Kiss of Pride (15 page)

Vikar took one of her hands in his and squeezed. “In answer to your question, very few humans go directly to Heaven; first they go to Limbo or Purgatory. There is a similar place called Tranquillity where good vangels go until the Last Judgment.”

She didn’t believe a word he said, she couldn’t, but still she wondered where Brian and Linda would fit into that picture.
Brian was no saint, but he was not a bad man, either. How harsh of a judge would God be? Would a man like Brian be in Purgatory? But where would that place Linda? And, oh my! Does that mean Linda is alone wherever she is?

She needed a change of subject, so she asked Vikar, “What would you like to do to celebrate?”

“We could go to town and have dinner. Maybe listen to some music.”

“You mean, like a date?”

He blushed. She loved when the big guy blushed. “I have ne’er been on a date before, but, yes, I suppose it would be a date.”

“I thought it was unsafe to leave the castle.”

“I’ll take precautions.”

“It’s a date then,” she agreed.

I am going out on a date with a vampire
, Alex crooned to herself as she went upstairs to change her clothes. She felt like a teenager invited to her first prom. She had to smile every time she said it to herself:
date with a vampire.
It could be the title of a romance novel.

But she wasn’t feeling so romancey when she came down the stairs at six p.m., wearing her little black dress, the one that could be rolled up into her suitcase and shaken out wrinkle-free, along with four-inch stiletto sandals, hair in a neat French braid, makeup just perfect with her favorite Crimson Kiss lip gloss, gold chandelier earrings, and a spritz of Jessica McClintock perfume. Nope, nothing romancey about the sight she beheld waiting for her in the front hallway.

There was Vikar of course, looking gorgeous in a black silk T-shirt tucked into belted, pleated black slacks, with black loafers. Thin braids with blue aquamarine beads framed his face, with the rest of his hair hanging down to his shoulders. A hunk of a date, for sure.

But beside him stood Cnut, Mordr, Sigurd, Ivak, and Armod. Each spectacularly dressed, in his own way, whether it be designer jeans and an oxford cloth, button-down shirt, or a turtleneck and blazer. They all, including Vikar, wore identical long black cloaks with angel wing epaulettes, under which there was no doubt an arsenal of weapons fit for a Navy SEAL team. Except for Armod, who wore his Michael Jackson outfit, exposed white socks and all.

Alex felt like screaming, but instead she burst out laughing. This was going to be the date of the century.

Twelve

Dancing: modern man’ s foreplay . . .

Transylvania feature, Kelly      Page 1

Draft Eight

What’s it like to date a vampire?

Well, travel to Transylvania, Pennsylvania, and you might find out. On any summer night, couples stroll the streets of this quaint town, and most of them sport long black cloaks and fangs.

Every business has a vampire slant, one hokier than the other. But on your date, you’ll want to have dinner and dancing at one of the local clubs, such as the Bloody Stake, where you can get a hamburger or filet as rare as you want, and be entertained by a band called Drac’s Disciples.

Afterward, you can take a stroll down to the lake where . . .

“You look beautiful,” he said to Alex as they walked down the main street of Transylvania.

And sexy, too, truth be told. Especially with those ridiculous shoes that exposed her heels and red-painted toes, their height causing her calf muscles to elongate and her bottom to arch outward. He even liked the freckles exposed on her neck and chest by the round neckline of the tight dress, as well as on her arms beyond the short sleeves, and from her knees downward. And, help! Those miles of sheer silk stockings begged a man’s touch.
Not that I’m contemplating touching. Much.

“You’re drooling,” Sigurd whispered in his ear.

He slammed his mouth shut, but didn’t check for drool. He was fairly certain Sigurd was teasing. All his brothers had been making mock of him with great glee for days over his obsession with this woman.

“Did you hear me, sweetling?” he asked. “You look especially beautiful tonight.”

Alex ignored his compliments, refusing to talk to him as she had since discovering that their date would include not just the two of them but five others as well. When her first reaction had been laughter back in the hall, he’d thought, fool that he was, that she would have no problem with a protective entourage on their date. Hah! She’d quickly let him know that she’d sooner pluck her eyebrows than get into the long black Excursion van—a vehicle she’d immediately dubbed “Testosterone Central.” Had she been implying that they smelled? Did testosterone have an odor? He would have to ask someone. No, he would look it up on the Internet.

In any case, he’d convinced her to come along. Well, convince was not quite accurate. He’d picked her up and set her in the second row of seats where Armod sat on her other side. Sigurd was driving with Mordr in the passenger seat. Behind them in the third seat were Ivak and Cnut. Svein, Jogeir, and Dagmar were staying back at the castle with Harek.

And now they were in town, walking down the street, away from the parking lot where they’d left their vehicle, looking for a restaurant that would please them all. He and his brothers wanted one that served beer. Armod wanted one that played music. Alex declined to express an opinion.

“Alex, be reasonable,” he said, taking her hand in his, lacing their fingers, even though she tried to clench a fist to resist his efforts. He won, of course. “I had to have at least one other vangel with us, in case there are any Lucipires still about.”

She looked at him. “At least one, huh? How about the other four yayhoos?”

“Yahoo? Isn’t that someplace on the Internet?”

“Yayhoo, not Yahoo.”

Hmm. I cannot wait to call my brothers by that name. Later.
“They asked if they could come along. Especially Armod. I could not say them nay. Must be the kind heart I am developing.”

She made a very unfeminine sound of disbelief, halfway between a grunt and snort.

“Besides, Armod threatened to play Michael Jackson videos and teach my brothers how to moonwalk if left at home.”

The image brought a slight smile to her kiss-me red lips, which she quickly pressed together.

“Just pretend we are alone.” Even he realized how ludicrous that sounded.

“Pfff! Well, you better not be thinking any threesome, foursome, fivesome nonsense.”

“Alex! It is a date, not an orgy I am planning.”
If I were into planning anything of a sexual nature, it would not involve males other than myself with my very own strawberry-blonde temptress.

“One never knows with you.”

“One should know. For the love of a cloud! I may have been a great sinner in my time, but not that kind of sinner.” He would have dropped her hand with disgust, except it felt too good.

“I can see the way you look at me, Vikar. Don’t deny that you’re thinking something sexual.”

“I am a man, Alex. A Viking man. We look.”
And enjoy.
“You cannot condemn me for that. Besides, you look at me the same way betimes.”
And I enjoy that, too.

She raised her haughty nose, but he could see the telling pink tint rise in her neck and cheeks. He squeezed her hand to show her that she was fooling no one, least of all him.

“What else has you in such a foul mood?”

“Do you have any idea how ridiculous we look?”

Vikar glanced around to see what she meant. Ivak and Armod walked in front of them, like the king of cool and his assistant, the prince of pop. Cnut was on Alex’s other side. Mordr and Sigurd in back. An aviator sunglass–clad phalanx in matching black cloaks that kept a close eye on their surroundings, always on the alert for danger.

“You jest, m’lady,” he said. “Have you looked around this town? Have you truly looked? We are more sedate in our attire than most of these folks.”

“That’s debatable.”

“There are cloaks being sold in the shops. Ours are just a little finer. At least we do not show our fangs, or paint our fingernails black, or have weird hairdos.” Except for Armod, who had more grease on his black locks than a skinned pig.

“The problem is that you guys are just so big. Clumped together like this, I feel like I’m at a pro-wrestler event.”

Now he was offended, that she would liken him to one of those steroid-ridden freaks. “Do you want to go back to the castle?”

She glanced his way and probably saw way too much. “No. Let’s just find a restaurant where we can sit down and blend in. If possible.”

But they were halted by the sudden stopping of Ivak and Armod, which caused him and Alex and Cnut to slam into their backs, and then Mordr and Sigurd to strike them from behind. “What in bloody hell!” Vikar exclaimed before he had a chance to catch his tongue. Mordr said something much worse. It was only by sheer strength and good balance that they caught themselves and didn’t topple over like dominoes.

“Whoever has their hand on my butt better remove it at once,” Alex warned.

“Oops,” he apologized. “I was just making sure you didn’t fall.”

Five male voices snorted.

He saw now what had caught Ivak and Armod’s attention. They’d taken off their dark glasses, and their gazes were locked on the glass front of an adult bookstore, a misnomer if there ever was one. It was the least bookish place he had ever seen.

In the window were displayed the covers of several pornographic videos.

“
The Story of O-Positive
,” Armod said aloud. “I don’t understand. Is that like HIV positive?”

“Idiot,” Mordr said, slapping Armod lightly upside the head.

“Ah, but I am in the mood for good literature,” Ivak said with a grin. “How about these?
A Tale of Two Vampyres
.
The Stakes of Wrath
. Or that one.” He pointed to the left. “
Great Neckspectations
.”

“I still don’t understand.” Armod was frowning, although his white skin did color when he craned his head from side to side and realized what one of the pictures depicted.

“Now me, I always did like a good classic mystery movie,” Sigurd added, also grinning. “
A Tomb with a View
.”

Vikar worried that they were embarrassing Alex, but then she said, “My favorite is
Vlad Really Did Impale Her
.”

His brothers glanced at him, then Alex, and burst out laughing.

“Mayhap I will not kill her after all,” Mordr declared, giving Alex a wink that did not sit well with Vikar. Not one bit.

“Can we buy some?” Armod asked.

“I don’t think they are the kind of thing we should have at the castle when Mike arrives,” Vikar told the boy. “C’mon. Let’s find someplace to eat. I’m starving.”

They’d already passed restaurants and bars with such names as Out for Blood, Suck It Up, Suckies, Addiction, and Drac’s Hideout, all of which advertised with signs outside that they served red drinks resembling blood, but were either wine or fruit punch or colored beer.

They settled on a tavern called the Dark Side because it served food and alcohol. Plus a country band would be playing later. Since they were early—it was not yet seven—they were able to find several empty booths near the back, close to an exit door . . . just in case. Vikar put himself and Alex alone in one of them and let the others fend for themselves. Sigurd and Ivak sat on stools at the bar where they could keep an eye on the entire scene, while Mordr and Cnut sat in the booth in front of theirs with Armod, who was underage and forbidden from entering the bar area.

Alex ordered a steak, medium rare, with mushrooms, a baked potato with butter and sour cream, and a Caesar salad, although what that blowhard Roman had to do with green leaves was beyond Vikar. He decided to order the same, except his steak would be rare and instead of a salad he substituted stewed tomatoes with jalapeño peppers.

As soon as the waitress left, a man walked up. A badge on his white shirt read “Jack Owens, Manager.” Unlike the waiters and waitresses, he was dressed in normal attire, no vampire nonsense on him. “Lord Vikar, I presume?” he inquired.

Vikar slid over and stood. “Yes, I am Vikar Sigurdsson.”

All his brothers stood as well, though at a distance, watching warily.

“I’m Jack Owens, owner and manager of this joint,” the man said in a jolly fashion, extending a hand.

Vikar shook it.

“I’m also on the Labor Day committee for the Monster Mash, and I was wondering if your hotel will be open by then.”

“No. I do not think so.” Vikar was not about to announce to the public that there would be no hotel at all up on the mountain, but a private residence instead. Not yet, anyway.

“That’s too bad. We’re expecting thousands of tourists, and accommodations are in short supply.” The man tilted his head to the side and gave him a speculative look. “I don’t suppose you’d serve on the committee with us. We need all the fresh blood we can get.”

Vikar almost choked on his tongue, and he heard Alex snicker behind him.

“Ha, ha, ha,” the owner/manager added quickly. “Fresh ideas is what I meant.”

Vikar smiled to show he understood. “Sorry I am to decline, but I am too busy at the moment. Mayhap in the future?”

“Definitely.” Then seeing that Vikar wasn’t going to continue the conversation or introduce him to Alex, even though his gaze kept shifting to her, he said, “Enjoy your meal, and come back again.”

“You are too far away,” he declared to Alex once the man had left and he’d signaled to his brothers that all was well. Instead of sitting on the other side of the table, as he had been before, he slid in next to her. Now they were thigh to thigh, arm to arm. “Much better.”

“You shaved and put on cologne,” Alex observed with an appreciative sniff. “For me?”

He nodded and considered asking her if she could smell the testosterone under the cologne, but decided to save that question for later. “I showered, too,” he informed her with a waggle of his eyebrows.

“You must have been a talented seducer in your time period,” she said with a laugh. “I mean, back when you were alive, or whatever you call that time.”

“What? I have lost my talent?”

“You know you haven’t.”

“There are some things a man never forgets,” he agreed with no excess of humility.

“Like riding a bicycle?”

“Or riding a woman.” He grinned at her.

“Whoa! This conversation is going way too fast in a direction that could prove dangerous for us both.”

That was the truth, but he’d decided to enjoy himself tonight, despite the consequences. The next few weeks would be busy with the serious business of Reckoning and Michael’s arrival. He’d wanted to lighten his spirits and that of his brothers for these few short hours.

The waitress brought a bottle of beer for him and a Bloody Mary for her.

He took a long swig of his beer and remarked, “Um, cold beer tastes good. In Viking times, we drank our ale and mead warm, at room temperature. Can you imagine?”

She wrinkled her nose with distaste, then took a sip of her own drink with a straw. Her eyes widened with delight. “This is good. Potent, but good.”

“Keep drinking,” he urged then.

“What? You want me drunk?”

“No. Just relaxed.”

“Hah! That would be the worst thing I could do. Relax around you.”

He put a hand to his chest with mock innocence. “You offend me, m’lady.” Then he laughed and put an arm around her shoulder, tucking her closer. After kissing the top of her head, he said, “I could get accustomed to this dating.”

“They must have had courtship rituals in your time, too.”

He arched a brow at her. “Either a marriage was arranged by the king or families, and a man met his wife for the first time in the marriage bed, or a man gave a woman a certain look and she met him in the bed furs that night.”

“You’re kidding.”

He shrugged.

“And did the reverse work? Women gave men a certain look and decided whether they would make love with them or not.”

“For a certainty. Especially Viking women who have minds of their own, believe you me. I remember the time Olga the Big fixed her attentions on Ivak. When he declined her favors, she tried to spear his manparts with a boat oar. Took all of Sigurd’s healing talents to save his most precious parts.”

“I find it hard to see Sigurd as a doctor.”

“He has long been a healer. That is what we called a physician in ancient times. Of course, he was first of all a warrior when called to duty, but a healer in the off times.”

“Isn’t that kind of an oxymoron? Killing and healing?”