All I Want For Christmas Is A Vampire (2 page)

Her eyes narrowed. “But you’re so much bigger and taller…it must have hurt.”

It had. He shrugged. “My hair grew a lot, too. I thought it might need cutting.”

She pulled the leather thong free from his ponytail and stood back to study him. “I don’t think the short curls suit you anymore. You have a rugged look to you now.”

Rugged? As in mountainous terrain? No wonder he was having such a hard time shaving. There’d always been a small dent in his chin, but now it felt more like a bloody crater. Actually, it was bloody half the time. Shaving without a mirror was damned hard.

“I like your hair long.” Vanda circled her desk and retrieved a pair of scissors from the top drawer. “But it’s a little ragged on the ends, so I’ll give you a trim.”

“Thank you.” Ian sat in a chair facing her desk.

Vanda fetched a hairbrush from her handbag and went to work easing out the tangles. Ian closed his eyes, enjoying her familiar touch. She’d cut his hair for the last fifty years, and in that time, he’d confided more to her than anyone else. Even Connor and Angus.

He couldn’t tell another man how frustrated he had been. Connor was his immediate supervisor, and a tough guy who would have interpreted his frustration as childish whining. Angus MacKay was the head of MacKay Security and Investigation and Ian’s boss. He was also the one who’d saved Ian from certain death by transforming him in 1542. But Angus had struggled with guilt for trapping him with the body and face of a fifteen-year-old. Nay, he could never let Angus know how unhappy he’d been. But Vanda had understood and kept his secrets.

The scissors snipped. “When did you get back in town?” she asked.

“Tonight.”

“You teleported here from Texas?”

“Nay. I was in Scotland.”

“Oh.” She continued cutting. “The last I’d heard you were in Texas, guarding Jean-Luc.”

“I was. Last summer.”

The snipping sound ceased for a moment. “I heard Phil was there, too.”

“Aye.” Was Vanda interested in Phil? He’d been the daytime guard at Roman’s townhouse when the harem lived there. As far as Ian knew, Phil had kept his distance from the ladies. It was one of Angus’s cardinal rules. A guard never ever became involved with his charges.

Vanda went back to cutting. “So how is Phil?”

“Fine.” Ian wondered if she knew about Phil’s secret.

“Is he coming back to New York?”

“Eventually. He’s training someone to be Jean-Luc’s new daytime guard.” Meanwhile, Connor had hired a new mortal guard, Tony, to live at the townhouse while they waited for Phil to return. Ian hadn’t met him yet, but he wondered if Tony was a shape shifter, too.

“What were you doing in Scotland?” Vanda asked.

“Nothing much. After all the growing I did, Angus insisted I take a few months off to…recover.”

“Then it was painful.” She leaned over his shoulder to look at him. “Are you all right now?”

“Aye.” That wasn’t quite true. Growing five inches in less than a fortnight had taken some adjustment. He’d had to drink huge amounts of synthetic blood to fill out his bigger body. While in the Highlands, he’d had some major repairs done on his small castle. He’d helped with the construction work at night, and the result had added some muscle to his bigger frame. But still, he tripped over his huge feet and cut his new face when shaving, especially around that damned crater in his chin. “I’m fine.”

With a dubious snort, she resumed cutting. “How was Scotland?”

“Fine.” He was always elated when he first arrived in the Highlands, for it was home and it filled his soul with peace. But after a few nights, he would always realize that every mortal he knew from his past was dead. And then the loneliness would set in.

Vanda sighed. “I get the feeling there’s a lot you’re not saying. I thought you wanted to talk.”

“I am talking.”

“I don’t have all night like I used to. I have a business to run.”

He paused, listening to the clicking sound of her scissors. How could he just come out and say that he wanted to find true love and be blissfully happy in a marriage that would span the centuries, and yet he wasn’t sure how to go about it? “How is yer business?”

“Fine.” She tossed her scissors on the desk and brushed out his hair with more force than necessary. “Are you going to talk, or do I need to take my whip to you?”

He grinned. Vanda liked to act tough, but she was all bluster and no bite. “All right. I’ll talk. With my new, older face, I’ve been thinking…”

“Amazing. Did your brain grow, too?”

“Verra funny. I came here tonight because I’m looking for…” He couldn’t say the words a woman. Vanda would probably laugh at him. “I have a crater in my chin.”

She laughed at him. “It’s a dimple.” She tilted her head, studying him. “Are you worried about your looks?”

“No, of course not.” He shifted in his chair.

She perched on the edge of her desk. “No one has told you how you look?”

“Men doona speak of such trivial matters. Jean-Luc’s new wife said I looked…good.”

Vanda snorted.

Bugger. He knew Heather had been lying.

Vanda shook her head. “Good is a huge understatement. You’re absolutely gorgeous.”

A seed of hope burst in Ian’s heart. Maybe the right woman could fall for him. “Ye—ye’re no’ just being kind?”

“Have you ever known me to be particularly kind?”

“Ye have been to me.”

“Well.” She adjusted the whip around her waist with an annoyed look. “You remind me of my youngest brother. But I guess I can’t treat you like a child anymore.”

“Sorry to spoil yer fun,” he growled.

She grinned. “I’m really happy for you, Ian. You must be thrilled to be all grown up.”

“Aye.” He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair.

Her smile faded. “You don’t look very thrilled. What’s the matter?”

“Now that I look older…I’m looking for…”

“Yes?”

“A woman.”

Her mouth twitched. “Well, that’s a start.” Her eyes suddenly widened. “Oh my God, you really are a virgin?”

“Nay! I’m almost five hundred years old. What the hell would I be waiting for?”

“Lady Pamela thinks you are. You didn’t deny it.”

“It’s no’ something a man should discuss in public. It’s verra private.”

Vanda chuckled. “You’re so old-fashioned. Sex isn’t something to be ashamed of.”

“I’m no’—” He couldn’t deny it. By all the saints, he was ashamed. “It’s no’ the sex, ye ken. It’s the way I had to go about it. It—it never felt right.”

Vanda’s face grew serious. “We’ve all done things we regret in order to survive.”

“This was more than regrettable. I dinna behave with honor.” He’d never confessed this to anyone before.

“What did you do?”

He gathered his shoulder-length hair in the back and tied the leather thong around it. “After Angus changed me, he told me how to go about feeding. In exchange for blood, I was to give the ladies pleasure and make sure they were satisfied.”

Vanda sucked in a deep breath. “Sounds good to me.”

Ian looked away, embarrassed. “I dinna know now. I was only fifteen, ye ken, so I frequented some brothels at first so I could learn. I—I was a quick learner.”

“That’s not so awful.”

“It was awful once I stopped going to brothels. I had trouble seducing the ladies when they thought I was a child. I was getting verra hungry, so I resorted to using mind control to make them see me as older. I left them happy, but…”

“You felt guilty?”

Ian clasped his hands together. “Aye. I deceived them. Every relationship I have ever had was based on trickery and deception. I canna stomach doing that again.”

“I see.”

He sat up. “Now, for the first time in my life, I can be honest. I can finally find the right woman for me.”

Vanda smiled. “Then you’ve come to the right place. With your handsome face, you’ll have no problem getting lucky tonight.”

“I’m no’ looking for one night. I’ve had centuries of one-nighters. I want to find my true love. I want the same kind of happiness that Roman, Angus, and Jean-Luc have.”

Vanda’s smile turned into a grimace. “Then you’ve come to the wrong place. The ladies who come here aren’t usually interested in commitment.”

Ian slouched against the back of his chair. “Then how can I find her?”

“Maybe I can help.” Vanda eased off the desk. “I was thinking about finding a nice guy for myself, so I joined a site online.” She sat behind her desk, grabbed the mouse, and clicked. “This is the hottest new place for singles.”

Ian leaned over the desk so he could see the computer screen. He scanned the site called Single in the City. It boasted more than half a million clients, all in the vicinity of New York. “That willna work for me. I canna date a mortal.”

“Why not?”

“I told you. I refuse to deceive the woman I’m courting. I would have to lie to a mortal until I knew she could be trusted. And then, when I confessed my true nature, it would destroy her trust in me. It wouldna work.”

“I disagree. It worked for Roman and Shanna.”

“He was no’ courting her from the start. He just wanted a dentist. Their romance happened accidentally. And believe me, she was verra upset when she found out the truth.”

Vanda shrugged. “She got over it.”

“I willna lie to the woman I’m courting. So she had better be a Vamp. A Vamp would understand all I’ve been through. A mortal woman would no’ take kindly to the way I used other women in the past. And I wouldna blame her.”

“If she loved you, she would understand.”

“My mind is made up. All I want is a vampire.”

Vanda sighed. “Okay, but I think you’re limiting yourself.”

“And she must be a bottle-drinking Vamp who is honest, loyal, intelligent, and pretty.”

“Now you’re severely limiting yourself.” Vanda frowned at the computer screen. “Luckily for you, there’s a way to tell who’s a Vamp.” She clicked on her profile. “See this?”

Ian read the line she pointed at.

I enjoy life to its fullest. (V)

“All the Vamps slip these Vs into their profiles,” Vanda explained. “It’s our secret code to let each other know who we are. If someone asks to meet you, and she doesn’t have the V in her profile, you simply refuse.”

Ian’s heart beat faster. This was not how he’d envisioned hunting for his true love, but it was a lot better than nothing. “It might actually work.”

“Of course it’ll work. I have a digital camera here.” Vanda opened a drawer. “We’ll take your photo and fill out your profile. It’ll take a few hours.”

“Hours?”

“The profile is quite extensive. You’ll have to write an essay.” Her face brightened. “I know! I’ll do it.”

“You? Why?”

“Because I’m a woman, and I know what women want to hear. This is brilliant!” She grabbed a pen and notepad.

Her offer was very appealing since Ian had no idea what he should write in an essay. “Remember, it is important to me that ye be honest.”

“Of course. But get real, Ian. We can’t say you’re five hundred years old in your profile.”

“I’m four hundred and eighty.”

She tapped the pen on the paper, waiting.

“Fine.” He groaned. “Ye can say I’m twenty-seven.”

“Great.” She wrote the number down. “And how tall are you now?”

“Six foot two.” He frowned. “Be sure to say I want an honest and loyal woman. Intelligent and pretty, too.”

“No problem. Now smile and show me those dimples.” She lifted the camera. “And don’t worry about a thing. I’m going to make you irresistible.”

It was close to dawn when Ian teleported to the back porch of Roman’s townhouse on the Upper East Side. He punched the button on his Smart Key wireless remote to disarm the alarm before unlocking the door. The kitchen was dark, except for the backlit digital keypad next to the door. He punched the code to reactivate the alarm.

“Hold it right there,” a gruff voice warned him. “Turn around slowly.”

Ian turned and spotted the gleam of a Highland dagger, held by a large Scotsman by the kitchen door. “Dougal?”

“Aye.” Dougal Kincaid flipped on the light switch. No recognition lit his eyes till his gaze dropped to Ian’s kilt. “Is that you, Ian?”

“Aye, it’s me. Do ye want to see my ID card?”

“Nay.” Dougal smiled as he sheathed his weapon beneath a knee sock. “I recognize yer plaid more than yer face. We dinna expect ye back for another week.”

“I was bored.” Lonely was more accurate, though Ian didn’t want to admit it. “How’s everything been?”

“Fairly quiet.” Dougal retrieved a bottle of synthetic blood from the refrigerator, then popped it into the microwave. “Are ye coming back to work then?”

“No. I still have a week of vacation.” A week when he could concentrate on his search for the perfect mate.

Dougal tilted his head as he studied Ian. “I’d heard ye’d gotten older, but ’tis amazing how different ye look.”

“Aye, I can hardly recognize myself.” Ian had gazed for five minutes at the photos Vanda had taken. And it wasn’t just his face that was different. His body had grown so quickly, he’d barely had time to adjust. He occasionally knocked his hand against things when he overreached with his longer arms, and sometimes he tripped over his bigger, size thirteen feet.

The microwave beeped, and Dougal removed his bedtime snack. “We just had a martial arts practice downstairs.” He guzzled down some blood. “Ye should have seen it. Our new guard knocked Phineas off his arse.”

“Really?” Ian was impressed. It wasn’t often that a mortal could defeat a Vamp in hand-to-hand combat.

Dougal headed out the door. “I’d better get to my shower before the sun rises.”

The sun was nearing the horizon. Ian could already feel his metabolism dropping. He followed Dougal down the back stairs to the guardroom in the basement. The pool table had been shoved to the far wall by the sofa to create a large open space for their practice sessions.

Ian picked up a chair that had been knocked over and noticed one of the legs was broken. “That must have been one hell of a fight.”

“Aye. A bit embarrassing for Phineas, though.” Dougal finished his bottle as he strolled into the dormitory next door. A bathroom door banged shut.

Ian wandered into the dormitory, expecting to see Phineas McKinney, but the young black Vamp wasn’t there. The sound of rushing water emanated from both bathrooms, so he was probably taking a shower like Dougal. A lot of Vamps liked to be clean before succumbing to death-sleep. It helped them feel less like a dead, rotting corpse.

The dormitory was nearly empty now. Ian remembered a time when there’d been ten coffins in the room, one for each Vamp guard to sleep in. Most of the Vamps were gone now, transferred to Eastern Europe to hunt for Casimir.

The floors upstairs were just as vacant. At one time, there’d been Roman, ten harem ladies, and numerous visiting Vamps. It had been an exciting place. But now everyone had moved on.

Roman lived with his mortal wife and child in White Plains, with Connor serving as their bodyguard. The Vamp guards who lived here at Roman’s townhouse worked security at Romatech Industries, where synthetic blood and Vampire Fusion Cuisine were manufactured. Connor was head of security there, but he planned to pass the title to Ian so he could concentrate solely on Roman and his family’s safety.

Ian was delighted with his upcoming promotion, but annoyed that it hadn’t happened until now when he looked older. He’d started working for MacKay Security and Investigation in 1955, and he’d never made it past second-in-command. Even his best friends had found it difficult to treat him as an adult when he had looked fifteen.

He pulled his knitted jumper over his head and tossed it into the laundry hamper. He sauntered over to the coffin he’d slept in for more than fifty years. The pillow and blanket boasted the red and green MacPhie tartan, the same as his kilt. He removed his sporran and the knife from his sock, then deposited them in the small dresser by his coffin. He kicked off his shoes, then halted with a sudden thought. He’d grown five inches.

Bugger. He’d outgrown his coffin.

He climbed inside, and sure enough, his feet hung over the end. There was only one other coffin in the dorm, and it belonged to Dougal. The twin bed was for Phineas. All the other beds were upstairs.

Well, why not? In a few weeks Ian would be in charge here as well as Romatech. He could sleep anywhere he wanted. He strode from the dormitory and up the stairs.

Usually he had a snack before bed, but tonight he was full of Bleer. Vanda had joined him at the bar around four A.M. to announce his profile was complete, and he was officially posted on the Single in the City dating service.

A third glass of Bleer had boosted his confidence. He’d talked to a few ladies, and they’d agreed to meet him at the club tomorrow night.

When he reached the ground floor, the alarm went off. He froze a second, then realized what was happening. An intruder! And dammit, his reaction was too slow. He shouldn’t have had that fourth glass of Bleer.

He ran into the parlor. Empty. He swiveled, tripped over his feet, and stumbled to the keypad by the front door. He turned off the alarm, so he could hear. He caught a slight noise, emanating from the library. He eased toward the entrance.

A gust of cold air from the open window stirred the curtains. The person who’d opened that window had triggered the alarm, and that person was still in the room.

Female. And mortal. The scent of her blood swirled around him, caressing his skin like the touch of a lover. She was his favorite flavor—Type AB positive.

Thank God Roman had invented synthetic blood in 1987, so Ian and other Vamps were no longer slaves to bloodlust. Even so, his body reacted with the same primeval instinct that had ruled him since his transformation in 1542. His gums tingled. He had enough years of experience to know how to control himself, but it was taking some extra effort tonight. That fifth glass of Bleer had been a bad idea.

Her back was to him as she studied the bookshelves on the far wall. No doubt she was planning to steal the rarest books in Roman’s collection. The library contained everything from medieval tomes hand-scribed by monks to first print editions from the nineteenth century.

She hadn’t heard him arrive in his stocking feet. And she hadn’t heard the alarm since it was set at a frequency only Vamps and dogs could hear. And she certainly didn’t sense the reaction she’d ignited in him.

He felt ten degrees hotter in spite of the cold December air that drifted through the open window and over his white undershirt. The lamp between the two wingback chairs was turned on low, and it cast a golden glow across the room to outline her form with a shimmering aura.

She made a stunning cat burglar, dressed entirely in black spandex that molded to her waist and sweetly curved hips. Her golden hair hung in a ponytail down her back. The ends swished gently across her shoulder blades as she moved her head from side to side, scanning the bookshelf.

She stepped to the side, silent in her black socks. She must have left her shoes outside the window, thinking she’d move more quietly without them. He noted her slim ankles, then let his gaze wander back up to golden hair. He would have to be careful capturing her. Like any Vamp, he had super strength, and she looked a bit fragile.

He moved silently past the wingback chairs to the window. It made a swooshing sound as he shut it.

With a gasp, she turned toward him. Her eyes widened. Eyes green as the hills surrounding his home in Scotland.

A surge of desire left him speechless for a moment. She seemed equally speechless. No doubt she was busily contemplating an escape route.

He moved slowly toward her. “Ye willna escape through the window. And ye canna reach the door before me.”

She stepped back. “Who are you? Do you live here?”

“I’ll be asking the questions, once I have ye restrained.” He could hear her heart beating faster. Her face remained expressionless, except for her eyes. They flashed with defiance. They were beautiful.

She plucked a heavy book off a nearby shelf. “Did you come here to test my abilities?”

An odd question. Was he misinterpreting the situation? “Who—” He dodged to the side when she suddenly hurled the book at his face. Bugger, he’d suffered too much to get his older, more manly face, and she’d nearly smacked it.

The book flew past him and knocked over the lamp. The light flickered and went out. With his superior vision, he could see her dark form running for the door.

He zoomed after her. Just before he could grab her, she spun and landed a kick against his chest. He stumbled back. Damn, she was stronger than he’d thought. And he’d suffered too much to get his broader, more manly chest.

She advanced with a series of punches and kicks, and he blocked them all. With a desperate move, she aimed a kick at his groin. Dammit, he’d suffered too much to get his bigger, more manly balls. He jumped back, but her toes caught the hem of his kilt. Without his sporran to weigh the kilt down, it flew up past his waist.

Her gaze flitted south and stuck. Her mouth fell open. Aye, those twelve years of growth had been kind. He lunged forward and slammed her onto the carpet. She punched at him, so he caught her wrists and pinned her to the floor.

She twisted, attempting to knee him. With a growl, he blocked her with his own knee. Then slowly he lowered himself on top of her to keep her still. Her body was gloriously hot, flushed with blood and throbbing with a life force that made his body tremble with desire.

“Stop wiggling, lass.” His bigger, more manly groin was reacting in an even bigger way. “Have mercy on me.”

“Mercy?” She continued to wriggle beneath him. “I’m the one who’s captured.”

“Cease.” He pressed more heavily on her.

Her eyes widened. He had no doubt she was feeling it.

Her gaze flickered down, then back to his face. “Get off. Now.”

“I’m halfway there already,” he muttered.

“Let me go!” She strained at his grip on her wrists.

“If I release you, ye’ll knee me. And I’m rather fond of my balls.”

“The feeling isn’t mutual.”

He smiled slowly. “Ye took a long look. Ye must have liked what ye saw.”

“Ha! You made such a small impression on me, I can barely remember.”

He chuckled. She was as quick mentally as she was physically.

She looked at him curiously. “You smell like beer.”

“I’ve had a few.” He noted her dubious look. “Okay, more than a few, but I was still able to beat you.”

“If you drink beer, then that means you’re not…”

“No’ what?”

She looked at him, her eyes wide. He had a sinking feeling that she thought he was mortal. She wanted him to be mortal. And that meant she knew about Vamps.

He studied her lovely face—the high cheekbones, delicate jawline, and beguiling green eyes. Some Vamps claimed mortals had no power whatsoever. They were wrong.

Their eyes met, and he forgot to breathe. There was something hidden in those green depths. A loneliness. A wound that seemed too old for her tender age. For a moment, he felt like he was seeing a reflection of his own soul.

“Ye’re no’ a thief, are ye?” he whispered.

She shook her head slightly, still trapped in his gaze. Or maybe it was he who was trapped in hers.

“Ian.” Footsteps approached them. “Ian, what the hell are you doing?”

He dragged his gaze away from her and saw Phineas standing beside them. “What?”

Phineas gave him a confused look. “Why are you beating up on Toni?”

He blinked and glanced at the woman he’d pinned to the floor. “Ye’re…Toni?” Their new guard was a woman?

“You’re Ian?” Disappointment flickered in her eyes before she looked away. “You’re one of them.”

That hurt. For centuries he’d been judged too young, and now, after all the pain he’d endured, he was still found wanting. His jaw shifted as he ground his teeth. “Ye have something against Vamps?”

Her eyes flared with anger. “Yes. I tend to get really pissed when they attack me.”

“She’s got a point, bro,” Phineas muttered as he adjusted the tie around his purple satin bathrobe. “You shouldn’t attack her. She’s our friend.”

Ian moved his weight off her. “Friendship is earned.”

She scooted away from him and sat up. “I’m not here to be your friend. I’m your guard. That’s all.”

He stared at her. Connor had hired a woman to guard men? This was unheard of in the vampire world. A mortal woman wouldn’t have the strength…unless she was a shifter like Phil and Howard. “Are ye—” How could he put this when shape shifters were a secret? “Do ye change a bit at a certain time of the month?”

She gave him an incredulous look. “Are you asking me if I get PMS? Are you serious?”

“Nay! I dinna mean—” Ian stopped, interrupted by Phineas’s laughter.

“I know what you’re thinking, man, but she’s normal.”

“Normal?” She glared at Phineas. “I nailed your ass earlier this evening.”

Phineas held up his hands in surrender. “Don’t hurt me, sweetness. You’re a strong, beautiful hunk of woman.”

She inclined her head. “Thank you.”

“Connor told me on the phone that he’d hired a Tony,” Ian muttered. “I thought ye would be a man.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I thought you would be somewhat intelligent.”

“Snap!” Phineas grinned. “She got you good, bro.”

Ian scowled. “It was perfectly logical to assume Tony was a man’s name.”

She lifted her chin. “Is it logical to attack people without talking to them first?”

“In this case, aye, it was. The window was open—”

“I opened it,” she interrupted. “It was as stuffy as a tomb in here, and I was hot.”