Ouch! My Vampire Doms Don’t Sparkle (My Vampire Doms #2)

Chapter 1

Autumn

Will stands like a statue, shoulders slumped, staring at the door. I must make a sound of some kind, because he seems to pull himself from his thoughts and he opens his arms to me.

“Little love. Let’s find you some breakfast, hmm?”

I step into his embrace. He’s so gentle with me now, whereas moments ago he was stroking hard within me, biting my neck, probing my ass with slippery fingers. A wave of arousal moves through me at the memory of what we just did.

Will groans. “You make me never want to leave the bedroom. But come along. Kitchen. I’ll make you eggs.”

I’m surprised that a vampire has any groceries at all, but when I follow him to the open-plan living room and kitchen area, he opens the refrigerator door and reveals that it’s fully stocked.

“Why do you have all this food, if you don’t need to eat it?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I like to cook sometimes. It’s soothing.”

“You probably want to cook a lot after that argument with Xander you just had.”

“Maybe. How do you like your eggs? Benedict? Omelet? Something else?”

“Um, scrambled is good.”

He takes some eggs from the fridge, then leans back in. “I can add things to the scramble—cheese, green onions, bacon, mushrooms.”

My stomach rumbles. “That all sounds great. Thanks.”

I’m uneasy as he cracks the eggs and dumps the yolks in a bowl, though. A few minutes ago, I was thinking I definitely wanted to stay here, and I wanted to let Will take care of me.

But my presence drives away Will’s best friend, and they’ve been together probably forever. I’m a little blip on their timeline. Definitely not worth them having a falling-out.

“Will?”

“Yeah?” He washes and slices some mushrooms.

“Do you think I should really stay? I’ve already caused problems between you and Xander.”

His sure hands move to grating cheese. I could watch him cook for hours. He looks so calm, controlled, capable.

“Xander will come around,” he says.

“How do you know that?”

“Because you, love, are irresistible.”

“What are you talking about?” I say with a laugh. “He resisted me just fine a few minutes ago when you and I were in the tub. I watched him watching us. He could’ve made a move, easily, but he didn’t.”

Will now has a pile of veggies and cheese to add to my scramble. He moves back to the bowl of yolks, whisk in hand. “He wants you. Trust me. He simply has to work things out in his mind.”

“What kind of things?”

A flash of something—sorrow? Regret?—passes over his face, but he quickly turns to the task in front of him. “It’s complicated,” he says. “Let’s not worry about it quite yet.”

It explains nothing, but to be fair, our relationship is still new.

Perhaps “relationship” is too strong of a word for what we have. Arrangement? Yes. Arrangement. I’m making a living arrangement with a vampire.

A living and fucking and biting arrangement.

Maybe I should call it an undead arrangement instead of a living arrangement?

A hysterical giggle tries to break free of my throat, but I swallow it back.

“Tell me what happened to you,” Will says. “A girl who takes shelter in a library for a week isn’t usually there for fun.”

“I ran away,” I say.

He turns and stares at me while he finishes whisking the eggs, his movements mechanical but his gaze full of warmth, emotion. “There must have been a good reason for that.”

His unexpected, matter-of-fact empathy brings tears to my eyes.

“There’s a story you need to tell, isn’t there?” he says gently.

“I have a stepdad,” I say. “He’s…a bad guy.”

Will sets down the bowl and the whisk, abandoning the eggs to stand before me. “Did he hurt you?”

I remember Dale’s fist, wrapped around my arm as I tried to drive away. “Just once,” I say, gesturing to my forearm. “He tried to grab me when I left. I’m fine, though, I was just bruised.”

Jaw tight, Will cradles my arm in his large palms, handling it as if it were broken.

“Will, I’m fine,” I say.

“He hurt you,” he growls. “What else did he do?”

Dale, on the news, flashes in my memory again. He said I had mental difficulties, paranoid delusions. Nobody’s going to believe me now—Dale got control of the narrative before I even had a chance.

“Autumn, answer me,” Will says. “What else did he do?”

“N-nothing.”

Will stares at me. I don’t know how he can tell I’m lying, but whatever.

Shoulders slumping, I say, “I saw him kill someone, all right? And I think he killed my mother, when I was fifteen. So I ran away. But now he’s telling everyone I’m crazy.

And you probably think I’m crazy, too. I mean, who sleeps in a library? ”

“Someone desperate,” he says, practically on a growl. “Someone with no other options, nowhere to go.”

He’s so close, I can smell his woodsy scent, feel the heat of his body close to mine. There’s a faint tinge of blood between us, and the pulse in my neck speeds up as I remember his lips there, taking, taking.

“You’re staying with me,” he says with an air of finality. “You shouldn’t go anywhere, either.”

“What about my job?”

“Quit.”

“I—what? Quit? I can’t just quit, how am I supposed to earn money?”

He gives me a slow grin. “You don’t need money. You’re my little girl, I’ll provide everything you need.”

Little girl. I like the sound of that. I like the idea of being treasured, provided for.

But that’s something for the personal side of our arrangement—that shouldn’t be my real life. In real life, I need to be self-sufficient, or at least as self-sufficient as possible.

“I’m keeping my job,” I say. “I can’t let that go.”

His lips form a tight line. I wonder, idly, where his fangs go when he isn’t feeding, but that’s something I can ask about later.

“Will you allow me to escort you to and from your workplace?” he asks.

If he did, I’d be less scared. The pub isn’t in the greatest part of town, either, so having Will with me on the way home would be especially welcome.

“Yeah, that would be okay.”

“Good.” He grins. “I didn’t want to have to stalk you.”

He steps forward, crowding me, and then forward again.

I back up until I hit the edge of the table. He toys with the bottom of the shirt I’m wearing, the back of his knuckles brushing against my bare thigh.

“Then again,” he says, “I like stalking. Chasing. Do you like to run, little love?”

“I—”

My stomach takes that moment to make a loud, hungry growl.

Chuckling, Will gives me a swift kiss on the cheek and lets me go, returning to the eggs.

“We’ll have lots of time to explore what you like, later,” he says. “Breakfast first.”

I remember him chasing me in the library. Maybe we can do that again sometime, when I’m not so scared and confused. I was turned on even then, but now that I know what he can do to me? Even better.

Xander

Fucking Will. Thinking with his dick again. Yes, I understand that this girl is powerfully attractive and our chemistry with her is beyond anything we’ve experienced in decades.

So fucking what? All of the good times will end if she dies.

I didn’t know vampires could be optimists, but he seems to think things will be different with Autumn, that we won’t fuck things up like we did with Elisabeth, that we’ll magically be more responsible now than we were then, and have more control.

The very last thing I feel when I’m around Autumn is control.

Example: after she spotted me outside of her hotel room, I remained watching over her from the shadows. I couldn’t leave her alone after learning what was happening in her life. Even as I told myself I did not care, even as I told myself I was making everything harder on myself.

No control.

And that is precisely why I am holed up for the second night in one of Will’s and my apartments.

We have three of these places currently, spaced throughout the city as safe houses.

Because we do not age, it is prudent to have several homes and rotate between them, as well as selling and buying often, changing our surnames every few years.

Eventually, we’ll even have to entrust The Corbin into someone else’s care, and we will start a new private library in some other city. Or if not a library, then a bookstore. Elisabeth loved books, so it will be something to do with them.

This apartment is just as impersonal as the others, fully furnished by strangers, bland and boring. It does, however, have a spare laptop. If I can’t be with Autumn, I at least want to know more about her. For her own protection, I reason.

Not because I’m obsessed. Not because I’m a heartsick dumbass.

I open up a web browser and type in the name of Autumn’s stepfather.

Dale Smith. It’s a generic-sounding name, unfortunately, but I have better results when I add Altera, California to my search.

He has social media accounts on all the major sites, although it doesn’t appear he is very active on any of them.

I click around, finding precious little in the way of casual interaction.

Boring. Nothing of note.

Although on one site, I find a photo of him standing with Autumn. They’re both smiling. His smile appears contrived, and hers? Her lips are smiling, and even her eyes are crinkled up. Despite that grin, all I see is sadness and loneliness.

The way his arm is around her shoulders, it appears they posed for the photograph. I bet he stepped away from her as soon as the photo was taken. He doesn’t look as if he cares for her. He doesn’t look as if he cares about anyone except for himself.

I check out the links farther down on the search results page.

Press releases, ceremonies, and charity galas.

Autumn is with him at some of the functions, well-coiffed and polished.

She looks like a pampered little princess in her fancy dresses and jewelry.

My heart slams hard in my chest at the sight of her, not only because she’s gorgeous as she always is, but because I wish I could reach out to her in those photographs and take her hand.

If I could, I would tell her that she isn’t alone, that she’s my little mouse.

Fuck. I need to get it together.

Scrubbing a hand over my face, I force myself to focus on Smith and his associates. Who are the powerful people he spends his time with? What organizations does he support, where does his money go—and where does it come from?

His involvement with JonBell Tech Solutions, a now-dissolved group which was full of criminals, from what I recall in a recent exposé, makes him appear slimy in my eyes.

Of course, not everyone associated with JTS was a criminal, and some were likely surprised by the undercurrent of immorality.

It’s the way Smith can be found shaking hands and smiling for the camera while buddying around with James Bell that makes me think his involvement was far from innocent and casual.

There are other companies as well, along with politicians and wealthy families. If someone has any claim to power in California, Dale Smith can be traced to them in some way.

This means Autumn has been and always will be a pawn to him. When she is no longer of use to him, he will sacrifice her as chess players are wont to do. I feel sick at the very thought.

Countless hours go by as I learn everything I can about Dale Smith and his peers.

I don’t know what they are all involved in, and it likely doesn’t matter.

All I know is that Smith is up to nothing good, and if Autumn is involved in any way, he’ll likely take great measures to ensure she’s removed from the equation.

She’s going to need protection if he learns her location. Fucking hell. I simply want to send her along on her way, to protect her from Will and me. But whether she stays or goes, she’ll be in danger. The little mouse is surrounded by predators.

I click over to another photo where she’s standing with Smith.

Curiosity overcomes me, and I change my search so that now I’m faced with Autumn’s social media accounts.

I find her PhotoGram account, which is set to public.

There are hundreds of comments on her latest post, asking if she’s okay, asking where she is.

The image itself is a photograph of her and another young woman, their faces close together as they smile for the camera.

They’re wearing bikini tops and sitting on a blanket laid out on a brilliant green lawn, surrounded by other young people.

It looks like a university. Throwback Thursday, the caption reads. Great college memories with my bestie.

Ignoring the bestie, I zoom in on Autumn.

The image can’t be that much of a “throwback,” because she looks about the same now as she did then.

And fuck me, those curves are the same, the soft skin is just as luminous, the angle of her jaw above her throat.

I want to kiss her there, tease her with my teeth, lick and suck, drive her mad before I finally give in to my instincts and bite.

While I stare at her picture, I reach down and unbutton my jeans. I lift my hips and shove the pants down just enough to free my cock. It’s hard, so fucking hard because I’m looking at the little mouse, thinking about her. Her pussy is so soft, so warm, so wet.

I stroke myself, from the root to the head, remembering how it felt to glide in and out of that girl. She’d smelled heavenly, and she made the neediest little sounds.

My phone chimes.

“Fucking hell.” I glance down at the notification and see Neve’s name, along with the text message, It’s already bad. The message is accompanied by a photo thumbnail. What the fuck is the image? The preview is too small; I can’t make sense of it.

Swearing, I abandon my perverted wanking session and open the message.

It’s no wonder I couldn’t make sense of the thumbnail. The photo doesn’t make sense because I’m looking at dismembered body parts covered in gore. In the midst of the pile, I see three separate torsos, each with a stake protruding from the chest.

A new text pops up from Neve. He’s in California and he’s already making examples of people. Be careful so you and Will aren’t next.