A Vampire for Christmas

chapter NINE





CHARLOTTE SLIPPED HER FEET into the strappy heels and took one last look in the mirror. She certainly wasn’t used to seeing herself like this. With her hair up, her makeup done professionally and this beautiful dress, she felt as if she were ready to walk down the red carpet at a movie premiere. All she needed was a handsome man to escort her. She had just such a man in mind.



She’d put the finishing touches on the last few decorations this morning and the caterers had arrived at noon. The party was now someone else’s responsibility until it was time to dismantle everything again. She thought about Trace—how he respected her, cared about her ideas, really listened to her, laughed with her—and she realized it wasn’t the tangible stuff that she’d miss. It was Trace. She could be in a cabin in the middle of nowhere—far from the city lights, the gourmet meals, the elegant trappings—but if Trace were with her, she’d have everything she needed. That is, if she could remember him.



The past few nights with him had been amazing. After he’d first taken her blood, he’d done so every time they’d made love since. She loved the anticipation of his warm lips at her neck. The sharp sting followed by the endorphins flooding her system. She’d teased him that at this rate, she’d have to start taking iron supplements. But he only took a few sips each time before he withdrew and sealed the marks. She touched her neck now. A little tender, but it was the good kind of hurt.



She didn’t want to think that soon this would all be over.



Earlier, Vik had brought in her hairdresser and nail person and the two of them spent all afternoon getting ready. The estate had a small salon on the lower level, complete with shampoo bowls, massage chairs and several nail stations.



Vik had said it was much more fun having a lady friend to get ready with. Hearing that had warmed Charlotte’s heart and made it hard to refuse. It was something her own grandmother would’ve said to her. Charlotte sensed that it had been a long time since Vik had had much female company.



After her hair and nails were done, Charlotte had returned to their quarters to finish getting dressed. Expecting to slip into the cocktail dress she’d brought from home, she was stunned to find a new outfit laid out on the bed. She skimmed her hand over the sequined fabric that clung to her hips and twirled a circle in front of the full-length mirror.



How in the world had he guessed her size correctly? The dress hugged her curves as if it were custom-made. It was simple in the front, with long sleeves that came down over the tops of her hands and a hemline kissing her toes, and the back had a beautiful drape to it. She had to admit, Trace had excellent taste in haute couture.



The shoes were perfect, too, even though her feet were probably going to be killing her in about an hour. Four-inch heels, and they showed off her new pedicure, including the tiny crystals on her toes.



She was so focused on not stepping on the hem of her dress as she exited the room that she didn’t notice Trace until she heard his low whistle. He’d been sitting on a wood bench in the hallway alcove and rose to greet her.



Her heart forgot how to beat for a moment as her eyes drank him in. A nice-looking man in a tuxedo was always eye-catching, but Trace took it to a whole different level. The cut of the jacket emphasized his broad shoulders and didn’t hide how his muscular torso tapered down to lean hips.



God, how she’d love to undress him right now. Inch by inch and button by button, she’d deconstruct him carefully in order to savor the experience.



Trace definitely wore the suit. The suit didn’t wear him.



As she approached him, she grazed her fingertips along the top of the occasional table to steady herself. His hair was just the right amount of messy, his skin smooth and freshly shaven. The sandalwood and pine scent of his aftershave was subtle yet distinct. Clean, pure, unadulterated male.



His lips were slightly parted and she could just see the tip of his tongue. But those eyes of his were what really captured her attention. She wouldn’t have been able to look away from him if she’d tried.



They were dark, intense, hungry.



All because of her.



And she loved it.



He sauntered toward her like a lion approached his mate—powerful, in control and confident. If it struck his fancy right now to lift her skirts and make love to her, she had no doubt she’d comply willingly. Despite the guests starting to arrive two floors below them, one word from him would be all it would take. She’d slip her hand into his and lead him back to the bedroom.



His gaze wandered lazily down to her toes, then back up again, as if he had all the time in the world. A knowing smiled curved his lips, making her skin tingle with delight. “Are you wearing them?” His voice was deeper than normal, making her acutely aware of that sensitive spot where her inner thighs touched.



“Yes,” she answered.



He exhaled slowly, ruffling her hair. “I knew you would.”



Then, gently, he drew the back of his finger down along her neck and leaned in close. She arched her head back, wanting to feel his lips against her.



Alongside the gown on the bed had sat a gold box. Inside, beneath the tissue, was a gorgeous black lace corset, panties and stockings. The printing on the card was bold. “The gown is for you. These are for me.”



She’d never worn a corset before, so it took a few minutes to figure it out. It felt strangely, yet wonderfully, restrictive. The lace wasn’t all that soft and the boning pushed her breasts up, making her cleavage much more substantial than she was used to. But when she slipped the gown over her head and covered it all up, she felt very naughty. Like she was harboring a delicious secret. Tonight, everyone would see the gown, but they’d have no idea what she had on underneath.



Except for Trace.



Even now, she could feel the slight scratchiness of the lace rubbing against skin that wasn’t used to the texture. No matter where she was tonight or what she was doing, the sensation would always bring her thoughts back to the corset and him. He’d done that on purpose, she realized.



“Good God. What have I done?” He practically growled as he pressed her against the wall.



She laughed, pleased by his over-the-top reaction. “Why? What seems to be the problem?”



“You, Charlotte, are the problem. I’m not used to feeling this way. I’ve got a hundred guests arriving, and I should be down to greet them, but all I can think about is you.”



“Me?” she asked innocently.



“Yes. You are absolutely stunning. Without a doubt, you’re the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. And it makes me want you all the more knowing that underneath this gown, you’re wearing the items I selected for you.” He rubbed his hip against hers as if to prove his point.



Damn. He wasn’t kidding, she thought, a delicious shiver racing down her spine. He laughed softly then. The thin triangle of her panties suddenly felt hot as she imagined him pushing inside her.



“Later, after the party is over and most of the guests have left or retired to their rooms, I plan to see what you look like.”



She could hardly breathe. “You do?”



“Yes. And did you happen to notice that the panties had tiny snaps at the hips?”



“They do?” She’d been so focused on getting everything on that she hadn’t even noticed.



“That’s so I can remove them without you taking off the corset or garter.”



Remove just her panties while leaving on everything else? The ligaments in her knees threatened to give way as she visualized what he planned to do to her.



“I want you to keep those shoes on. And the corset. Did you have any difficulty getting it laced up on your own? I’d have offered to help, but I’m afraid it would’ve made us much too late.”



“I managed it fine.” Actually, it had been a royal pain in the ass, but she wasn’t about to complain.



He tilted her chin up and for a split second, she thought he was going to kiss her. His lips parted and he dipped his head to hers. Then, far below them, the doorbell sounded, and he hesitated.



Probably a good thing, she realized and she took that opportunity to duck under his arm. He needed to be downstairs greeting his guests, not up here with her. No matter how much fun this was.



“If I thought I was having a hard time keeping my hands off you before,” he growled, “tonight is going to be an utter nightmare.”



She liked the swooshing sound the gown made as she walked. “Then don’t even try.”





TRACE STOOD NEAR the large Christmas tree in the main living room, listening to the hushed whispers of a few Council members about what was going on with Darkbloods in a small village near Prague. Evidently, there’d been a few vampire sightings—otherwise known as vampires behaving badly—and the locals were scared. Events like this happened periodically before Guardians were sent in to take care of things.



“Shall we continue this conversation in the library where things are more private?” Trace asked.



As he navigated the small group through the crowd and past one of the buffet tables, he looked for Char but didn’t see her anywhere. Focusing on her heartbeat, he could feel her presence nearby, a side effect of having taken so much of her blood recently, and he couldn’t help smiling to himself. He loved that she gave it to him freely, but he really should learn to pace himself. For both their sakes. But when he thought about the corset she wore right now, he rather doubted his pledge for self-restraint would start tonight.



“And that’s not all,” Rodderick Tjorval said once they were in the library, the door safely shut behind him. “One of the old European families is suspected of having ties with the Darkblood Alliance.”



“Oh, for God’s sake,” someone said.



“No kidding?” asked someone else.



“Yes,” Tjorval continued. “There’s an ongoing investigation into their activities over the past several decades and things aren’t looking good.”



Trace opened the humidor and offered his guests cigars.



“What will happen if those suspicions turn out to be true?” Nicklaus Mercada asked.



“They’ll lose their seat on the Council.” Tjorval chose one of the Cohiba cigars and held it to his nose. “And if the charges are serious, they’ll go before the court to plead their case and await judgment.”



Trace had never heard of such a thing happening before. “What constitutes serious?” He handed the man a cutter. He snipped off the end and held the cigar out for Trace to light.



“Any number of things. One of the foremost would be if they participated in or funded activities which led to the killing of humans for blood sport.”



Trace suddenly got uncomfortable. These people did not need to be reminded of this a few weeks before they voted on his fate. Then again, it might not matter at all when they found out about Charlotte. However, he’d prefer to have his future decided by actions he took himself, rather than by the actions of a family member that had nothing to do with him.



“That’s not necessarily true.” He hadn’t heard Sebastian come in. Without waiting to be offered a cigar, his cousin grabbed a Montecristo from the humidor and snipped off the end. “Another branch of the family can petition the Council for the seat, make the case why they should have it instead, right, cuz?”



Trace stiffened. He wasn’t sure he liked where this was going.



“Didn’t that happen to your family, Trace?” Henry DeGraff asked.



The lingering taste of the cigar suddenly turned bitter on the back of his tongue. “Yes, that’s my understanding. Something happened all those years ago and the seat changed hands.”



Sebastian laughed, smoke streaming out of his mouth like a dragon. “My great-grandfather fell in love with a human woman—that’s what happened. It didn’t seem to matter that they had plans for her to become a changeling. At that time, relationships with humans simply weren’t done. Lucky for Trace here, those rules have loosened considerably.”





WITH A WINE BOTTLE in each hand, Charlotte returned to the main floor and headed into the kitchen. The catering staff had needed more white wine, and given that Marcel was already frazzled, she’d offered to run down to the cellar. Once there, she’d eyed the storage room door at the end of the long hallway. Not allowing herself to dwell on what she must’ve seen last year, she quickly grabbed the bottles and headed back upstairs.



After dropping them off in the kitchen, she headed to the ballroom to look for Vik. The quartet was playing a melodic tango and a few people were dancing, but she didn’t see the woman anywhere. Maybe she was in the—



A hand came around her waist, and she bristled. She knew instantly it wasn’t Trace.



“Looking for a dance partner?” With his dark hair lightly slicked back and those perfectly white teeth, Sebastian was seductively charming. Like a cobra. Before she could answer or protest, he swept her onto the dance floor.



Since Sebastian and his girlfriend had been here, she hadn’t seen them at all. Thank God the mansion was huge. They took all their meals in their quarters in the guest wing. It was as if they were living in a hotel. She’d wondered if Trace had talked to him, told him to stay away.



He held her much too close now, his hand spanning her rib cage. It dawned on her that he could probably feel the boning of her corset, which was disconcerting. That should be a secret for Trace only.



“So it seems the two of you have reached some sort of agreement with this tenuous relationship of yours.”



“I wouldn’t call it tenuous.”



He twirled her around then pulled her close again, his mouth against her ear. All she could think about were his fangs, hidden now, but inches from her jugular. A barely there memory hung just out of reach.



“Then what would you call a relationship between a vampire and a human?” His voice was saccharine smooth.



“We are simply a man and a woman. In love.”



He laughed softly and a forgotten dream tugged at her thoughts. Faint recollections and hardly perceptible sensations. Dreadful sensations.



Drops of something dark on a white dress. Blood? The curve of a woman’s neck and shoulders. Lifeless eyes. Razor-sharp fangs.



Oh, God, the woman from last year. Panic knotted around her gut as the images became less murky. He hadn’t just fed from her, as Trace had thought. He’d killed her. That was what Charlotte had seen.



She tried to pull away from Sebastian, but he held her tightly against him. Although the room was stifling hot, her fingers and toes went numb.



“Ah, and you are so naive. Like most humans. Trace is a man—yes—but with very inhuman needs.”



With a sudden detached curiosity, she looked at her hand in his, aware of a strange prickly feeling moving down her arm. Out of her body and into his.



“Those inhuman needs might one day become too powerful to control. And if anything were to happen to you, he’d be the first to be blamed. Charlotte, did you know that most murders are perpetrated by a loved one? That is why they are called crimes of passion.”



His voice was soft. Lulling.



“And with the Council rules being what they are, his seat would revert back to me and my family.”



She held back a yawn. Her eyelids felt heavy. So tired.



She needed to tell…to tell…someone about something.



Trouble was, she couldn’t quite remember who or what.