Excerpt from “A Genie's Kiss”
Missy Lynn Ryan with Michelle Fox
A vampire escort and a genie get tangled up in ways they never saw coming...
The vampire escort arrived at Sebastian Cole’s condo in a gleaming black coffin, topped with a shiny red bow and a card attached to the lid. Sebastian stared at it in horror. This was a clear sign that the universe was screwing with him. His business was in a free fall, clients were abandoning him left and right, and his favorite sports car had been totaled. If it weren't for his genie blood, he’d be dead right now. Thankfully, he was able to use his ring to teleport to his condo in Vegas. All he wanted now was a hot shower and a stiff drink. Instead, he was greeted with this - a hooker and her shiny coffin in his living room.
In another time and place, Sebastian, a.k.a. Baz, wouldn’t have thought twice about sleeping with the vampire, whose name — according to the card—was Angie. Her delightfully curvy body was a welcome change from the Hollywood actresses that were filling his bed these days, and a good quickie would clear his mind. Only the pounding on his front door kept him from giving in to his naughty wishes.
Baz silently prayed his surprise visitor would go away. He had worked damn hard to clean up his bad-boy image and he couldn’t afford any more bad press. He’d left Vegas six months ago, started his own company in L.A., and even dialed back his weekend benders at La Vida, the hottest night club on Sunset. All of it would be for nothing if he got ‘caught at his Daddy's hotel with a hooker’. That's exactly the kind of click-bait headline they'd print with the story too, even though he was only in Vegas for a business meeting and the hotel in question was actually a condo purchased with his own hard-earned money—not at all connected to his father's real estate empire. Angie, the half-naked hooker standing in his living room...well she was either paid for by his father or someone looking to woo Alucard Cole by bribing his eldest son.
Baz grabbed Angie by the wrists and dragged the cute brunette vampire to a bar stool in the kitchen.
“Hey,” she said in protest as the feather boa dragged behind her. There was something oddly familiar about her voice, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Did he know her? He was horrible with names and met dozens of women on a daily basis but he was certain he’d remember a curvy brunette vampire. Her silk-lined robe fell open as she walked to the kitchen and Baz’s eyes lingered on her bare skin and the bra that peeked out. Especially one this tempting. He ached to brush his fingers along the edge of lace. What would her skin taste like?
Another knock at the door broke his prolonged gaze. “Sit,” he commanded. "Don't say anything. Don't do anything."
Angie, bewildered but obedient, stumbled onto the bar stool and awaited further instructions. He took a deep breath. At least something was going right.
Seconds later he was at the door, pulling it open and preparing his "no-comment" speech for the over-zealous reporter who tracked him down in Vegas. The words caught in his throat when he spotted his buddy Stan on the other side of the threshold.
Stan's werewolf eyes lit up at the sight of Baz, and he shook his head in disbelief.
"Heeyyy..." Baz leaned into the door frame, effectively blocking a good portion of his friend's view into the condo.
"Damn, it is you," Stan grinned. "I got a text saying you were in town, but I told Gina that can't be true. Because there is no way my old wingman is gonna hit up The Strip without giving me a ring first."
Baz was formulating an excuse to shoo away his old friend when the air around him stirred. Angie swooped past him so fast she was nothing more than a blur. If it hadn't been for the brush of the feather boa against his arm, he wouldn't have believed it was her. The previously docile vampire pounced on his friend like a giant cat, bringing down the two hundred pound werewolf with less exertion than an NFL linebacker. Angie straddled Stan on the floor. Her legs clenched around his waist. Her fingers clawed at his shoulders. She buried her head in the crevice of his neck and bit down on him like a deadly viper, cutting off his friend's muffled growl.
Dear god, she was feeding, right here in the middle of his freaking hallway.
Baz lunged for Angie. He locked his arms around the vampire’s waist and attempted to pull her back, but the effort proved futile. There was no way in hell he was going to break this vamp out of her feeding frenzy. She had to be brand-freaking new, her strength was overwhelming. Still, he couldn't leave the two of them in the hallway. He’d already have to swap out the security feeds and pay off the guards to make sure the video didn't wind up on some nut-job's home-brewed blog. And that was assuming none of his other neighbors came into the hall to investigate.
Baz grabbed Stan by the leg, tightened his grip on the over-priced denim jeans, and dragged his friend — and the vampire riding him — over the threshold. Angie looked like a bloody goddess perched on a Mardi Gras float, only she was too consumed with her meal to notice her panicked audience. There was only one good thing about her feeding frenzy — she was latched on so tightly not an ounce of blood escaped her lips. No stains meant no evidence to scrub.
Baz slammed the door closed behind them and locked it tight before re-assessing his new crisis — how to free his friend from the clutches of a young, out-of-control vampire. He charged at Angie a second time, throwing his body against her torso. She broke free of Stan long enough to shove Baz away with a single arm extension that sent him flying across the living room. Baz collided into the dining table and skidded a good two feet before coming to a stop. He grunted at the fresh scuff marks on his bamboo floor. First, his fucking car was totaled and now this. If he wasn't careful, this business trip was going to cost him a shit ton of money.
Baz pushed himself up from the floor and shook off the ache in his side as he scanned the room for a suitable weapon. When he spotted a glimmer of gold on the floor a new panic swelled within him. Shit. His ring. In all the commotion he hadn’t felt the chain securing the ring around his neck break loose. Pure instinct made him step toward the ring. He was vulnerable without it.
Stan groaned from the shadows, pulling Baz’s attention back to the crazed vampire. Stan no longer resisted Angie. His body was limp beneath the vampire and his skin had grown paler than hers. If Baz didn't get Angie away soon, she was going to kill him. He and Stan may have had their issues, but they had known each other since childhood. Baz couldn't stand by and watch his friend be bled dry by a vampire.
He spotted the autographed Gretzky hockey stick mounted on the wall and slowly made his way to the side of the table. He didn't want Angie to know what was coming. Instead, he wanted her to forget his existence and become so consumed by hunger that she'd be caught off guard when he...
Whack.
The flat blade of the hockey stick slammed into Angie’s skull with a satisfying thud and left her head hanging limp against her shoulder. She collapsed on Stan, motionless.
With his force and speed, he'd most likely broken her neck. It would heal, but at least he bought Stan some time. When Angie woke, she'd be free of the feeding frenzy and able to function like a civilized human. Or rather, a vampire pretending to be a civilized human.
Baz dropped the hockey stick and ran to Stan's side. Now that Angie was no longer latched onto him, the bite at his throat was bleeding profusely. Stan may still be alive at the moment, but if Baz didn't get the wound patched up, Stan was going to bleed out all over his apartment.
Baz scooped his friend up and carried him into the bathroom, carefully placing Stan into the large marble tub with hopes of containing the blood in something it might not stain. Then he began a frantic search for supplies. Bandages and antiseptic were at the top of the list. If he could slow the blood flow long enough to keep his friend conscious, he could call Manuel, his Godfather, who also happened to be his go-to physician for supernatural ailments and afflictions. Manuel didn't ask questions. More importantly, he didn't talk.
Baz searched under the bathroom sink, then in the linen closet, then in the hall closet, but with no luck. The first-aid kit he clearly remembered purchasing at his Godfather's urging was gone. Desperate, he swiped a stack of hand towels and a bottle of vodka from the bar and made one quick glance at the floor to check on Angie's still body.
Good. She was still unconscious and not a threat. Thank God for small miracles.
He made his way back to the bathroom and peered over the tub. His friend was slumped down on the marble bottom. Would propping him up slow the blood flow...or increase it? He had no clue and ultimately decided it didn't matter. Plugging up the gaping wound was his number one priority.
Baz lifted Stan's head and gently placed one of the towels beneath his neck. Holy, shit, fuck,Baz murmured as warm blood poured over his hands. Only then did he remember the vodka. He was supposed to be disinfecting the towels and the wound but the threat of infection seemed futile compared to the torn flesh. The white cloth drank up the dark red liquid, and within minutes was completely saturated. He wrung out the blood and then tightened his grip, covering the wound with the first towel and grabbing a second that he could knot around Stan’s neck to secure the make-shift bandage.
With the last clean towel he wiped off his bloody fingers as he watched his friend take small but shallow breaths. He bent over the ledge of the tub to check Stan's pulse one more time, using his wrists — given the fact that his neck was now inaccessible. He closed his eyes and began searching for the steady trace of movement in his friend's veins. One. Two. Three...
A sharp jolt of pain rippled through Baz. He staggered, losing his balance momentarily, and propped himself against the tub. The stabbing pain left him breathless and dizzy. Then, as quickly as the pain came, it vanished, replaced with a familiar and unwelcome yearning.
No. No. No.
Baz raised his hand to his neck, his fingers searching for the familiar chain. The ring that controlled his genie magick, was gone. Dread spread through him like a rolling fog. He had a brief flash of the gold band on the bamboo floor in the living room. Shit. He knew exactly what had happened.
Angie’s presence filled the room. He didn't want to turn around, but he couldn't resist the urge to look at her. It had been five years since his magick had been claimed by another, and he was both excited and terrified for the journey that awaited. He had a new Master now, and she was waiting to greet him in the doorway.
***
When Angie woke, she was lying on the floor, staring up at a small but elegant crystal chandelier. It took her a moment to recall where she was. The decor was too sophisticated for her L.A. apartment and lacked none of the familiar comforts of home. A clock ticked on the wall and with each second that past the fog of her memory cleared. She’d taken a trip to Vegas with her roommates. She’d been attacked outside a club. She woke up in a coffin, confused, disoriented, and in her boss’s Vegas condo. And Sebastian Cole apparently had no idea they’d met twice before.
She rolled to her side and a thick gold band with three sparkling diamonds caught her eye. As she reached for the ring her hand smeared fresh blood on the hardwood floor.
Had she really bit a complete stranger and drank his blood?
Bile rose in her throat and Angie clutched the ring so tightly her nails cut into the palm of her hand. She rolled her tongue over the small fangs at the front of her mouth. They weren't fully extended but they were there — more proof that her human life had vanished along with her so-called friends who abandoned her during their Vegas get-away. How had this happened? How had she gone from partying with her friends to waking up in a coffin and yearning for blood? And why was she in her boss’s condo? No one, certainly not Sebastian Cole, seemed to have answers.
Angie spotted a trail of spilled blood and braced herself for what was too come as she followed it throughout the apartment. She had attacked a man in the hallway. Maybe even killed him. A shudder of panic ran up her spine. She’d never taken the life of anything larger than a mosquito. Now her attempt to let loose and live it up in Vegas with her new roommates had turned into a nightmare. She was a vampire. It made no sense, but she couldn’t deny her insatiable craving for blood moments earlier.
Angie was desperate to apologize to Sebastian, though she wasn’t quite sure what to say. Sorry someone turned me into a vampire and sent me to your apartment dressed like a hooker. Sorry I got hungry and tried to eat your friend for dinner? My bad. Yeah, that probably wouldn't help her make amends.
Worse, since landing her new internship, Angie had spent the last three weeks fantasizing about the mouth-watering CEO of Visio PR. Now she was absolutely certain that Sebastian Cole, number six on hollywood’s most eligible bachelors list, had no idea who she was. There was no recognition on his face when he had opened the coffin. Nor a sense of the familiar as he assisted her out of the shiny black box.
When he examined her body, lusting for her with those sexy bedroom eyes, she thought it was a dream come true. For a brief moment she was tempted to play along. She could pretend to be his call girl for one night. What was the harm in that?
But then it all went to Hell. The knock on the door. The scent of fresh blood. Blind instinct had taken over and she was consumed with hunger.
Oh, God. She had to make this right.
The trail of blood ended at the entrance to the master bathroom. Angie looked up and found herself staring at her half-naked boss. The words of her apology faded from her mind as a new, fiery yearning took over. She studied Sebastian—with his perfectly tan skin that reminded her of her favorite sun-kissed beach. Chiseled muscles rippled across his back as he leaned over the marble tub. Gray gym shorts hung low on his waist, teasing her with a peek of the upper curve of his behind. She wondered if he was flying commando. One good tug might reveal even more deliciousness, the thought of which made the muscles in her inner thighs twitch.
She wasn't certain when exactly she put on the ring. She’d picked it up with every intention of presenting it to Sebastian as a peace offering. But as she watched Sebastian, past fantasies filled her head. She mindlessly slid the ring on her finger — more of a nervous habit, if anything. But when she did so, Sebastian doubled over in pain and fell against the tub.
Help him! She screamed to herself but she didn’t move. He turned toward her exposing his bare chest, his tight abs, and the thin trail of blonde hair that traveled south from his navel.
She imagined kissing that chest, letting her parted lips graze his skin as she moved lower, her tongue snaking over his body. She wanted to tease him with tiny nibbles and found her tongue rolling over her new fangs at the thought. Sebastian met her gaze and for a brief moment she grew hot with embarrassment. Did he know what she was thinking? Was lust evident on her face?
Sebastian’s eyes darkened with desire. He stood up to his full height and she marveled at his stature. "This isn't a good idea," Sebastian began, but it was too late. Her new vampire side was already rising to the surface. She’d found something she wanted and wasn’t about to back down.
Angie gave him a teasing smile. "I never imagined Sebastian Cole to be the type to play it safe."
"It could get complicated," he continued, but despite his protests he didn't stop walking toward her. And she didn’t ask him to. Instead, Angie grabbed the hem of her robe and slid it over her shoulders. She let the silky fabric fall to her feet. Then she reached back and unclasped her lace bra. She pulled her arms free and the lingerie fell on top of the discarded robe. Sebastian finally froze, his gaze locked on her bare chest. Normally, she would have flushed under the scrutiny, worried that her boobs might be uneven, or too big or too saggy. But she could hear his heart racing in his chest. The rise in his pulse told her his distracted state was one of yearning, not disgust. It was strangely reassuring to be on the other side of adoration and she couldn't help the giggle that escaped her lips. She moved her hands along her chest until they cupped each one of her breasts and fingered her nipples until they grew hard beneath her touch.
In three steps, Sebastian was on her, pressing her body against his, running his mouth over her bare skin and kissing her as if his life depended on it. When he came up for air, he tightened his grip around her torso and raised her up so that her fingertips could brush the ceiling. Her bare waist was now level with his mouth and he was kissing every inch of her stomach as he walked. With each step, he lowered her a few inches so that his warm lips could touch new skin. He carried her into the bedroom before the two collapsed on the mattress. His mouth moved to her bare breasts. His tongue replaced her fingers, flicking and licking her hard nipples as she bucked against his touch.
She closed her eyes, lost in a wave of desire. His touch was so much better than she had ever imagined, fiery hot and light as a feather. She let him work her body like the expert he was, teasing and pleasing until she could no longer see straight. Then she pulled him up to meet her mouth and kissed him deeply as he wedged himself between her thighs. She was tired of waiting. She wanted him all and she wanted him now...
***
Angie collapsed on top of Sebastian, too exhausted to move let alone untangle herself from her new lover. And really, why the hell would she want to? She had spent too many nights fantasizing about what it would be like to be seduced by the infamous playboy, Sebastian Cole. Now here she was, head rested on his bare chest, drunk off his sex, and wondering how to make this feeling last forever. She laughed at the thought, and Sebastian brushed a stray hair away from her face so that he could see her clearly.
"What's so funny?" he asked.
"Nothing. I'm just...happy." She took his hand in hers and began to trace the lines of his palm with her thumb. "I wish we could stay like this forever."
Sebastian grew a shade paler at the words.
Shit. She was moving too fast. She always moved too fast. It freaked guys out, particularly the hot ones. She started to take the words back, to explain that she was just punch drunk off the mind-blowing sex but she didn't have a chance. The door to the bathroom opened and Stan staggered out.
He hesitated when he spotted the two of them together and then began mumbling gibberish as he shuffled toward the living room.
"Fuck," Sebastian groaned. Angie had to agree. They couldn't let Stan go roaming around. At least not until they were certain he wouldn't out her as a vampire. She wondered if the mind washing stories were true. Could she hypnotize people into saying and believing whatever she wanted?
Angie moved to rise, eager to prevent Stan from leaving, but her lightning speed was gone. She could move her head and turn her hips, but her arms and legs were locked around Sebastian as if their skin had been fused together.
"Don't bother." Sebastian looked completely unsurprised at the recent development.
"What's going on?" she asked.
"Magick," he said.
"What the hell does that mean? Magick?"
"You wished that we would stay like this forever. Now we're stuck together."
"That's not funny," Angie said. "We don't have time for jokes. We've got to stop your friend before he tells the whole city I'm a vampire."
"Yeah, well, I'm not joking. I'm a genie. You have my ring. You made a wish. I granted it."
Angie's jaw dropped. "You're a what?"
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