A Vampire for Christmas

chapter ONE





THE WEREWOLF’S FIST packed a remarkable wallop. Daniel Harrison had developed some kind of funky, supernatural strength since he’d transformed into a vampire a year ago, but he’d quickly learned that strength was nothing when matched against a werewolf.



Why did these guys hate him so much?



There were two of them, and the biggest, with no discernible neck, served a pummel of blows to Daniel’s gut. He wasn’t in position to latch on to either with his fangs, and the idea of clamping down on their nasty flesh didn’t suit his preference for a clean bite.



A Christmas storm battered New York City. Snowflakes stung them with an icy scrape and at times hindered Daniel from seeing the oncoming punches.



He knew why the dogs had been following him on his nightly hunt for sustenance. They sought an unaligned vampire who had no ties to the local tribes to bring home to the pack and turn into a chew toy. Wolves did nasty things with vampires, like lock them up, force them to endure UV light torture, then after the vamps were starving and raging for blood, the wolves pitted them against one another in a battle to the death. This vampire wasn’t down for the count yet.



With renewed vigor, Daniel swung and landed a forceful punch in a werewolf’s kidney. The bruiser grunted and toppled backward, landing in his cohort’s arms. Bouncing on his feet like a boxer, Daniel had to smile at the swift move.



Hey!”



At sound of the female voice, all three—vampire and werewolves—twisted to spy a woman tromping down the snow-packed alleyway with a grocery bag in hand. Furry boots rose to her knees and were tied with laces capped in thick fur balls that bounced with each step. A fur-rimmed hood covered her head and her face was bundled against the winter storm with a scarf that protected her mouth and nose. Bright green eyes sought each of them with chastising force.



“You think you made your point?” she said to one of the werewolves, who punched a fist into his palm. “I don’t want trouble. But you do know the police station is around the corner.”



Both wolves exchanged nervous glances. One shook his head and sneered at Daniel.



Daniel could feel the pansy accusation from the werewolves waver through the air at him and strike him smartly in the testicles. Defended by a woman? Not cool. He smacked a fist in his palm.



“We’re out of here,” the wolf with the steel fist announced, and they shoved roughly past the woman and tromped off.



Nice. Like he needed one more thing to make the wolves laugh at him, the unaligned vampire who was this close to cashing in all his chips, be it as a werewolf’s bitch or by the stake.



“Had ’em right where I wanted them,” Daniel said, his anger rising at the humiliation of having a woman defend him. “And I didn’t need you to interfere.”



“Uh-huh.” She stepped through the flurry of snowflakes, her path obviously aimed toward the iron stairway hugging the brownstone. “You were eating that brick wall, buddy.”



Furious at her catty comment, he grasped her by the furry coat lapels and swung her around, slamming her against the wall. The bag of groceries crushed against her stomach. The werewolves had caught him tonight before he’d satisfied his hunger, and she looked warm, mortal and appetizing.



“Oh, yeah? That’s not what I have in mind to eat.” He willed his fangs down and worked his best scary snarl on her.



The woman tilted her head, eyeing his canines, but he didn’t feel so much as a shiver when he leaned against her body. What was wrong with mortals nowadays? Their scare factor had dropped off the scale.



“Aren’t you afraid?” he demanded, feeling his own fears rise from that awful night a year ago when the vampires had attacked him in the subway. Yes, he’d been fearful. He hadn’t believed in monsters, hadn’t time for that fantasy bullshit. Now he couldn’t get away from it.



“I’m not afraid,” she offered boldly.



Daniel laughed inside, but on the outside he remained serious. Sweet little thing didn’t know what she was dealing with. She probably thought the fangs were fake. Or…



“I get it. You’re one of those chicks who gets off on men with fangs. You put posters on your walls and swoon over the movie star vampires with the stupid hair. Like to tail around behind us, and beg to get bitten.”



“Not particularly.” She reached for his face, which made him flinch, but the soft yarn mitten managed to stroke his aching chin. “I bruise easily, and I can’t abide stupid hair.”



She was not processing the enormity of her danger. Must be in shock.



Daniel tightened his jaw, but when he met her eyes, the anger that had built inside him for a year dissipated like a faulty snowball dispersing midair. It felt wrong to play the big bad to brave Miss Bright Eyes. Why hadn’t he been capable of standing up to his attackers like she had? He wasn’t a pansy, and he used to go a few rounds in the boxing ring every weekend with a buddy. It was just that werewolves were so strong.



“I live at the top of the stairs,” she said, thick snowflakes dusting her lacy dark lashes. “Why don’t you come up and let me tend that bruise. Who beats up a vampire and actually wins?”



“Werewolves,” he said sharply, and then waited for her to panic.



But she didn’t. Instead, she nodded, accepting. Something was seriously wrong with this woman.



“They didn’t win,” he corrected. “You arrived just when I—”



“I know. You had them right where you wanted them.” She slid out of his grasp and started up the stairs that hugged the side of the brick brownstone, her boots clunking on the iron steps. “Coming?”



Daniel couldn’t figure what had just happened. Maybe the woman was a witch or demon or—hell, someone in the know. Mortals didn’t accept him so calmly. Screaming was the usual response. The occasional stake was to be expected.



Shoving a hand over his hair, which was wet with snowflakes and probably some of his own blood, he licked his lips. The bruises and wounds the werewolves had inflicted would be gone in minutes. But resist an invite into a pretty woman’s home?



He looked around, shuffled his feet, and shoved his hands into his front jeans pockets.



He was a monster, and a hungry one at that. The pretty lady had best beware.





OLIVIA ADORATA SHRUGGED off her winter coat, wool mittens and hat, and tossed them over the back of the worn leather easy chair in the tiny apartment she rented throughout the year, but only got to visit about five out of the fifty-two weeks. Her hair was a mess and she wore yoga pants and a bleach-stained shirt. She hadn’t expected to encounter a handsome man on her way home, or to so boldly invite him in—make that a handsome vampire.



Behind her, the vampire stood in the open doorway, snowflakes whipping in around his tall, lean frame and onto the carpet. A vampire.



She’d met plenty of actors who played vampires and even a nonactor who had completely believed himself a denizen of the dark. But she’d never met a real vampire. Thanks to her mother’s penchant for all things spiritual and otherworldly, Olivia believed they existed, or at least, wouldn’t discount them just because she hadn’t met one before.



She prided herself on being open-minded, but hadn’t expected to ever come face-to-face with one—and come so close to his fangs. That had freaked her, but she possessed the incredible ability to remain calm on the outside while inside she was screaming. Attribute that to her profession. Never let them see you sweat.



And how to be frightened by a man who looked like he belonged in a men’s fitness magazine? The muscles were apparent through his thin leather jacket, and that solid jaw and sharply buzzed dark hair added to his appeal. Freckles on his nose granted him a bit of a boy-next-door look—with fangs. She loved freckles.



Too intrigued not to invite him in, Olivia hoped she wasn’t doing the last thing she’d ever do. On the other hand, the horned devil sitting on her shoulder prodded her with its pitchfork and whispered, “Risk,” and she jumped at the opportunity.



“Come in,” she coaxed, and offered the man a warm smile. She tugged down her shirt, hoping to hide the bleach stain at her hip. “It’s nothing fancy, but it’s home. Wish I had time to get a tree, but I’d never be able to lug it up the outside stairs. Maybe a small one.” Oh, how she tended to babble when she was nervous. Deep breath, Olivia. Chill. “Come in.”



As if released from an invisible barrier, the vampire stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He stomped his boots on the mat.



“So you really need an invite to enter a place? That’s so cool.”



“Personal property, yes. Not so much on the public property. What are you?”



“I don’t understand the question.” She strode toward the bathroom. “I’m going to get some medical supplies.”



“What I mean is,” he called after her, “what kind of monster are you that you know what I am, and don’t seem the least bit frightened by me?”



She glanced in the bathroom mirror. Monster? If he only knew she was an even bigger monster. Did he know? He hadn’t said anything to clue her that he was aware who she was. Interesting.



On the other hand, she wasn’t exactly playing up the glamorous mode right now. She reached for the medical supplies and forced herself not to dash on some blush and eyeliner. That would look too obvious.



Returning to the living room with alcohol, cotton balls and Band-Aids, she set them on the glass coffee table and gestured for him to sit on the leather couch. “Do you want me to be frightened of you?”



He shrugged, which only drew attention to his broad shoulders. The man was not shockingly pretty, but a good, solid stretch of sex appeal and confidence—mercy, those melting snowflakes in his hair twinkled under the lights. Olivia was so tired of models and hangers-on. This guy was a bright gift of normality, aside from the fact he sported fangs, which added an irresistibly dangerous twist to this encounter. He was everything she should avoid—hell, run from and never look back.



“Sit down,” she said, with another gesture to the couch. “What’s your name?”



“What’s yours?” He stalked to the couch and made himself at home, slamming his wet boots up on the coffee table.



Olivia shoved his feet off and then pulled off his boots and tossed them to the rug by the door.



“Hey!”



“The carpet is beige and a bitch to clean.”



And he—damn, he smelled delicious. A mix of winter snow, leather and aggressive male. While all her caution alarms sounded, Olivia decided this was an opportunity she couldn’t let pass. If she could do this, she could do anything. And what she really needed in her life right now was a burst of confidence.



“I’m Olivia….” She paused, waiting for his reaction, but sensed if he hadn’t already said something, that he likely wasn’t aware who she really was.



“I’m a common mortal,” she offered, avoiding all the sensational details that half the population knew better than she, “who is not a monster—although, there are times I can be very monstrous—and happens to believe that the world is populated by all sorts. Though I’ve never met one of those, uh…sorts until now. At least, not a real one. Those fangs are real, right?”



He nodded and she kneeled before him and unscrewed the cap from the alcohol bottle. “So what’s your name, and why were werewolves beating you up?”



As she said the W word it got stuck at the back of her throat, and a scream almost slipped by, but her stage training rescued her nerves from becoming all-out fear.



He leaned forward, meeting her gaze. Deep brown eyes flecked with dark spots to match the freckles on his nose held her mesmerized. How often did a man look a girl directly in the eyes? Didn’t seem to happen enough in her life. Wow. How long did it take before a look moved from stranger to friendship to so much more? Only a matter of seconds, she knew that. Wow, again. Holding his gaze, she realized he looked a little…lost.



Fighting the urge to touch his mouth, to feel him—was he different than a mortal man?—Olivia fended off the foolish move.



“Name’s Daniel,” he said, leaning back and stretching an arm across the leather couch. His shirt tugged over tight abs and a rip down the side gaped to expose the rigid structure of his awesome physique. “And the damned dogs don’t like vampires. Not really in the holiday spirit, is it? Goodwill toward others and all that Christmas bullshit. It’s a vamp-werewolf thing, as far as I understand. They normally get along, but you’ll find racists among any breed.”



“Interesting.” Her mother would have loved this moment. She gestured with an alcohol-laden cotton ball that he lean forward so she could dab at the cut she’d seen on his lip when he’d had her slammed against the wall outside. “It’s going to sting.”



“You don’t need to do that.”



Running her tongue along her lower lip, she slipped into a fantasy about the mouth inches from her eyes. Those firm lips would feel warm against hers, and he’d take from her exactly as he wished as he ran his hands over her body and pulled her against all his hard planes. And she’d like to give him whatever he desired.



Oh, Olivia, sounds like the lyrics to some stupid pop song. He’s not going to ravish you, no matter how much your silly heart wants him to. The guy just escaped werewolves. Why are you not freaking?



She looked for the cut. His lips were thick and inviting—would a kiss taste like blood?—but…no cut.



“What’s wrong?” he asked in a smooth baritone that hummed in her chest and made her want to perform a duet with him, one composed not of singing, but of lusty kisses and explorative touches. “Finally realize you’ve invited a monster into your home?”



“No. Well, yes, there is that, but it’s—the wound is gone.”



“I heal fast. Don’t need medical attention, that’s for sure.”



“Then why did you come up?”



“Because I got an invite from a sexy woman. Not a man alive who could resist that. Even though I suspect you’re a little crazy for not freaking over a vampire and two werewolves. Why did you invite me up here? You like to play with fire, Olivia, who is just a common mortal?”



“You think you’re fire?” She strolled her eyes down his face and to the tear in his shirt. The cusp of rock-hard pectorals teased. She could feel his invisible flames licking at her inhibitions. “Maybe I asked you in so I could…”



Should she be so bold? The risks were high. For both of them. But she needed this foray into danger.



Hell, a girl only lived once. “Kiss you.”



Daniel gripped her by the neck and when she thought the vampire would lunge and rip out her carotid, he smirked, cluing her that she’d reacted with the fearful response he’d been hoping for.



Releasing her breath, her heart thundered and her skin grew clammy. Could she really do this? She wouldn’t even look over her shoulder in an attempt to find that approving nod she’d once always required.



This time you’re on your own. Can you make a decision without the approval you’ve grown to expect?



“You want to kiss the vampire?” His tone was teasing. “I knew you were one of those fang junkies.”



“I’m not. I already told you I bruise easily. My wanting a kiss has nothing to do with you being a vampire. In fact, the whole Dracula part does unsettle me. Fangs are not sexy. And sure, werewolves freak the crap out of me, but I didn’t know that’s what they were until after they’d left and you told me.”



“Yeah, don’t call me Dracula. I don’t do capes.”



Now she did dare touch his mouth because she noticed a few freckles on his top lip and couldn’t not touch. “It’s you, Daniel. You’re…hell, you’re sexy and something about you appeals to a part of me that needs danger in her life. What’s wrong with a girl wanting to kiss a handsome man?”



He quirked a brow. That simple motion started a fast burn from her neck down to her breasts, where her nipples perked and her whole body sighed in anticipation. His husky voice melted through her skin and made her want to grab him, touch him, the threat of fangs be damned.



Could the girl, even when clad in the most unsexy outfit ever, do the ravishing? She didn’t see why not.



Olivia stood and pushed the vampire’s shoulder against the couch. “I’m going to kiss you, Daniel, but if I see a flash of fang, then you’re out of here. Deal?”



“You’re pretty bossy, you know that?”



“Does that mean there is no deal?”



He pondered it a moment, his now-we’ve-gone-beyond-friendship stare locked to hers for long seconds. “I’ll behave. For now.”



Disregarding his inability to fully commit to the deal, she straddled his legs and, kneeling on the couch, kissed him. His mouth was warm, firm and tinted with winter’s cool tang. They fit perfectly, and that was saying a lot for a first kiss. Nothing felt awkward about kissing Daniel, and everything felt right. And he wasn’t about to let her control the kiss because his hand went around her thigh, claiming her with a squeeze and pulling her closer.



She danced her tongue across his and surprised herself that she didn’t feel the sharp prick of fang. He tasted wonderful. Not like blood, but rather, coffee and caramel and maybe a dash of cream. The idea of a vampire drinking coffee was silly, yet so mysteriously sexy, she clasped his head with both hands and deepened the fierce kiss. A sense of success giddied through her system. She’d done it; mastered her fear of being unable to take risks.



She’d experienced an excess of lackadaisical lovers of late. Pretty boys who merely wanted to be seen with her, but when it came to pleasing her? They hadn’t studied Woman 101. Daniel the vampire was no slacker. He knew his curriculum, and oh, but he knew how to kiss.



A giddy thrill swirled in her core, a reward for stepping up and taking a chance.



“Hell, you taste incredible,” he murmured, and then pressed kisses along her jaw that alternated between nips with his front teeth and lush, licking strokes that curled her toes.



When he neared her neck, Olivia pulled back and pressed a palm to his iron-hard chest. Thundering heartbeats warned her not to get cocky. She hadn’t mastered this one, after all.



“This could get hot and heavy, Daniel.”



“I thought it already was. You willing to take it to the next level?”



“I never sleep with strangers. That’s not my thing.”



“So why’d you invite me up? You were the one who kissed me. If you’re a tease—”



“Because I was curious, and…I want you,” the danger-seeker inside her confessed. “But in order for me to know if I can trust you—”



“You can’t trust me.” He opened his mouth to reveal a fang.



“Pretty. But still not scared.”



He was right; she was crazy if pin-sharp fangs did not frighten her. But that was what this little embrace was all about: risk and conquering the debilitating need for approval.



What I mean is, there’s a deeper kind of trust involved when a man wants to get busy with me. And seriously, I’m as much a monster as you are. It’s hard to explain. You have to see it to understand.”



That makes no sense whatsoever.”



Standing, she grabbed his hand, and led him toward the door. “Put your boots on, sexy. I’ve a gig tomorrow night at the Wollman Rink in Central Park. Stop by around 9:00 p.m. if you want to see me again, and get another kiss.”



He pressed his hand to the door frame over her shoulder, pinning her against the door. Olivia’s heartbeats rocketed to her throat. Did her rapid pulse attract the vampire?



Just a kiss?” he asked.



Oh, she hoped not. “The kiss will be a start.”



Considering, he nodded. Daniel shoved his feet into his boots, then swept a kiss onto her mouth before she even saw it coming. Glee sparkled in his freckled eyes at the stolen morsel. “You know, there’s nothing to stop me from creeping back into your place in the middle of the night now that you’ve invited me in.”



You won’t, if you are the man I think you are.”



Oh, sweetie, you are sadly mistaken. I’m a monster. And monsters don’t ask permission.”



Still.” She opened the door and shoved him outside into a brisk flutter of snowflakes. “If you keep the date, I’m all yours. Beyond kisses, I promise.”