The Vampires' Last Lover (Dying of the Dark Vampires Book 1) (20 page)

Before I could respond, she disappeared. Only the draft from her speedy return upstairs remained. It was just as well. I likely would’ve vomited if I opened my mouth to speak.

When I awoke, the daylight peering in through my room’s window blinds seemed weak, as if the sun had already begun its final descent in the west.

“No frigging way!” I whispered.

Another day had disappeared.

I jumped out of my bed and moved over to the window, pulling the blinds away. We were still a long ways from land, surrounded by water for as far as I could see. The ship swayed a little as it crashed through bigger swells than I remembered seeing the previous afternoon.

The sun hadn’t set yet, but certainly would within the next hour or so. The wall clock across from the bed gave what I assumed was the current time as 4:50 p.m., which could’ve saved me the trouble of looking outside if I had looked there first. Actually, just finding my damned wristwatch would’ve allowed me to come pretty close to calculating the correct time. But it was missing.

The fact that another day had nearly slipped away really ticked me off. I ran into the bathroom, ignoring my throbbing head and my less-than-flattering appearance in the bathroom mirror. I quickly brushed my teeth and jumped into the shower, hoping I could simply rinse away my hangover and haggard look. Afterward, I hurriedly dressed in my clothes from the other day, not overly surprised that everything had been washed and pressed. I then left my room. At least I looked a hell of a lot more alive, although the hangover stayed with me.

I planned to head straight for the stairs to take me up to the ship’s bow, where it seemed everybody hung out. That was my intent, to find Mercel, Racco, or whoever else was there—even if it meant straining to work through my pounding headache and nausea to communicate in the scant French I knew and understood.

But, then I noticed a door ajar to my left, near where the engine room sat. At first glance, I assumed someone must be in the room. If I hadn’t glimpsed the corner of a coffin, I would’ve stayed with the original plan.

Temptation got the better of me, and I stepped as quietly as I could through the doorway. I peered inside the room and saw a row of caskets, six in all. Each one appeared to be made of gold, and a few were embedded with fine jewels in intricate designs—the daytime hideouts for the vampires. Expensive refuges that still left them vulnerable and at their human protectors’ mercy.

I couldn’t help wondering what they looked like when they slept. However, it wouldn’t have been the ideal time to take a peek. The sun was setting, and before long, my otherworldly guardians would arise from their slumber. I entertained a brief vision of my neck being snapped in two after opening one of these ornate caskets, by a vampire stuck in some sort of night terror—assuming vampires dream, of course.

“Is it not a room fit for kings and queens?”

I whirled around to find Racco standing just a few feet away. He must’ve quietly followed behind me after I ventured inside this ‘sleep’ chamber. Dressed in blue jeans, ostrich cowboy boots, and a red and black flannel shirt, he reminded me of how Armando had been dressed the first night he accompanied Garvan to my dorm room.

He smiled shyly, the small dimples in his cheeks and the slight crow’s feet around his eyes accentuating his rugged handsomeness. This man could make my heart pound hard if he tied a burlap sack around his waist. I believe it might have something to do with those beautiful blue eyes, seductive and yet at the same time innocent. Like a little boy and a famished lover all wrapped into one person.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, stepping towards me, while I just stood there with an ‘I can’t believe you’re
this
gorgeous!’ expression on my face. Or, at least a dumbfounded look hiding my erotic thoughts. Hopefully. A slight twinkle in those eyes told me that he understood my plight. I’d bet he’d probably seen my wanton expression literally thousands of times during the past two millennia.

“It’s okay,” I told him, removing my gaze from him to survey the upscale coffins again, and doing my best to pretend my fascination from just a moment earlier was still there. The surreal knowledge that the living dead slumbered just a few feet away still held some sway… but less and less as the ship’s host came up behind me. “They’ll be waking soon. Right?”

I said this as I turned around, the scent of an expensive musk cologne filling my nostrils and wisps of dark chest hair near his neckline attracting my attention as I avoided his gaze. He stood a couple of inches taller than me, and maybe even an inch taller than Peter.

Despite my man’s boyish charm and beauty, my tenuous devotion to Peter proved to be inadequate protection from Racco’s sophisticated sexuality and mature persona. My host studied me in silence, his eyes simmering with an unspoken passion that easily penetrated my entire being. The language of desire is more felt than spoken, as it is. He bent his face towards mine, his lips slightly parted. I shivered with a feeling that had nothing to do with temperature.

“Does your boat have a name?” I blurted out, pulling away from the sweet allure of a kiss with an immortal man—a near-ageless human being.

It was instinctive fear. Intimidation? Maybe. Centuries of experience versus a few years since one’s lost virginity could certainly account for that. But, where in the hell did a question like the one I voiced come from? Unless it was a random musing from my youth, like the ‘Skipper’ in my father’s beloved “Gilligan’s Island” reruns from yesteryear. The ‘Skipper’ had a name for his itty-bitty boat. So should the master of a glorious yacht.

“We call it ‘
l’Antoinette Bleue
’, or ‘The Blue Antoinette’,” he said, chuckling. His eyes twinkled with even more amusement. “I named it in honor of Marie Antoinette, whom my brother and I always found the most charming and likeable person in King Louis’s court. Aristocrats can be such boring—”

I reached up and kissed him. It was an impulsive move from a foolish teenager. His response was immediate, his lips softly caressing mine while his muscular chest and arms embraced me. I thought I might pass out from the exquisite sensations flowing through me as our lips danced together in mutual yearning and pleasure—so unlike any kiss I had ever experienced before.

Racco knew women, and what all of us needed. His hands, and especially his fingers, massaged erogenous zones I didn’t even know I had, sending waves of pleasure and excitement throughout my body. I’m sure an older and more experienced woman would find his caress just as exhilarating, but would surely know what to expect and how to pace oneself to create a rapturous union. As for me, and my previous experience, that I now realized was far from the intermediate level I would’ve described myself before that evening? Let’s just say I was filled with reckless urgency, ready to throw him on the floor and forcibly have my way with him, despite the potential audience of four vampires.

Movement and simultaneous knocks suddenly resounded from two of the caskets—the first and fourth ones in the row.

“Maybe this is not the best place for us, eh?” he said, snickering nervously.

Delighted that his arousal matched my own, I tried not to let the allure of inappropriate behavior instigate any complications that might follow. I gently stroked his face and pressed my index finger to his lips as he prepared to say something else. But, before we could resume this foreplay, the noises from the caskets resumed. Another one joined the disturbance, which meant we had three irritated vamps on our hands.

“Okay… we can go to my room,” I suggested, my voice carrying a huskier edge than was normal for me.

“No. They will be up soon, and it sounds like Chanson may not be so pleased by this,” he said. The worry in his voice sounded too amused to be taken seriously. “It may be better if we resume this at a later time. Say, tomorrow… if you can awaken earlier than mid-afternoon, perhaps?”

A more forceful thud erupted from the fourth casket, which I assumed belonged to Chanson… or maybe Garvan, my beautiful vampire suitor? A sudden pang of guilt ripped through me, as I considered the possible effect this wanton moment could have on him.

“Tomorrow would be better,” I agreed.

Racco motioned for me to wrap my arm inside his and we left the room together. I doubt any of our vampire companions actually awoke, although the distinct feeling of being observed didn’t fade until we moved upstairs to the dining area.

We shared a bottle of Racco’s prized merlot. He said it was from the turn of the twentieth century, and we sat at a window table watching the setting sun disappear into the ocean behind us.

“You woke me up!” Chanson chided, once she and the rest of our vampire entourage joined us upstairs. The last vestige of daylight had faded into near-darkness, leaving only a slight pink glow at the edge of the distant horizon to the west. “In truth, your little escapade down below roused us
all
before we needed to awake. There goes our beauty sleep!”

She placed her hands on her hips and eyed me coyly, making much of what she just said a playful dig, although I detected some irritation in her brilliant green eyes. Like Racco, she and her companions were all dressed in blue jeans, but she, Nora, and Raquel were attired in sweaters—cocoa, purple, and beige, respectively—as opposed to the blue and black flannel shirt Garvan wore.

“I’m sorry,” I told her, feeling mostly sincere. As long as I didn’t linger on the fantasy of a sexual frolic with Racco. “I will be more discreet next time.”

“It might be wise to consider someone closer to your own age,” she told me, which drew a snicker from Raquel, who stood nearby. Honestly, I would’ve never guessed Raquel was listening, since she carried on an animated conversation with Nora. “We shall talk more about this after you have had a chance to eat tonight.”

Chanson motioned for me to join her at the table, which like yesterday afternoon bore a more modest array of delights. It appeared this would be it for tonight, instead of last night’s obscene extravagance in the other room, where far too much food had covered the long table. Mercel managed a smaller bar nearby, which I assumed my ancient cousin would soon visit along with the others.

“And don’t let either of the immortal males in attendance this evening dissuade you from meeting with me,” she continued. She took my arm like a big sis and made sure I reached my destination with minimal distractions. “Believe me, they both are vying for your affections, even though neither one is suitable for you.”

Her knowing smile reminded me that she was privy to my thoughts. I had been thinking crazy ‘life together’ fantasies involving Racco since our interrupted physical encounter earlier. A quick glance around the room supported her words, as I caught Racco smiling at me from the bar and Garvan watching him from across the room with a disapproving scowl upon his face.

It sure as hell could be an interesting night.

“Txema, come and join me and Mercel for another drink!” Racco called to me, moving over to the table and pulling a chair out for me.

Before I replied with the ‘sure!’ I intended to give him, Garvan suddenly appeared next to him, his face drawn near to Racco’s. They both glared at each other.

“I’ll sit over here with the ladies,” I offered, after allowing Chanson to move me to the opposite side of the table. Nora and Raquel joined us there. Luckily, another ice sculpture—this one a mermaid—blocked my direct view of where Racco and Garvan presently stood. “I’d like to visit with them for awhile.”

“Certainly,” said Racco, smiling again as he peered around the sculpture.

He nodded respectfully to Garvan and sat down. Garvan’s frown remained fixed upon his face as he looked away from Racco. His expression changed to one of smug satisfaction by the time he turned his attention to me. Thankfully, he only nodded, which saved me further involvement.

“See, jealousy and ‘cat fights’ are not strictly the domain of the female sex!” whispered Chanson, drawing close enough to me that her lilac scent was nearly overpowering. “You are the new flower in spring that so allures the bees and the wasps equally, so be careful. Your world is changing… your life will never be the same. But, you know these things, Txema. Go ahead and gain nourishment for your body, and then you and I shall talk.”