Kerrelyn Sparks: All I Want for Christmas is a Vampire

Ian slouched against the back of his chair. "Then how can I find her?"

"Maybe I can help." Vanda eased off the desk. "I was thinking about finding a nice guy for myself, so I joined a site online." She sat behind her desk, grabbed the mouse, and clicked. "This is the hottest new place for singles."

Ian leaned over the desk so he could see the computer screen. He scanned the site called Single in the City . It boasted more than half a million clients, all in the vicinity of New York. "That willna work for me. I canna date a mortal."

"Why not?"

"I told you. I refuse to deceive the woman I'm courting. I would have to lie to a mortal until I knew she could be trusted. And then, when I confessed my true nature, it would destroy her trust in me. It wouldna work."

"I disagree. It worked for Roman and Shanna."

"He was no' courting her from the start. He just wanted a dentist. Their romance happened accidentally. And believe me, she was verra upset when she found out the truth."

Vanda shrugged. "She got over it."

"I willna lie to the woman I'm courting. So she had better be a Vamp. A Vamp would understand all I've been through. A mortal woman would no' take kindly to the way I used other women in the past. And I wouldna blame her."

"If she loved you, she would understand."

"My mind is made up. All I want is a vampire."

Vanda sighed. "Okay, but I think you're limiting yourself."

"And she must be a bottle-drinking Vamp who is honest, loyal, intelligent, and pretty."

"Now you're severely limiting yourself." Vanda frowned at the computer screen. "Luckily for you, there's a way to tell who's a Vamp." She clicked on her profile. "See this?"

Ian read the line she pointed at.

I enjoy life to its fullest. (V)

"All the Vamps slip these Vs into their profiles," Vanda explained. "It's our secret code to let each other know who we are. If someone asks to meet you, and she doesn't have the V in her profile, you simply refuse."

Ian's heart beat faster. This was not how he'd envisioned hunting for his true love, but it was a lot better than nothing. "It might actually work."

"Of course it'll work. I have a digital camera here." Vanda opened a drawer. "We'll take your photo and fill out your profile. It'll take a few hours."

"Hours?"

"The profile is quite extensive. You'll have to write an essay." Her face brightened. "I know! I'll do it."

"You? Why?"

"Because I'm a woman, and I know what women want to hear. This is brilliant!" She grabbed a pen and notepad.

Her offer was very appealing since Ian had no idea what he should write in an essay. "Remember, it is important to me that ye be honest."

"Of course. But get real, Ian. We can't say you're five hundred years old in your profile."

"I'm four hundred and eighty."

She tapped the pen on the paper, waiting.

"Fine." He groaned. "Ye can say I'm twenty-seven."

"Great." She wrote the number down. "And how tall are you now?"

"Six foot two." He frowned. "Be sure to say I want an honest and loyal woman. Intelligent and pretty, too."

"No problem. Now smile and show me those dimples." She lifted the camera. "And don't worry about a thing. I'm going to make you irresistible."

It was close to dawn when Ian teleported to the back porch of Roman's townhouse on the Upper East Side. He punched the button on his Smart Key wireless remote to disarm the alarm before unlocking the door. The kitchen was dark, except for the backlit digital keypad next to the door. He punched the code to reactivate the alarm.

"Hold it right there," a gruff voice warned him. "Turn around slowly."

Ian turned and spotted the gleam of a Highland dagger, held by a large Scotsman by the kitchen door. "Dougal?"

"Aye." Dougal Kincaid flipped on the light switch. No recognition lit his eyes till his gaze dropped to Ian's kilt. "Is that you, Ian?"

"Aye, it's me. Do ye want to see my ID card?"

"Nay." Dougal smiled as he sheathed his weapon beneath a knee sock. "I recognize yer plaid more than yer face. We dinna expect ye back for another week."

"I was bored." Lonely was more accurate, though Ian didn't want to admit it. "How's everything been?"

"Fairly quiet." Dougal retrieved a bottle of synthetic blood from the refrigerator, then popped it into the microwave. "Are ye coming back to work then?"

"No. I still have a week of vacation." A week when he could concentrate on his search for the perfect mate.

Dougal tilted his head as he studied Ian. "I'd heard ye'd gotten older, but 'tis amazing how different ye look."

"Aye, I can hardly recognize myself." Ian had gazed for five minutes at the photos Vanda had taken. And it wasn't just his face that was different. His body had grown so quickly, he'd barely had time to adjust. He occasionally knocked his hand against things when he overreached with his longer arms, and sometimes he tripped over his bigger, size thirteen feet.

The microwave beeped, and Dougal removed his bedtime snack. "We just had a martial arts practice downstairs." He guzzled down some blood. "Ye should have seen it. Our new guard knocked Phineas off his arse."

"Really?" Ian was impressed. It wasn't often that a mortal could defeat a Vamp in hand-to-hand combat.

Dougal headed out the door. "I'd better get to my shower before the sun rises."

The sun was nearing the horizon. Ian could already feel his metabolism dropping. He followed Dougal down the back stairs to the guardroom in the basement. The pool table had been shoved to the far wall by the sofa to create a large open space for their practice sessions.

Ian picked up a chair that had been knocked over and noticed one of the legs was broken. "That must have been one hell of a fight."

"Aye. A bit embarrassing for Phineas, though." Dougal finished his bottle as he strolled into the dormitory next door. A bathroom door banged shut.

Ian wandered into the dormitory, expecting to see Phineas McKinney, but the young black Vamp wasn't there. The sound of rushing water emanated from both bathrooms, so he was probably taking a shower like Dougal. A lot of Vamps liked to be clean before succumbing to death-sleep. It helped them feel less like a dead, rotting corpse.

The dormitory was nearly empty now. Ian remembered a time when there'd been ten coffins in the room, one for each Vamp guard to sleep in. Most of the Vamps were gone now, transferred to Eastern Europe to hunt for Casimir.

The floors upstairs were just as vacant. At one time, there'd been Roman, ten harem ladies, and numerous visiting Vamps. It had been an exciting place. But now everyone had moved on.

Roman lived with his mortal wife and child in White Plains, with Connor serving as their bodyguard. The Vamp guards who lived here at Roman's townhouse worked security at Romatech Industries, where synthetic blood and Vampire Fusion Cuisine were manufactured. Connor was head of security there, but he planned to pass the title to Ian so he could concentrate solely on Roman and his family's safety.

Ian was delighted with his upcoming promotion, but annoyed that it hadn't happened until now when he looked older. He'd started working for MacKay Security and Investigation in 1955, and he'd never made it past second-in-command. Even his best friends had found it difficult to treat him as an adult when he had looked fifteen.

He pulled his knitted jumper over his head and tossed it into the laundry hamper. He sauntered over to the coffin he'd slept in for more than fifty years. The pillow and blanket boasted the red and green MacPhie tartan, the same as his kilt. He removed his sporran and the knife from his sock, then deposited them in the small dresser by his coffin. He kicked off his shoes, then halted with a sudden thought. He'd grown five inches.