Chapter Eight

 

Two hours later, Damon waved goodbye to his brother.

“I think that went well, don’t you?” Harper said after Conner shut his door.

He joined her as she walked along the corridor. “It went way better than I expected, to be honest.”

Damon had never been more pleased than when she’d asked him to sit in on the meeting, even though he suspected she might have done so as a safety measure, but the fact she trusted him enough to protect her spoke volumes.

He’d listened intently as Harper told them her ideas about her business. He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her as she talked, watching her mouth, those full lips of hers, and the way she twiddled with a curl of lilac hair. She caught him staring once or twice and offered a coy smile.

After their initial spat, he and Conner had put their differences aside. Whether it was for Harper’s benefit or not, he wasn’t sure, but it had always been like that between them, one minute friends, the next minute fighting. Conner’s website designs were inspiring, leading him to believe his little brother was finally getting his life together.

“Thanks so much for your help, Damon.”

“You have a great business in the making. I didn’t do much.”

“You did. Your business insight put everything into perspective, and with Conner’s design expertise, I feel more positive about the future of Magik Dates than I have in a long time.”

Her steps faltered as she reached the part of the corridor where he’d kissed her wrist, right before she’d seen his fangs.

He recalled the exquisitely sensual experience, and then how he’d come close to biting her. Again. But despite almost losing it for a few seconds, he couldn’t forget the desire he’d seen in her eyes.

She headed towards the lift. “I don’t fully understand how the app will work, or the live chat feature Conner suggested, and goodness knows who will be willing to work for peanuts, but I’m hopeless with computers, so I’ll have to employ someone.” She continued without stopping for air, clearly excited with the direction her business was going. “I know Zarya will help when she can, but she already does the books, and she’s away a lot of the time.”

“Who?”

“Zarya, my friend. She stays with me when she’s in London.”

He couldn’t resist telling another joke. “You never told me you had a broom-mate.”

She hesitated in front of the lift, turned, and did another one of those eye-rolls she was so good at. “Don’t you ever stop? That’s terrible.” She looked at him for several seconds, a hint of a smile twitching her lips.

Her cheeks turned a delicate shade of pink.

Instead of pressing the lift button, she made her way to the stairwell. “I… I think I’ll take the stairs,” she told him, her breaths raspy.

He grinned. “The maintenance guys have probably fixed the lift by now.”

“No, it’s not that.”

“What then?” He winked. “Don’t you trust being stuck in a lift with me again?”

“It’s me I don’t trust,” she blurted out.

“No bad jokes this time, and I’ll keep my fangs to myself, I promise.”

She darted through the fire door. “Shame, they kind of turned me on,” she muttered under her breath as the door closed behind her.

Damon stood gawping at the graffiti on the door. Not for long, though. In less than two seconds, he burst through the door. “What did you say?”

She faced him and smirked. “Nothing.”

Chemistry sizzled between them. Magic swirled in the air, its aroma heady and enticingly sweet.

If her intense gaze got any hotter, she’d burn a hole right through him.

Damon stepped towards her. “I think you did, you wicked witch,” he whispered.

Her gaze flitted between his eyes and his mouth. She swallowed. “Look, vampire, my witch senses are going off the radar here, and I’m too old to play games.”

Yet again, she surprised him by being so forthright. His cock twitched. He faked a sad face. “No games? Pity, I could think of a game or two I’d like to play with you.” And they didn’t involve Monopoly, or any other board game for that matter.

He picked up the sound of her pulse rate accelerating.

“Whatever.” She coiled a strand of hair around her finger, a pale pink curl this time. “What I mean is, there’s something going on between us. I sense it, and I think you do too.”

He didn’t answer, trying to process her confession. She wasn’t wrong, he did sense something. His body zinged with an awareness of her. His cold heart warmed whenever she so much as looked at him. Damon looked into her pale grey eyes and completely lost the plot. He could think of nothing but her, of how much he needed her in his life. It was as if his life—pre-vamp and now—had meant nothing up until this moment, and suddenly he had clarity of what he truly wanted. Money, status, power, even the women, they meant nothing without love, as crazy as that might be. “Are you sure you haven’t put a spell on me?”

She smiled softly. “If I had, you’d probably be sprouting grass for hair or growing a donkey’s tail. I told you, I’m crap at spells, but I know when something magical is going on between two people, and if you don’t do something about it right this min—”

He crushed his lips to hers, soft lips that sent shivers of ecstasy over his skin. “Harper,” he murmured between kisses. “I didn’t dare to hope…” He wrapped his arms around her and drew her close. “This is crazy. We hardly know each other.”

She inched back, her breaths uneven. “I know, but it’s a good crazy, right?”

He chuckled. “Yes, it’s a good crazy.”

Her stunning eyes burned with a desire that matched his own, but he would not take this further. Not yet, and not in this stairwell with the stench of stale cigarette ash and, grossly, an unmistakable whiff of vomit too.

Harper broke contact with him. “I don’t know about you, but I could do with some air. Do you want to…” She licked her lips, slowly, provocatively.

Get naked?

“… get a drink somewhere?” she finished.

He flashed a mischievous smile. “A drink? Hmm, a drink sounds perfect—for starters.”

Her thighs jerked together, and it was all he could do not to rip her clothes off right where they stood.

Harper headed down the stairs, a distinct tremble to her gorgeous legs.

“Let me help you,” said Damon, reaching for the bag with her paperwork. “You look a little unsteady there, and we wouldn’t want you to trip again.”

His mocking tone provoked a glare from her, as he’d hoped. “I can manage perfectly well, thank you.”

He smirked.

She continued down the concrete stairs, passing the drunk guy, still asleep on one of the landings. He still held his empty vodka bottle, but there was a pile of vomit beside him now, and down the front of his clothes, which would explain the unpleasant whiff he caught earlier.

“So, where would you like to go?” Damon asked her. “I know a great bar in Mayfair—”

“No, not there,” she interrupted. “I don’t fancy sticking out like a clownfish in a school of sturgeon again.”

He laughed. “So, now you’re telling the jokes? Not bad.”

“I know this fabulous little place, not far from where I live,” she went on. “I don’t know if their wine menu is up to the standard of what you sell in that fancy French restaurant of yours, but they do fabulous cocktails.” Her eyes widened. “Not that there’s anything wrong with fancy French brassieres,” she added.

Damon pressed his lips at her wrong word choice. “No, there’s nothing wrong with fancy brassieres—I like to see a woman wearing a lacy bra as much as the next man, although I rather prefer to see a sexy thong myself—but I like to think my restaurants are a bit more upmarket than a brasserie.”

Harper sucked her carnation pink cheeks. “Okay, so I goofed. I told you I can’t speak French. Thank you so much pointing out my embarrassing mistake. If it wasn’t for the way you roll your Rs, vamp or not, I’d thump you.”

He didn’t doubt it for a second. What a woman. “Sorry, couldn’t resist, and what’s up with the way I roll my Rs?”

“Nothing, it’s very…” she smirked and her cheeks turned deeper pink, “never you mind what it is.”

Again, what a woman.

He checked his watch; it was later than he thought.

Not that he minded—how could he when he’d met up with Harper again?—but today had not gone to plan. He’d only intended to check on his brother, a ten-minute visit to make sure he was okay before he went home to an evening of drinking alone and packing for his business trip tomorrow.

How strange that everything could change in one day, a change that filled him with the prospect of a future he’d never dreamed possible. Maybe Nerissa was on to something with this whole fate and destiny thing. What were the chances Harper would be here at the same time he was, or that she had a meeting with Conner, his new, entrepreneurial brother? The Fates did appear to be working in mysterious ways.

He glanced at his watch again. Sod the packing, sod everything. He intended to make every second with Harper special.

Harper hoicked the strap of her handbag higher on her shoulder. “Do you have somewhere else you’d rather be?”

“No, but I have a flight to Paris tomorrow morning, and I was supposed to be pack—”

“Paris? Lucky you. I suppose you want me to be grateful for fitting me into your schedule?” she said, her tone sarcastic.

What have I done wrong now? “Sorry, I got distracted… I’d much rather spend time with you…” He paused as he caught the hint of another smirk on her lips. “Wait, are you mocking me?”

She grinned. “Who, me? No, wouldn’t dream of it. So, are you going to take me for that drink, or what?”

“Nothing I’d like more. We’ll have to take two cars though,” Damon said, assuming she’d driven there.

“I don’t have a car. I took the tube here—not easy in these shoes, I can tell you.”

He glanced at her sexy high heels. “No, I suppose not. How about I drive and you give me directions?”

“Okay, sounds good.”

They walked out of the block of flats and towards his car as the sun set over the city, its buildings silhouetted against the stunning red and orange sky. It always made him laugh how the humans thought vampires couldn’t walk in the sunlight. Garlic was a myth too, and crucifixes. How little they knew.

A couple of thugs hung around by his MG, but they soon scarpered when Damon approached, giving them his best, mess-with-me-and-you’ll-regret-it glare.

Harper refused his offer of help again and loaded her bags into his boot.

He drove out of the housing estate and towards the bar she’d suggested, the London traffic as manic as ever.

When they arrived, Damon opened the door to the pub for her and they walked inside; a modern bar with a fun, relaxed vibe.

The woman behind the bar eyed him up and down like a tigress about to pounce, but he wasn’t interested in her.

Damon only had eyes for Harper as she grabbed the cocktail menu and, after much deliberation, ordered an Old Fashioned.

He went for the same.

The woman behind the bar served their drinks.

The place heaved with the after-work crowd, cocktails flowed, and early evening became night.

“Don’t you ever get drunk?” Harper asked him after many cocktails.

“No, never.” He leaned closer and whispered in her ear, her hair tickling his cheek. “One of the drawbacks of being a vampire. Alcohol doesn’t affect us much.”

“Well, it’s affecting me. I’m feeling a little woozy.”

To his amusement, she showed no signs of being tipsy as she stood up steadily, her gaze focused on him.

“Take me home, Damon.”

He didn’t need her to ask twice.

Damon leapt up and led her out of the bar. Outside, the smell of fried onions wafted towards them and the cool night air misted her breath. She rubbed the tops of her arms.

He took off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“Thanks,” she said, her attention distracted as she looked down the road.

He followed the direction of her stare and spotted a burger van parked at the side of the road.

“I’m starving. Fancy some chips, or would that be slumming it for you?”

He’d never eaten anything from a burger van before, but ‘slumming’ it never entered his mind. “Sure, why not?”

They walked over to the van and Damon ordered two portions of chips. The man served them up in two paper cones with a generous shake of salt and vinegar, then stabbed a tiny wooden fork in the top of each one.

Harper grinned at the burger van owner. “Thanks, Tony.”

Heading back to his car, Damon said, “You know him then?”

“Who, Tony? Yeah, he serves the best chips in all of London.” She blew on a chip and popped it into her mouth. “Try one.”

Damon did; piping hot, but surprisingly tasty. “Wow, these are great. Never let it be said I don’t know a good chip when I taste one. Do you think that Tony guy would like to work in one of my restaurants?”

“I doubt it. He’s been here for thirty years that I know of. Everybody loves his chips around here.”

“I can see why.”

They reached his car. Damon opened her door, skirted around to the driver’s side, switched on the engine and turned up the heater for her.

After they’d finished their chips, he drove to her flat.

As luck would have it, Damon found a parking space right outside.

He turned off the engine.

Now what?

For the first time in his life, he wasn’t certain of his own actions. She’d been giving off all kinds of signals the whole evening, and he yearned to make the first move so much he could barely concentrate, but Harper wasn’t another notch on the bedpost. The pretty witch was special, and he wanted this to be different.

He stared through the windscreen at the crescent moon in the clear, starry sky, its silvery light shining on the row of cars in front, casting their shadows along the pavement.

Silence filled the car, the air crackling with anticipation.

“So…” she said slowly. “Would you like to come in for a coffee?”

Damon held onto the steering wheel, doing his best not to smirk at the cliché, which he had a sneaky suspicion she’d said on purpose.

He shifted to face her. The moonlight bathed her pretty features, her crazy-coloured hair muted in the half-light, but no less striking.

Her eyebrow arched seductively. “Well?”

The corner of his mouth curled upwards. It wasn’t coffee she was offering. He lowered his voice. “I don’t want coffee.”

“Me neither.”

He edged closer, hooked his finger under her chin. “Are you trying to seduce a dangerous vampire, Harper?”

Her full lips parted. “I don’t know. Are you dangerous, Damon?”

“Only when I’m around you,” he murmured.

She gasped, her eyes dark with desire as she looked to his mouth. “What about those fangs, can you control those?”

“Harper, I will not bite you.” He meant it, too—not unless she asked, of course—he had the bloodlust under control. She meant too much for him to ruin whatever was happening between them. Damon moved closer still.

“Good. Glad we have that sorted.”

His cock twitched. She wanted him, and God help him, she might want his bite, too.

What if she did give him permission to bite? Would one drop of her blood be enough, or would its sweetness render him powerless to stop? What if he drained her blood until she went weak in his arms, until her heart stopped beating?

He would never forgive himself if he hurt her… or worse.

He’d barely managed to control the bloodlust earlier, when he’d kissed her wrist in the corridor outside Conner’s flat, but her soft skin, the tiny scratch by her vein…

His fangs tingled. With every fibre of his being, he suppressed his vampiric urges.

Harper edged towards him, so close her warm breath puffed against his lips. “It’s okay, Damon. You won’t hurt me. I trust you.”

Soft, full lips found his.

A low moan escaped his mouth. Damon’s eyelids flickered, succumbing to a need only she evoked in him.

Harper deepened the kiss, her moves urgent as she tugged his hair. “Inside, vampire. Now.”

In less than three seconds, Damon leapt out of his car, skirted around the bonnet and opened her door.

He held out his hand.

In a swift move of her own, she refused his hand, climbed out and jumped on him, wrapping her arms and legs around him. The jacket he’d draped over her shoulders fell onto the front seat.

It was all he could do not to stagger backwards as she showered kisses along his jaw and then nibbled his earlobe.

“Have you any idea how horny you’re making me?” he murmured against her hair.

She giggled, pressing her heat against his hard-on. “I think I can guess.”

If he hadn’t died already, he’d be going straight to Hell for his X-rated thoughts, and if the wicked intent in her eyes was anything to go by, he was pretty certain she’d be right beside him. Damon carried her down the steps to her front door.

She fumbled in her trouser pocket for her keys, her fingers touching his hardness. Harper unlocked the door and they stumbled inside.

He grabbed her backside with both hands and squeezed.

She squealed in delight as he kicked the door closed behind them.

“Shh, you’ll wake Zarya,” she told him in a fit of sexy giggles, although she was the one making all the noise. “She’s a beautiful ocean priestess, but she gets mad if—”

He stopped her with a kiss. “I’m not interested in a priestess. Shut up and kiss me.”

She did, yanking his shirt out from his trousers at the same time.

“My bedroom is over there,” she urged, directing him to a door at the end of the hallway.

Damon called on his vamp speed and made it to her door in a millisecond. He kicked open the door amid another delighted squeal.

Harper wriggled free, put her feet on the floor and then kicked off her high heels.

His cock ached for release as he drew her close again, needing her warmth, her sex. He undid the buttons on her blouse, his actions frantic.

She seemed in a hurry too, forcing his shirt buttons undone with an urgency that matched his own. Harper trailed her fingertips over him, stroking his chest, then, to his utter delight, she circled a pattern over his nipple, her erotic touch tipping him over the edge.

A glance behind her and he spotted her bed, a shaft of silvery light making a pattern on the bedcover. Something rustled in a glass tank on a shelf, but he took no notice.

A vision came to mind, of her lying naked, the moonlight shimmering on her pale skin.

His fangs throbbed.

She kissed him passionately, flicking her tongue across his lips, probing as though she sensed the shift in his needs.

“Harper, wait…” Damon stepped back, not sure if he had the strength to resist. In a last-ditch effort to prevent what he feared was inevitable, he caressed her soft, pastel-coloured curls, but that only made him curious, and more aroused, to know what colour her hair was down below.

Dear God. His attempt to curb his vampiric urges failed. He had to have her, know all of her, know the taste of her blood.

The bloodlust rose inside him, its alluring power like a volcano about to erupt, but still he held back.

Damon undid her trousers and slipped his hand inside her panties.

Smooth and hair-free, and so wet for him.

Her sexy groan enthralled him to the point of no return.

He slipped his fingers inside her as she gyrated her hips in time with his movements. He couldn’t hold back a moment longer.

A hiss escaped from his mouth.

His fangs elongated.

“Damon…” Her voice was breathy. Her erect nipples showed through her lacy bra.

She looped her arms around his neck and blew softly in his ear. “Bite me.”

Her whisper was so quiet, even with his enhanced hearing he wasn’t sure he heard right.

Damon inched back and looked her in the eyes. “W…what did you say?”

Her enlarged pupils smouldered with dark desire. “I said: bite me, Damon.”

His mouth dropped. The tips of his fangs pressed on his bottom lip. The bloodlust called to him, its lure hypnotic, but he still resisted. “I can’t. I might not be able to stop.” To his dismay, his actions took on a will of their own as he stroked her curls away from her neck. Her vein pulsated beneath her pale skin.

“It’s okay,” she breathed, tilting her neck, inviting him. “I want this. I give you my permission.”

His resistance melted away. Slowly, tentatively, he brought his lips to her neck and kissed her. He flicked his tongue along her carotid artery, savouring the salty taste of her warm skin, the irresistible sensation on the tip of his tongue of her blood pulsing through her veins.

Holding her tenderly, he kissed her again and pressed his fangs against her skin.

Harper gripped his shoulders and emitted a raspy moan that hurled him headfirst into a vortex he was powerless to avoid.

He sunk his fangs into her flesh, closed his eyes and savoured every sensation.

The taste of her blood was like nectar from the gods; warm, sticky, metallic. It coated his lips, his fangs, his tongue, sent him wild with desire. The blood rushing through her veins thundered in his ears, pulsating in time with him as he drank, summoning him like a tribal ritual, absorbing, enthralling.

But no matter how great the bloodlust, how compelled he was to drink her nectar, the sound of her heartbeat filtered into his soul, its beat steady and strong, if not a little fast, but the most hypnotic melody he had ever heard, beckoning him on a level more powerful than the bloodlust.

The beat of her heart made his soul come alive, a soul that had been dormant even before he turned, and as her warm blood slipped down his throat, everything became clear.

She controlled his bloodlust, not him.