When vampire Vega has to drink a virgin's blood on Halloween in order to survive for another century, he crashes the Halloween party of one Angelina Kat, virgin extraordinaire and hostess with the mostess.
But the unexpected happens when these two hit the sheets. It turns out that virginity is the least of Angelina's secrets. Vega just might walk away with a case of cat scratch fever!
The party died a premature death.
Angelina sank into the nearest chair with a heart like lead. Despite her meticulous planning and good intentions, her Halloween bash was far from a smash. It was dead as the proverbial doornail. Except for a couple of stragglers sharing a long good night on the front steps, the place had cleared out completely in the span of fifteen minutes.
Alone again…naturally. Angelina huffed out a breath and went to the kitchen for a trash bag. She shuffled back to the living room. Might as well start cleaning up the post-party shrapnel. Happy frickin’ Halloween.
Then she saw him. Him.
It turned out she wasn’t alone after all.
He stood in the exact spot where she’d first seen him, propped against the wall, staring at her with eyes that made every glance feel like a caress.
She stood, clutching the white plastic trash bag like a lifeline, as he sauntered across the room to her. Once again, her heart went into double time.
He stopped a few inches from her, close enough for her to look up into his eyes of indescribable blue with swirls of luminescent light of a hue and brilliance to put the Aurora Borealis to shame.
His mouth curled up on one side, calling her attention to the suckable fullness of his bottom lip.
One of them had to say something, break this mind-numbing tension. Angelina’s mouth opened before she had time to think. “I see you stuck around to see the last rites. I was just about to call an embalmer.”
He laughed, a low masculine sound that did things to her body. “It’s my good fortune.”
“Why’s that?”
“Their loss is my gain.” He took her hand and lifted it to his lips. “I finally have you to myself.”
She exhaled a shuddery breath. The touch of his lips on her hand carried an erotic charge far exceeding the gesture itself. She instantly imagined those lips on hers, and going lower, brushing every region of her touch-starved body.
Common sense dashed over her like a bucket of ice water. She was alone with a total stranger on Halloween night. It called for a dose of caution. She eased her hand from his, every nerve ending singing to life as her skin slid against his.
“Do I know you?” It seemed like a good place to start.
“I want you to know me.” His gaze raked her body. “My name is Vega.”
She narrowed her eyes. Okay, so he had the face of a Greek god and the body to match, and generated enough chemistry to blow up a nuclear power plant. The entire situation was still too unusual for her to trust.
“Vega what?”
“Vega St. Angelo.” He smiled, revealing the most fabulous set of cosmetic fangs she’d ever seen. Angelina barely stifled a gasp.
“Well, Vega St. Angelo, I do know one thing about you.”
“What’s that?” He moved in closer, close enough for her to feel his heat.
“You must know one hell of a special effects artist. Those are the best cosmetic fangs I’ve ever seen.”
Before he could respond, a crackle buzzed through the room, shutting off the electricity and plunging them into total darkness.
Well played. The lights had gone out at precisely the right moment, ending Angelina’s line of questioning. Vega congratulated himself. He’d shut down the electricity without so much as batting an eye. Nice trick, that. He’d have to thank Silas for teaching it to him.
“Oh, God. This is too craptastic for belief.” Angelina groaned. “Here I am with my horrendous night vision, stuck in a blackout.”
“I thought cats could see in the dark.” Vega smiled to himself. She had no inkling of her true nature, nor his, for that matter.
“Hardy har har. The cat suit is only skin deep.”
And what fine skin it is. Skin he hoped to taste and touch, the sooner the better.
Of course, the darkness presented no problem to him. With his vampiric vision, he could see as well in the dark as he could in the light, a fortunate trait for someone with a nocturnal existence. A few orange and black pillar candles rested on a silver tray on the coffee table just a few feet away. Perfect.
“Why don’t we light the candles I saw earlier on your coffee table?” He was careful to phrase this in a way that hid his night vision.
“Great idea.” She took a few fumbling steps toward the kitchen. “I know exactly where my matches are.”
“Never mind that, I have it.”
“Good. I’m going to call the power company. Thankfully, I have them on speed dial.” She managed to locate the wall-mounted phone just outside the kitchen entrance. “I’m Angelina, by the way.”
“Angelina.” He rolled the name on his tongue, imbibing its sweetness. “It’s my pleasure.”
She picked up the phone and began dialing. Certain that her back was to him, he lit each candle in turn with a flick of his finger, no matches required.
The pleasure would be his, and hers, as well.
