Chapter 14
A few weeks after Amos had asked Tessa to meet his dam, the day finally came for it to happen. As he helped her out of her coat in the entryway, his gaze swept over her outfit.
“What’s this?” he asked, smiling as he traced a finger along the modest collar of her blouse. It wasn’t her usual style, but she kept it in her closet for things like Christmas Mass and job interviews and meeting-the-parents situations. It was demure but feminine—a silky fabric in a deep burgundy color, with a pussy bow collar, billowing bishop’s sleeves, and a row of tiny, jet-black buttons down the front. She’d paired it with a black skirt that hit just below her knee and a fairly staid pair of black pumps. Again, not her usual aesthetic, but it was the best option she had for making a good impression on a woman who’d been born in 1899.
“It’s my ‘please like me, I swear I’m a good girl’ outfit.”
“I know you’re a good girl,” Amos growled, leaning in to nip her earlobe.
Tessa shivered, head falling back, baring her throat to him. “Yes, but you’re not the one I’m trying to impress tonight.”
Amos pulled back, his blood-red gaze meeting hers with a mix of amusement and tenderness. “Honey, you could have worn a gold-sequined catsuit and lime green go-go boots, and Etta wouldn’t have judged you for it. In fact, she’d probably ask where you got the catsuit.”
“Oh.” Tessa looked down at herself, suddenly apprehensive that she looked too uptight.
“Tessa. Stop overthinking it. You look beautiful.” He leaned in close again, one arm circling her waist to pull her against him. “To be perfectly honest, I like this prim and proper look on you.” His voice deepened, roughened. “Makes me want to mess you up.”
“Amos…” Arousal warred with anxiety. She met the heated intensity of his gaze, unsure how to respond.
“Still overthinking things?” he rumbled, walking her back until her shoulders hit the wall. “I know how to fix that.” He moved too quickly for her to react—one second he was looking into her eyes with a wolfish smile, and the next, his hand was cupping the back of her head as his fangs sank into her throat.
Tessa gasped, instantly arching up into his bite. As the first wave of venom-induced orgasm hit her, her knees buckled. Amos dipped with her, catching her, and then hoisted her up with careless ease. Tessa wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her legs around his waist. Her skirt rucked up to her hips, leaving just the thin fabric of her panties and the stiff barrier of his jeans separating her pulsing core from the hard jut of his erection. She whined, grinding against him as he fed from her, overcome by the pleasure of his venom, and still hungry for more. More of him, more of his strength, more of his control. She wanted him inside every part of her, taking her body and soul.
As if he could taste her desperation in her blood, Amos groaned against her throat, pressing against her, crushing her between his broad body and the wall at her back. His hips rocked against hers, grinding his hard length against her needy pussy in time with the rhythmic suction on her throat. Each wave of pleasure crested higher and harder than the last, until her mind went totally blank and she became nothing more than the sensations rioting through her.
When she came back to herself, she was still clinging to Amos, trembling and gasping for breath as he licked at her healing throat. A contented purr rumbled in his chest.
“Are you back with me?” he asked softly, lips ghosting against her skin.
“I think so,” she said faintly.
His gaze flicked over her, a satisfied gleam in those hunter’s eyes. His lips curled into a small smile. “Fixed it.”
“Huh?”
“Nothing. Let’s get you some food.”
Tessa and Amos were still in the kitchen when the resonant tones of the fanciest doorbell she’d ever heard rang out.
“She used the doorbell?” Amos said, looking baffled. “She must want to make a good impression.”
And just like that, Tessa was back to feeling nervous. The pastry she’d just eaten turned to cement in her stomach. Nervously, she gulped water, swishing it between her teeth and spitting it in the sink.
Amos’s hands descended on her shoulders, kneading gently. “It’s going to be fine, sweetheart. I promise. Why don’t you go to the sitting room? I’ll get the door.”
Tessa did as he suggested, heart hammering the whole time. She had only just arranged herself on the settee, gaze landing on the fresh floral arrangement—a frilly haze of yellow, orange, and red blooms—when Amos appeared in the doorway. Tessa sat frozen on the couch, palms sweating, pulse thudding in her ears.
“Tessa,” Amos said calmly, stepping inside the sitting room to reveal two women behind him. “This is Etta Brooks, my dam. And this is Fran Piotrowski, Etta’s bloodmate. Etta, Fran, this is Tessa Vargas.”
Etta was a petite, curvy Black woman, so young she looked like she could still be in high school. Despite their differing coloration, her skin had that same slightly pallid quality that Amos’s did, like they’d both been dusted with a very fine layer of zinc. It didn’t make her look sickly, but rather, slightly other-worldly. She had enhanced her wide-eyed, fae beauty with shimmering golden makeup. Her long, black hair was worn in an abundance of thin locs whose ends transitioned from her natural color to cobalt blue. Half of her hair had been gathered at the crown of her head in a large bun, while the rest fell down her back to the small of her waist. She was dressed in a beautiful black and gold brocade dress, tied at the waist with a crimson sash, and black leather riding boots that laced up to her knee.
Her bloodmate, Fran, was equally as striking, with copper-bright hair styled in a fresh skin-fade undercut. She wore expensive-looking, perfectly tailored wool trousers in a Black Watch plaid pattern, a black dress shirt buttoned to the throat, and a pair of patent leather monk strap oxfords that would’ve made GQ cover models weep with envy. Tattoos emerged from her sleeve cuffs, indiscernible black designs that ended at her knuckles.
Tessa suddenly felt like a dowdy frump. She resisted the urge to fidget with the neckline of her blouse as she got up from the settee.
“Hi,” she said, trying to sound appropriately excited, but veering a little too far into crazed, instead. She winced at herself and tried to dial it in a bit. “Um, I’m Tessa… which Amos already told you.” She laughed nervously.
Etta and Fran both smiled, and Tessa couldn’t help but think that Etta’s smile looked a little strained. Was she also nervous? Or was she unhappy? Maybe she had already deemed Tessa not good enough for her… progeny? Is that what Amos had called himself?
“It’s lovely to meet you,” Etta said. Her voice sounded just as young as her face looked, but there was a mild accent, similar to the one Amos had, that imparted a sense of age. Was it a holdover from the time period in which they’d been human? Or did all vampires just have a vaguely historical-sounding accent?
Tessa realized that too much time had passed since Etta had spoken, and everyone was staring at her. “Oh! Thank you, yes, it’s so great to meet you, too!”
Fran chuckled softly, her mossy green eyes darting from Etta to Tessa and back again. “Tessa, what would you say to a drink?”
Tessa’s eyes widened as her gaze shot to Amos. “Alcohol? I thought that wasn’t… allowed.”
Fran and Etta both laughed.
Amos looked a bit embarrassed. “Uh, no, you can drink. The blood-matching agency would’ve required donors not to drink alcohol because if there’s enough in your blood it can make us drunk.”
“Oh.” The idea of Amos getting literally drunk off her blood held some kind of illicit appeal. But now was not the time to think about that.
“But it doesn’t matter, because your contract is paid out. You can drink if you want. Just… well, warn me, I guess. I’d hate to try getting work done while I was half in the bag without realizing it.”
“Oh, you’d realize it,” Etta said silkily, shooting a devious glance at Fran. A little smile quirked the corner of Fran’s mouth.
Amos cleared his throat. “Ahem. Well. Have a seat, everybody.”
Etta and Fran sank into the button-tufted chairs on the other side of the coffee table, while Tessa sank back down onto the settee.
“Fran, what’ll you have?” Amos asked, still standing.
“Do you still have that rosé from last month?”
Amos nodded. “Tessa?”
“Oh, er… I’ll have what Fran’s having. Thanks.”
The idea of drinking wine seemed almost illegal. She’d gone months without touching alcohol because of her HemoMatch contract. She’d never been much of a drinker to begin with, but any tolerance she’d had was shot now. Would it make her look high-maintenance and prissy to ask for a wine spritzer? She didn’t want Etta to think she was taking advantage of Amos’s generosity and kindness. So she kept her lips shut and resolved to sip very slowly.
“So, Tessa,” Etta said in her soft, sweet, vaguely antique-sounding voice. “Tell us about yourself. Amos has been somewhat close-lipped.”
“There’s not much to tell,” Tessa answered, trying to figure out how to condense her entire identity into acceptable small-talk. “Um, I’ve lived in Chicago most of my life. I’m a nurse. I… uh…” She cast about, trying to think of a hobby or passion of hers. The truth was, she’d had no time for either hobbies or passions the last several years. Giving up, she shifted the conversation to them. “What about you?”
“Ah. Well. I’ve also lived in Chicago for most of my life. I work for the Council as a financial analyst.” Tessa realized that Etta must have meant she worked for the vampire Council. “Fran and I met in 1974 when she hit me with her car.”
Tessa blinked. “What?”
“It was an accident ,” Fran stressed. “And it was mostly her fault.”
Tessa looked from Fran to Etta, not sure how to respond to that.
Etta shrugged, lips pressed together to suppress a smile. “I should’ve been more aware of my surroundings,” she admitted. “Our senses are sharp enough that I ought to have known a car was coming before I tried to cross the road. But I was a little distracted. I’d gotten some spiked blood at an unground vamp club without realizing it. I was completely out of my head. I ended up chasing taillights all the way out of the city, out of the suburbs even. I was in a nowhere farm town when Fran plowed me over like roadkill.”
“I did not!” Fran objected, laughing. “You bashed off my front fender and put me into a tailspin! I ended up in the ditch because you were high as a kite!”
“Accidentally!” Etta shot back.
Tessa laughed with both of them, feeling almost light-headed as the worst of her nerves settled. Amos reappeared, glasses of rosé in hand. He handed one to Fran, then joined Tessa on the settee. She accepted her glass from him and sipped at it cautiously.
“Wait,” Fran said, putting a hand on Etta’s arm. “Why are we telling our embarrassing stories when we should be telling Amos’s embarrassing stories?”
Etta’s eyes lit with mischief as Amos stiffened. “Because there’s nothing to tell,” he said firmly.
“Really?” Etta asked in a tone of perfect innocence. “But what about the time you stayed out too late with your new telescope?”
“ Aw ,” Tessa murmured fondly. That wasn’t embarrassing, it was adorable.
Etta’s attention shifted to Tessa. “He was out in the middle of nowhere in central Illinois when the sun came up. He had to break into a nearby car so he could go into his daysleep in the trunk, where the sun wouldn’t get him—”
“ Etta ,” Amos growled.
“—and when he woke up, he was in Wichita!”
Etta and Fran descended into delighted cackles while Amos glowered at them.
“Should’ve checked the plates before you broke in,” Fran teased.
“I wasn’t exactly in a position to be choosy about my accommodations,” Amos replied with wounded dignity.
Tessa couldn’t help but giggle. Amos shot her a betrayed look, which only made her giggle harder—which set Etta and Fran off again.
“Ooh, Amos!” Etta sat up, eyes bright with mischief. “What about the time you—”
“Etta, so help me God, I will buy Fran a lifetime supply of Clamato juice if you don’t shut your trap.”
Etta shot him a glare. “You wouldn’t.”
Tessa looked between the two of them, lost. “Uh… what?”
Fran grinned sheepishly. “I have a weakness for the stuff, but Etta hates how it makes my blood taste. I don’t go out of my way to drink it, but if it’s offered…”
Tessa wrinkled her nose. “Of all the things to have a weakness for, yours is Clamato ?”
Fran shrugged. “It’s kind of a nostalgia thing. I drank it a lot when I was a kid—it was always in the fridge. My mom said it was healthy. In hindsight, I think she just liked making Bloody Marys with it.”
Tessa tilted her head from side to side, weighing the possibilities. “Maybe it is healthy. I mean, apparently it’ll protect you from vampires.”
Etta and Amos both gave her a wounded look while Fran cracked up.
“So, darling,” Etta said to Amos when Fran had subsided. “When are you going to present Tessa to the Council?”
Amos snarled at her, a sound so sudden and vicious, it was like it had been torn from his throat. Etta hissed back at him, a furious scowl on her face. Tessa stared at them both, shocked and uncertain.
“Hey,” Fran said lightly, “Both of you chill out. You’re freaking Tessa out.”
Their expressions shifted from anger to mortification. Both of them straightened, trying to restore their dignity.
“I apologize, Tessa,” Amos said, “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He reached out, taking her hand and squeezing it.
“Yes, please forgive us,” Etta said, the antiquated quality to her accent becoming just a little more prominent as she gave Amos a quelling look. “It’s terribly rude to behave like that in company.”
Amos sighed. “I’m sorry, Etta. It was a defensive reaction. ”
She frowned. “Defensive of what? A potential bloodmate has to be approved by the Council before you can claim her.”
“It’s a stupid formality,” Amos argued. “They can’t do anything about it if I claim a bloodmate without their approval. Why would I put Tessa through that pointless dog and pony show?”
Etta’s expression softened. Gently, she said, “Amos, it’s not for your benefit. It’s for hers.”
He started to respond, then hesitated. He glanced at Tessa and the ire faded from his expression. The stiffness eased from his spine. Looking back at Etta, he nodded. “You’re right. I know you’re right.”
“What’s for my benefit?” Tessa asked.
When Amos didn’t immediately respond, Etta explained, “The Council interviews potential bloodmates before approving a union as a way of ensuring that the human is a fully willing partner and hasn’t been coerced or enthralled.”
Tessa blinked. “Oh, well, I mean, we don’t have to do that if you don’t want to,” she told Amos. “I’m obviously here willingly.”
“No,” Amos said. “Etta’s right. We should go before the Council.”
Tessa forced a smile. “It sounds… intense.”
“Oh, no, honestly, it’s nothing,” Etta said. “Amos is just an anti-social recluse.”
Amos scowled at her. Etta made a ghoulish face back at him. Fran covered her mouth, smothering laughter.
“It’s not bad,” Fran said, a hint of laughter still in her voice. “But, fair warning, the older vampires get, the weirder they get.”
Neither Amos nor Etta refuted the claim .
Tessa glanced nervously between them. “Uh, is that something I should expect?”
“From me?” Amos asked.
Tessa nodded.
“I hope not. The older vampires are… eccentric… but not because they’re old. Well, not directly. It’s just, they spent the vast majority of their lives in very different social norms from today.”
Etta snorted. “That’s a polite way of putting it.”
“They’ll be condescending to you,” Fran warned. “For being a human bloodmate and not a turned vampire. The old vamps—like, really old—turned their mates into vampires rather than keeping them human. They think vampires are superior to humans.”
“But there aren’t many of those dinosaurs,” Etta said. “Anyone turned after, hmmm… what did Angelique say?”
“After the Black Death,” Amos supplied.
“That’s right. Most everybody turned after the Black Death aren’t so snobbish about humans.”
Tessa tried not to choke on her drink. “What year was the Black Death?” she asked faintly.
“Somewhere in the fourteenth century?” Etta guessed. She waved vaguely. “It doesn’t matter. Those throwbacks are easy to ignore. What’s important is that there’s a Council hearing two weeks from Friday.”
“Two weeks,” Amos repeated, sounding both annoyed and thoughtful. He was still holding Tessa’s hand, his thumb stroking meditatively over her knuckles.
“Is that… would you want me to do that?”
Amos hesitated. “Do you not want to?” he asked.
Fran and Etta were silent and still, trying their damnedest to fade into the background .
“No, it’s not that,” she answered quickly. Tessa had already made up her mind about Amos. She was just waiting for him to ask. The answer was going to be yes.
But he hadn’t asked .
He seemed to halfway understand her hesitance. “Getting approval from the Council doesn’t mean you have to accept my claim,” he said softly. “It just means they won’t read me the riot act when—” he cleared his throat “— if you do accept.”
“Alright,” she said. “Let’s do it.”
Amos squeezed her hand.
Etta and Fran seemed to cautiously resume existing. “Well, we’ll be there,” Etta promised. She brightened suddenly, straightening in her chair. “You’ll need a dress! We’ll take you shopping!”
“Oh, I don’t need—”
“Yes you do,” Etta said, waving away Tessa’s feeble objection. “You’re going to look amazing. Amos will pay for it.”
Tessa stammered, flustered. It was one thing for Amos to give her gifts—flowers, meals—it was quite another for her to just presume he would buy her things.
Amos leaned over. In a low voice, lips close to her ear, he told her, “She’s right. Pick out something gorgeous.”
Tessa instantly flushed from head to toe. His easy confidence, his casual assertiveness… it did things to her insides.
Fran let out a low whistle. “Amos, I’m not even into men and that almost melted my panties.”
Amos and Etta laughed while Tessa joined in feebly, wishing she could go stick her head in the freezer.
Mercifully, the conversation moved on. More relaxed now, Tessa found it a bit easier to talk about herself. She ended up talking about the years she’d spent working as a travel nurse and the interesting cities she’d lived in. Etta’s, Fran’s, and Amos’s sincere interest in her stories was such a stark contrast from her family’s blatant disinterest that she kept getting self-conscious in the middle of talking, convinced she was boring them with stupid details. But then one of them would ask a question—a good question, a question that showed they had been listening and cared—and Tessa would find herself talking more. It was a strange feeling.
Of course, Etta, Fran, and Amos all had fascinating stories, too. Tessa hung on their every word, never once feeling obligated to fake her interest or make dutifully polite remarks. The conversations and stories all flowed together, punctuated by laughter and sighs and groans. Even though she was decades younger than them all, and a stranger to their secret world, she felt like she was part of their circle, rather than the outside observer she usually felt like. She felt more at home than she had in years.
A few hours and several glasses of wine later, Etta and Fran departed. Before she left, Etta made firm plans to take Tessa shopping for a dress for the Council presentation, and Tessa had both Etta’s and Fran’s numbers stored in her phone.
Amos closed and locked the door behind them and turned to Tessa, brows raised. “Well?”
Tessa wrapped her arms around Amos’s middle, snuggling in close. “I really like them both. A lot.”
His hands landed on her back, stroking up and down. “They liked you, too.”
“Oh, good,” she sighed.
“Sweetheart. ”
“Hm?”
“You sound a little tipsy.”
She giggled. “I’m a lightweight. But I’m serious about Etta and Fran. They’re wonderful.”
Amos made a pleased sound that turned into a low purr. “I think so too,” he said gruffly. “Why don’t we get some food in you to soak up that wine?”
By the time Amos took Tessa home, her wine buzz had faded. That didn’t stop her from throwing herself at him and kissing him like she was trying to steal his soul through his mouth. Amos’s grip on her became crushing as he growled against her lips. The points of his fangs dragged over her tongue, an erotic threat.
He broke away from her, breathing hard, eyes wild. “Tessa,” he grated her name. “The things I want to do to you.”
She grinned. “Do them.”
With a groan, he dropped his forehead to hers. “No time. The sun is rising.”
“Tonight, then?”
He huffed out a soft laugh. “Tonight,” he promised darkly. He kissed her forehead. “Sleep well, sweetheart.”
Tessa was about to tip her mouth up for one last goodbye kiss when movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. She turned her head in time to see a shadow slip between the narrow space between her mother’s house and the neighbor’s.
Amos stiffened. “Get inside,” he said abruptly.
Tessa didn’t waste time. She hurried up the steps, pulling out her house key. As she unlocked the front door, she realized something was dangling from the doorknob. She picked it up without examining it and stepped inside. When the door was locked behind her, she peered out the side window. Amos was gone. Chasing the thrall? Tessa’s gaze lifted nervously to the skyline. She didn’t like that a thrall was hanging around her neighborhood, but she wanted Amos safely home, protected from the sun.
Nothing she could do about it now. With a sigh, she turned away from the window and looked down at the object in her hand. It was a small brass locket on a cheap chain, similar to one she’d had as a child. The whole thing was caked in grime and the latch was broken, so it couldn’t close properly. Inside, it was empty. Tessa turned it over and over in her hand, confused. Who would’ve hung a broken old necklace on the front door? Maybe the mail carrier had found it on the sidewalk and assumed it belonged to Tessa or Ma? Maybe kids had left it as a joke? But what was the joke?
Curious, Tessa carried the necklace into the kitchen with her and set it on the table. Ma was already up, drinking coffee and playing Sudoku on her iPad.
“What’s this?” Ma asked sourly. “A gift from your secret friend ?”
“It was hanging on the front door,” Tessa said, ignoring the jibe. “Do you recognize it?”
Ma leaned in, taking a closer look. After a moment, she pursed her lips. “It’s garbage. Who’s putting garbage on my door?”
Tessa shrugged. “I don’t know, Ma. It was just hanging there when I got home.”
“And at the ass-crack of dawn, too. Spent all night with this friend, huh?”
Tessa plucked up the necklace. “I’m going to bed. Have a good day at work.”