A Tale of Two Goblins - By H. P. Mallory Page 0,42
order to close it. Inside, the music was muted and the smell of burning incense was thick in the air. I dropped my helmet into a nearby chair, my eyes still growing accustomed to the low light.
“Hi, Bram,” I said, once I noticed him sitting behind a desk, outlined by the glow of a candle just behind him. The desk was a new addition to his office but the black lacquer fit perfectly against the red, white and black motif of his office.
He glanced up as if he hadn’t expected me, as if he’d been poring over the papers in his hand, without any clue that he had a visitor. His fangs immediately descended as soon as he glanced at me, the papers falling from his hand, scattering across his desk.
“Are you okay?” I asked, wondering what the hell had gotten into him.
He shook his head in what appeared to be bewilderment and stood up. He took the five steps separating us and stretched a long, slender finger toward me, running it down the leather of my bike jacket, just above my left breast. I was reminded of what had happened the last time a man had touched me without asking permission but figured Bram wouldn’t take it well if I attacked him…or maybe he would. Either way, I wasn’t going to try it, not while I needed a favor.
He opened his mouth and inhaled, like a cat smelling the air. When his eyes found mine again, there was something in their depths—something I couldn’t put my finger on. Ever since Bram had turned three hundred, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect from him, it was as if his power had increased twofold, and his aura emanated it. And it wasn’t something I liked. An unpredictable vampire was not an easily managed vampire.
“You exist merely to plague me.” His voice was rough, like diamonds cutting glass.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I demanded. I didn’t have the time nor the energy for this crap. I had to get in and get out—find out where Quillan was and move on. The night might have been young but Sam’s battle wasn’t.
“You…your outfit,” he started, giving me the once over again. “You try my will power not to take you right where you stand.”
I glanced down at myself, taking in the black leather riding pants and boots I’d magicked for myself. I was wearing a tight black turtleneck underneath the black leather jacket. My outfit was utilitarian—meant to protect from road rash, should I take a fall off the bike. Granted my pants were snug but Bram’s reaction was a bit much.
“Keep your distance, Bram,” I muttered and seated myself in one of his chairs. My hair had caught in the neck of my jacket so I pulled it free and allowed it to cascade around me in a flow of gold. Hmm, I was having a good hair night—maybe that was why Bram’s panties were all in a bunch.
Bram leaned over me, resting his hands on either chair arm, still staring at me as if I were a walking, talking vat of blood.
“The beauty of you, Dulcie Sweet, is that you have no notion, no knowledge of what you do to me. If you were any other woman, I would have had you by now…repeatedly.”
“Humble much?” I asked with a frown. I wanted to take my jacket off because it was hot in Bram’s club, but after that little display, I doubted if it would be a wise decision.
He laughed and as if to continue his completely bizarre actions, dropped to one knee before me, wedging himself between my legs. I immediately sat up straight, on complete alert, and reached into my waistband, fingering the Op 6…just in case. I watched Bram grasp my wrist and I was suddenly aware of how much larger he was than I was. My small wrist was nearly swallowed by his hand. He pushed the leather sleeve up, bringing my wrist to his face.
“If you bite me, I’ll kill you,” I whispered and I meant it. I’d never been bitten by a vampire and I’d sworn I never would be. Playing dinner entree was not my idea of a good time.
“I want to bite you, Sweet.” His voice was low and his fangs tickled the sensitive skin of my wrist as he ran them back and forth.
As if death was of no consequence to him, he closed his eyes and inhaled just above the