“And you’re sure of this, how?” He leans over me, looking into my eyes, obviously trying to intimidate me.
I look right back and frown at him. “Besides getting a degree in herbology and horticulture? An entire lifetime spent in this shop, learning the properties of every known herb at my mother and aunt’s knee. Believe me Mr…”
“James,” he says, drawing back marginally. “Aiden James.”
“Believe me, Mr. James,” I said, ignoring his offered hand. “If a witch of my lineage tells you not to put rue in your love potion, you’d better pay attention.”
“It’s not a love potion,” he says, frowning at me. “None of this is about love. I just need to find the right one.”
“The right one for what?” I demand.
“None of your business, nosey little witch.” He glares at me frostily. “You don’t need to know.”
That’s technically true but I don’t like being insulted in my own store. Well, my family’s store but it feels like mine since I run it. “That’s it.” I point to the door. “You can leave now if you want to be rude.”
“Is that so?” He leans forward again and bares white, even teeth. To my surprise, I see two long, curving fangs where a normal male’s canine teeth would be. Holy crap—he’s a vampire! I’m stunned and more than a little afraid—I’ve never seen one who could hide it so well. He’s scary as shit but still, I endeavor to hold my ground.
“Yes,” I say, hoping my voice isn’t shaking too much. “That’s so.”
“Are you threatening to kick me out of your store?” he demands.
“If I have to.” I may not be a powerful vampire or even a practicing witch but we do have some pretty effective 'leave me alone' type spells already made up in aerosol cans like magical mace. They come in handy for a lot of witches who, as I said before, like to sleep around. Sometimes a guy gets clingy and you need an out. Of course, I have no idea if they would work on a vamp but it looks like I’m about to find out. Slowly, surreptitiously, I reach under the counter for an aerosol can full of the distilled warding spell.
Aiden James still looks furious. “You should learn to treat your customers with more respect,” he growls in a soft, menacing voice. “Were you mine, you’d be severely punished for such a display.”
“Well I’m not yours,” I point out, my hand tightening on the smooth cylinder of magical mace.
“A great pity,” he snaps. “There’s nothing I’d enjoy more than teaching you a lesson, little witch. You’re badly in need of some discipline.”
I can’t believe him. What kind of caveman is he, anyway?
“Right,” I say. “Well, I’m afraid you’ll just have to forgo that particular pleasure. And I’ll treat you with more respect when you start treating me with more respect. This is my place of business—don’t come in here and insult my intelligence.” I may not like running this stupid shop but I know my stuff cold and I’ll be damned if I let him say otherwise.
To my surprise, Aiden James suddenly stops looking scary and vampiric and nods a little stiffly. He takes a deep breath and his next words genuinely surprise me. “Very well, I will admit that it was rude of me to disparage your knowledge.”
“Thank you,” I say, nodding.
“I can see you know what you’re talking about. You’ve saved me from a very costly error, Ms…”
“Emma,” I say grudgingly. “Emma Krist.” I wonder how he can be out in the daylight. The gold and onyx ring on his right hand catches my eye again, must be magic—heavy duty magic too, to pull off something like this. A vampire with access to high-level sorcery—great. My little bottle of magical mace would probably bother him as much as a gnat bothers an elephant. Slowly I release my grip on it and place both hands on the counter.
“Very well, Ms. Krist, you’ve earned my respect.” He looks at me speculatively. “And my interest. Forgive me for being rude, I’m very preoccupied just now.” He puts out his hand in a conciliatory gesture. “We are well met on this Sacrifice Eve.”
I don’t really want to shake his hand but I don’t see that I have much choice. Reluctantly, I hold out my own hand. “Well met, indeed,” I say, giving the ritual response. Or that’s what I start to say as his hand closes over mine.
But as the vampire's much larger hand engulfs my own, I feel a strange tingle that runs down my arm and gives me a most uncomfortable jolt. My heart starts to hammer and I jerk my hand away from him. What the hell…?
Aiden James must have felt it as well because he looks from his hand to my face and back again, as if trying to figure out what just happened. Well if he finds out, I wish he’d let me know. I’ve never felt such power from anyone before, not even my Aunt Cassandra and she’s a senior witch and the mistress of our coven.
The vampire studies me, his gray eyes narrowed. “You know,” he says at last. “I think I’ve changed my mind.”
“About…about what?” I ask, wishing my voice didn’t sound quite so breathless.
“About this…all this.” He waves one hand negligently at the packets of dried herbs strewn over the countertop. “I don’t think I need to make this potion after all.”
“You don’t?” I look at him uncertainly. He was so intent on his list, so insistent about the ingredients. What changed his mind?
“No.” He shakes his head, then cocks an eyebrow at me. “I assume I’ll see you at the Sacrifice Ceremony tonight?”
“Of…of course,” I stutter, feeling stupid. My hand is still tingling from his touch—along with other parts of my body. What happened? Who is he really? Then I realize what he’s asking. “Not that…I mean, I won’t probably be around afterward,” I say quickly, feeling my cheeks heat up. “For the uh, celebration. The after party, whatever you want to call it.”
“The orgy,” he says, and there is a spark of heat far back in his gray eyes that makes me tingle all over again. “You don’t intend to participate?”
“Uh, no. Not at all.” I shake my head firmly. “I don’t…I’m not…not like most witches. Besides, I have to be back here early tomorrow.” I pat the counter, indicating my place behind it.
James looks at me speculatively. “I see.”
“So I might see you there but I won’t…I can’t…”
“I understand.” He nods, cutting me off.
Suddenly I feel stupid. It’s not like he was propositioning me. Someone who looks like him? Please—he can have anyone he wants and I’m sure once he catches sight of my lovely cousins I’ll be the last witch on his mind.
I clear my throat and try to get back to business. “Uh, so anyway. Are you sure you don’t need the herbs?”
“Quite sure.” He gives me one last long look from those cool gray eyes and nods. “Good day, Emma. I’ll see you soon.”
I seriously doubt it, I think as he heads out the door, empty-handed. As I put back the herbs, I wonder again who he really is and what happened when we touched. But it seems my questions are destined to go unanswered. I’m sure if I see him at all after the Sacrifice celebration, he’ll be partying with some slender fairy chick or chatting up some other pretty witch or were. As for the girl he was searching for, he won’t have to look hard to find one to suit him.
I sigh softly and look at my watch. Almost time to close up anyway. I put the shop in order and try to get him out of my mind. But somehow he lingers there, Mr. Aiden James with his sharp teeth and even sharper eyes. Why can’t I stop thinking of him?
Chapter Two
“Stop fussing with your outfit—you look gorgeous.” Lexy looks at me approvingly.
“I do not.” In fact, I have never felt more exposed in my life. As it turns out, I had been right to be suspicious of her offer to 'hang out and have some cousin time.' In fact, what she wanted was to see what I was wearing to the Sacrifice Ceremony. When I finally, reluctantly showed her the long skirt and blouse combo, she whipped out a pair of scissors and cut huge holes in both articles of clothing before I could stop her. Talk about pushy!
Of course I had nothing else to wear but Lexy had that covered. She'd brought along an outfit that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a strip club. Okay, maybe it isn’t that extreme but it certainly feels like that to me.
I have on a deep blue halter top made of some soft, silky material that twists around my neck in a loop and barely covers my breasts. It leaves my back bare so there’s no way I could wear a bra—which makes me feel incredibly naked.
Down below I’m wearing a peacock-dyed skirt made of the same material. It falls in long, soft folds from my hips to my ankles, with a slit right up the middle. It also leaves my midriff exposed. I keep having the urge to cover my stomach—exposing my navel feels almost as obscene as hiking up my skirt and giving everyone a good view of my pussy.
To this lovely but revealing outfit, Lexy has added some peacock feather earrings but no necklace—tradition dictates that no female eligible to be chosen as the Sacrifice should wear any jewelry around her throat. Because if the Sovereign picks you, he has to have unobstructed access to your neck. This is the same reason everyone is wearing their hair up, as well. Lexy has pulled mine into a modified bun at the nape of my neck with little curling tendrils coming out to frame my face. It’s almost pretty but no matter what ‘do I’m wearing, my hair color is still mousy brown.
Lexy has pronounced my outfit 'gorgeous' and 'perfect' at least two dozen times since we left my apartment and arrived at the Glen—the large, clearing on the outskirts of Tampa where all major interspecies supernatural business is conducted. And indeed, as I look around, I can see that what I’m wearing isn’t nearly the most revealing outfit on display.
The fairies, keeping to themselves as always, have on shimmery, diaphanous gowns that are practically see-through and most of the female weres have apparently decided to treat the Glen as a topless beach. Dryads and nyads drift around clothed in only leaves and water vapor and the majority of my sister witches have on lingerie that could charitably be called 'revealing'. (If you’re not feeling too charitable, however, you could just say slutty—it amounts to the same thing.)
In fact, what I have on is pretty modest, all things considered. But I still can’t help feeling like my nipples are too visible through the thin fabric and wishing I could cover my bellybutton. It’s not like I have six pack abs. I wrap my arms around my bare waist self-consciously.
“Will you stop fussing?” Lexy says again, pulling my arms away from my midriff. “You have a nice curvy waist, you ought to show it off more often. Just look around at all the hot guys—you don’t see any of them complaining about the view.”
She’s right about one thing, at least—the Glen isn’t exclusively filled with females. Hard-bodied males of every supernatural persuasion are out in force, no doubt anticipating the sexual free-for-all that will follow the selection of this year’s Sacrifice. I see muscular weres clad in only tight, faded jeans, mysterious vamps, mostly sporting black leather that contrasts nicely with their pale skin, and shimmering, disdainful fairy men, so beautiful they’d put any human male model to shame. There are satyrs and fauns too, their bottom halves already transformed to animal form with hairy goat legs and thick male equipment hard and prepared for action.
One, in particular, catches my attention—Emil Sanchez, leader of the Curved Horn clan. I don’t know why, but my eyes are drawn to him, his knotted muscles covered in thick curly black hair that almost looks like a pelt. He has a swarthy face with two, stubby horns growing from his forehead. When I look at him, I smell smoke in the air and hear screaming…begging…
Sanchez must feel my eyes on him because he turns toward me and runs his long, red tongue over his thick lips. Down below, he cups his heavy cock and thrusts his hips crudely.
I look away quickly, feeling my cheeks heat. The smell of smoke and the phantom screams fade away as my stomach rolls in disgust. Ugh—what is it about him? I’ve hated him for as long as I can remember and it’s not just because of his lewd gestures, though I can’t quite put my finger on any other reason. I just know that I loathe the slimy satyr with my entire being.
“Oh, this is so exciting!” Lexy bubbles, breaking my train of thought. “I wonder what the new Sovereign will look like. I hope he’s not old and ugly.”
“All Sovereigns are old because they’re vamps,” I point out. “How they look just depends on what age they were when they were turned.”
“Well, somebody ought to make it against the law for them to turn any males after age forty,” Lexy grouses. “That way there would be less chance of having to be a sacrifice to an ugly old vamp.”
My thoughts return briefly to the vampire I had in my store earlier that day. Aiden James looked to be somewhere around thirty when he was turned—although ages can be difficult to judge with vamps. I wonder if he’s here tonight, like he said he would be. I’ve been surreptitiously searching the crowded Glen for him since we got here. But so far, no luck. Probably already sexing up one of the fairy girls, I tell myself sternly. Stop thinking about him. But I can’t—I keep wondering how I’d feel if he saw me in this outrageous outfit Lexy has all but forced me into. What would he say? Hopefully, I won’t have to find out.
Suddenly, a trumpet sounds, calling the rowdy crowd of supes to order. Having all these species in such a small area with no bloodshed really is a remarkable achievement and it’s all thanks to the vamps.
Over a hundred years ago, all the supernatural creatures kept to themselves—a kind of self-imposed segregation. It was considered unthinkable for them to be friends, let alone lovers. Violent feuds and bloodshed over territorial rights were common and beginning to draw unwanted attention from the human community. That was when the vamps stepped in and declared martial law.
Figuring rightly that the violence between species could be replaced with sex, they instituted a vamp overlord or Sovereign, and instituted the first Sacrifice Ceremony. Eligible females of every supe species were ordered to appear in the Glen for one night of each year, on midsummer’s eve, and offer themselves to their Sovereign. The reigning vamp would pick one female to act as his source of power, blood, and sex for the next full year—the Sacrifice—and then declare the rest of the night a sexual free-for-all.
The females left behind felt free to copulate with whatever males were on hand—no matter what their species. This 'festival of fucking', as my Aunt Cassandra called it, has led to a dramatic decrease in interspecies fighting. There’s a lot of crossbreeding too, though people still mostly tend to settle down with someone of their own species.
Of course, there were those who hated the new order, but more than any other supe, vampires can be ruthless. They crushed anyone who opposed them in the most bloody and public way possible. Other than that though, they seem to have a laissez-faire attitude toward ruling their fellow supes—they pretty much let everyone do what they want as long as there isn't any killing to get the humans upset.
It didn’t take long for the rest of the supernatural community to take note of this and, aside from a few disaffected minorities, most people settled down and fell in line. Peace reigned and everyone was happy, especially the vamps. They’re willing to mostly mind their own business and make very few demands. In fact, it’s only once a year at the Sacrifice Ceremony that we’re even reminded we have a vampire overlord. So it works out nicely for everyone.
Well, except the Sacrifice. But I don't want to think about that.
“So who do you think it’s gonna be? Who is he going to pick?” Lexy whispers to me as we all come to attention following another trumpet blast. She’s eyeing the crowd speculatively, taking note of the females straining eagerly forward, all filled with a strange mixture of dread and anticipation.
I wonder if Lexy’s information about the new Sovereign is common knowledge. I don’t remember feeling this much tension in the air at the other Sacrifice Ceremonies I’ve attended. But of course, the old Sovereign was just that—old. As in, well over sixty when he was turned. Females who served him
said he only wanted a sip of blood from their wrist once or twice a day and never made any other demands on them. It was considered kind of disappointing—at least from a gossip point of view. After all, the Sovereign is Lord and Master of his Sacrifice—he actually legally owns her for the entire year of her term. He can do anything he wants to her and she can’t do a thing about it.
Just thinking about it makes me shiver.
Not like I have anything to worry about, I tell myself consolingly. After all the new Sovereign is…is… My thoughts stutter to a stop as I see a familiar form striding out onto the raised stage that has been erected in the middle of the Glen for this night. He’s wearing tight black leather pants that cling lovingly to his long, muscular legs and a black leather jacket to match with no shirt on underneath, but there is no mistaking that dark hair or those cold gray eyes.
“Is that him?” Lexy squeals. “Oh my Goddess, it is him!” She turns to me. “Emma, isn’t that the guy who was in the store earlier today?”
Numbly, I nod. The new vampire Sovereign is none other than Aiden James.
And for some reason, he’s staring right at me.
Chapter Three
It’s just your imagination, I tell myself uneasily. He’s not really looking at you. He’s searching the crowd for a hot sexy supernatural vixen, trying to find the next Sacrifice. There’s no way he’ll pick you.
“Supernaturals of the Tampa Bay Area,” Aiden James begins in a deep, powerful voice that carries without the aid of a microphone. “We are gathered today to pay homage to an ancient ritual—one which has brought us peace and prosperity in troubled times.”
“Oh my Goddess, that voice,” Lexy moans. “I think I just creamed my panties.”
“Hush.” I plant my elbow in her skinny ribs. “I want to hear what he’s saying.”
“The Sacrifice Ceremony is as important as it is ancient—it binds us together as a community. I and some of the other vampires here tonight well remember the strife and dissention between our peoples before it was enacted. Now, we all live in harmony. Long may the Sacrifice continue!”