Fallen: A BBW Vampire Blood Courtesans Romance Read online

  “So you want me to stick my arm through a hole in a wall?”

  “You? No.” His hand came up and caressed my cheek. “But in the past, I have had the courtesans wear sleeping masks. Partly so they couldn’t see me, but mostly so I couldn’t really see them.”

  “Why is that?” It sounded plain awful. To be so close to someone yet not within a mile of them. I would know, it was how I’d been living my life for the past nearly three and a half years.

  “I just wanted to keep food and relationships, be it friend or otherwise, separate.”

  “Then why the dinner and date-like atmosphere tonight?”

  His hand came up and cupped my cheek, and I found myself leaning into it. Here we were, standing on sidewalk in the middle of not the best part of town and all I could think about was what his lips might feel like pressed against mine.

  “Because, I trust Arabella.”

  “You talk in riddles. All of you—” I didn’t get to finish my thought. Finn leaned in, his lips brushing mine and all thoughts ran for the hills. The kiss was over before it had a chance to truly begin, yet it still curled my toes in a way no kiss ever had. My heart was pounding in my chest, something he had to be aware of.

  “What time do you need to be home?” he whispered in my ear, sending chills down my spine.

  “The rule is if I’m not home by eight I call so she doesn’t worry. That way I don’t wake up my daughter.” Again with the babbling.

  He stepped back, meeting my eyes. “Do you trust me enough to come with me to my home?”

  “You won’t hurt me.” Even if he had never promised me, I would be safe with him; I felt it in my bones to be true. He wouldn’t hurt me. Not physically anyway. I had a feeling he could do a real number on my heart if I opened it to him completely. Something I would never do. Probably not. Maybe not? Who was I fooling, he already had the ability to squish me like a bug, and all we had shared was a burger, a brief conversation, and an even briefer kiss. I was a goner.

  “No, butterfly, I won’t hurt you.”

  “Then I trust you.”

  His lips came back to mine and I wrapped my arms around him, as he did the same to me. Once again, the kiss was chaste and far too brief, but this time the proof that I wasn’t the only one affected was pressed against my middle.

  6

  The ride to his place was surprisingly brief. I assumed he lived on the ritzy side of town with a car like his, but he lived in the artsy section, a part of town I absolutely loved to explore. Little galleries of local artists lined the streets, street performers entertained all day, and the feeling of community was stronger than any other part of the city I had ventured to.

  He pulled up to a brownstone and parked the car. On the road.

  “Don’t you have a garage?”

  “Of course I do, but you don’t like them.”

  Crap on a cracker, this guy was going to have me swooning over a parking spot. He was out of the car before I could make a fuss and at my door, holding it open for me, hand extended to mine.

  “No, I don’t like them—” I continued where we left off, not wanting the guilt of his car being nicked by another or his hubcaps being stolen. His hand didn’t move. “—but that hardly means you should have to come out and move your car just to put me at ease.”

  Finn shook his head, amusement showing in his smirk. I didn’t find any of the conversation particularly amusing, but making him smile warmed me, so I simply took his hand.

  “Of course it does. Besides, you will need a ride home at some point.” Ever the gentleman.

  “I can take a cab, you know. This isn’t a date.”

  Before the last syllable stopped vibrating from my lips, he enveloped me in a hug as if to call my bluff. It wasn’t a date, though. I was getting paid … a lot.

  “Isn’t it?” he mumbled into my hair, sending a shiver running down my spine.

  “Is it?” I turned my head into his chest embarrassed by my own words. I was far too inexperienced for this job. Heck, for this conversation.

  “I was feeling like it was.”

  I couldn’t tell if he was talking more to me or himself at that moment and let silence fill the space. We began to move in the direction of the front doorway, his arm still wrapped tightly around my waist, my head not moving from his chest. He had to know by the rapid staccato of my heartbeat that I was far from at ease with the entire conversation. I was a cross between flustered, nervous, and aroused, and had no idea what to do with all of that.

  “I was too,” I finally admitted as we crossed the threshold. “But money is exchanging hands.” And that was the crux of all my concerns. Not that he was a vampire. Not that we barely knew each other. If I weren’t an otherwise unemployed single mom, I would have called and quit that moment, taking it out of the equation completely, but I was, and Daisy was my top priority. Always.

  He broke away from me before shutting the door. His hand tipped my chin up until I was looking him directly in the eyes, those glorious orbs I wanted to get lost in. Ugghh, it was so hard to stay focused around this man. “For a meal, not a date. Can’t we keep the two separate?”

  I knew he was referring to the meal I would be providing him and not the burger I enjoyed only an hour earlier. He did have a point. We could keep them separate. Maybe even on different days? But then what? He would be all business when he needed food and all wooing on the other days? What was I even thinking? This entire situation was a crazy hot mess.

  “Will I have to wear a mask?” Of all the things, that was what I spit out. The stupid mask. At least I had the wherewithal to not ask him if he was building a glory hole.

  “I think we’re past that.” Finn ignored my burning blush, there was no way he hadn’t noticed it, and answered matter-of-factly, as if we had been discussing the weather.

  “I think so too, but I don’t want to feel cheap.” That was the truth of it. As exciting and romantic as I felt in the moments I was with him, the reality would hit me hard, especially knowing I was a role model for someone as precious as my little girl.

  “Do I make you feel that way?” His thumb caressed my cheekbone reverently.

  “No.”

  “Who does?” Concern laced his voice. I hadn’t been talking about how people made me feel about this job, just my own fears. My insecurities from my past had a nasty way of infusing themselves into every nook and cranny of my life.

  “No one, not anymore.” I crossed my fingers that he missed the edge of hurt that touched my words. Would I have even thought twice dating a man I also technically worked for had I been raised in any other household? I would never know, not that it made the ingrained hurt any easier to ignore.

  “That’s my little butterfly. No one can make you feel less than without your permission.”

  Finn was right. I knew it, he knew it, goodness it was probably on some inspirational poster somewhere. That didn’t make it any easier. I pushed it all down. Either I was working or I was on a date, and in some twisted way, I was most likely doing both. In any case, I could process it all later. Much later. Finn was standing a step away from me with his hand out, an unspoken question in the air. I took his hand in reply.

  “Now, let’s go upstairs.”

  “Wow, your place is stunning.” Understatement of the year. Who knew such a gem could be hidden in a part of town finally on an upswing after years of decay.

  Finn’s house was so unbachelor-like. I guess I had been expecting a man cave and televisions the width of his walls. Instead I found his home, beautifully restored to what I imagined was its original splendor. From intricate trim work to inlaid flooring, it was something out of a magazine more than someplace to live, but it felt like a home and not just a place to sleep. It welcomed you with a warmth a showpiece would not.

  “Thanks, I love it.” This place was more to him than a home. It was special. “I bought it when it was on the block for demolition. It took many years, but I have restored it pretty much completely. T
he attic could still use a bit of work, but for the most part it is done.”

  Floored. I was floored. He did this. He infused this place with the warmth and beauty it now contained.

  “You restored it. As in with your own two hands.” I wasn’t asking; I knew it to be true and it awed me. My father had the very best money could buy in his house, but that building, those things, never made it a home.

  We finally had arrived in the front room again after having completed the tour. His hand held mine gently the entire time.

  “I was a cabinet maker by trade before turning and I still love to use my hands to create. I work for my maker now doing financial auditing for his companies, but I missed the feel of wood in my hands.”

  He led me to a sitting area and dropped my hand, the very last thing I wanted him to do, and the glint in his eyes told me he knew what his touch did to me. He gestured to the loveseat and I sat, careful to leave him room beside me.

  “Wine?”

  “Sure. Thanks.” I watched as he walked away. I no longer had any self-control when it came to this man, and I was staring at his rear. This was not good. I would be feeding him shortly. I had learned the night before that wine helps make the feeding a better experience. I barely paid attention to that part since it was shortly after I myself had been fed from, but somehow it makes it better. Whatever. It just meant that I was about to be bitten, and between the emotional aspects of this evening and being my first time delivering a complete meal, I was terrified.

  “What’s troubling you, butterfly?”

  He snapped me from my spiral into panic. Not that the nerves weren’t still ramped up high.

  “When do you want to … you know … eat?”

  “I honestly was still trying to figure out if I was going to.” He handed me a glass of wine before he unceremoniously plopped down next to me in a very un-Finn like manner, all grace gone, the wine barely contained in the glasses during the abrupt movement. “I like you, Paige.”

  I just stared at him, most likely with my eyes popping out of my head. I was worse than a teenage girl being asked to tick a box, yes or no. Had he really just said he liked me, or was it an I like you but …? It didn’t feel like a but was coming. I took too large of a sip of wine and nearly choked on it. Brilliant.

  “And Arabella sent you my way, so I have a feeling that this could be more than just a courtesan relationship, but I don’t want to rush it by feeding.” His body had rotated in my direction and his eyes were glued to me. His words made so very little sense, but they felt honest and kind with something heady filling in behind them.

  “So no feeding? Okay.” Honestly? Him not wanting the one thing I had to offer felt like a sock in the gut. I sat up straight as I spoke.

  “You try to mask your hurt from me.”

  How did he see through me like that? I placed my wine on the coffee table to keep him from seeing the wine shivering in the glass, thanks to my quivering hands. He followed suit and placed his hand on mine, which were currently residing on my lap.

  “Please don’t do that. I’m not rejecting you. Far from it. I just know that if Arabella sent you to me then you are important, and I don’t want to ruin it.”

  “Why do you say that? About Arabella, I mean.”

  “Because she only ever sent one other vampire a courtesan—my maker, Jameson, and she is his world.”

  All the hurt fell away and in its place burned a kindle of something new. Something I hadn’t felt in a long time. Dare I say, hope? The way he called her Jameson’s world with such longing, as if he wanted it for himself, but with me. I knew I was reading all kinds of things into his words that probably weren’t even there, but I couldn’t help myself. There was something about Finn that had drawn me to him in a way I had never been drawn to anyone before.

  “So what do you want to do now?”

  “What do I want to do? I want to strip you out of your clothes and make you scream my name all night long.”

  Oh. My. God.

  “Yes.” It flew out of my mouth before I slapped my hand over it and ducked my head in embarrassment. Had he actually said those words to me? And if so, why wasn’t I slapping him? Men don’t talk to women they respect that way. Except no part of his words hinted at disrespect.

  “No, butterfly.” He chuckled as he removed my hands from my face, forcing me to meet his eyes. “What we are going to do is talk about life and death and movies and the kitten that likes to sit on my windowsill. Later, possibly, much later, we will make-out like teenagers, and then, I will drop you off just before eight with the promise of seeing you again tomorrow.” How he managed to reject me in such a way that I felt like I had hit the jackpot was beyond me, but my embarrassment was erased instantly.

  “Won’t that be too late for you?” Sunrise was later this time of year, but still well before eight.

  “No, I’m like my maker that way. Why?”

  I shrugged my shoulders in response wanting him to know the truth that I was and always would be a worrywart.

  “Worried about me?”

  “Is it weird that I am?” Heck, I was in for a penny, might as well be in for a pound. There was no telling how long I would still be in town. Might as well make the most of the time I had.

  “Not weird.” He leaned in, his lips brushing mine. “Not weird at all.” Before I could even think of a response, his lips found mine once more and they began a slow sensual dance that had me forgetting all of my worries.

  7

  I was walking on cloud nine as I made my way back up the stairs shortly after six in the morning. After a few too many yawns, Finn insisted I go back home and get some rest. No part of me wanted to leave a moment early, but I was beat and of use to pretty much no one once I crossed the line into complete exhaustion.

  Finn wanted to walk me up, but I had to put my foot down. It was one thing for me to be doing whatever it was we were doing, but it was a far different thing all together for him to meet my daughter before we figured it out. A brief kiss good bye and I was practically skipping up the stairs.

  Our night had been perfect. Once dining and sex were off the table, I was able to relax and just enjoy my time with him. We talked about a lot, but the awkwardness of not sharing things about my past hurt. I told him that Daisy’s father didn’t want her, which was true. He just didn’t know he didn’t want her to the point of trying to kill us both. I told him my dad was a pastor and blamed me for getting pregnant, which was true. He just didn’t know that I was blamed for being drugged and raped. Mostly, however, we talked about music and books and movies and all the silly things that encompassed first dates.

  And then there was the kissing. He had not been teasing when he said we would make out like teenagers. Never once did he cross his imaginary line, no matter how much my body seemed to beg him to. I probably would’ve still been on that loveseat, soaking through my panties and wondering how to convince him to move to just one more base without saying the words if it hadn’t been bearing time for Daisy to wake up. He turned me into a horny little mess and I loved it.

  “Sooo, how was work?” Martha greeted me at her front door. She looked me up and down. Twice. She totally knew what I had been up to.

  “I’m not sure.” I walked in and poured myself a cup of coffee.

  “Did you get fired?”

  I shook my head in response as I poured my milk.

  “Hurt? Treated like cattle?”

  Now I was giggling like a school girl. If she only knew. I mean if she did know, I would die.

  “Sounds to me like it went fairly well.”

  “Except I didn’t do my job.” I sat at her café sized kitchen table, exhaustion finally starting to hit. It had been a long time since I was out all night and never with a man. Or was it boss? The entire thing was still far too complicated for me.

  “What do you mean? You had more training?” Martha sat at the adjacent chair, her cup of coffee mostly depleted.

  “Not exactly. More like I
went on a date?” I took a long sip of my coffee. Martha had many skills, but one of her best was the ability to make crappy canned coffee taste amazing. Something about cinnamon, she claimed, but I was still inclined to think there was a bit of magic involved.

  “A date, like a dinner date where you were the dinner? Wasn’t that the idea?” Martha pushed a small muffin in front of me. She was always trying to get me to eat more, but she knew as well as I did that until Daisy had her breakfast, I wasn’t going to eat. Even if it was Martha tempting me with her world famous cereal muffins. Only Martha could turn breakfast cereal into a delicious baked good.

  “More like a dinner date where I ate dinner and then we went back to his place and drank wine, snuggled on the couch talking about first date kind of stuff.” I finished my coffee and went back to the counter to get a refill. When I got my first real paycheck, I was going to the thrift store and getting Martha some decent sized coffee mugs.

  “First dates end in a kiss.” Her taunt ended with a wink. Martha never ceased to surprise me.

  “That they do.” I turned to the coffee pot, hoping she would miss the blush burning up my cheeks.

  “Go you.” Her voice sounded almost jolly. She was happy for me, not that it made the entire situation less complicated. “But if you went on a date instead of working, what does that even mean?”

  I finished stirring my coffee, trying to figure out how to word things before rejoining her at the table.

  “It means I worked without working, Finn didn’t get fed, and somehow I am still supposed to go back in tomorrow, or more accurately tonight.” I played with the napkin at my seat, curling the corners and then flattening them back down again.

  “So you are getting paid to date a vampire?” There was no judgment in her voice. She was legitimately curious.