Caridad Pineiro - Temptation Calls

An unfamiliar vampire appeared before them, blocking their way. He held out his hand and Diego slipped him some money.

The vampire pulled aside a curtain and led them down a dark hallway. He unlocked one room and disappeared.

Diego held open the door for her. “Are you ready?”

The room was not much bigger than a closet. A small uncomfortable-looking bed spanned one wall and along the other was an assortment of chains, straps and bindings.

“You don’t expect that you and I—”

“No, Samantha. I know what your life has been like. I would never ask you to exchange your virtue for what I offer.” He cupped her cheek, his touch that of a friend and not a lover.

“And you offer—”

“A way for you to quickly rebuild your strength. Otherwise, it may take days and many more feedings before you are right. With Meghan missing, we all need your strength.”

Samantha couldn’t imagine feeling as badly as she had today for several more days. Nor requiring that many more feedings. Her blood supply was hard to come by, and with as many people as there were in the shelter, she risked discovery by feeding too often. “Why are you offering this?”

“I was a selfish and foolish young man. It’s why I am the way I am. But now I wish to help. In exchange, I only want the friendship you have offered for all these years.”

His words brought tears to her eyes. He was one of the few men in her life who’d ever shown her any kindness. He and Ricardo…And the good detective.

Diego brushed away a tear. “I believe you would be more comfortable if we did this standing up, no? Minus the accoutrements, of course.”

“Of course,” she said, watching as he slipped off his jacket and his shirt, revealing his chest and neck to her.

Each muscle on his body was delineated beautifully, as if a sculptor had chiseled the fine lines into the palest of marbles. He was almost too beautiful to be real, and she reached out, laying her hand on his chest just to remind herself that he was.

His skin was still warm from his feeding, but nowhere near a human temperature. Nevertheless, the heat of it blazed against her skin, chilled as she was from the injuries to her system.

Diego bent his head, exposing his neck.

A spark of warmth came to life inside her. She could feel her fangs elongating, slipping downward past the edge of her lower lip. His heartbeat, slow and steady, called to her.

Rising on tiptoe, feeling a bit woozy from the transformation that had drained the last of her strength, she inhaled the scent of him, savored it before she grazed his neck with her fangs. A shudder worked through his body and he grew hard against her.

“Diego, don’t.” Her voice sounded way too feeble to her own ears.

“I cannot help it, mi amor. Por favor, just feed. Before I forget that I am an honorable man.”

Samantha met his gaze and realized the truth of his words. There was only so much he could bear. And she had no choice any longer. A damp sweat had erupted on her chilled skin as her body began to fail.

With a small prayer that they both knew what they were doing, Samantha bit down on his neck and fed.

The rush that had come from feeding on Diego was indescribable. From the first taste of his blood, energy had surged through her, charging every atom in her body with incredible potential. Invigorating all her senses until everything seemed more alive than ever.

She’d taken only a few sips, afraid of the intensity of that kiss. Afraid of the passion that might rise within her. Sexual urges that would need to be assuaged had she fed even a drop more.

She avoided passion. In her life, passion had invariably led to pain. First her husband. Then the vampire who’d turned her. It was why she avoided any kind of involvement.

Once passion entered the mix, everything was sure to change.

Even a hint of desire was enough to incite her fear, which was why she didn’t linger with Diego. When she reached the shelter just past midnight some of the effects of her feeding had worn off, but not entirely. Like someone who was over-caffeinated, she was unable to rest. Unable to remain confined. So she slipped into the night, leaping from rooftop to rooftop as she surveyed her neighborhood to make sure all was right. It was something she regularly did to keep the neighborhood safe. Even though she rarely saw anyone during her solitary patrols, she knew her neighbors believed her responsible for the improvements in their lives.

She paused her patrol after an hour to watch the fast rush of clouds across the face of the moon. A storm was on its way, she could smell it. When the first drops arrived, she turned her face to the sky and let the chill rain wash over her. It cleansed away the smell of Diego and his blood, cooled the heat of her skin from her transformation and the feeding.

The calm lasted only until she returned to the shelter. A flat of bright salmon-colored impatiens and a note from Sofia waited for her on the kitchen table. Detective Daly dropped by with these flowers and some questions.

She didn’t know what to think about the flowers. She took them out to the small brick patio just beyond the French doors to catch the spring rain.

The flowers sat there for the rest of the night and into the early morning while she worked off some of the blood-induced energy by making lunches for the children and working mothers and preparing that morning’s breakfast.

Dawn was just breaking when Sofia came down, rubbing her eyes and yawning. “You’re up earlier than usual.”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Thinking about the good detective?” Sofia asked as she made a pot of coffee.

Yes, Samantha thought, but she shook her head. “Nope. Just worried about a friend.” Which wasn’t far from the truth. The night had come and gone with them finding out nothing about Meghan’s whereabouts. It wasn’t like they could go to the authorities for help.

As she’d put the impatiens on the patio, she’d let herself imagine how the good detective might react if she asked for his assistance.

Hello, my friend Meghan is missing.

Any distinguishing characteristics?

Why, yes. Fangs and a bad temper when deprived of blood.

He would think she was certifiable. Not that she cared what he thought.

Then she had little time to think about anything as the morning rush commenced, with the women and kids shuttling in and out of the kitchen, preparing for another day.

He was a stupid fool.

Why had he expected her to be home last night? She was a beautiful woman. She wouldn’t sit around the shelter day in and day out. His cop’s intuition told him there was something about Samantha Turner that was far from saintlike.

He’d felt like a total idiot as he’d thrust the flat of impatiens into the hands of the young black woman who’d answered the door earlier in the day. Her sullen mood had dissipated to some extent, but it hadn’t kept her from issuing a warning. “Ms. Turner has no interest in men.”

With those words, she’d slammed the door in his face and left him pondering all night long the meaning behind them.

Given the nature of the shelter, and the scars he’d seen on her back, it seemed likely that Ms. Turner’s aversion to men had to do with a relationship with one man that had soured her on the species in general.

And you’re about to remedy that? The annoying little voice in his head had challenged him for the entire drive back to the shelter this morning.

He really had no more information than he’d had the day before. Which meant that unless she abruptly changed her tune about her whereabouts on the night of the shooting, it would do little good to see her again.

So instead of walking up her stoop he headed to the end of the block, to the store where his one supposed witness lived and worked.