Fireworks for July: A Holiday Bites Vampire Paranormal Holiday Romances, page 1
Fireworks for July
A Holiday Bites Vampire Paranormal Holiday Romances
Michele Bardsley
Copyright 2015 by Michele Bardsley.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the copyright holder.
Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement from the author of this work.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatever to anyone bearing the same name or names. Characters are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
Please note: This story is super hot and contains a sexy vampire looking for forever love. Recommended for readers 18+.
Created with Vellum
Chapter One
“Miss Ellsworth?”
“Yes?”
“It’s Daria with the Dark Treasure publicity department. I’m calling you with the final details of your prize-winning trip to Las Vegas.”
July Ellsworth grinned. Winning the contest had been a great surprise. It had been a whim, throwing her card into a fish bowl with a thousand other cards. The hostess at the restaurant had encouraged her, her smile bright as she said, “It’s the trip of a lifetime.” Funny. That was the first time she’d ever gone into that restaurant, and the impulse had paid off big-time.
She was going to Las Vegas!
“Your flight leaves on Friday afternoon. You’ll arrive in the city at seven-oh-three. Your return flight is Monday evening at five-fifty-four. Your hotel is Dark Treasure.”
Daria had called a week ago to inform July that she’d won the contest. She explained that Dark Treasure was a unique experience in Las Vegas—and was extremely difficult to book. In fact, if they hadn’t sponsored the contest she’d won, there’d be no chance at all she’d be staying there. Not only was it exclusive, it was expensive. Far outside the range of a lowly librarian’s salary.
Squee! She couldn’t wait to drench herself in the Vegas experience—she was going to the spa, to the tables, and to Fremont Street. From its photos and descriptions, Dark Treasure had a sparkling ambience that bespoke of indulgence and luxury. For once in her life, she was going to be naughty. She was going to take risks. She was going to indulge every whim.
“Remember, all your expenses, including meals, are part of your package. Everything you need is in the welcome packet you’ve already received. Do you have any questions?”
“No,” said July. “I’ve read it all. The instructions are very clear.”
“Excellent. If you need anything, anything at all, you have my direct number.”
“Thank you.” She hung up the phone and did a little jig. “Woo-hoo!”
Wouldn’t Aunt Grace freak out if she saw me acting like this? July danced through the living room and flung herself on the couch. Last week, when Daria from Dark Treasure called the first time, she hadn’t recognized the tinny sound of a ringing phone. No one had called her great aunt’s landline phone since … well, ever. She sat in the sparsely decorated room and stared at the stately bookshelves that lined every wall. Aunt Grace had never owned a television or a game system. She believed that TVs and anything related to them were useless. Never waste time on frivolity, July. Your mind is an elegant, precise machine that you must keep tuned and well oiled.
Her parents passed away when she was ten years old. They had been free spirits—especially her mother, who had, after all, named her July. The only family July had was her deceased grandmother’s younger sister Grace. Aunt Grace, a staid, proper, and strait-laced spinster, had unexpectedly inherited pre-teen July. While the older woman had taken care of July’s basic needs and ensured she received the best education, she was never July’s mother. She encouraged July to excel academically, but she didn’t have the emotional wherewithal to offer comfort, love, or affection.
Her aunt reserved the bulk of her love for historical medieval research. She worshipped at its altar every hour of every day. And because she’d given her life to the perfection of her books and papers and lectures… she had nothing else in her life.
Nothing but her work.
Well, I’m not her.
July was a geek. But because of Great Aunt Grace, she was a rich geek.
“Isn’t that Dark Treasure?” July asked the cab driver as they shot down the Strip, past the luxury casino-hotel. She looked out the back window and watched its bright, welcoming sign fade in the distance.
“Oh, you was going to Dark Treasure?” The cabbie looked in his rearview mirror and caught her gaze. He had dirty blonde hair tucked up into a baseball cap, which was pulled low over his brow. The look in his mud-brown eyes did not reassure her. His greasy skin was a shade too yellow, and he was the kind of thin that suggested starvation or drug use. July pressed a hand to her roiling belly. He smelled like burnt onions.
The vibes she was getting off this guy were all bad. “Turn around, please.”
“Sure, sure.” He made a left turn into an alley and stopped. “Just gotta back up.”
He made no effort to put the car into reverse. The engine idled, the headlights casting yellows spots on graffitied walls and overstuffed Dumpsters.
“What are you waiting for?” she asked, her voice quivering. “Turn around now!”
He laughed.
Heart pounding, she grabbed the handle to the door and yanked, but it wouldn’t budge.
“You’re a sweet morsel,” he said. His smile revealed gaps in his stained teeth. Something animalistic flashed in his eyes. “He’s gonna like you.”
“H-he?”
Movement on the left side of the alley caught her eye. A shadowy figure drifted toward the car. July yanked on the handle again and pounded on the window. “Help! Someone help me!”
To her shock, the shadow dissolved into black mist that hissed through the cracked window and into the back seat. Within seconds a man sat beside her. He was dressed in a business suit, though that was the only normal thing about him. His shaggy hair was black, a bleak contrast to his ghostly paleness. His eyes were red. He opened his mouth and revealed a set of nasty, sharp fangs.
July screamed.
* * *
Carter Mattison rounded the corner into the alleyway and stopped. He stared at the parked cab. He heard a scream, confirming the two passengers were not playing backseat bingo. This was Vegas, a nice, fat feeding ground for paranormals—especially vampires. Scooter. The conscienceless prick always pulled this crap. The woman screamed again, and Carter flinched. The dolly had a nice set of lungs on her.
Being a vampire had its advantages. Carter jumped into the air, arced over the cab and landed on the hood. The metal caved in with a thump-crunch. He heard Scooter swear as he flung open the door. The cabbie got one foot out. Carter punched through the glass and grabbed his T-shirt, yanking him through the shattered windshield.
The rogue vampire in the backseat turned into mist and streamed away. Didn’t matter. He would be found and dealt with. The woman was slumped over. He smelled the sharp tang of her blood, but her heartbeat was strong. She’d only fainted.
“Scooter,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m disappointed.”
“I didn’t do nothing!” The whites of his eyes showed, and from the smell, he’d pissed himself, too. Carter sighed. That happened a lot. Man or beast, fear often made their bladders go.
“We had a conversation about your aberrant behavior. You made a promise. If any vampires paid you to bring them dinner, you were supposed to tell me.”
“I was gonna call you,” whined Scooter.
Probably after the little jerk-off had relieved the witless victim of all her credits and anything of value he could pawn. She wouldn’t have been killed. The local vampires reacted swiftly and decisively against paranormal murderers of tourists. Robbing them of possessions could be forgiven; robbing them of life was an unpardonable offense.
The unofficial rule was not to prey on tourists, after all the humans were the bread-and-butter of this city. But vampires weren’t Boy Scouts and neither was he.
“I was gonna tell you, Carter!” Scooter went limp in the vampire’s grasp. “I swear!”
“You’re a liar. And you can’t be trusted.” Carter grabbed Scooter by the chin and dug his nails into the man’s cheeks. Blood dripped from the tiny wounds.
“C’mon, man. Gimme another chance.”
“I’m sorry, Scooter,” said Carter. “I’m turning you over to Chance.”
The horror on Scooter’s face was warranted. Carter had learned many excruciating, not to mention slow, ways to take lives. He rarely employed any of those techniques. Chance on the other hand was well known for his brutal creativity.
Carter knew too well Chance’s proclivities. After all, the bastard had made him into a vampire. It took Carter ten minutes to get Scooter into the boss’s hands and back to the cab. He didn’t feel too sorry for the cabbie since the man was willing to sell an innocent woman to a rogue vamp.
Carter opened the back door.
The girl lay on her side, silky brown curls tumbling over alabaster cheeks. She wore a black pantsuit that clung to her ample curves. She was pretty. And her scent was intoxicating. Innocent. He nearly swallowed his tongue. Innocents were few and far between in Las Vegas. He hadn’t had the pleasure of a virgin’s blood in a couple decades.
He vamped out, and it took him a minute to get his fangs and cravings under control. If the human woke up and saw him, she’d probably faint again. He examined her luscious mouth. Her bee-stung lips offered a bounty he wanted to partake.
No need to flip, Carter. Chill, man. Chill
Carter picked up her purse and opened it. Inside, a folded itinerary listed her hotel as Dark Treasure. Well, well, well. Wasn’t that nice? His second job in this town was as a bartender at that casino-hotel—one of three that Chance owned in Vegas.
His gaze raked over the woman’s curvaceous form, and he licked his lips. There she was, a delicious buffet. Oh, how he wanted her. With an ache he hadn’t felt since—well, since he died in 1956. He needed to wipe her memory and get her to her hotel.
Man oh man, she was tempting.
Too tempting. And the last time he’d been this drawn to a woman, he’d lost his life and his freedom.
Chapter Two
July stumbled out of the cab, her head throbbing. Wow. That drive from the airport had been a real killer.
The cab driver plucked her suitcases out of the trunk. He was short, in his fifties, and a few pounds over weight. She blinked at him, her vision going fuzzy for a second.
“You need anything else, Miss?”
She shook her head and paid him the appropriate fare, including a large tip. He got into his cab and pulled away, melting into the Strip’s traffic. She looked up at the hotel, feeling excited.
Time to begin her wicked weekend.
July showered, pulled on her new gold dress with matching high heels, and put on make-up. Her brown hair was shoulder-length and a mass of unruly curls. The most she could do with them was brush the loops to a glossy shine.
Her room was on the third floor. Its flat glass faced the frenetic light shows and crowded streets of the Strip. She had a standard room with a queen-sized bed. It was nice and comfortable—and kinda irrelevant. Because the draw was Vegas, baby.
July turned and walked to the hallway, stopping to check out her outfit. She looked at her reflection and said, “Go for it, July.”
She’d looked over Dark Treasure’s brochure and knew that it contained several exclusive shops, including one particularly naughty one she wanted to explore. Grabbing her tiny gold purse, she slung the spaghetti thin strap over her shoulder and left.
Moments later, after a quick elevator ride, a trek across the casino, and a precarious jaunt down a stairwell, July stood outside the blacked-out glass door, her hand hovering over the metal bar.
“You can do this,” she muttered. “It’s just a…”
Sex shop. She’d never been in one. Her palms were slick with sweat, but she depressed the bar and pushed open the door.
July entered the store, her heart hammering and panic knotting in her belly. When she’d won the contest, it was like getting the biggest present ever.
Thanks to Aunt Grace, she hadn’t had a formal celebration of any holiday, including her birthdays. So, this weekend, she was determined to experience everything she’d been denied. First, she would buy something naughty. Second, she would take herself to the midnight dinner reserved at restaurant known only as Joy. She would order two desserts. Third, she would go to a nightclub and dance. Fourth, she would go--
July smacked face-first into a solid object, which she immediately identified as a tall, muscled human being. As she bounced off the formidable chest, two hands gripped her forearms and steadied her.
“And here I thought I was going to leave empty-handed,” said a deep, silky voice.
Licking her dry lips, July gazed up. The man holding her looked like a Roman general or a Michelangelo model or -- oh hell, gorgeous would probably cover it. The man’s short blonde hair framed a devastatingly handsome face. He was dressed in a suit, too, as if he were stepping out to go to a Sinatra concert instead of perusing a seedy sex shop.
“I’m sorry,” said July. She pulled out of the man’s grip and tried to go around him. How many times a day did the guy workout? He had some seriously great muscles.
“Hey, baby.”
July turned around. “I’m not…”
She trailed off because he was beautiful, and she was looking for an opportunity to be a little wild…right?
“I’m Carter Mattison,” said the man. “And you’re…?”
“July Ellsworth,” she responded faintly.
He leaned close, his blue eyes sparkling like sapphires. “Nice to meet you, July. So, what’s your tale, Nightingale?”
The man had an odd way of speaking—like he’d stumbled out from some black-and-white 1950s movie.
“I’m just…er, browsing.” July blushed, her face heating as though she’d stuck it into a broiler.
“Me, too.”
She couldn’t work up an appropriate response, so she stared at him, heart thundering. She didn’t know when he reached and touched her shoulder. She didn’t see it—but she felt it. And she couldn’t break his magnetic gaze. His fingers drifted down July’s neck causing goose pimples, and he dipped into the edge of her dress. He lightly skirted the thin gold chain, traveling down to the smooth gold circle that rested between her breasts.
He withdrew the necklace and stared at the disc with its enigmatic symbol—a triangle slashed by three lines. July wore it because it was the only gift her aunt had ever given it to her the day before her death. Even now, July wondered if her aunt sensed her own death and had passed on the only object of sentimentality she owned. The old woman had said, “Maybe he’ll find you.”
Carter let the necklace drop. His fingertips brushed her skin. Her stomach felt like a thousand butterflies were trapped inside, their wings fluttering frantically.
“That’s a unique necklace.”
“It was gift.”
“From a man?”
“My great aunt. And it’s really none of your business.” Turning, she fled into the nearest aisle and blindly looked at the assorted products. Only after she managed to get her breath back did she realize she was staring at sex toys designed for anal play.
“Interesting choice.”
July whirled around and faced the devil with an angel’s face. He was so tall, so buff, and looked somehow otherworldly. Straightening, she looked Carter directly in his blue eyes and said, “What do you want?”
“What if I said I wanted…you?”
July’s heart slammed against her chest. Here was an opportunity to explore sex. Passionate, sweat-making, nail-dragging sex. She was, unfortunately, a virgin despite the bumbling of one boyfriend who didn’t know what a clitoris was, much less where it was located. Here, without trying, she had attracted the attention of a handsome man who probably knew all kinds of ways to pleasure a woman.
To pleasure her. July wasn’t wrong to want sex, just like she wasn’t wrong to want something more than sex. Something like… love.
For the briefest of moments, Carter seemed to know what she was thinking. “I can’t offer you much more than a wild, wicked night, July.”
Had July indulged in fancy, she might’ve described the moment as time suspended. Or time pulled as taut as a stretched rubber band. But though her heart turned over and her lungs seemed to stall, and she wanted to feel her lips on Carter’s flesh, July lacked the courage to follow through.
She shook her head. “I appreciate the offer.”
“It’s an open offer, doll.” His wicked smile electrified her. “Tell you what. I bartend at the Shadows—it’s here in the hotel. You change your mind, come to the Shadows for my specialty.” He winked and walked away.
And just how many girls fall for that, Mr. Mattison? Plenty, she bet. Her heart still hadn’t slowed its frenetic beat. What a delicious man.
Feeling unsteady, July hurried into another aisle and looked over the vibrators. She chose a small bullet-shaped one, which already had the batteries installed.
