Love Bites Ch. 01

Dark greetings, readers. The face of my works is going to change a wee bit over the next couple of months. Certain titles will be- shall we say- retired. Since my list here is going to shrink, I thought I'd treat you all to some of my old or previously restricted writings. Many of them have a certain paranormal paramour archetype in common. Others will be continuations of some my most popular works. I certainly hope you'll enjoy!

This series of shorts (Under the "Love Bites" heading) was originally written for exclusive release, and now I can bring them to you. <3

Fangs for Last Night

"Shaaawwwwwts!"

A pack of boisterous (and foxily dressed) women barreled up to a bar at their fourth stop of the night, quickly drawing the attention of the bartender as well as the patrons. They stuck out from the usual crowd because they were the only ones not wearing a lot of black, leather, pleather, vinyl, or ruffles. Five women, one wearing a strapless white sheath dress with a sash and prop veil, cheered while a round of "Blow Job" shots were speedily poured.

At the far end of the bar, a man chuckled, witnessing the raucous chaos and the consternation it caused. The whirlwind of color and noise drowned out the comedic (yet strangely soulful) notes of Voltaire on the sound system. He watched the women down their shots with squeals of excitement, inspiring several eye-rolls from the heavily pierced and made-up clientele.

"Seriously, all of you, this isn't that kind of place." The low hiss caught his ears. Raul perked up. There was a sixth woman, holding an empty shot glass, a bit of cream still on her lip. He hadn't noticed her before- she blended in much better than the others. She wore a cherry-red corset and frilly black top over a short leather mini-skirt, and red stockings with black faux snake (or gator skin) combat boots. No rings on her hands. A pendant necklace kissed the top of some very generous cleavage. Ass and thighs for days, looooong dark hair with a bit of wave and a sexy Cupid's bow pout... The onlooker had to stop himself licking his lips over the remains of his port.

"C'mon, Bethany, I asked everyone for their fave club and this was your pick! You knew how tonight was gonna go," the obviously soon-to-be-bride playfully scolded, elbowing the curvaceous vixen. "We're rowdy, loudy and proudy!"

Raul smiled even while the bar's other drinkers scowled. He saw Bethany weakly grin.

"Yeah, we are that."

"Besides, we're gonna stay for a couple drinks, a couple songs, and then we'll be out of their dyed, spiked hair. We still have two more bars before we hit the strip cluuuub!" The passel of women cheered again and ordered more drinks. The "...dirtiest drink you can think of!" To which the bartender laughed, saying.

"Alright, six Tight Snatches, coming up." There was another round of hoots and applause, and the smoldering blond behind the bar- Drake- began to mix and pour. When he finished, the wild ladies toasted the bride just as the opening of Soft Cell's "Tainted Love" began blaring. Most of the party quickly sucked down half their drinks before charging out onto the dance floor, whooping it up.

The usual patrons gave them a wide birth as they began dancing suggestively in a pack. Only one remained at the bar proper, sipping her cocktail.

"Hey Drake," she murmured apologetically.

"Hey Bethany. So these are your friends?" The barback raised a pierced blond eyebrow, snickering.

"I know, I wound up stuck in a crowd of preps," the woman replied with mock horror. "Like a cuckoo bird, I have made them believe I am one of their own."

Amusing conversation aside, without the others around her, Raul took the chance to become more attuned to the lovely, thick, scrumptious woman clearly friendly with Drake and the establishment at large. Her clothes and makeup were far more aligned with the club than her friends'.

Clearly she was a regular. His own visits to this particular club were sparse, or he'd have remembered that tasty morsel. Now that she was alone, her scent stood out starkly. Eucalyptus, berry and citrus- utterly tantalizing. Raul's mouth watered, and he had to drop his chin lest his fangs emerge and betray him. Standing at 5'11", with thick, straight, raven-black hair braided neatly past his shoulders, numerous piercings that were understated but striking, leather pants, and boots with a tight black tee, Raul was perfectly inconspicuous among the mortals. A few of his kind hunted here now and again, as "goth" humans were often already amenable to their needs, and Bethany might just be one...

Casually Raul finished his port and left cash on the gleaming bar, sauntering down to where the tempting creature stood, now facing the dance floor. The synthesized sounds of "Tainted Love" were still pounding through the club, but with a gentle pressing on his mind, the DJ got the sudden urge to play something more... up-tempo when it was over.

Bethany sipped her drink, almost finishing it as she tapped her foot to the music. On an ordinary visit to "Hexed", Bethany would have had a drink or two and gotten out on the floor, maybe indulged some cravat-wearing dude with a waxed mustache in a little grinding. On her sister's bachelorette night, however, she felt like watching their half-drunk cocktails had become her job. They'd already been to two seedier places, and none of the girls were inclined to more than having a damn good time.

Here, it was a low-key scene and the staff was good at keeping out shady predators looking to spike drinks or 'score' inebriated hook-ups. Bethany always felt safe at Hexed. She just wasn't certain of having her party-girl friends and sister at her favorite place. Being the only alternative-metal-goth chick in her circle was often frustrating, and sometimes isolating. But still... they were having fun, and had actually attracted a couple to guys in frock coats and leather to dance with now that most of their bacchanal energy was out on the dance floor. They might be too pastel and too modern in their cocktail dresses, heels and obnoxious penis accessories, but it was just for a little while.

"Three o'clock, Bethany," Drake whispered, his breath tickling her exposed neck. He bartended most nights at the club and was a hell of a kisser and dancer. The hot blond (hair spiked, vee-neck, tattoos) pulled back before she could even process his message. Barely had the woman looked over (the song changing to "Paralyzer" by Finger Eleven) than she practically came nose-to-chest with a very snug black tee. Bethany gulped at the body defined beneath it.

"Evening," the stranger said, drawing back so his intended had room to straighten up from her relaxed slouch. "Doesn't look like much fun babysitting the bridal bunch."

Bethany blushed, wondering if the penis straw sticking out of her cleavage as a gag was too comically noticeable from his angle. She gestured to the drinks.

"Just keeping an eye out for my sister and her friends," she replied in a blasé tone. Quickly adding "Not that Drake would let anything happen, I just got into the habit tonight." The guy nodded.

"Smart," he said, "and courteous of you. Bethany, was it? I happened to overhear. I'm Raul." Offering a hand, the hottie gave her a look that make her want to melt into a puddle right there, but she sucked it up and stayed firm.

"Nice to meet you. Sorry if the crew disturbed your evening. I know how chill this place usually is."

"Not at all. You just seemed lonely." Raul flashed her a beaming grin, and Bethany felt her temperature rise. "I hope you don't find me forward, but... would you care to dance?"

The chorus of the song hit, and Bethany stared, mouth dropping open. His hand hovered before her, palm up, and there was something about him. She couldn't resist.

Forgetting the drinks, Bethany took the offer.

Raul swept his woman into his arms and spun off to the dance floor, proving to be very adept at the art. He led Bethany in an energetic flurry of hips and footwork, matching the beat of the song and keeping his moves suggestive but playful. The rest of the bridal party caught sight of them and hooted their glee.

"That's my girl!" Her sister called, pumping her fist upward. Bethany was secretly thankful for the dark, atmospheric lighting that surely kept this dreamboat from seeing her blush.

Obviously, she was clueless that her paramour not only had excellent night vision, but he could practically taste the rise of blood in her cheeks. Her fragrance had strengthened; pulse quickened as they gyrated together, not quite grinding, but close. A tasty morsel she would be. The eldritch creature just had to introduce himself fully and get her to agree to a little donation.

First, the seduction.

At twenty-eight, Bethany had a satisfying career, was pretty happy remaining child-free, and was secure in herself in most ways. Sure, the dating scene hadn't been the greatest, and when she'd RSVP'd to the wedding initially, she'd had a partner. She and Tiffany had just grown apart and there was no shame in it, but that meant her plus one had turned into a zero.

Raul whirled her, whipping her to the end of his arm and pulling her back to dip, then rocking his pelvis against hers in time with the song. As the tune changed to "Closer" by Nine Inch Nails, Bethany wasn't sure she'd ever been flirted with like this. The music shifted, and so did his attitude. The compelling man with the tempting lip ring went from merely flirtatious to wholly sensual in a blink. His hands slid to her hips, and he pressed himself into the cradle of her body. The curvy goth felt his 'eagerness' right through his leather pants!

The dance wound slow and close from there, and Bethany dampened considerably.

It was almost hypnotic, how he moved. How he captured her eyes with his, just smirking like a devil as he made his interest in her translucent. The club fell away, leaving nothing but the pounding, pulsing music, and Raul. Bethany gave herself over, and met his thick bulge with her soft warmth. A low hiss struck her ear as he bent to be closer. Arms wrapped her back, and a tremor shook everything below the knees.

"You smell divine," he rasped, mouth and nose buried in her neck. Not yet kissing or licking, but Bethany got the distinct impression that he wanted to. Badly.

"Oh!" she whimpered, embracing him. "Mmm, you too..." Like leather and smoke. Not stale tobacco or clove cigarettes like a lot of guys at Hexed, but woodsmoke in chill air.

To her surprise, he chuckled.

"Tell me a little about yourself, Bethany." Raul ran a finger down the top of her bustier. "You dress like a siren of the dark, but is that what you feel on the inside? Are you a true child of the night?" She blushed again, and the sweet rush of her blood was addictive. It sang beneath her skin, crying out to him. His fangs began to lengthen- the top pair to pierce and drain, the bottom set to anchor the bite.

"I've always felt that way," she answered, dreamy but at ease, shocked at her own candor. "I'd run with the wolves if given a chance, surrender myself to the moon and stars, if it were a graceful option in this culture," she joked, rolling her eyes. "I wish it were more socially acceptable to live a full life at night and sleep all day." Raul didn't respond, and she began to feel awkward, but stubbornly persisted in rambling. "I mean, I feel like you're not just asking about that, but... Yeah. I've always been drawn to stuff other people find weird, and this place, this subculture feels like home to me. I believe in ghosts, devils, and innate magick. I'm fascinated by the macabre and I won't apologize, even if my entire family is as perky and preppy as they come."

"And what about vampires?" He cheeked. Or at least, she thought he was just poking fun. But when she looked up, suddenly the grin was knowing, not sarcastic. His expression daring her to ask. "Do you believe in immortals that can bewitch humans and drain their blood, bringing them into the fold of the unholy?"

"Which lore are we talking here?" She snarked back, quirking an eyebrow. "Classic lit? Anne Rice? True Blood? Nosferatu?" Raul tipped his head back and laughed loud, breaking the spell of their isolation, bringing Bethany back to the club and the dance floor.

"Ahh yes, there are so many. Yet none of them quite get the true allure of the legend, right? Why the concept is so haunting and yet enchanting?"

Bethany shivered.

"Yeah..." she breathed headily. "I imagine the vampire to be a seductive force of nature, nearly human but somehow more. Exciting. Forbidden." Where was he going with all this? Was he just one of those LARPers, and seriously method?

"I'm dying to taste you, Bethany," he cooed, sailing right past all that. Her head spun.

"R-really? But what about all that stuff?" He shook his head, still smiling.

"In a minute, I promise." He replied, face falling sober. "I beg you for a kiss, hermosa. I must know the flavor of you before I live one more minute."

Stunned, Bethany froze. Her jaw dropped and her entire body flooded with arousal. God, had anyone else ever made her feel so sexy in an instant? Heat rolled down every vein, and she could swear she heard Raul groan in ecstasy, as if he knew.

"Wow," she warbled, and without another word she lifted herself on tip-toe, closing her eyes. Her lips puckered, and she did not dare look at him while she offered to satisfy his fervency. Raul did not waste a precious second.

He bent his head and fell to her painted mouth, taking her chastely. She tasted of potent alcohol, but he knew she was far from drunk. The flavor deepened with sweetness and richness as he coaxed her open, sliding his tongue across hers. Bethany moaned, knees weakening, and he held her fast as the delectable dance of tongues began.

It was a panty-incinerating, soul-stealing, mind-pulverizing kiss, and a loud, obnoxious yell from nearby completely ruined it seconds later.

"Haaaaaawwwt daaaaaaaamn!"

Bethany's sister Erica's cry split the night and brought the gaggle of bridesmaids back on her head. The couple broke apart, immensely startled first, then annoyed.

"Oh girl, you get it!" Erica giggled, clearly tipsy and having a good time. "You'd better score this hottie's digits right now, sis, 'cause we've got to split!"

Bethany looked at the best kiss of her life and panicked.

"Oh god! Yes! Okay... I need my phone!" Their purses and other items were back at the bar, everything untouched, and the goth babe frantically bee-lined to her clutch, grabbing out her cell while her brain had a full explosion over what had just happened. When she turned back around, the girls had herded Raul (who looked relatively non-plussed) and shoved him toward her just in time for the cell to make an appearance.

Behind her, drinks were downed, the tab paid (plus tip), and stuff was grabbed.

"While I'm sad we'll be parting here," a heavy, smoldering look had come into the mystery man's gaze, "I know this won't be the last I see of you." Bethany unlocked her phone, allowing Raul to take it so he could add himself to her contact list. "Call me," he rumbled, an agony of denial rioting all over his face.

"I will," she mumbled softly, before finding her fire again: "If only because I want to hear more about your thoughts on vampire mythos. So much lore to discuss!" His grin cracked again, and it looked as though he was fighting it.

"It's a date," he promised, lifting her hand to kiss her knuckles.

The bride squad then tugged her away to the limo, and she kept stealing glances back the whole time.

Alone again, Raul sighed and ordered another port. His body was primed and destined to go unsatisfied, but he willed himself to calm. After tasting Bethany's lips he knew no other would slake him that night.

Thankfully, Bethany woke the (late) morning after her sister's party without a hangover, and got up for some breakfast and coffee. Nobody had gotten fall-down, blackout drunk (and thank God none of them had to drive), but by the last bar and the strip club, everyone was clearly inebriated. Except for Bethany, who stuck to a two-drink maximum at any stop. She was too hung up on the encounter from Hexed.

The kind-of-odd for a goth club stranger who'd asked for a dance and delivered a kiss that still left echoes in her loins. The man who brazenly asked her sassy questions about vampires and never explained...

She had his number. The contact sat in the list, taunting and tempting. The urge to grab her phone and dial was nearly pathological. Maybe it wasn't too soon to call. Maybe, but Bethany got the distinct impression that her mystery suitor from Hexed was like her, and a late sleeper.

So she set about her day, keeping herself busy with mundane drivel for several hours until the sun began to set. When it did, suddenly her hand was in her pocket, plucking out the device, and her thumb was pressing the buttons. Then scrolling, until the name popped up. Raul. All she'd gotten from him about himself.

This time, there was no hesitation.

Unknown number, but Raul had no doubt who was calling, as very few people would ever contact him on this phone. Most of them were already saved. It was with utmost confidence that he answered his cell:

"Bethany. I'm so glad to hear from you, hermosa." She laughed in surprise, her voice a sweet chime.

"How did you know it was me?"

"I only give this phone number to important- and select- individuals, darling. Business, personal, or pleasure." Bethany swallowed, her mouth dry. His deep timber alone brought back scorching memories- and heightened her desire to see him again.

"Y-yeah?" She asked, tongue-tied. Pushing through, she went on- "How much pleasure, Raul?" The curvy beauty teased him. "Do you always flirt with horror-movie lore?"

"Only with the truly unique, Bethany," he answered in a rich, dark-chocolate tone. "Have dinner with me. In an hour. We can talk then."

Before she could think or stop herself, she blurted out her answer.

"Absolutely," she breathed, feeling her insides clench. "Where?"

"Rouge Steakhouse. I'll have a reservation waiting under 'Madera'. It will be a delight to see you, Bethany." His words were ripe with lust, and it made her pussy flutter. "Until then."

"I'll see you there," she warbled, hanging up in the sudden need to get dressed. Clothes flew after that- dresses, skirts, and nice tops tossed every which way, along with shoes.

By the time she took a look at herself in the mirror, satisfied with her ensemble, she had twenty minutes to arrive. A quick look up and GPS check later, she'd just make it.

Raul arrived early, as he had planned, and ordered a bottle of his favorite red for the table. The sommelier brought the vintage, displayed it, and uncorked it, pouring the contents into a carafe to breathe.

The man smiled. His kind couldn't each much mortal fare, but a rare steak- and a glass of wine- were always suitable. The real feast, though, would be Bethany.

But how to tell her all of it? Would she believe him? Would she think he was dangerously insane? Or worse, just dangerous...? He was, but not to her. Not without her enthusiasm, at least.

When she needed proof (and she would), a drop would do it.

He poured the wine.

After pulling into the restaurant and parking her car, Bethany anxiously checked her make-up one last time in her visor mirror. Perfect smoky eye, lip color absolutely on point, the rest understated and natural... dress (fifties pin-up 'Rockabilly' vibe) crisp, cinching at her waist and flaring out over her generous hips, thighs and ass, while showing off her ample bust. She'd gone dark purple this time, with green and gold accents to make it a little 'Mardi Gras'. Gold heels that sparkled. In short, she looked good and she knew it.