A Vampyre's Sunrise by Jeff Schanz (read book .TXT) 📖

Vestor nodded and continued. “Arrr, me lassie. Do ye, Natalia Viktorovna…”

“Lia,” interrupted Lia.

Now everyone was looking at her. She swallowed nervously and explained.

“I, uh – I am only Lia now.” Her eyes darted to Brandt, then back to Vestor. “Lia Viktorovna Zakharyin. Sorry. Please continue.”

Vestor sighed and continued. “Do ye, Lia Viktorovna Zakka… Zakkar… Uh.”

“Zakharyin,” said Brandt. “It’s ok, just keep going.”

“Uh, ok,” stammered Vestor. “Do ye take this man to be yer lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, ‘til death do ye part? Arrr?”

Lia winked at Brandt and said, “Arrr. I do.”

Brandt let slip a tiny blast of laughter. As unreal as everything seemed, it was his life with Lia. It might as well be his wedding.

Vestor lowered his book and cracked a huge grin. “Then, me lad and lass, I now pronounce ye Mr. and Mrs. Rembrandt Dekker. Ye may kiss the bride.”

Brandt did.

 

 

 

They were finishing up a quiet dinner in the hotel restaurant. Brandt had ordered a single large sampler platter, that way it wouldn’t look like Lia hadn’t eaten anything. Her vampyre system wouldn’t accept a full meal, but she still loved to nibble at things, and had enjoyed small bites of everything on it. Brandt, however, gorged himself. He figured he could use the energy for his extracurricular plans that night.

Lia was still riding high from the wedding and reception. The reception was actually more of an impromptu dance party in the hotel. All-comers were invited to join in, including Vaughn and his bikini posse. There were a lot of other handsome ladies whose uninhibited dancing was encouraged by free-flowing drinks from the hotel bar, and Vaughn made advances to each of them, trying to add to his harem. Lia was better at cutting a rug than Brandt thought, but Brandt’s dance moves still stole the show. Though, he wasn’t planning on an encore of Michael Jackson’s “Billie Jean,” Lia insisted. Afterward, he was tired and figured he’d better fuel back up for the night’s more intimate festivities.

“That was so fun,” said Lia.

“The reception?” asked Brandt.

“Well, yes, but I meant the wedding. The pirate captain was quite entertaining. I loved it. How did you think of it?”

“It, uh, just came to me all of a sudden.”

She snickered softly. “I knew your wonderful sense of humor would somehow show up today. It was perfect.”

Brandt wanted to spit out his food and laugh. In a bad pirate voice, he said “Anything for you, me lass.”

She giggled. “Are you almost finished eating?”

“Just about. Why?”

“Because I have plans for you, Mr. Dekker. First, we are going to find a secluded spot on the beach, and then I’m going to make love to you on the beach until you collapse. Afterward, we will go back to the hotel and I will make love to you some more. We can play one of those games you read about, like – like maybe the one where I tie you up and…”

Brandt held out his hand. “Nuh uh, sweetie.”

“No?” Lia scrunched her brows, pensive. “Then how about you’re a pirate and I’m a captured wench?”

“No, no. Any other time, I’d be in heaven with anything you wanted to do to me. But tonight is your night. It’s tradition to pleasure the bride on her wedding night.”

“It is? I have not heard of this.”

Neither had Brandt, but Lia was usually the sexual aggressor and Brandt wanted tonight to be different.

“Trust me,” said Brandt.

His fork clinked onto the plate and held up his hand for the check.

 

 

 

Brandt stood before the bridal suite door, Lia draped across both arms. Because she was so light, it wasn’t an effort, but the balance was still a little awkward.

“Take your shoes off,” he told her.

“Why?”

“You’ll see.”

She did, with a questioning smirk.

Since his hands were full, Lia dug into his pocket and pulled out the room key. The door opened and Brandt walked inside and set Lia down on her bare feet.

She slowly placed her hands to her face.

The concierge had arranged exactly what Brandt had asked. The light was dim. Racks of tall flowers in vases eclipsed the walls. Candles lined the bed and the entryway like landing lights. On a music player was a loop of songs Brandt had picked out by Smokey Robinson. Some nights were just made for Smokey. There was a tray next to the bed with several small bottles of massage oils and two towels. Rose petals lined the floor of the hallway and completely covered the top of the bed. Way to go, Nathan!

Lia slowly turned to face Brandt, adoration plain on her face.

Brandt closed the door behind him. “First, we will start with a long, slow oil massage of every inch of your body. Then I will pleasure you with my tongue until you explode in ecstasy. I will continue to pleasure you with my fingers and my tongue until you literally beg me to be inside you. Only then will I do it, and I will take my time, driving you into a fever until you beg me to go faster, and then I will pound you into that headboard, making you climax so many times, you’ll have no energy left to lift your eyelids. And once you catch your breath, I will start the whole thing over again.”

She giggled and blushed. “Mmm. That sounds delightful. Will you need my help to – um, keep things going at full strength?

Lia had some patented trick Brandt still didn’t understand to revive a post ejaculation erection in mere minutes.

He shook his head. “Nope. Got pills for that. Tonight you will do nothing except have orgasms, and keep having them until you can’t anymore.”

Her blush became crimson. She gathered herself quickly and took a step toward him. Her lips pulled on his bottom lip and held it for a long moment. Then she turned and daintily stepped across the rose petals on the floor on her way to the bed. She took her time, unzipping her dress and sliding out of it with each step. At the bed, her panties and bra slipped to the floor. Completely naked, she sat on the bed, then arched her limber, cat-like spine to where she was lying across the bed like she was leaping dancer. She brushed the thick layers of rose petals with her legs.

“I think I am going to like being married,” she purred.

Her finger snaked along the side of her leg, across her abdomen, then down the inside of her thigh. She was an exquisite cream-colored flower lying on a literal bed of roses.

“And so will you,” she said in a voice that sounded more like a breath.

She caressed herself with one hand and held the other hand up to him, curling a finger in a “come hither” gesture.

Yes, I think I will.

CHAPTER 5

 

 

 

 

FIVE MONTHS LATER.

 

Brandt woke to the muffled sound of silverware clinking and scraping against ceramic plates. Voices in casual conversation filtered through the bedroom door. Those subtle noises had only nudged him awake before the door was flung open and Lia glided in, along with the full-volume din of breakfast.

She heard my mind wake up. Nothing gets by her.

She plopped herself next to him on the bed, bouncing his body against the mattress, then gave him a quick kiss on the forehead.

“Good morning, husband!” she beamed.

Brandt chuckled. Even groggy and barely awake, he couldn’t find complaint with his wife’s overly bright attitude.

“Morning, hon. You really never are gonna get tired of saying ‘husband,’ are you?”

“No,” she said with practiced conviction and an indefatigable smile.

For five months she had greeted him with the same message. For some people, cute words of endearment usually replace the formal title of “husband” or “boyfriend,” words like, “sweetheart, baby, honey, pumpkin, puppy toes, sugar lips,” and so on. Brandt kept waiting for her to tire of it, but she was a machine. It was not just cute to her, it was honest pride. How could he find fault with something like that?

He shook his head. “Yeah, well someday when I’m old and fat, and losing my hair, you’ll probably be tired of me and call me something not so sweet.”

Lia pretended to consider this. “Exactly how fat?”

Brandt frowned and popped her tail lightly. She grinned.

“Then I shall become fat too, and we shall be fat together,” said Lia with finality.

Although it was in jest, that was not likely possible. Vampyre systems can digest very little food, blood is pretty much all Lia could consume, and there weren’t a lot of ways to grow fat off of blood. She probably hadn’t carried any body fat since she was a little girl somewhere around the end of the nineteenth century.

She reached under him and whacked his behind with a little force.

“Ow,” he complained.

“Now get up and come eat your breakfast,” she ordered. “I have set your plate aside and it is getting cold.”

“Ok,” he said.

She grinned again, gave him another quick kiss, this time on the lips, then whisked out the door, shutting it behind her so he could get up in privacy.

Brandt hauled himself up and threw on his lounge-around-the-house clothes. Though he had a meeting with Tom later, he would shower after breakfast and a workout.

Usually, mornings meant the kitchen was the heart of the house. This morning was typical. Things were cooking on the stove, dirty plates were piled on the counter, and Lia was bopping back and forth between the sink and the stovetop. A little Bluetooth speaker had an oldies music station going on low volume. The kitchen table was a solid oak piece and two men sat at it. One was an average-sized red-headed man, probably in his twenties, named Billy Tanner. The other was an enormous black man with a bald head and shoulders the size of two men, plus a gut and chest to match. That was Rollins.

Rollins B. Richards was well known everywhere. He had been a star offensive lineman for the Texas Longhorns in college, unfortunately destroying his knee in his senior year. Instead of sinking into misery about missing his NFL chance, he joined the Army and tried to make a difference in the world. Whenever his squad had a meeting or negotiation with potential hostiles, despite the fact that he was only a corporal, his lieutenant took Rollins with him. At 6’5” and about 300 pounds, there was a lot of intimidation value in his presence. He rarely had to show anybody that his strength matched the perception. He looked like a bald grizzly bear and had a deep voice to match. But he was as good a man as Brandt had ever known. In fact, every one of the members of the security team Brandt hired were good men. He would trust them all with his life. More importantly, he trusted them with Lia’s life.

Billy was just finishing his plate of whatever Lia had made him, and was wiping his mouth and gathering his gear. Rollins, however, was still halfway into a stack of pancakes. Brandt wasn’t sure if that was his first helping or second. Brandt sat down at the table and Lia immediately slid a warm plate of pancakes and bacon in front of him. The pancakes had steam rising from them. If they had gotten cold, she had re-warmed them. She winked at him as she withdrew and immediately went back to the stove area.

She was wearing one of her many colorful spandex leggings, plus a tunic-style white blouse belted at the waist, partially covered by an apron. On her feet were house slippers. The ensemble was fairly typical of her house attire. No longer wearing the homemade Edwardian dresses she had worn on her island, she was making attempts to modernize her wardrobe. Though, when she went out, she still preferred dresses with full body coverage.

Brandt had married some kind of Stepford vampyre mixed with Martha Stewart and June Cleaver. That’s too weird an analogy.