Thrice Shy

Jane Johnston has always nursed her crush on the boss in silence. Then a rare invitation to the company conference drops a golden opportunity in her lap. She‟s got the dress, she‟s got a plan, but when she gets lost along the way, a roadside attraction leads her to a sexy Vampire who thinks Jane is the answer to his prayers. When he shows up at the conference hotel, all her plans go right out the window. Will Jane choose the man she‟s always wanted, or the one who claims to own her soul?

The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author‟s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Thrice Shy Copyright © 2011 Frances Pauli ISBN: 978-1-77111-011-2 Cover art by Martine Jardin All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher. Published by eXtasy Books Look for us online at: www.extasybooks.com

Thrice Shy By Frances Pauli

Chapter One

T

he last rest stop passed fifteen miles before the coffee kicked in. Jane ground her teeth together and watched endless acres of dusty nothing slide by. No hope of a bathroom…not along this stretch. She‟d be lucky to find a bush large enough to use as a shield. A roadside sign declared that the next services could be found forty miles ahead. Great. She was going to pee in her pants. She dug her fingers into the steering wheel and prayed for strength. Not behind a bush, please, and not on the boss‟ upholstery. Jane shivered at the thought of Rodney Grant, regional manager and her direct supervisor. It didn‟t exactly help her bladder dilemma. She shifted in her seat and focused on the road and the mileposts passing at a crawl. He just had that polished, confident attitude that made her all fluttery and lightheaded. The eyes didn‟t hurt either—deep blue and full of collected power. His dark, soft hair added the final touch…the nail in her coffin. 1

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Unfortunately, his professional status also meant Jane, as his employee, suffered from a serious case of the invisibles. She sighed and squinted at a billboard on the horizon. Maybe the conference this weekend would offer a chance to change that. Junior sales reps rarely attended, but Rodney needed someone to bring his car along, and Jane had jumped at the opportunity. Her track record screamed reliable. The boss had noticed at least that much about her. Now if the slinky red number she‟d dropped a whole paycheck on could just get him to notice her a little bit more. If she didn‟t pee in his car, that was, if she could survive a stupid, three hour drive through the hickinfested, agricultural boonies. The billboard neared. Jane squinted through the dusty windshield and made out the enormous words….Halloween Corn Maze. Great, a celebration of rural idiocy. Still, she‟d bet good money they had a bathroom. Saved by the holiday. She noted the exit number and stomped on the gas pedal. “That‟s a bathroom?” Jane stared at the shack and shook her head. She‟d have been better off trying a bush. The wood slats had warped until she could see daylight peeking through the outhouse walls. “Yep.” The maze employee, a kid from the local 2

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high school by the look of him, nodded, scratched his head and then looked up at the sky. “Looks a bit stormy.” He announced it as if she couldn‟t see for herself. “I‟d use it quick „fore the wind hits. The hinges are startin‟ to give.” “Excuse me?” She didn‟t care for the sound of that at all. Not that she could afford to be choosy. She raced for the rickety potty and spent the entire time inside holding her breath and praying the storm didn‟t turn up a notch and tear the ramshackle building to bits. She managed to survive the ordeal, but the wind had kicked in by the time she returned to the car. Jane popped the trunk and snapped open her suitcase. She had a new bottle of Chanel in the side pocket that should alleviate any trace of eau de hick toilet. Black clouds boiled on the horizon, threatening rain and lightning. Jane shivered and dug through her unmentionables for perfume that had somehow managed to hide in the tiny compartment. The wind gusted and spawned goose bumps along her bare arms. She peeked through the back window at her jacket draped across the seat. The wall of dried corn stalks rattled beside the parking lot. The wind sent the maze into a noisy ripple of desiccated foliage. She‟d almost forgotten the damned thing was there. Her fingers found the 3

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Chanel, and she plucked it from amidst her undies and went to work spritzing. The red dress lay across the top of her business clothing. She‟d stuffed a brand new silk camisole underneath it, and tucked matching, strappy heels into her smaller overnight bag. Another gust set her expensive dress dancing. Jane snatched it before it took flight, but the camisole broke free, sailing like some naughty, red flag across the lot. She watched it go for a second, but the damn thing had cost almost as much as the shoes. She sighed, slammed the trunk shut, and took off after her unmentionables. The garment fluttered beside the cornfield, and Jane thought for a second that she‟d reach it in time. Then the wind howled again and the camisole dove as if possessed into the nearest maze entrance. She ran after it and felt dry leaves brushing her arms. She rounded the first corner, ignoring the shouts behind her, the stupid kid hollering. “Hey, lady! You didn‟t pay!” Jane caught a glimpse of red and followed it right at a branch in the path. She could still hear the kid. “We‟re closing for the night, dang it.” The path forked again. She stared down each option. Left? Right? No trace of her camisole either way. Jane frowned. She could wear the dress 4

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without it. She might suffer a peeking bra strap, but she‟d survive it. There might even be a place to shop near the hotel. The corn rattled as the storm front surged overhead. She could just buy another one, maybe not silk, but still. The sky hung blue-black over the crop, and the single light above the parking lot only reached a short distance beyond where she stood. Jane shook her head. She could definitely do without the thing. She turned back toward the entrance. The corn stalks shuddered in the storm‟s assault. Thank God she hadn‟t gone far. It looked like the damned weather was almost on top of them. She reached the next branch and turned left, then stopped and frowned. She should have been able to see the gravel from there. She blinked and shook her head. The trail looked a lot longer than she remembered. She stared down it. It could just be a trick of the light, but she hadn‟t gone more than four of five steps. She turned around and looked the other way. A dark path stretched between corn rows in either direction. Overhead, the sky frothed with clouds. The parking lot light flickered. She stood maybe ten feet from her stupid car, for God‟s sake. She shook her head again. She‟d turned right on the way in for certain. The left path had to lead back out. Her feet crunched against the corn stubble. She snorted. If necessary, she could just 5

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push right through the bloody wall. There really wasn‟t anything to worry about. Four steps later, when the parking lot light fluttered and went dark, she changed her mind. The path still refused to open, and the bloody leaves cut her when she tried to shove her way through. Her car was right there for heaven‟s sake. She stood on her tiptoes and tried to see over. She hopped in place, caught a flash of the full, white moon low in the sky. Aside from that, all she could spy was more freaking corn. Somehow, she‟d gotten turned around. She‟d gone and lost her stupid way, and now she was stuck in a corn maze in the middle of nowhere. Fantastic. She closed her eyes and took a breath. The stalks rattled at her, mocking her exhale. Don’t lose it, Jane. She needed to not panic. She breathed again. Steady, Jane. Reliable and steady. She could find her way out. The maze didn‟t cover more than a half acre of ground. If the local teenagers could solve it, then so could Jane Johnston. She just had to stay calm and keep one hand on a wall. Wasn‟t that the trick? She eyed the corn leaves and remembered their razor edges. Well, one hand near a wall would have to work. Jane tried to follow the path she knew fronted the parking lot. It made sense that, eventually, she‟d hit an exit on that side. However, the cleared passage conspired against her efforts. It 6

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continually dodged and wound inward, no matter how many times she took the forks that pointed back the way she wanted to go. She was going to be late. The thought of Rodney Grant, tapping one foot and eyeing his watch broke through her vow not to panic. She was going to let him down. Jane‟s chance, her only chance to show him she could be more than just his right arm, slipped away with each twist of the maze. If she didn‟t get out now, she could kiss her shot at impressing the boss goodbye. The first sting of tears pressed her steps faster. She could hear the freeway, hear cars whizzing by only a few yards away, but she couldn‟t find her way out of the stupid corn to save her life. Her luck, once again, turned ugly. She bit her lip and looked up. No doubt, it would start raining any second now, but the sky overhead shone clear black. The clouds had shifted aside, and a glowing moon lit the rows around her. She heard a howl in the distance. A chill wind tore down the row to remind her of her jacket waiting back in the car. The path divided yet again. Jane headed left toward the parking lot and the sounds of traffic, but a flutter of red caught her eye. She stopped her feet and looked back over one shoulder. The red camisole danced down the right-hand path. She imagined the price tag and spun into a jog after the thing. It teased her on, playing with the winds 7

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like a tawdry flag and staying just a few steps out of reach. Each time Jane lunged for it, the garment rippled and slipped out of her grasp. She almost missed the path widening. As it was, she stumbled to a halt, out of breath and bent forward with her hands on her knees. The camisole settled beside a hay bale. Jane looked to either side. The undergarment had led her to a clear space. Here the maniacs who designed the maze provided a few scattered bales of dry straw for sitting and a handful of ugly, painted wooden characters. A flat scarecrow, a smile peeling from his boards, leaned against the row of corn nearest her. She took a step closer to the bales and shivered. The witch on the other side looked even creepier. One of her eyes either squinted or had faded away over the years. Now she cackled silently, half-blind, and with one stiff finger pointing toward the gate. Jane‟s breath caught. The gate? A grey panel stood between the witch and a hokey, Hollywood vampire. It looked sturdier than the plywood props. It seemed heavy, and the wood surface swirled with designs that all wrapped and writhed toward the center. There, someone had attached a carving of two bats, one inverted over the other, a long figure eight stretched in the space between their wings. The eyes flashed with tiny gems. 8

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Glass, Jane reasoned. They used glass here. Still, the bat eyes flickered in the moonlight, and Jane moved toward the gate. She couldn‟t resist a closer examination of the design. She needed to check, to touch the little pinched faces, and reassure herself that the creatures wouldn‟t flitter away. When she stood before them, though, her finger paused just short of contact. The faces squinted at her, and the eyes flashed like diamonds. Something growled behind her. She stopped caring about the bats. The second time, it sounded even closer. Jane stood up, made herself as tall as possible in her driving flats, and turned around. A black dog hunched just beyond the hay bales. Its shaggy fur riffled across the shoulders and down his back in a hostile ridge. The long muzzle lowered and a pair of yellow eyes focused on her. It growled again, and stepped forward without lifting its body out of the crouch. “Uh.” Jane held her ground despite a sudden case of the shakes. She‟d heard it somewhere— don‟t show fear, hold your ground. She kept her voice low. “Nice dog. Easy, boy.” It wasn‟t listening. The growl rumbled again, and the scruffy hound crept a few steps forward. It reached the nearest bale and stopped. It sniffed, and growled again. Its jaws snapped, flashing nasty looking teeth. They closed around a silk strap and lifted her red camisole into the air. 9

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“Hey,” Jane said. “That‟s mine.” The dog shook its head and the garment danced from side to side. “Stop it. Put that down!” She started to move toward it, to snatch back the soon-to-be-shredded camisole, but the dog froze and growled with a note this time that definitely meant business. “Fine.” She glared at it. “Keep it. But I hope you realize how much of my hard earned cash you‟re slobbering on.” She watched it give the camisole another shake and cringed. The idiot kid on duty was getting a giant piece of her mind when she found her way back out. Speaking of which… She sighed and looked around the clearing. She should start off again. She might be late, but she had a conference to get to just the same. Still, she didn‟t relish the idea of turning her back on the nasty dog chewing up her under garment. She sidled instead, stepping like a crab to the right until she‟d put a little distance between her and the beast in front of the gate. Jane frowned. The gate. She could have sworn there‟d been a vampire standing there just opposite the witch. Had she knocked it over? She squinted at the ground, but a flash of movement drew her gaze back to the dog. The animal still gripped her camisole—now drool dampened—in its teeth, but it had turned with her, and slunk in her direction with its hackles still raised. She stepped back this time, not thinking, 10

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following some hidden instinct that screamed of running away. The dog growled and advanced, its yellow eyes never leaving her. “Lupis!” She jumped and stumbled back into a rough wall. The dog didn‟t jump. It didn‟t leap for her throat either, but stopped its forward advance. Jane looked around and found no source for the command, no one to thank but the stiff, cut-out figures. She squinted at the vampire standing opposite her. He could have been a twin to the one that had stood by the gate. Had there been two of them, or was someone moving the damned things? “Listen.” She forced some bravado into her indignation. “That‟s really funny, but I didn‟t pay, so there‟s no need to impress me.” The dog growled and raised a paw. It gave her camisole another good chomp and stepped forward again. “Lupis, away!” the voice hollered again, this time from Jane‟s right and much, much closer. The dog spun and leapt the nearest hay bale. It bolted, a dark, shaggy streak still trailing a tangle of red silk, through the nearest opening and disappeared into the maze depths. Jane shivered and held perfectly still. The voice had sounded far too near. Her heart stuttered. She reminded herself 11

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this was a scam, an act for tourists, and good sport for the yokels who set it up. The blood in her veins didn‟t listen. Her pulse throbbed and her lungs struggled to hold enough air to breathe properly. “That‟s a neat trick.” She managed to choke it out, but her bravado had vanished. “It‟s no trick,” a man‟s voice, low and breathy, whispered near her shoulder. Jane twisted away, back peddling toward the center of the clearing. No one stood against the cornstalks, but the voice had come from there, from just beside the spot she‟d vacated. There had to be someone hiding in the stalks. But who would go through that much trouble for a Halloween gag? She‟d felt the sharp leaf edges. Even through her shirt, they‟d scratched. “Cut it out.” She kept backing until she stood in the opening beside a bale of straw and the cheesy vampire. “Your dog just stole a very expensive piece of clothing, buster.” “Lupis is no dog.” “What?” Jane turned again. The voice had circled around behind her. How could anyone move that quickly through the corn? Maybe they knew the maze, maybe they had a map, but either way, she doubted anyone could move that fast. “How many of you are there?” She stood stiff again and glared at the corn, one toe tapping. “I know a very good lawyer, and this is borderline, 12

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folks. I didn‟t pay for the maze and I‟m not here for the show.” “I know why you‟re here, Jane Johnston.” He was behind her, in the open. He had to be. When she turned again, however, she found no sign of the voice‟s owner. Speakers. They had the whole maze wired then. “I don‟t know how you found out my name, but if you‟ve gone through my car, I‟ll own this place. Understand?” “I understand you, Jane.” She caught him that time, or rather, he stayed put and faced her. His pale face shone like the full moon overhead, and a black cape whipped and billowed around his ankles. The high collar was a dead giveaway. “I thought you were a prop.” Jane scanned sideways just to be sure. At least she wasn‟t going crazy. The decoration had been moving. “Nice outfit.” The vampire tilted his head and bent one knee, dropping into a deep bow and flourishing the cape for effect. He was good. She felt goose bumps peak on her forearms. He had style. A bit too much, maybe, but then in a haunted maze, overly dramatic probably wouldn‟t count as a flaw. His voice flowed as well, too. He drew out the words, and made each syllable stretch. “Gooooood Eeeeevening.” 13

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“Yeah. Nice touch.” She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him. Aside from the pallor, he had a gorgeous face, prominent cheekbones, and a long aquiline nose. His eyes looked dark from a few steps away, but the gaze pierced just the same. Charisma, that was it. No doubt he stole the lead in all the little, po-dunk, community plays. “How do you know my name?” “I heard it on the wind, Jane Johnston.” He moved to the side, circling her and keeping his gaze lowered and fixed on her position. “You‟ve come to wake me, Jane. After all these years of waiting, you have come.” “Uh, yeah.” Jane shrugged. He moved more like a dancer than an actor. “Here I am. Now, what are the odds you‟ll just drop the act and show me the exit?” “You wish to leave?” He appeared at her shoulder, just like that. His voice whispered, but she caught each word and a thread of something else behind them. “I have a conference to get to,” she said. “My boss‟ car.” She could smell him, he stood so close. His aftershave had a sweet tang to it, and something familiar that she couldn‟t pin down. He never stopped moving either. One second he was on her right, the next, her left, and trying to keep track was making her dizzy. “Listen, I really need to get out of here.” 14

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“You do not wish to leave,” he said. “I don‟t?” “You were looking for me.” “Was I?” She shook her head, heard the corn rattle, and remembered she still had a car to deliver. “Listen, you‟ve got a great ego or stage presence or what have you, but you really could do better than a corn maze in the middle of nowhere. Maybe try modeling?” She took a step back, far enough away that she could breathe again, and turned to go. “Stop!” He stood directly in front of her. “How the hell do you do that?” The vampire didn‟t answer. Instead, he flung one arm up and threw his cape wide. The material fluttered and then fell around her, dark, smelling of sweet, familiar musk, and blocking out any thoughts of leaving. Jane stumbled into the parking lot and looked around. Her knees wobbled and the world tilted to one side before steadying back into reality. The gravel spread away to her left, to the road and the spot where Rodney Grant‟s car waited for her. The wind shook the corn until it hissed, and a zit-faced kid loomed into view, scowling and making silent words with his mouth. “Huh?” Her own voice sounded muted. “Didn‟t pay for the maze, and we closed two 15

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hours ago!” the kid shouted. He stared at her, and his shoulders moved up and down with each angry breath. “What?” “Listen, Lady,” he said. “You gotta go.” She did. She had a car to deliver and a conference—how long ago had they closed? “Wait a minute. How long was I in there?” “You‟ve been in there over an hour. You said you needed the John, Lady, not a free show.” “You listen to me.” Jane clenched her fists. She let the anger rise up and wash away her confusion, the weak feeling in her legs and the sharp pain at the base of her neck. “This show of yours has made me late for an important business meeting. I am sore, tired and I‟ve been lost in your stupid, hick maze for over an hour. Your dog has eaten a very expensive red camisole, and your actor…” Her hand lifted to a throbbing spot. She felt dizzy, and somehow, she didn‟t remember finding her way out. “I think I may have been assaulted.” “What?” “Your stupid vampire bit me.” He‟d actually bitten her. She remembered that now—the pain in her neck, the touch of blood on her fingers. “I am going to sue you until you can‟t see straight.” “Whoa, Lady.” The kid held up his hands. “I don‟t know what you‟re talking about.” 16

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He‟d said something, also. What was it? “Lady, are you all right?” “No I‟m not all right. Your stupid, haunted maze has ruined my trip, my underwear, and my neck!” “It‟s not haunted.” “Don‟t argue with me. I know a good lawyer. I could own this place.” “But it‟s not a haunted maze. We just, you know, let the kiddies go through.” He made a really annoying gesture with his fingers. It said, childish and simple. It said Jane was an idiot. “Stop it.” She glowered at him. “Just shut up.” “Maybe I should call someone. Do you have a friend or family in town I can call?” “That‟s once,” she whispered it. The kid thought she was drunk. Hell, she was acting that way, wasn‟t she? “That‟s what he said. He said, that’s once, when he…” She flipped her hand toward the aching bite. “Right. Can I?” “Forget it.” She waved him off. “Never mind.” “But…” Jane stalked away from him. She frowned and stomped to the boss‟ car, her footsteps crunching and the wound on her neck reminding her that she wasn‟t nuts. Someone had been in the stupid maze, and that someone owed her a silk camisole and a damned Band-Aid, too. 17

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Chapter Two left the car with the valet. She called Jane Rodney once at the hotel entrance and left a message that she‟d arrived. She checked in, lugged her suitcase and travel bag to the elevators, and dialed his cell number again. No answer. Her room smelled of cigarettes. She wrinkled her nose and locked the door, dragging her bag to the bed and flinging it onto the floral quilt before opening both windows. She‟d specifically requested a non-smoking room. The thin curtains flared in as a fresh breeze entered. She stood by the long heating unit and inhaled the clean night air. She tried the boss again, left a second message, and then stuffed the phone into her jacket pocket. He probably went to bed already. The breakfast seminar and motivational speaker started at eight sharp, and Rodney Grant was never late. She cringed. He probably wasn‟t answering on purpose. She‟d taken a good two hours longer 18

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than the trip required. They‟d given her a room on the third floor. She leaned out the window and watched the oval pool below where a half-dozen hotel guests frolicked or sat soaking in the adjoining hot tub. They overchlorinated. She could smell the bleachy aroma wafting all the way up to her window. She tried the front desk. The woman refused to give her Mr. Grant‟s room number, but she put the call through. Jane let it ring eight times and hung up. Great. She stared across the bed at the big mirror and tapped her foot. She could assume he‟d get the message, but that wouldn‟t exactly smack of reliability. She wanted to hand him his keys, to finish the delivery the right way—even if it was a little late. She took her travel bag into the bathroom and unzipped the makeup compartment. The lights glared from a strip above the mirrors, making her look sallow. She frowned and pulled out her compact. After that many hours on the road, who wouldn‟t need a little touch up? Her hair could use a brush as well. Winding through a bunch of corn in the dark hadn‟t helped it one bit. She twisted, lifted her chin a touch, and pulled aside the neck of her blouse. Two scarlet bruises bloomed on her neck, lining up just above the top of her shoulder. The ache had subsided during the car ride, but the marks 19

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still looked fresh and obvious against her fair skin. She snapped open the compact and dabbed a little powder over and around the bite, wishing she did know a lawyer. That kid really had her going for a moment, acting like she was nuts, pretending they hadn‟t hired actors. Jane figured it was all part of the show. Crazy hillbillies. Who cared? She‟d made it in one piece, not counting the minor flesh wound. She‟d left the corn maze miles behind her, and now she had a Regional Manager to find. Jane eyed her reflection through narrowed eyes, sighed and went to work. The hotel bar made her want to gag. Despite the no smoking signs, the place reeked of ash and sulfur. A haze of body odor didn‟t help the stench. She slid between the suits, dodging and weaving past a few tables until she stood at the center of the fray. The manager set liked to party, it seemed. Jane recognized most of the faces from the corporate directory. She didn‟t recognize the gaggle of bimbos in low cut dresses that had attached themselves to the arm of nearly every suit. Of course, judging from the staggering, the women might just be necessary. More than one painted hopeful appeared to be holding up her chosen drunk. Jane scanned the red faces, the sea of sweating, horny conference attendees, in search 20

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of the one man she figured would know better than to even be here. The concierge had insisted the pre-conference mixer would be the best place to search for her boss, but looking at this group, Jane doubted it. Rodney was a business only kind of guy, straight laced, by the book. She should probably leave, go back up to her room, and do her best to get some sleep. As she turned back toward the bar exit, a stray elbow caught her under the rib. Jane backed away from the impact, throwing a hand wide for balance. “Oops.” A woman giggled. “Sorry.” Jane growled and turned on her, expecting to find one of the floozy clones responsible. Instead, she discovered a familiar face. “Nancy?” The HR manager had a glossy expression that said she‟d had more than one of the little green martinis. Still, she wore business clothes, though the jacket buttons gaped where she‟d hastily re-fastened them, missing a hole or two in the process. “Jane!” Nancy waved her drink and sloshed green booze onto the bar carpeting. “You made it.” “I‟m late,” Jane blurted. She‟d never seen Nancy disheveled. In fact, she‟d never seen the woman‟s hair, a shade of blonde one step darker than her own, outside of its tightly-wound bun. 21

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The HR manager stood a few inches shorter than she did, and Jane could see the top of her head. Her hair fell loosely to her shoulders, and she had a light case of dandruff. “Have you seen Mr. Grant?” “What, Casanova?” Nancy giggled again. “He‟s hiding in the corner with the Marketing ghouls.” “Thanks.” Jane pressed her lips together and spared Nancy a terse tilt of the head. Casanova? The woman had had one green-tini too many. She pushed her way toward the back of the bar, using her elbow for leverage on more than one occasion and doing her best not to inhale the thick, perfume-laden air. The whole scene grossed her out. She could almost smell the desperation. She could certainly see it in the looks on the faces she passed, people who had homes and families, and lives that they just couldn‟t wait to slip away from…for this? She closed her eyes for a second and said a little prayer that she didn‟t find her boss dangling a strange woman from each arm. She shouldn‟t have worried. Jane found Rodney Grant exactly as she expected him, engrossed in business conversation. He sat in the back corner of the bar, in the center of a padded booth and bookended by two managers from the Marketing department. All three heads bent forward over the table. They had pushed the drinks aside. The 22

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tumblers huddled empty at the tables edge, a few lonely ice cubes the only remnant of some unfamiliar drink. Jane caught a whiff of rum. Her hands smoothed the front of her jacket, and she stood as tall as possible before clearing her throat. All three heads may have snapped up at the noise, but Jane only saw one of them. Her pulse kicked into high stutter as Regional Manager, Rodney Grant, raised perfectly arched eyebrows high over his sapphire eyes, and twisted the left corner of his mouth into an amused curl. “Jane.” His voice managed to convey authority and pure, sultry maleness all in one tone. “You made it. Good.” “I‟m late.” Jane‟s nerves roared to the surface, as they did whenever Rodney Grant looked at her directly. She stuffed her hands into her pockets to hide the trembles. “I‟m sorry, Mr. Grant. I got a little lost on the way in.” “I wasn‟t worried. Knew you‟d bring it along just fine, Jane.” He turned to the salt and peppered suit on his right and nudged the man with one elbow. “Jane could bring an ice cube through the desert safely,” he said. “Trustworthy.” “Thank you, Mr. Grant.” She fished out his keys and held the ring over the table. He‟d already turned back to the figures they‟d scrawled across their drink napkins. “You missed the party though.” The man on 23

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Grant‟s left, a marketing assistant if Jane remembered correctly, grinned up at her and winked. “Not Jane‟s style,” Grant said. She flinched at his tone, swallowed a sigh and jangled the ring still hanging from her finger. “Your keys, Mr. Grant?” “Would you tuck them in my pocket, Jane?” He waved to the chair beside her where his camel coat hung. “Of course.” “Why don‟t you stick around?” the assistant asked. “It‟s still early.” Jane bent down and fumbled with her boss‟ jacket. The material felt coarse, rough against her fingers, and it reeked of perfume. She dropped the car keys into the pocket and shook her head. “I think I‟ll get back to my room and finish settling in.” “Good thinking,” Mr. Grant nodded, but he never looked up from the napkin. “It‟s an early morning tomorrow.” “Right.” She tried to return the marketing assistant‟s smile, but it came off flat and she knew it. The boss‟ coat smelled like perfume, so what? The whole bar stank of it, of scents mixing that should never have wafted within yards of one another. So Nancy had called him, Casanova? Nancy had been drunk off her ass. 24

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Jane sighed again and made a beeline for the elevator. Nancy had been drunk, yes, but she‟d also been wearing a very distinctly scented perfume, one that had permeated at least one camel jacket. As the lift chimed through floors, Jane stared at the lighted numbers and imagined Nancy hanging off the boss‟ arm. The doors opened, and she stepped in and punched the round button for the third floor. As far as she could tell, trustworthy pretty much sucked eggs. The corn walls rattled and hissed to either side of the path. Jane pulled her jacket tight around the front, crossed her arms, and leaned into the wind. Behind her, a growl echoed. She stumbled into the corn and turned, spotting the wolf crouched just at the last twist in the path. It growled again and smiled, showing long canines that gleamed in the moonlight. Jane ran. She heard the wolf loping along behind. It panted and snarled, and kept pace even though she was sure it could have taken her at any time. Her heart pounded. Her breaths snapped in short staccato. She ran blindly, turned and dodged and, eventually, burst into the clearing again. She leapt the hay bale and slammed into the gate. Her fingers clawed at the wood, found the bats, and swept over the carving. There was a mechanism, a trigger of some sort, but she 25

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couldn‟t find it. The wind slammed her forward against the barrier and set her hair dancing. Strands flew across her face and blocked her vision. The bats. The bats had to let her in. The growl changed. It closed on her and shifted into a throaty laugh. She shut her eyes and willed the gate to let her pass. A shadow blotted out the moon. Jane turned to face the wolf. Werewolf, she corrected. He‟d grown, hunched forward, and now shifted from one kick-back leg to the other with drool drizzling from his slack jaws. His yellow eyes glinted. He winked at Jane and furry hands tugged wickedly at the garment he wore, stretched tight over his beastly torso—a red silk camisole, plus slobber damage. “You‟re wearing it?” Jane backed into the gate and felt the bats against her spine. It might have been funny, if the wolf-man didn‟t have quite such large teeth, if his expression had been any less hungry. His jaws snapped shut and opened again. He took a clumsy step in her direction. One yellow eye winked at her before the werewolf sprang forward. Jane screamed. She dived to the side and heard the gate thud with an impact meant for her. She scrambled away, toward the next opening, but the werewolf appeared directly in her path. She spun around and found him behind her as 26

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well. “Help!” She ducked to the side and just missed another pounce. “Oh! Help!” A shadow fell over the clearing. It passed and then came again. All the while Jane skittered in circles with the mad, transvestite werewolf chasing her. The creature‟s snarling filled the clearing, and it manifested in whatever direction she managed to turn. She spun again, stumbled, and fell backward across a bale of straw. She screamed. The werewolf‟s face danced across her vision near enough to smell his nasty, doggy breath, to hear him panting. “Lupis!” A familiar order rang through the night. The shadow fell across Jane, and she sensed the vampire in the tingle at her neck. “Help,” she whispered and he knelt beside her. Strong arms lifted her and set her back on her feet. “Jane Johnston.” His cloak enveloped them both, and he pulled her closer into the embrace. She didn‟t struggle, though the wound on her neck throbbed. Jane leaned into the vampire‟s arms and felt her whole body tremble. Fire raced under her skin, and it pressed her closer against him. “Your soul calls to mine, Jane Johnston.” His lips found her shoulder. They drifted across the bite gently and followed the line of her neck up to her ear. 27

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Jane moaned and tilted her head to allow him better access. The sensation coursed through her nerves like an electric shock. Her fingers curled into satin, eager to tear at it, but unsure. She‟d never felt anything close to this, had never even imagined. The vampire‟s tongue flicked across her skin, and she bit back a scream. He teased her, kissed and nibbled at her neck while she squirmed in his arms. Finally, when her breath gasped in a semblance of the werewolf‟s panting, and her eyes watered with frustration, she felt the pressure of teeth against her flesh. Jane woke to her own whimpers of pleasure. The pulsing at her neck sent shivers up and down her body. She moaned again and felt the pressure on her chest shift position. She stiffened, a wave of panic replacing her arousal. Someone was really here, laying across her and sucking on her neck. The hotel bed squeaked as he moved again. Her room was dark, but a pale streak of moonlight fell through the open window. She hadn‟t closed it, but then again, her room was three stories up. She tried to focus on her predicament, even tried to panic, but her thoughts drifted back to the waves of pleasure and she had to bite her lip to keep from making a sound. Shouldn‟t she struggle? Her muscles didn‟t 28

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respond to the question. Her limbs felt like liquid— Jane Johnston pooling on the mattress, weak and fluid, and completely unconcerned about the assault happening to her own body. Just as she thought it, he stopped. She considered screaming, but her hands had already wrapped around his broad back. It wouldn‟t look good, would it, if her body kept acting as if it was having a great time? “That‟s twice.” The voice was husky, low, and breathy, but Jane recognized it. Her mind cleared for a moment. The actor from the corn maze. The vampire from Hicksville had broken into her room. But how? Why? He pulled away, and her stupid arms held onto him. She lifted into a seated position, half swoony, and draped across a complete stranger. “Jane Johnston,” he whispered. “How do you know my name?” “Your soul calls to mine, Jane.” “What?” She pushed against him, and he moved away. She saw him for an instant, framed in moonlight and standing at the end of her bed. His thin mouth drifted into a smile, and his eyes flashed once before he disappeared. Still, Jane heard him whisper in her mind as she blacked out again, “That’s twice.”

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Chapter Three

“I

s that a hickey, Jane?” Rodney Grant twisted in his seat and creased his brow at her. “What? No.” She tugged her collar higher and shook her head. “Of course not.” The vampire bites tingled in denial, not exactly a hickey, but something damn close to it. Her boss stared. He sat a row in front of her, four rows back from the huge, hotel stage where any second now the guest speaker would appear for their annual morale boosting. She should have been excited. It was her first conference, and she‟d always wondered what the magic was. She‟d seen the suit set return each year with the spring back in their steps and huge, company-loyal grins plastered on their faces. However, Jane had seen the party opening night, and somehow, she doubted the spring had a damn thing to do with the structured programming. What was the matter with her? She couldn‟t quite figure where the pessimism came from, why 30

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suddenly she‟d lost her enthusiasm for the whole mess. All she knew was two days ago, if Rodney Grant had paid this much attention to her, she might have swooned. Now, however, she couldn‟t help but notice the little vein throbbing at his temple, or the bead of sweat at the edge of his hairline. And roots! She could see the faint trace of a bad dye job in the subtle shift of color along each strand. Jane shook her head and caught the expression on his face. He didn‟t believe her. Great. Now he‟d think she was some kind of company slut like Nancy from HR. She put her hand over her mouth, shocked by the thought. At least she hadn‟t said it out loud. At least the bloody lights dimmed, and the boss, at last, turned his gaze back to the stage. The speaker arrived, a slim, well-suited woman in her thirties whose perfume wafted across the crowd and made Jane want to sneeze. As the collected managers broke into their clipped applause, Jane wondered if Mr. Grant would fire her. Would she get a verbal or written warning for acting the hussy during a business event? She felt a giggle threaten and so bit her lip to keep from laughing. She should have been paying attention to the woman, not to the huge pores on the nose of the man next to her. She should have worried about 31

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her job. She should have given a damn. Mostly, she should have brought a neck scarf instead of that little red dress. Oh well. She let a little of the giggle out and dropped her gaze to her skirt. The weave made a loose zigzag pattern that angled across the design. Over, under, over. She was sick, that was it. The lunatic who thought he was a real live vampire had given her some sort of freak disease. Jane smiled, ran a hand over the rough fabric, and wondered when he‟d show up next. They drove three other managers around town in Rodney Grant‟s car. The tour bounced from the corporate offices, to the warehouse, shipping, and two different retail front lines. The caravan of managers‟ vehicles trailed a half mile long at least. Jane squirmed in the crowded car and kept her nose as close to her cracked window as possible. The air inside smelled of bodies and cologne. The man beside her rained flakes of dandruff onto her jacket as well as his own, and the glare of afternoon sunlight had her blinking like mad. She fumbled in her purse for sunglasses, bumping the flaky fellow beside her with her elbow more than once. By the time they‟d returned to the hotel for a lunch break, Jane felt sick. She opened the door before the car slid to a halt, and stepped out the 32

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minute it did. She stood there, holding the top of the window for support and inhaling the fresh air. “Jane?” Mr. Grant‟s voice floated next to her ear. “Huh?” She found him standing on the other side of the car door. He peered at her through narrowed eyes, and the crease on his forehead returned. “You look a little green, Jane.” “I‟m feeling a bit queasy.” He leaned in closer, a fog of cologne and man smell that reminded her instantly just how long she‟d been attracted to him. His voice whispered, and she felt his breath brush her cheek. “Are you hung over, Jane?” “What?” The distraction of having him that close faded at the accusation. “Why would you think that?” “The shades. You‟re ghost pale and not feeling well.” “Shades? Mr. Grant, the sunlight was—” “It‟s overcast, Jane, and late October.” Jane blinked at him. She stared at the little individual hairs of stubble sprouting on his chin. The sun had hurt her eyes. It had. Yet she knew he was right, that the sky was a sheet of autumn clouds. She also knew exactly what he was thinking. Now she was a drunk as well as loose. “Jane?” 33

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“I think I‟m coming down with something, Mr. Grant.” “Right.” “I‟m not sure I feel like lunch.” “Maybe if you went to your room and laid down for a while?” Jane nodded. She couldn‟t answer any other way without bursting into tears. There went her brilliant plans, the money she‟d blown on a fancy dress and her chances at ever being more than an employee to Rodney Grant. In fact, she‟d be lucky if she kept that status after this weekend. Still…she was tired. Her muscles felt like slush and the glare from whatever sun managed to peek through the cloud cover made her eyes heavy and more than willing to close. She broke from the group and headed for the elevators dragging her feet like cement blocks. A nap would help. A little sleep and maybe she could shake off whatever ailed her. She dreamed the vampire led her through the maze. His hand felt warm and electric in hers, and his voice whispered a steady chant as they walked. Jane couldn‟t make out the words, but she followed willingly beside him, watching the corn grow and noting each silvery thread of the tassels. When they reached the clearing, the wolf greeted them. It trailed at the vampire‟s heels, 34

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belly touching the ground. The beast stayed on all fours this time, and she could have sworn, when it panted and cowered at the master‟s feet, that she saw a scrap of red silk stuck between two of its molars. The vampire took her straight to the gate. His long fingers stroked the symbol between the bats‟ wings, around one side, across, and around the other. The diamond eyes flashed red. He spoke the command to open. His voice awoke her. He spoke softly and, she realized, wasn‟t speaking to her. Still, he was in her room again, and Jane couldn‟t begin to decide how she felt about that fact. She rolled onto her side, trying not to make any sound and yet angle herself into a position where she had a clear view. The vampire stood by her window. His cape swirled in the draft, and the moonlight cast his features into a dramatic play of shadows and glowing surfaces. He looked like a dark angel haloed in a blue aura. His lips moved, but the words he spoke blurred into a mutter. His left hand stroked the thick, shaggy fur of the wolf at his heel. “I don‟t think they allow dogs in this room.” Jane knew it was a wolf, but her grasp on reality seemed to hinge on not admitting it. The dog snarled and moved forward, placing 35

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both front paws on the windowsill, gazing out of the hotel room in imitation of its master. It snapped its jaws once and then leapt through the opening. “No!” Jane‟s stomach lurched. She threw off the covers and stood beside the bed. Dog or wolf, a fall from that height couldn‟t end on a pretty note. She paused short of crossing to the window. Did she really want to see? Did she want to be that close to her nocturnal intruder? He stood there still, unconcerned and without any sign of remorse. His head turned and dark eyes regarded her with fires burning in their depths. “Jane Johnston.” “You didn‟t even try to save him.” His laughter rolled like a wave, soft as velvet. “Lupis is unscathed.” He waved a hand across the opening. “Look for yourself.” She couldn‟t help it. Her curiosity moved her feet and she sidled to the window, keeping as much distance between them as possible. The night breeze chilled her bare arms and lifted her hair into a flutter around her shoulders. She smelled the world outside, the chlorine and gasoline exhaust as well as something hot and fried cooking across the street. She saw the rooflines as if they‟d been trimmed in neon, and she knew even before the shadow of the wolf trotted across the street that the man behind her 36

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was, in fact, a vampire. What else could he be? “What have you done to me?” She sucked in a breath, deep and full of subtle scents and things she shouldn‟t be able to discern. He‟d poisoned her, or infected her, whatever. The world had shifted into an amplified array of sound and vision. Jane watched the werewolf lope down a far alley. She couldn‟t even begin to process it all. “I have awakened a part of you,” he replied. “A sliver of memory. A trace of what once was.” “That‟s a riddle, right? Why do you speak in riddles?” She turned to face him directly, and the bastard slid to the side, fast as he had in the maze, too fast for human eyes. Tonight, Jane could almost catch him at it. “Who are you?” “Valentino de la Notte.” He circled her to the left, slow enough this time that she could follow. His eyes hooked and held her until she twisted and turned to avoid breaking the gaze. “You…call me Val.” “Val. I—do I?” She felt dizzy from more than the spinning. He stood so close, and she could sense his movements like ripples in a shared pool as if each skin cell had been tuned to his frequency. She shivered and watched him. He shouldn‟t be there. He shouldn‟t even exist. “You followed me here. You broke into my room.” “I followed you, yes.” He pointed dramatically 37

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at the view. “But you left the window open.” He‟d come in through the window. Jane‟s knees wobbled. That would mean he, well, that he‟d… An arm caught her around the waist. She fell backward into a firm chest, her legs buckling like soft noodles with them both ending up on the floor. His arms cradled her and his cloak wrapped around her shoulders. Damned if that thing wasn‟t sexy as hell. Jane closed her eyes and inhaled. Mistake. She smelled his skin, sweet and just touched with sweat and something that might have been desire. “Jane Johnston,” he whispered into her hair. His lips brushed against her neck. She turned into him, distantly aware that she‟d stretched her chin up and tilted her head to the side to make even more of her skin available. She was a slut. The tremors running along her spine didn‟t care. She didn‟t care. She wanted to feel it again, wanted him to bite her. She sighed and let her body melt into his arms. The bite never came. Instead, his mouth moved upward, kissing her just below the ear, along the jaw. Their lips met and Jane‟s spine arched, the flare of pleasure driving her arms around his back and neck. He played with her, teased her lips open and then pulled back to watch her face. “Val.” She caught her breath, but his eyes still held her. 38

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“My love.” “Why? Why me?” “Your soul calls to mine.” “You said that already.” She blinked and the spell broke long enough for a rush of questions to surface. “How? Tell me.” One of his eyebrows lifted in a dark arch. His lips tightened. “I need answers,” Jane said. “Not riddles.” “We are mates, Jane Johnston, twin souls destined only for one another.” “And you‟re a, a…” “Vampire. Once, we both were.” His fingers traced the line of her jaw. “I have waited for you, Jane Johnston, for longer than you can imagine.” “To make me a vampire?” “Again.” He bent his head and let their lips touch. This time, the kiss didn‟t linger. He stopped, hovering just a breath off touching, and staring into her eyes. “We belong together, Jane. Forever.” “We do?” Her fingers curled at the back of his neck, pressing him closer. “One more bite, Jane, the last bite, and you‟ll be mine.” She sighed and pressed her body against his, twisting to expose the first two wounds. “Say you want it.” He kissed the first bite and then the second. “Say you want me, and we can leave this place, fly away forever.” 39

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“Hmm.” Jane‟s mind cleared. “What?” “Say it.” “Now?” She squirmed, and his arms released her without struggle. “You want me to go with you?” His face fell, and he regarded her through hooded eyes. He was serious, she realized. He wanted her to choose, now. “I—uh, I‟m not sure.” “The decision must be yours, Jane.” “But I barely know you. I have a job and…” What did she have? “I don‟t know.” The vampire stood. He took a step backward, away from her. The fire in her body went with him, leaving her chilled and shivering. Part of her wanted it back, wanted to give him his answer right then and there. Her lips pressed tight against the urge. “Tomorrow is Halloween night.” His voice sounded far away, and melancholy tainted the words. “At midnight, the veil will close for another year.” “The veil?” She felt small and suddenly afraid, sitting on the rough carpet and staring at the hem of his cape. The moonlight chased the folds of fabric in a pale, bluish sheen. “You don‟t have much time to decide, Jane Johnston.” She tilted her head back and followed the black 40

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curtain to his face. The angle gave him an exaggerated perspective, a long, dark figure deepened by shadows. Jane shivered again, and found no words to give him. He threw his arms up. The cloak caught the breeze and swept across his body. It rippled, and the vampire melted into nothing. Jane saw the bat, outlined against the moon as he fluttered from the room. She saw the flashing eyes and spiky, black wings. The image burned in to her memory long after she‟d passed out cold.

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Chapter Four

S

he slept well past noon. Even then, she moved in a drowsy fog, brewing a tiny pot of hotel coffee and dragging her sore body into a shower. She‟d missed breakfast. She‟d missed the panels and the talk on the company‟s bright future. She inhaled the steam and let the hot water beat the kinks out of her back. Did she care? The boss had already convicted her of misconduct, so why not truancy as well? She could always quit and go be a vampire. Her finger traced the outline of a bat onto the shower wall. Jane giggled. She‟d lost her damned mind somewhere between home and the convention. She‟d left it along with an expensive camisole inside a labyrinth of dried cornstalks. Mr. Grant would fire her. She‟d blown off a whole day of convention. Her cell phone showed six missed calls from his number. Six strikes against her. She should at least go down and attempt to salvage her reputation. Instead, she let 42

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the water run. She watched the steam swirl and tried to make out individual droplets in the vapor. The banquet was tonight. Halloween. She‟d spent a fortune on a red dress for the occasion. She might as well wear it. Tomorrow she could worry about her job, her references, or her future as a creature of the night. Jane giggled again and leaned her forehead against the wall. Today, she still felt sleepy. She had a little time. Her career was over and her mind was gone. What did she have left to lose? She turned off the water and wrung out her hair. The bathroom lay in a dense blanket of mist, and she stood naked for a moment and let the steam warm her skin. She breathed the moisture in and out, then slid into a hotel robe and headed for the bed and a nice, cozy nap. The dress looked fine without the camisole. In fact, it looked sublime. She left her hair down, gave her face a light powder, her lips a coat of red and, slid on the spiky shoes. Her cell phone rang twice, but Jane ignored it, instead, lifted her hair away and eyed the twin marks on her neck all the while the phone vibrating her boss‟ irritation against the bedside table. She left it there, spun to the side, and admired the way the skirt flowed. It reminded her of a certain cloak, as it swirled around her calves. 43

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The closing banquet was the last official event scheduled in the conference brochure, but she‟d been told the attendees gathered for a quick breakfast before scattering the next morning. They‟d all return to their own stores, to their families and wives. Jane wondered how many of them got caught. How many returned with the scent of unfamiliar perfume gracing their jackets? She shook her head and headed for the elevators. It didn‟t matter. She wouldn‟t have a job to go home to, not after blowing off a whole day of events to sleep off what ailed her. She imagined explaining to Mr. Grant. “The vampire made me sleepy.” Better to shut up and take whatever discipline he doled out. She caught a glimmer of her reflection in the elevator wall, faint in the dark metal, but touched with fire. At least she‟d go out in style. She‟d go down in flames, where the old Jane would have crumpled and caved in on herself. The old Jane, trustworthy Jane, would have cried. Twice-bitten Jane sauntered from the elevator into a hallway full of her co-workers. The lively conversation dimmed to whispers as she passed. Her newly tuned ears picked out the details. Jerry in accounting didn‟t recognize her. Nancy filled him in, adding a word Jane thought was something like the pot calling the kettle black. The marketing assistant who‟d invited her to stick 44

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around at the opening mixer told his buddy he‟d always thought Jane was hot. She felt like kissing him until he added the comment about knowing she‟d been hiding a tiger under all that formality. Well, she certainly felt like scratching someone— maybe even biting them. “Jane?” Time to face the firing squad. Jane stopped walking and spun on one of her spikes. It turned out expensive shoes were good for one thing, a quick pivot. “Mr. Grant. Good evening.” She couldn‟t help the smile. He looked downright delicious in his suit jacket and sage green shirt. “My God, Jane. I‟ve been calling you all day.” She inhaled the scent of his aftershave and watched the muscle in his jaw flex. “My phone.” She hadn‟t intended to defend herself, but it slipped out. “I lost my phone.” “You look amazing.” “I‟m so sorry, Mr. Grant. Wait, what?” “Your hair‟s down, and that dress is…” He stopped and swallowed hard. His hairline glistened with the first hint of sweat. Jane could smell his skin. “Should I change?” She didn‟t intend to do it, but she needed to be sure she‟d read him right. “No.” He shook his head. His mouth tightened. “Not at all.” His eyes dropped and then lifted quickly, guiltily. 45

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Jane stared. She‟d completely skipped an entire day‟s conference. She‟d appeared drunk and with what he thought were two obvious hickeys on her neck, and all she needed for an excuse was a little cleavage? “Are you feeling any better, Jane?” She nodded, but in fact, she felt far more nauseous than she had earlier. Still, when his hand appeared at her waist, she couldn‟t help the little shiver of excitement. How long had she silently pined for him? She‟d gone years hoping for Rodney Grant to notice her, to look at her that way, to touch her. Her stomach might not want anything to do with food, but Jane let him steer her toward the hotel ballroom without resistance. He smelled good, better than the stench of chicken wafting from the swinging doors that led to the kitchens. She inhaled and walked beside him and didn‟t give a damn about the looks they earned along the way. He pulled out a chair for her. Before she could take it, however, a flutter from across the room caught her attention. She leaned around the boss and eyed the vampire standing just inside the ballroom doors. He still wore the cloak, and both of his arms crossed over his chest so that a waterfall of black satin hid most of his body. He stared at Jane, but when she met his gaze, he 46

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turned and slipped back out into the hall. “Excuse me, Mr. Grant.” She stepped away from the table. “Jane?” “I‟ll be right back.” She slid between the tables, dodging diners, and keeping her eyes on the doorway as much as possible. He‟d shown up here, tonight. Jane ground her teeth together. He wore the bloody cape, right out in public, and he just stood there watching her. She broke from the last cluster of managers and burst out into the hallway. A black ripple disappeared round the corner to her left, and she trotted after it. The vampire waited there. He leaned against the wall and, when Jane skidded to a stop, cast a smoldering look in her direction. “Val.” She looked past him and found the hall vacant. “What are you doing here?” “Come, Jane.” He reached out a hand and snagged her with his eyes again. “It‟s time for us to go.” Her heart fluttered in response. A wave of heat flared in her chest and spread in all directions. She held out her hand. The vampire took it in his and lifted her fingers to his lips. He kissed them gently, and electricity raced down her arm. “Now?” She barely heard her own voice. It sounded far off and unimportant. “Yes, my love. The veil is closing.” He tugged 47

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on her hand, and she took a step with him and then another. “Jane?” Rodney Grant‟s voice stalled her progress. She turned to find him scowling from the corner. “Mr. Grant, I‟m…” “Come Jane.” Val pulled again, and she stumbled in his direction. “Who‟s that?” Rodney Grant demanded. He used the tone she‟d heard him turn on corporate suits when the figures didn‟t work in his favor. “This is Val.” “Valentino de la Notte.” The vampire bowed and extended his free hand. He used the other to pull Jane closer to his side. “This is my boss,” Jane whispered. “Rodney Grant.” Mr. Grant took the vampire‟s hand and shook it. “You‟re a little bit old to be trick-or-treating, aren‟t you?” “Huh?” Jane looked from one to the other. They‟d locked gazes, and neither of them flinched. “It‟s Halloween,” Val said. “Jane, the veil is closing.” “What‟s that?” “Jane and I must be going.” “Jane?” Now Mr. Grant turned to her. His eyes narrowed, and she saw the suspicion he should have focused on her earlier. “You‟re leaving?” 48

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“I—I don‟t know.” “Jane Johnston.” Val‟s voice coaxed her eyes back to his. “It is time to choose.” “I don‟t know.” “Jane?” Rodney‟s hand landed on her other arm. He tugged her back toward the banquet. “I need more time,” she said. She couldn‟t have said which one she spoke to, but it was Val‟s grip that released first. His face fell into shadow as it did when she disappointed him. A dark worm of guilt twisted in her stomach. She might have moved to him, might have taken his arm again, but Rodney Grant pulled her another step away. “I won‟t come for you again, Jane.” The vampire whispered it, and Jane knew only her ears could make out his voice. “Listen to your soul. You must find me now, Jane Johnston.” He backed away, and the look he cast in her direction seemed unreadable, dark and frightening. “Come on, Jane.” Rodney dragged her toward the corner. She followed, stunned, watching Val drift farther and farther from them. As her boss rounded the end of the hall, Jane saw the vampire raise his arms. She saw the cloak ripple, and she knew, the second the hotel wall blocked him from her sight, that he was gone. 49

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“Here‟s your phone.” Rodney stood beside the bed and held out her cell. “Oh. Thanks.” She took it from him and tossed it back on the bed. He expected an explanation, no doubt, but Jane didn‟t have one handy. “I‟m sorry about the banquet,” she said. “I‟m just not very hungry.” She should have gone back to the ballroom, but the smell of the diners‟ meals made her gag. She should have refused his offer to escort her to the room, perhaps. But then, she‟d bought the dress for him, hadn‟t she? What she couldn‟t work out was why she kept looking past him to the open window, why she couldn‟t concentrate on a damn thing he was saying. I won’t come for you again. “Jane.” “Huh?” She pulled her attention back to the room and found Rodney Grant at her shoulder. He‟d closed the distance while she daydreamed, and now his eyes lingered on her bare shoulder, wandering across her chest and then lifted to favor her with an intensity she‟d only imagined in her fantasies. “Mr. Grant, I…” “Rodney,” he corrected. He leaned in, and one of his hands found the small of her back. “I should have known, Jane. All this time.” 50

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Jane tried to believe it. She‟d waited for him to notice her. It had been her whole focus, the one thing she wanted most in life, and as he slid his hand up her back and pulled her into him, she didn‟t resist. His lips felt soft, and they moved with some skill across hers. His arms came more firmly round her and she felt his body heat through the filmy dress. He smelled like booze. Jane let him continue to kiss her, but she opened her eyes. The pores on his nose were huge, and about a third of them had clogged. She rolled her eyes and caught a flash of his roots again. Damn it. The vampire had ruined this for her completely. “You must find me now…” She pulled away from the kiss. Rodney‟s hands found the zipper at the back of her dress, and the whir of metal answered. His lips dove to her neck and wandered in the direction of her chest. “Mr. Grant.” “Jane,” he murmured into her collarbone. “You‟re so different, so wild.” He tried to move lower, but Jane twisted in his grip. She felt stupid. Why couldn‟t she enjoy him? A little anger flared in her belly. She should have been able to enjoy this. When he kissed her again, however, her body only shivered in response. She broke the kiss. “Rodney, listen.” “All this time,” he panted and pawed at her 51

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dress, peeling the fabric forward and freeing her shoulder. “Under all that frump and dowdy.” Jane felt his tongue against her skin. “What was that?” She straightened and pressed a hand against his chest, but he stuck to her like a tick. “What did you say?” “You‟re an animal,” he growled. “The hickeys and drinking, and all this time you acted so pure, so straight.” Jane pushed him. She barely tried, but he stumbled three steps and slammed against the heater beside the window. He had the balls to look shocked, but she could read confusion on his face as well. “Get out,” she said. “What? Jane?” “Go.” She used one arm to hold the dress bodice in place and pointed to the door with the other. “Get out of my room.” He opened his mouth once, but shut it without saying a word. Instead, he shuffled past the end of the bed. He kept his eyes down, and she heard the door open and close as he obeyed. Beyond the window, the night city glowed with electric tracers. Jane could see for miles, see the buildings and the traffic as clear as day. She smelled everything, saw everything, everything except a bat fluttering its way back to find her.

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Chapter Five

A

very contrite Regional Manager sat opposite her over breakfast. He stared at the greasy bacon on his plate and swallowed more than the food warranted. Jane watched him with little interest and tried her best not to smell his meal. “Completely inappropriate,” he said. “Jane, I don‟t know how to repair the damage, but trust me that it will never happen again.” “Please stop apologizing, Mr. Grant.” His groveling had passed irritating fifteen minutes ago. “I‟ve no intention of suing the company or you personally.” He relaxed a little, but it didn‟t last. She‟d have paid good money for him to shut the hell up. “You have a bright future with the company, Jane.” He tucked another hunk of meat into his maw and nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Grant.” “You‟re overdue for a promotion.” “It‟s not necessary.” 53

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“You deserve it.” She did. He wasn‟t lying there. “You‟re the best we have, Jane. I never should have misread your actions.” “It‟s not your fault, Mr. Grant.” She had wanted him, hadn’t she? She‟d planned on doing her very best to seduce him—before. “Like hell it isn‟t. You said you were ill, and that should have been that. I should trust you by now, Jane.” “Yes, Mr. Grant, you should.” That stopped him. He gulped and blinked three times. Jane counted his eyelashes and waited for him to recover. “Right. Well, I wish you‟d reconsider driving back with me.” “I‟ve rented a car already.” “Right.” “It‟s a lovely drive, Mr. Grant.” Her smile spread toward genuine. “I‟m sure you‟ll enjoy it on your own.” “And you?” “I‟ll be fine.” She ran a finger along the rim of her water glass and watched the ice sparkle. “Well, I‟ll see you back at the office then.” Jane nodded. He stood and fidgeted for a moment before leaving. Confident. She‟d always thought he had at least that much going for him. 54

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Then again, she hadn‟t known him at all, had she? Would she see him back at the office? Would she choose a promotion, a bright future at the company, or eternal life? Jane laughed and listened to the conversations around her. Even she didn‟t have an answer to that one. Jane parked the rental car in the gravel lot and stared out the windshield at the cornfield. The bites on her neck tingled as she opened the door. Wind pushed against her, tugging at the hair that she‟d bound into a loose ponytail. She brushed it from her face, leaned against the car and frowned at the acres of stubble. The machine that destroyed the maze still sat at the far edge of the field. The green metal sported the dents of many years use along with more than one patch of rust. Now that the corn had been laid to rest, Jane could see the rows, neat and parallel against the blunt remains of the crop. Each individual stalk of corn stood less than a foot in height, chewed off by the harvester and packed away to feed some animal or another. All of it gone. She wondered how long it took to decimate a corn maze. Could she have gotten here in time if she‟d skipped breakfast? Would she have found him if she had? The veil is closing. A van idled beside the outhouse, and a group 55

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of kids lounged on hay bales behind it. They took turns loading the stiff, wooden decorations into the back of the vehicle. Did they have a vampire in the lot? She frowned and turned toward the devastated maze. He wasn‟t there, not in the field or in the van. She‟d hesitated, and her indecision had lost him. Listen to your soul, Jane Johnston. So much for trustworthy. She heaved a sigh and let her eyes trace the lines of corn one last time. So much for eternal life. Somehow, she didn‟t think she‟d end up accepting any promotion either. She turned back to the car and sighed again. What the hell would she do? “Hey!” A familiar, obnoxious voice hailed her. “Hey, Lady!” The kid from her first visit jogged across the gravel. Jane cringed. She owed him an entrance fee, she suspected. She closed the car door and moved around the trunk to meet him. “It‟s you.” He stopped and tilted his head to the side. “You get a different car?” “Yes.” Jane pulled her purse open and reached for her wallet. “What did I owe you?” “Huh?” He squinted and shook his head. “We found your thing.” “Excuse me?” “When they tore the maze down. They found your…” He turned scarlet and dropped his gaze 56

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to his feet. “Your red shirt.” “My camisole? Really?” The kid nodded and kept blushing. “It‟s in the lost and found stuff. Over there.” Jane turned and followed his gesture to a box resting beside the van. “We always find tons of stuff,” the kid said. “Every year there‟s a box full.” “You do this every year?” Jane stepped forward, and he followed her. “Sure,” he said. “The kids in town love it.” “I‟m sure they do.” A few of his friends looked up when they approached, but Jane ignored them. She dropped into a squat beside the box and peered inside. Mittens, a scarf, and several baseball hats sat on top. She lifted them aside and found a shimmer of red below. Her camisole. Someone had folded the garment into a neat, red square. She prayed it hadn‟t been the kid. The fabric felt cool against her fingers, but when she lifted it, something heavy dragged against the motion. Jane frowned and unfolded the silk. She opened it like a package and found a silver charm inside. Someone had wound the chain around the camisole straps. Someone had fastened it there for her to find. She tucked it back into a square and stood up with both items held close to her chest. 57

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“I owe you for the entrance,” she said. “Don‟t worry about it.” The kid gulped and eyed his friends sideways. “Just, you know, don‟t sue us or anything.” “No, of course not.” She‟d been so focused on her stupid boss that she‟d scared the poor kid half to death. Great. She hugged the camisole tighter and smiled at him. “Thanks.” He shrugged a typical, teenage dismissal and scuffed off to his friends. Jane hurried to the rental car. She winked at the harvester and slid back into the driver‟s seat. The red silk fell open in her lap, and she pulled out the charm. Bat eyes twinkled as she unhooked the clasp and fit the chain around her neck. One year, they whispered. She had one year to get her shit together. Jane turned the key and giggled. She could live with that. The wind shook the cornstalks as the vampire entered the maze. They rattled and ground sharp leaves together. No one saw her arrive, not even the kid who probably wouldn‟t have recognized her anyway. She listened to the corn, and her red lips smiled against a pale face. She wasn‟t quite a vampire yet, but then, who was she to quibble over technicalities? She sniffed the wind and walked, barely touching the soft 58

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earth through the pathways. The hem of her dress swished around her ankles. Red still, but with a high, modest collar and a row of buttons down the front. Her arms remained bare, and she‟d tipped her fingers with matching, blood red nails. They‟d grown as fast and as wild as her hair. The latter refused to be contained. Now it danced and puffed around her face at the whim of the storm. She ignored it and kept walking. She didn‟t need to see. Her feet carried her directly and without faltering to the clearing where a stout, gray gate waited. A wolf howled in the distance. Lupis. She walked to the portal and stopped, one hand lifting to stroke the bat sigil. She waited, and the next gust brought him up behind her. For a moment, neither of them moved. Still, she felt him there and in each pulse of the blood in her veins. His marks on her neck throbbed. “Jane Johnston,” he whispered, and the wind swirled the name around her. “Val.” “You need a key for that gate.” She touched the amulet at her throat and smiled. The little bats‟ eyes glinted from both the necklace and the doorway. “Yes.” “Are you ready, Jane?” He bent forward, his breath tickling her earlobe. “Val?” She turned into his arms, tilted her head 59

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back, and looked him in the eye. “What‟s on the other side?” Her heart raced. Val‟s eyes flared, and he dipped forward and brushed his lips across hers before answering, “Our home, Jane.” Their home. His brief kiss set her skin ablaze. The bites tingled. She‟d waited a year for this, but he‟d waited much, much longer. She tilted her head to the side, reached up and pulled her hair away, revealing as much of her neck as possible. Val‟s arms encircled her. His cape made a billowy cocoon around them both. Jane sighed and waited for the third bite, for eternity. She felt the tips of his teeth against her flesh and sighed. “Bite me, Val. Take me home.”

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About the Author Frances Pauli was born and raised in Washington State. She grew up with a love of reading and storytelling, and was introduced to Science Fiction and Fantasy at an early age through the books kept and read by her father. Frances claims to be allergic to genre labels, but describes her writing as speculative fiction with romantic tendencies. More information on her books, and writing can be found at: http://francespauli.com