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Inhuman Resources by Melisse Aires ―You need to make an appointment with Inhuman Resources, Candy,‖ Merridae said, nodding so her greenish grey curls bounced. ‖Identity theft is even more serious for the Hidden. Why, what if it‘s one of those crazed vampire hunter groups who hacked into your computer? You could be in danger!‖ A shiver of fear rattled down Candy‘s spine, even though Merridae delivered her warning in a high pitched childlike voice. All those pixies, trixies or nixies-- or whatever Merridae was-- had those little cartoon voices, and normally Candy thought they were charming. But right now, Merridae resembled one of those creepy little girls in a horror movie. Candy‘s lunch of O-neg curdled in her gut and she rubbed her tummy. ―Oh, does the widdle vampy have twouble?‖ Brandise, who typed in the cubicle in front of Candy, peered over the dull fabric partition. She shook a finger at Candy and just for a moment the finger flamed. Brandise enjoyed reminding Candy that her fire demon powers could reduce a young vampire like Candy to cinders in an instant. ―Knock it off, Brandise. I see fire again and you just might find your cute little condo with a small leak problem. Maybe some black mold.‖ Merridae let her glamour drop for a moment and grinned, showing the razor sharp teeth she really had, not the human teeth she wore in her work persona. ―Huh!‖ In a huff, Brandise flipped her flame red hair and flopped back into her cubicle. Everyone knew making an enemy of the Little People made life a pure misery.

Melisse Aires ―You call them, Candy. Tell them you might have a security issue.‖ ―I will. And thanks.‖ She rolled her eyes in Brandise‘s direction. Merridae grinned with human teeth. ―No problemo.‖

An hour later Candy‘s supervisor told her Inhuman Resources was ready to see her in room 2666. Candy ran a quick brush through her hair, glad her flip had stayed perfectly curved. That was one advantage to being a vampire. Great hair—longer, thicker, blonder and shinier. Becoming a vamp was a beauty upgrade, for sure. Probably the best thing about it. She still wasn‘t used to having a stunning figure. As a human she‘d been pretty darn ordinary looking. She hurried to the elevator reflecting on how high heels never bothered her feet now. She could jog in them if she wanted. Candy was glad she‘d dressed especially well today in a kicky little baby blue skirt and great strappy heels, since Inhuman Resources was up on the executive floors of Grubman and Wart Financial International. She worked on the lowly third floor. Still it was better than the mailroom on LL2 that she‘d started in two years ago. Candy never was much of a hunter, and the crazy homeless people she‘d sipped from after her Transformation had disgusted her. Working at the demon financial firm had got her out of the vampire flop house and into a tiny studio, with O-neg delivered to her door weekly. Un-Life was pretty good. Until she got hacked, anyway. Room 2666 had a nameplate, Evan LaRue, Security. She knocked on the door and was told to enter. A man rose from a large desk. Blond, with a French surname, so he was a vampire. Incredibly handsome with midnight blue eyes, long lashes, finely carved cheekbones and jaw line. A body to match under a designer suit. Mercy! 94

Just One Bite: Inhuman Resources She was learning. Most Caucasian humans transformed into blond or red-haired vampires, while darker complexions gained a lovely golden hue or a delicious blue black quality, depending on their human skin tone. Facial features evened up, teeth straightened and whitened, bone structure refined…in short, vampires became physically more appealing to humans than they had been in human life. Mr. LaRue held out his hand, and that clasp was like coming home to Mama. So comforting, so safe, so strong— Candy wanted to crawl over the desk and sit in his lap. She wanted to lick him all over and nibble on that luscious neck, see if his blood tasted like hot honeyed whiskey…Candy blushed and tripped on the chair placed in front of his desk. She fell into the plush chair, embarrassed. He’s projecting. Old vampires could make humans and young vampires feel certain emotions, a handy ability for all the vampiric manipulation they enjoyed tossing around. Candy scolded herself, remembering how such projections sometimes helped old vampires take advantage of young ones. Not this time! No matter how hot he is. ―I was just trying to make you feel at ease, Miss LeMay. I understand that your personal computer got hacked?‖ ―Yes. Hacked.‖ She dragged her mind off him and back to her problem. ―When did you discover this?‘ ―Well, yesterday I used my bank card at a terminal, and it said I had no money. But I did have money, in both my checking and savings accounts. When I go home and checked online all my passwords had been changed.‖ ―Do you bank with one of our affiliates?‖ She blushed. ―No. This bank had a floral china set gift for opening an account, and I had just moved into my own place…‖ He nodded. ―So we are dealing with a human institution?‖ 95

Melisse Aires ―Yes.‖ ―I see.‖ He typed a note. ―Whom do you receive your blood deliveries through?‖ She stared at him for a moment. ―Blood deliveries? Um, through Ace.‖ His fingers flew over his keyboard. ―Do you have friends that have used your computer? Or stayed in your apartment? A boyfriend, perhaps? Have you had any odd feelings someone was following you? Do you have any enemies?‖ ―No. No to all.‖ Then she thought of Brandise. ―Well, I don‘t think I have any enemies. But there are some inhumans that don‘t like me very much.‖ ―Who?‖ She shifted in her chair. ―Um, well, a fire demon. But they never like vampires, I hear, so it is not personal.‖ He was typing again. ―Yes, I‘ll have an investigator look into Miss Brandise Burnette. Anyone else? The vampire who sired you?‖ ―No! I haven‘t seen him since spring break three years ago. I think he‘s still in Mexico.‖ ―Hmm, you‘ve worked here for two years… where did you originally live, if not with your Sire?‖ ―Before I got my own place I lived in a flop house in Reseda.‖ He nodded. ―A yes, the infamous Reseda flop house…‖ More typing. ―I‘m not in contact with them.‖ He suddenly stood up. ―Come. It will be daylight in two hours. We need to pick up your computer and you‘ll need some clothing. You won‘t be able to stay at your place until this matter is cleared.‖ ―Do you think it is vampire hunters?‖ Fear clutched her stomach. 96

Just One Bite: Inhuman Resources ―Too soon to say, Miss LeMay. Have you tested into the LeMay clan, then?‖ He held the door open for her with casual elegance. ―Yes, I used the company lab for verification. New employees get a discount.‖ ―Yes, of course.‖ He escorted her down to the executive parking garage.

His car was low slung and powerful, some type of European sport‘s car, built for speed. She slid into the butter leather seat and it too seemed to project. She didn‘t want to ever take a taxi again. Her hands stroked her leather seat until Mr. LaRue got in. Quickly she clasped her hands together in her lap to keep them from sliding over that arm, so close to her in the small front seat. He worked the gearshift, and the back of his hand grazed her thigh, sending a trail of hot sparks right to her you-know-where. Was he projecting attraction? Was he trying to manipulate her? That pissed her off. She was a fellow employee, she deserved more than manipulation. Especially from the security department. She moved herself tight to the door, away from that enticing arm. They arrive at her second floor apartment along with more security personnel from G&W. Her apartment looked all normal, so cute with its high ceiling and plants. ―Get your stuff. You can‘t stay here. You call that a lock?‖ Mr. LaRue waved dismissively at the chain on her door. He then ignored her to talk on his cell. ―Where are you taking me?‖ Candy asked as she was packed. ―Well, it seems some of our vampire staff in Cleveland is missing. So you‘re going back with me to my suite.‖ 97

Melisse Aires Oh, these old vamps, always so entitled! Candy stopped watering her plants to glare at him. ―I certainly am not. Drop me off at a hotel.‖ ―You don‘t have any money, remember?‖ ―Then I‘ll stay at a co-workers.‖ ―I‘m a co-worker. And my place is on the top floor of Grubman and Warts. Extremely secure.‖ Several security men wandered through her tiny apartment. Their mood seemed more somber since the news about the Cleveland vampires had reached them. Candy knew she couldn‘t stay here tonight, so she finished watering her pink geraniums. ―All right. Under the circumstances.‖ Inside she was disappointed Mr. Larue was turning out to be a typical male vampire. Mr. LaRue took her duffle bag. He looked askance at her bag of yarn. ―I never met a vampiress that knit before.‖ ―I crochet,‖ she mumbled as they walked to his car. He talked on his cell the whole journey to the parking garage. ―We may be glad for the extra security.‖ He parked and called security for an escort. Fear entered Candy‘s inhuman heart. ―We need security? In the building?‖ ―Better safe than sorry. You worked with some of the missing vampires. Delia and Chuck. In Cleveland.‖ ―Delia and Chuck? We worked together on a few projects. Via computer and phone. We‘ve never met.‖ Stunned, she got out of the car and followed him. Security guards enveloped them and they took a fast elevator to the twenty-sixth floor, then a private elevator from there. It opened onto a suite that was like something out of the Four Seasons—gleaming everything and thousands of dollars on fresh floral bouquets. He showed her to a large bedroom with a private bath. ―It‘s a beautiful place,‖ she said when she returned to the sunken living room. 98

Just One Bite: Inhuman Resources Mr. LaRue waved a hand. ―Not my idea. Rita‘s. My Sire.‖ ―Rita?‖ ―Margarite LaRue.‖ She nearly dropped. ―The Margareta LaRue? You are one of those LaRues?‖ The LaRues were Vampire Legends. ―But…isn‘t she mated? Why would you live with her?‖ ―She is and I don‘t.‖ He mixed her a bloody drink and handed it to her. ―She‘s mated to my brother. From human life. I was dying of cancer so he persuaded her to Transform me. Used his special ops training to kidnap her to get it done. Later they did the blood mate thing, he became a vampire, and I got a good job.‖ He took a long swallow and she couldn‘t take her eyes off his neck. He was projecting sex appeal. That‘s what this was. Same old vampire trick. She slammed her glass down. Onto an ivory coaster—no way was she going to harm Margareta LaRue‘s furniture! Then she glared at him. ―I do not appreciate all this projection and manipulation, Mr. LaRue.‖ ―Call me Evan. And I may be projecting but I am not manipulating.‖ ―What does that mean?‖ He grinned and refilled their glasses with some type of expensive liquor she wasn‘t familiar with, and a smidge of blood for flavor. ―You‘re smart. You‘ll figure it out.‖ He walked across the room to a hallway. ―I‘m going to change out of my suit.‖ Immediately she imagined him in a black silk robe, open to the waist and falling just below his… ―Who‘s projecting now?‖ Evan called from his bedroom. ―I can‘t project, I‘m only four years vamped.‖ He came back wearing faded jeans that cupped his nether regions lovingly, and a black T-shirt. ―It‘s never occurred to you that you are unusually mature for a young vamp? Look at 99

Melisse Aires you—you hold down a job, you aren‘t living a life of blooddrugged sleaze.‖ ―Is that what you did?‖ She wrinkled her nose in distaste. ―I didn‘t like the ugly alleys and filthy bars or the smelly old drunks and addicts.‖ She took a sip and blamed the liquor for her fluttery stomach. ―Have you been a vampire long? ―Since the late sixties. But I was fostered in an old world clan, so I had no freedom to act out.‖ He flopped down next to her on the chintz sofa and his eyes fastened on her legs, exposed by her kicky blue skirt, His gaze met hers. ―But you are projecting.‖ She was trapped in his eyes, heavy lidded, shadowed by his long lashes. ―I am?‖ He nodded. ―And you say I‘m projecting. I think we are both projecting the same thing.‖ He took the glass from her frozen hand. ―We are?‖ ―Yes.‖ ―What is it?‖ He looked at her for a moment, very serious, then moved with vampire speed. Deliciously firm lips pressed hers, steel strong arms engulfed her. He tasted as enticing as he looked. A hunger like she‘d never known swept through her, making her weak at the knees, She returned his kiss, tongues colliding in a wild dance that sent waves of pleasurable vibrations though her whole body. Heat—fusion—boiling—nova—atomic—flashpoint. Overheated terms from her college years as a science geek flooded her mind. Their bodies fused together chest to knees. She could feel every ridge and muscle of his hard, glorious body. His clothing angered her and she pulled and tore until her hands grasped the smooth strong skin of his back. Or he drew her like an electromagnet…like super epoxy. 100

Just One Bite: Inhuman Resources He stopped kissing her and pulled enough inches away from her that she could focus on his eyes, which were wide with surprise. ―Epoxy?‖ His voice cracked and with their hips fused together she could feel he was still aroused. She felt embarrassed. ―I was a science major.‖ She ducked her head. ―Wait—you mind read?‖ His cell vibrated between their still crushed together bodies. He answered it. She pulled away and tried to think. Mind reading? He turned and she saw his back revealed in the shreds of his shirt. Perfect. She still wanted to lick him all over. ―That was my brother. They have a lead. And we have an appointment at the chateau with the LaRue oracle. About the mind reading.‖ He moved toward her as fluid as a jungle cat. Maybe as dangerous. Candy noticed that her blouse was open to the waist. With a swift move his shredded shirt was gone. He invaded her space, thighs brushing her. His eyes focused on her blue satin bra. The touch of his hand between her breasts made her tremble. He flicked and her bra flew apart. With a sigh she fitted herself to him, her nipples brushing his golden chest hair. Skin to skin was what she needed. ―We‘re ordered to stay inside the suite until our flight is arranged.‖ He stared into her eyes and supernaturally strong hands gripped her shoulder. For a vampire he generated a lot of heat as his wet, hungry mouth latched on an aching nipple, fangs surrounding her with sensual promise. She‘d never understood vampire lovers craving a bite, not until now. Candy was desperate to have him in her, fangs, fingers…fusion…

She woke from a hard sleep still wrapped tight in his arms. His fangs were in her neck, hers were in his shoulder, and his hardness still stretched deep into her. 101

Melisse Aires Entangled…melded. The thought was his, not hers. ―We‘re all mixed together,‖ she whispered. He slid his fangs from her and pressed a deep kiss against her lips. ―I think we are supposed to be.‖ ―The vampire oracle will know?‖ ―Yeah, they are all about the mystic.‖ He ran hands through her hair and brushed his lips along her jaw. ―What about my job?‖ ―You‘re on special assignment. Security detail. We leave for France in two hours.‖ ―Together?‖ He pulled her tighter into his arms. ―Definitely.‖

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Ritual Ink by Joely Sue Burkhart Leaning against the porch railing to catch my breath, I hesitated before putting a single foot on the bottom step. I‘d rather give up my right arm than go to the priest for help, but I‘d lose a lot more than an arm if he couldn‘t patch my protection spells again. Blood spilled through the fingers I‘d clamped on the gash cutting open my left side, but the wound didn‘t worry me. No, what scared the shit out of me was the red haze clouding my vision. The night air pulsed with human passions that not even a Minnesota winter could cool. The sidewalks along Grand Street were empty this late—or rather this early, since dawn was only two hours away—but my blood thundered with the need of hundreds of thousands of bodies crowded in the sprawling Twin Cities. So much power at my fingertips, if only I dared let my demon half free. My skin steamed in the chilly air, fevered with my hunger. A quick glance at the back of my hands in the porch light made my heart crawl up into my throat. The intricate tattoos that curled up my hands and disappeared up my coat sleeves glowed red instead of the black that had been hammered into my flesh over the years. Black represented protective spells, chains that kept my monster under control. Red, the blood I would spill if the demon raged free. I don’t have a choice.

Joely Sue Burkhart I‘d barely dropped my foot onto the bottom step and the front door opened. ―Welcome, lady warrior.‖ Father MacRae hustled over and grabbed my arm like I was rudely late for an appointment despite his pleasant words. ―It‘s been far too long since you graced my humble home.‖ His rich, low voice wrapped around me like silk and velvet, stirring wicked thoughts about the man who‘d been saving my ass for almost a decade. I wanted to protest that I didn‘t need his help up the stairs, but my strength was fading as quickly as the blood running down my side. I closed my eyes so I wouldn‘t have to look at the harsh, chiseled planes of his face. He‘d never be called a handsome man, but the large— obviously broken once or twice—nose gave him an aristocratic demeanor. I‘d never asked, but I liked to imagine he‘d earned those broken noses in a few bar fights before he‘d joined the Church. Damn it, he wasn‘t dressed like a man of the cloth should be, either. Broad shoulders and muscled chest were sinfully outlined by the simple white T-shirt, not to mention those meaty guns that proclaimed a wrestler‘s easy strength. Drawing me against him, he wrapped an arm around my shoulders, swamping my senses with the spice of his blood, the musk of his masculine body. I jerked away, staggered, and nearly fell flat on my face on his porch. ―Don‘t be silly, Lady Catherine,‖ he chided, pulling me back against him. ―If I didn‘t fear you‘d rip my head off, I‘d simply carry you.‖ I couldn‘t help the throaty moan that escaped. Not just the feel of him, warm and so delightfully human and pure. Sweet. But the way he said my name, the calm surety in his elegant hands, at odds with his bear-like size. Before I knew it, he had me inside his grand old Victorian home and downstairs where he‘d taken care of me so many times before. ―What was it this time? Ghouls?‖

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Just One Bite: Ritual Ink ―I wish,‖ I rasped out, wincing at the ragged need tearing my voice to shreds. He helped me shrug out of my coat. My shirt was plastered to my ribs, sticky with blood. ―Nephilim.‖ Peeling up my shirt just enough so he could see the wound, he blew out a low breath. ―No wonder you‘re in such bad shape. When is the Church going to quit sending you against creatures you can‘t possibly fight unscathed?‖ I forced out a laugh. ―They don‘t call me Dirty Deeds for nothing.‖ He growled deep in his chest and continued his examination without another word. We‘d had this conversation too many times to count. He always insisted I took needless risks for a Church that condemned me, while I insisted that since they‘d saved me, I owed them every last drop of my accursed blood. I killed at the Church‘s direction because I was good at it. As long as I don’t allow myself to enjoy it too much. Besides, if I weren‘t feeding my monster with violence, I‘d have to feed it something else. Just the thought made my spine bow on a low moan that had nothing to do with pain. Every muscle in my body ached to rub against him, even though his probing fingers were impersonal. The creature inside me let out a vicious cry of pleasure and rose from the deepest, darkest corner of my heart where I‘d chained it long ago. I could almost feel it stretching inside me, swelling with strength. It‘d just take one moment of weakness for the demon to escape my control. One slip. Like a sampling of this fine holy specimen, pure and chaste and all the more sweet because he was forbidden. Exactly why I stayed away as long as possible and only came to him when I had no other choice. ―Father MacRae.‖ My voice came out harsh, each word ringing in my ears. He didn‘t even look up. ―Yes, my lady?‖ 105

Joely Sue Burkhart ―Please don‘t call me that.‖ Not when you know exactly what I am. ―When you call me Liam, I will cease calling you Lady Catherine.‖ ―Father,‖ I said through gritted teeth, refusing to budge on the formality that barely helped me hold on to my sanity. ―Just patch me up and I‘ll be on my way.‖ ―You‘ve been coming to me for nearly ten years, and every time it‘s the same.‖ He must have dumped liquid fire into my side. My breath hissed out but I didn‘t flinch away. Pain or pleasure, it didn‘t much matter to the demon. My nipples were embarrassingly prominent. I could only hope he didn‘t notice. Thank God I hadn‘t taken an injury to my lower half. I could all too easily imagine those fingers on my inner thigh, while I squirmed to get him to touch me just a bit higher. ―You insist a few stitches are all you need, while your spells tremble on the verge of collapse.‖ He drew back a little and glared down at me, his eyes dark with recrimination. ―You need much more from me, my lady, whether you want to admit it or not.‖ I shuddered, biting back the instantaneous surge of lust at his words. May he never know all the wonderfully filthy things I burn to do to him. ―You and I both know that while you‘ve lost a lot of blood, you‘ve already started to heal this wound.‖ Suddenly brusque, he taped a bandage into place and stood. As though to leave. ―So if that‘ll be all…‖ I tried for meek, even though I‘d rather bite my own tongue out. ―You‘re right, Father. My spells have weakened enough to glow with demonic light. Would it be too much trouble for you to add a new tattoo?‖ He kept his back to me. Bottles clanked on the table, and I hoped he was mixing the ink required for a fresh spell. ―I cannot, my lady. Not this time.‖ 106

Just One Bite: Ritual Ink My stomach twisted into knots and my heart stuttered, too ponderously heavy to beat. All these years, I‘d been flirting with the inevitable. Not even spells tattooed with holy water into my flesh could keep the demon caged forever. Cold resignation settled over me like a morgue sheet. ―Each spell has failed quicker than the last,‖ he said in a gentle voice he must reserve for the bereaved. ―Besides, you have very little unmarked skin remaining, at least that you‘d allow me to touch.‖ I winced. His careful artwork already swirled up my arms and legs and across my back. What did I expect the priest to do—tattoo my breast? My inner thigh? A buttock this year and my other next? He gave a little heartbroken laugh but didn‘t turn around. ―I‘m afraid your modesty has defeated me.‖ Sighing out a long breath that felt like my last, I closed my eyes. I‘d expected the demon to rise up with glee at the thought of freedom, but I already felt cold and dead inside. With the blackest pit of hell looming before me, I made one concession for the man who‘d given me at least a few years of something other than death and violence. In the dark lonely hours, I treasured each and every moment I‘d spent in his care. ―It wasn‘t my modesty that I feared, Liam, but yours.‖ ―Catherine,‖ he drew my name out like a low blissful prayer. ―There is a way. But I‘m afraid you‘ll refuse.‖ Something tickled my nose, a sweet incandescent spark of luscious sin. I opened my eyes. Father MacRae held a small wooden bowl—the one he always used to mix the dye and holy water for the ritual. But this time, he held his thumb over the edge. His bleeding thumb. My demon went rigid with awareness, vibrating with intense hunger at the promise of that blood. ―Instead of violence, feed on me.‖ I shuddered, squeezing my eyes shut and clenching my hands into fists. ―Absolutely not!‖ 107

Joely Sue Burkhart ―Use me, Catherine. I‘m more than willing.‖ ―The risk,‖ I ground out, averting my face. I swore he‘d stepped closer, for the warm inviting scent of his blood wafted beneath my nose. My mouth watered so badly I was probably frothing at the mouth, and it was a damned good thing I still wore jeans to conceal how wet I‘d become. He couldn‘t know what sort of creature he was dealing with or he wouldn‘t taunt me with his blood. ―I won‘t stop at blood, Father.‖ ―Too late,‖ he whispered, his voice a gentle croon, like I was a wild thing that would dart away for the forest. ―You‘ve crossed the line to Liam. You can‘t go back now.‖ Maybe he did know how much I wanted him, because he touched my upper thigh, just a gentle, deliberate amble of his fingers where he‘d never dared go before. My knees fell open and I writhed before I could stop myself. Panting, I opened my eyes, searching his face that hovered so close, tempting me with those full, firm lips. ―Your oaths…‖ ―When I accepted the invitation to join our secret sect, I surrendered my oath of chastity.‖ Stunned, I fought for words. ―But…that was years ago.‖ ―Nearly ten to be exact, and I‘ve been counting every single day, Catherine. Did you know they asked me three times to join the Brotherhood because of my artistic ability? I refused until I met you.‖ My throat ached, whether from holding back tears or rage I couldn‘t say. All these years, I‘d been denying myself, punishing us both, and for what? ―Why didn‘t you tell me?‖ ―You‘re half succubus, so I foolishly assumed an intimate relationship would be inevitable. But I didn‘t want you to think that was the only reason I surrendered my oaths. I feared that someday you‘d begin to doubt my choice and my motivation. I wanted you to come to me not just for help but for comfort and safety and yes, love, of your own volition. I never 108

Just One Bite: Ritual Ink expected you to be quite so mindful of vows that no longer bind me, or I would have told you long ago.‖ He lowered his bleeding thumb toward my mouth, slowly enough that I could refuse. But I didn‘t want to refuse. I‘d been fighting his siren call for years. I clamped my mouth around his thumb. His blood filled my mouth like a melting chocolate truffle, a forbidden decadence in which I‘d refused to indulge. The demon raked claws down my spine, ripping my stomach to shreds with its frenzied lust. Gasping in pain, I suddenly remembered another reason to avoid sexual contact with anyone, let alone someone I cared about. I risked draining him dry through countless orgasms and then ripping his belly open to bathe in his blood. I jerked my mouth free and scrambled backward, desperate to save him from the creature howling inside me. My nails sharpened into claws, my teeth aching to sink into his throat, even while I took him inside me. Horrified, I pressed against the corner and hissed at him to keep his distance. ―There are risks,‖ he said in that annoyingly gentle voice that made me want to screech my nails down the wall until he covered his ears. ―A ritual like this will make us both vulnerable. But if you feed on me, I can strengthen the bonds to control your demon side.‖ ―Control?‖ My voice rasped like metal on metal, more demonic than I‘d ever heard. My mind whirled like frantic little birds trapped in a hurricane. What choice did I have? How much control would he have…over me, not just the demon? ―The bond can be abused.‖ He admitted, settling on the edge of the bed to face me. Hands folded in his lap, calm and serene, he was Father MacRae again. ―You must have absolute trust and faith in me for this to work, Catherine. I despise the thought of watching helplessly while you slip into darkness. I want to put my fist through the wall at the thought of requesting an assassin to put you down to end a mindless killing spree. But I can‘t bear to become the warden of your imprisonment, either. The last thing I want is your hatred.‖ 109

Joely Sue Burkhart ―I‘m not going to stop killing,‖ I said as bluntly as possible to see his reaction. ―I‘m a murderer for the Church and always will be.‖ ―I know what you do. Your orders will come from the bishop as they always have. My job will still be assisting you in any way I can.‖ ―You gave up the priesthood.‖ Tears burned my eyes. He‘d devoted his entire life to the Church. That was a big hole to fill. ―What do you get in exchange? What do you want?‖ ―You, safe and sound.‖ He smiled and in that moment, I swear he transformed into an angel, his eyes shining with pure, sweet light. ―I want you to be in control of your demon, because it‘s well fed and yet well contained at the same time.‖ As if I‘d slammed back a few shots of whiskey, heat burned in the pit of my stomach. His blood. The thought of tasting more made my stomach cramp with hunger. Out of control and desperate in sexual release, I could only imagine what I‘d do to him. My fingers…claws…burned to sink into him and drag him closer. Heaven waited, shining in his eyes, yet hell loomed beneath my feet if I hurt him. ―I trust you, Liam.‖ Relieved, he gave me a wicked, saucy grin I‘d never seen before and leaned closer, but I halted his advance by throwing my hand up. ―But I‘m going to need you to chain me down first.‖

Blinking sweat from my eyes, I twisted against the chains pinning me flat on the bed. My tattoos glowed so brightly I doubted he needed the overhead light to work his magic. His low chant rose and fell like the tides, a gentle rolling crescendo that kept me hovering on the edge of release. He leaned over my lower stomach, so close his breath became a caress. I barely felt the needle pushing ink—laden with his blood—into my skin. The spell lit an inferno in me, melting 110

Just One Bite: Ritual Ink my bones until I feared the demon would simply split me open and crawl out to devour him whole. ―Last letter,‖ he whispered, daring to brush his mouth against my belly. ―Hurry, please.‖ My voice was so thick with lust that I feared he wouldn‘t be able to understand me. The demon purred and rubbed inside me, eager for every sensation he offered. Whether the sting of a needle, the softness of his lips, or the gentle glide of those elegant fingers between my thighs. My breath flew out in a rush and I arched against his palm. I climaxed so hard and long that I wasn‘t sure if I lost consciousness or not. I soaked him in, reveling in sensation that left the demon twitching as ripples of pleasure pooled inside me. ―You shouldn‘t have asked for something so long.‖ He chuckled, a dark sound of masculine amusement that made my toes curl. ―If you‘d told me to ink ‗Liam‘ I could have finished in minutes.‖ The letters emblazoned on my stomach, my motto and nickname: Dirty Deeds. He unlatched my right wrist, jerking my attention to him. ―Are you sure it‘s safe?‖ The tattoos glowed brighter than ever, gleaming like molten lava in the night. Settling against me, he freed my other wrist. ―You‘ve been trying to feed a succubus with violence. Do you feel like you want to commit violence on me right now?‖ Braced for bloodthirsty lust, I listened to my demon. Rumbling with pleasure, it was certainly eager to attack…but not with violence. Smiling, I buried my hands in his thick curly hair and tugged his mouth down toward me. ―I confess it‘s not violence I‘ve been longing to commit, Father MacRae.‖ He drew back with a stern look that did little to bank the heat in his eyes. ―How long has it been since your last confession?‖ ―A very, very long time.‖ To give him a taste of my inhuman strength, I threw him over on his back. Taking him into 111

Joely Sue Burkhart my body was like coming home. ―I expect a confession every night from now on.‖ ―Yes, my lady.‖

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About the Authors Ada Maria Soto is an expat Mexican American Californian currently hanging out in the South Pacific. She has directed, produced and written for stage and screen under various names with various degrees of success and has recently decided to turn her hand to prose. Her longterm goal is to introduce short form cricket to the United States. To learn more about Ada, visit AdaMariaSoto.livejournal.com

Rachel Maria Gallagher is a stay-at-home mom of three obsessed with reading. She writes when she can get away with daydreaming instead of doing the dishes. Her family has nicknamed her ―the good idea factory‖, a title she has embraced. Her dream is to write stories you can get lost in even when you are busy living life without a book at hand.

Debra Anastasia started writing a decent handful of years ago when along with the dogs, cat, kids, and husband, the voices of characters started whispering stories in Debra‘s ear. She grew up in New York and got a bachelor‘s degree in political science at SUNY New Paltz. At the start of her marriage, she moved to southern Maryland with her husband. Her favorite hobbies include knitting, painting furniture and wall murals, and slapping clowns. Earlier this year Omnific Publishing published her debut novel, Crushed Seraphim, and she‘s currently pounding out the sequel to angel Emma‘s adventures. Poughkeepsie, her novel about daring to love, will be released 11.22.11. You can find her

on twitter @Debra_Anastasia. To learn more about Debra, visit DebraAnastasia.com Prior published works include: Crushed Seraphim, Omnific Publishing

Ana Hart, unable to boast of any dazzling achievements or literary awards, simply enjoys writing...as well as devouring any book that happens to cross her path. With a special love for spinning tales of erotic and romantic encounters, Ana dreams of the day when she will finally finish that elusive debut novel. To learn more about Ana, visit AnaHart03.blogspot.com

Sarah Gilman started her first novel in third grade. She never finished that story, but never gave up the dream. Her fascination with wings also began at that age, when images of the ancient Egyptian goddess Isis captured her imagination and never let go. Now a paranormal romance writer, she employs her love of writing to bring the allure of winged creatures to the pages of her novels. Sarah lives in Vermont with her supportive husband and two spoiled cats. To learn more about Sarah, visit SarahGilmanBooks.com Prior published works include: Out in Blue, Entangled Publishing

Alessia Brio is the sexy, energetic alter ego of a tired Appalachian soccer mom. She is fiercely independent and was one of the first authors to abandon her small press contracts in favor of self-publishing. Alessia writes all colors and flavors of erotica, from heterosexual to menage to same sex, and from twisted to humorous to deeply touching. This story marks her entry into the young adult genre. The Internet is both her office and her playground. She can be found online at: alessiabrio.com twitter.com/Alessia_Brio facebook.com/alessia.brio Brio‘s work has earned her critical acclaim in the form of a 2007 EPIC eBook Award for Best Erotica (fine flickering hungers), a 2010 EPIC eBook Award for Best Erotica Anthology (Coming Together: Against the Odds), a 2011 EPIC eBook Award for Best Erotica Anthology (Coming Together: Into the Light), a Romantic Times Top Pick (Coming Together: For the Cure), and two Next Generation Indie Book Awards for Best Erotica (Coming Together: For the Cure in 2008 and Squeeze Play in 2009 with partner, Will Belegon). Alessia is also the driving force behind the Coming Together erotic cocktail series. Each publication in this series benefits a specific charity. It‘s erotic altruism at its finest! eroticanthology.com facebook.com/erotic.anthology To learn more about Alessia, visit PurpleProsaic.com Prior published works include: Mirror Geography, Purple Prosaic Butterfly, Purple Prosaic ArtiFactual: Tales of the Erotique Mystique, Purple Prosaic

Squeeze Play, Purple Prosaic Coming Together: Against the Odds, Coming Together Coming Together: For the Cure, Coming Together Coming Together: Into the Light, Coming Together

Kathryn Meyer Griffith has been writing for forty years and has published 14 novels & 7 short stories since 1984 with Zebra, Leisure, Avalon, The Wild Rose Press, Damnation Books and Eternal Press in the horror, romantic paranormal, suspense and murder mystery genres. To learn more about Kathryn, visit facebook.com/#!/profile.php?id=1019954486 Prior published works include: Scraps of Paper, Avalon Books Murder Mystery 2003 All Things Slip Away, Avalon Books Murder Mystery 2006 The Nameless One, Zebra‘s Anthology Dark Seductions 1993 Evil Stalks the Night, Leisure 1984; Damnation Books 2012 The Heart of the Rose, Leisure1985; Eternal Press 2010 Blood Forge, Leisure1989; Damnation Books 2012 Vampire Blood, Zebra 1991; Damnation Books 2011 The Last Vampire, Zebra 1992; Damnation Books 2010 Witches, Zebra 1993; Damnation Books 2011 The Calling, Zebra 1994; Damnation 2011 Egyptian Heart, Eternal Press Winter‘s Journey, Eternal Press The Ice Bridge, Eternal Press

Don‘t Look Back, Agnes 2, Eternal Press 2012 Before the End: A Time of Demons, Damnation Books The Woman in Crimson, Damnation Books

Allie Ritch spends her time wandering around in her own little world in the Southeastern United States. She has an active imagination and loves fantastical elements, including those found in sci-fi, paranormal, and fantasy works. Allie enjoys entertaining others through storytelling and has fun spicing things up in erotic romance. When she‘s not working, she‘s appreciating the ocean and sunshine and keeping the company of a toy poodle who tries to French kiss everyone he meets. To learn more about Allie, visit AllieRitch.wordpress.com Prior published works include: Switching Positions, Loose Id

Juliet Cardin began her writing career at an early age, creating her first stories as soon as she could hold a pencil. She began writing novels while raising her two sons as a stay-at-home mom for eight years. When her youngest son began first grade, Juliet returned to work, spending six years at the Red Hill Library in Hamilton, Ontario, which reinforced her love of books. Juliet has dedicated a lot of her time to reading about and researching the paranormal and medieval history, her favorite era, and developing her own stories that combine her two interests. She sold her first short story in November 2009, followed by several contest wins and more contracts. Juliet lives in Hamilton, Ontario, with her husband, two teenage sons and three cats. You can find Juliet on Facebook. She loves

to connect with her readers. To learn more about Juliet, visit JulietCardinWebsite.yolasite.com Prior published works include: Nature of the Beast, Whispers Publishing Trapped in Time, Whispers Publishing The Tulpa Knight, Whispers Publishing The Wise Woman, Breathless Press Cave of Desire, Breathless Press Just This Night, Breathless Press

Ann Hinnenkamp is the author of the award winning paranormal romance series, The Dyad Chronicles. She started writing at a young age, convinced she was starring in a movie that needed a better script. Decades later, her love for all things paranormal led her to write the Dyad books. Besides writing, she freelances as an actor and director in Minneapolis where she‘s played everything from Eleanor of Aquitaine, to the third extra on the right with the gap in her front teeth. To learn more about Ann, visit AnnHinnenkamp.com Prior published works include: Book 1: Dyad Dreams, Ellora‘s Cave-Blush Book 2: Dyad Quest, Ellora‘ Cave-Blush

Melisse Aires is what you get when you take a shy, chubby, Catholic schoolgirl bookworm from Montana. Hand her a stack

of her much older brother‘ sci fi and fantasy novels, James Bond books and horror comics. Later, introduce Barbara Cartland and the world of romance fiction. Get her a teaching job or two in authentic, one room Montana schools, ala Laura Ingels Wilder. Marry her off to a great guy, move her to a big city in Tornado Alley, then pop three daughters out of her in twenty two months (one set of identical twins). Then, make her a jinx—every great genre TV show she loves gets the ax—Beauty and the Beast, Dark Angel, and Buffy and Spike NEVER have a happy ending! She gets upset about no romance in the world, and fires up to write her own stories with happy endings. Throw this all together into a small house in Wyoming, along with a small bouncy dog named Baxter and too many cats, shake constantly and pour it out onto a computer keyboard. There! You have Melisse Aires. To learn more about Melisse, visit MelisseAires.com Prior published works include: Del Fantasma: Tiger Juice, Aspen Mountain Press Del Fantasma: Demonade, Aspen Mountain Press Her Accidental Angel, Aspen Mountain Press

Joely Sue Burkhart always has her nose buried in a book, especially one with mythology, fairy tales, and romance. She, her husband, and their three monsters live in Missouri. By day, she‘s a computer programmer with a Masters of Science degree in Mathematics. When night falls, she bespells the monsters so she can write. Find her on Twitter @joelysue and on Facebook at http://facebook.com/joely.s.burkhart . Be sure to check out her free reads! To learn more about Joely, visit JoelySueBurkhart.com

Prior published works include: Dear Sir, I‘m Yours, Samhain Hurt Me So Good, Samhain Lady Doctor Wyre, Samhain The Bloodgate Guardian, Carina Press Golden, Carina Press The Rose of Shanhasson, Drollerie Press The Road to Shanhasson, Drollerie Press Return to Shanhasson, Drollerie Press Book 9: Survive My Fire, Drollerie Press The Fire Within, Drollerie Press