Vampires: The Recent Undead Part 21

"It is. Silver was discovered two years ago and those lodes are as rich as the gold. There's money to be made for sure."

Holliday is watching me now, over the rim of his gla.s.s. "You don't talk like a wh.o.r.e. You don't look like one either. Your skin is milky white. Your hair s.h.i.+ny. Good teeth. Why hasn't some rich city boy plucked you up?"

I wave a hand and laugh. "You see any rich city boys around here? I'm doing what I want to do. I like men. They seem to like me. Men are allowed to indulge their pa.s.sions. What's wrong with a woman doing the same thing?"

His eyebrows raise a bit. "Plain talk. I like that. I say let's you and me follow that pa.s.sion right up to a room." He signals the bartender. "A bottle, if you please, and two gla.s.ses."

He tucks the bottle under an arm, scoops the gla.s.ses into one hand, places his other hand at the small of my back. "Time to properly make your acquaintance, Miss Rose," he says with a little bow. "Lead the way."

Tom's eyes follow us to the staircase at the back of the saloon. I feel his thoughts reaching out. You need anything, you call, he says.

I smile at him over my shoulder. You watch out for the other girls. Trixie should be back down in fifteen minutes. Annabelle just went up. Those two miners in the corner have monopolized Jane and Kate for too long. If they aren't ready to pony up for a f.u.c.k in ten minutes, kick 'em out.

He grins and throws me a salute. Yes, sir. How long should I give you and Doc?

I put my arm through Holliday's. As long as it takes.

My room is at the back of the hallway, facing Main Street. It has big windows that are left open nearly year around. The cold doesn't bother me and the bracing smell of air heavy with snow flushes out the human smell of sweat and s.e.m.e.n that often permeates these walls.

Holliday crosses right over to the windows and pulls them shut. "d.a.m.n, woman. It's cold in here. Don't you feel it?"

No, the vampire answers. The human answers, "I forget sometimes, to close the windows. Here. I'll stoke the fire. It will be warm as a spring day in a minute."

He holds up the bottle. "Good thing I brought a little something to help heat us up."

He pours two gla.s.ses and hands one to me. I pretend to take a sip, then place the gla.s.s on the table next to the bed. "I know better ways to heat our blood." I slip the straps of my gown down over my shoulders.

His eyes follow my movements. He still has his own gla.s.s in his hand. By the time I've stripped down to my undergarments, that hand is trembling a little.

"You have a beautiful body," he says. "Tiny. You're no bigger than a minute."

"How about you, cowboy? You no bigger than a minute?"

He puts his gla.s.s down beside mine, crosses the room, eyes blazing with the challenge. He shrugs out of his jacket, lets it fall to the floor. He pulls the tie off, strips off his s.h.i.+rt. Only then does he take his gun belt off. He lets the holster fall to the floor. The gun he places on one of the pillows.

"You afraid you need protection from me?" I ask with a playful smile. I don't like guns, especially one within arm's reach of a man I'm f.u.c.king. Bullets can't kill me, but they sure as h.e.l.l can hurt.

I reach out to move the gun. He's faster. He stops my hand, gives it a little shake. "Uh-huh. The gun stays where it is."

I twist free. "You paid for my time. This is my bedroom. I will f.u.c.k you anyway you want, but not with a gun on my pillow. It either gets moved, or you both do. Out the door."

His face darkens with quick anger. Then it's over. The cloud clears from his eyes first. Then the corners of his mouth turn up in a grin. "Do you f.u.c.k as good as you give orders?"

My hand drifts down his stomach, rubs at the bulge pus.h.i.+ng against the fabric of his pants. "Take these off and we'll find out."

He fumbles a little with the b.u.t.tons, impatience and desire making him clumsy. I push his hands away and free him myself. His member thrusts out at me, hard and ready. I throw him back on the bed, pull off his boots and slide his trousers down over his ankles. He reaches for me, but I've got the gun in my hand and have stepped out of reach to place it across the room on the bureau.

When I turn around, he's watching me with that predator's glare again, wary, suspicious, until I pull my chemise up over my head and stand in front of him as naked as he is.

Suspicion and doubt are swept from his mind. The only thing he feels now is a powerful l.u.s.t, a hunger. My blood responds to the fire in his eyes. I let him pull me down on top of him, our bodies press together. My b.r.e.a.s.t.s are crushed against his chest, his erection between my legs, probing, insistent. He grabs my shoulders and rolls me over. He thrusts himself deep inside me, pounding into me until he comes with a gasp and a moan.

It's over for him. The weight of his body on mine grows heavier as his breathing becomes deep and regular. I let him drift off, used to the ways of men. I am a wh.o.r.e whose value is limited to one thing-the vessel into which men pour their seed. But I am also vampire. I have needs of my own.

I have learned how best to fulfill those needs. When Holliday has slept for some minutes, I begin. I roll him gently off me and start first by calling up my own desire. My fingers probe my s.e.x, finding the spot that brings the release denied me with our first coupling. Then, breathless, eager, I turn my attention to him. I take his s.e.x in my hands, gently, using strokes as light as a b.u.t.terfly's kiss to call back the hunger. Holliday awakens, startled, to find this woman, this wh.o.r.e fondling him. But his body is already responding. He moans and lets me continue until he is fully aroused. He reaches for me. This time, I have my way.

I straddle him, pinning him beneath me with my thighs. I guide him into me and begin moving, slowly, his s.e.x filling me, pressing against the pleasure point, tension rising until my blood sings with it. He tries once to grab my shoulders, thrust me back under him, but I am vampire. This is my game now.

He gives in, surrendering to my control. His hands grasp my b.u.t.tocks, his hips grind against mine. He's moaning again, a low, keening sound. His eyes are closed and I bend forward, kiss each eyelid, brush my lips against his. I trace a path with my tongue from the corner of his mouth to his jaw line, find the pulse point just beneath the surface, wait until I feel the first spasms of his release, and bite.

Need consumes us both. He comes with a groan as his body pushes up against mine. I come with a shudder as I taste his blood, roll it around in my mouth, savor the life essence of this man. His blood is not as bitter as I expect. I drink, great breathless droughts of blood that warm and revive me. But I know when to stop. When to relegate the vampire back to the shadow. When to call the human back.

Holliday lies spent once more beneath me. I use my lips to close and heal the puncture marks. This is when I secrete the enzymes that make my host forget. The s.e.x. The feeding.

But I don't want this one to forget. He won't remember my opening his neck. He won't remember my taking his blood. But he will remember the coupling, the pleasure we've given each other. I lay still and quiet beside him.

While I'm cradled against his shoulder, his right hand comes up and caresses the back of my neck. He doesn't fall asleep this time. He gathers me into his arms.

Imagine that.

Holding a wh.o.r.e after s.e.x.

It makes me smile.

I'm sitting at the vanity, still naked, brus.h.i.+ng my hair. Holliday watches, leaning against the headboard, a blanket thrown over his hips.

"You are no ordinary wh.o.r.e."

I shrug. "What kind of wh.o.r.e am I?"

He tilts his head, studying me. "I don't know."

He throws off the blanket, comes to stand behind me, takes the brush from my hand. He draws it gently through my hair. When he leans toward me, I feel his s.e.x press into the small of my back.

"Are you ready to go again so soon?"

He lays the brush down, puts his hands on my shoulders, pulls me up. "If you do what you did before, I may never want to leave this room."

He is smiling and for a moment, I see the younger, healthier man he must have been before illness and the fortunes of life claimed him.

A startling thought flashes into my head. He could be that man again. I could make it happen. I could make him forever young and healthy. I could make him vampire.

I feel him watching me. I've never done it before-made another like me. Would he want it?

His hands cup my face. "What are you thinking?"

A rap on the door brings me back to the present with a little jump. I stand back and away from Holliday and s.n.a.t.c.h up a robe. "Yes?"

"There's someone here says he's looking for Doc Holliday."

Sunny Tom's voice carries through the thick door. His thoughts project even better. This could be trouble.

Holliday reaches for his trousers. "Got a name?"

I've crossed to the door, pulled it open. Sunny Tom steps inside. "Says his name is Billy Allen. Says he's gunning for you. Name mean anything?"

A frown pulls at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah. The name means something." He shrugs into his s.h.i.+rt, tucks it into his trousers, straps on the holster. He grabs the gun from the top of the bureau, spins the chamber, slips it into the holster in a single, fluid motion.

"You don't have to go down there. There's a back entrance. Tom could show you and you could be out of town before Allen knows you're gone."

Holliday shakes his head. "No."

The answer sends a spark of irritation burning through me. "Why not? Why risk dying?"

His expression this time is one of amused indulgence. He chucks my chin. "I am dying, lady. Consumption, remember?"

"But what if you didn't have to die?"

What are you doing, Rose? Tom's voice in my head is sharp-edged and heavy with disapproval.

Holliday is at my vanity, smoothing his hair back from his face, straightening the diamond tiepin at the neck of his s.h.i.+rt. "We all have to die, Rose. I'd prefer to do it with my boots on."

He turns toward me and smiles. "How do I look?"

"Good. You look good."

He takes another step closer, close enough to lean down and brush his lips against mine. "Keep that bed warm. I reckon to be back."

And then he's gone, Tom on his heels.

Tom doesn't leave without a parting shot. He pauses at the door, grins back at me. He must be one h.e.l.l of a f.u.c.k.

I push the door closed at his back and scramble for my clothes. There are too many of them with too many hooks and too many b.u.t.tons. I give up, wrap the robe around me again and cinch it with the sash. Barefoot, I run into the hall.

The retort of the gunshot reaches me at the top of the stairs. I race down in time to see Holliday leaning over the end of the bar. In two seconds, I'm at his side.

Billy Allen is on the floor, his right arm b.l.o.o.d.y. He's yelling and clutching at the arm, his face twisted in pain and fear.

Holliday stands over him, pistol c.o.c.ked, and takes aim.

"No." I put my hand on his arm, tug. "If you kill him like this, it's cold blooded murder. If you stop now, it's self-defense. You'll have a fighting chance with a jury."

I recognize in Holliday's face a feeling I'm well acquainted with-the blood l.u.s.t-when adrenaline is hot in your veins and the need for satisfaction swallows up your humanity. But I'm not sure he heard or understood what I said. His heart is pounding with such force, I feel it deep in my own chest.

The crowd in the saloon has grown quiet. The only noise is the sound of sobbing from Billy Allen. Holliday remains poised over him. He glances down at me.

I shake my head. "Don't. Please."

He smiles.

Then he fires.

I jump, gasping.

There's a strangled cry from Billy Allen that continues to grow in volume until as one, all of us take a step forward to look.

The floor is splintered just above Allen's head. He's curled himself into a fetal position, rocking and crying. The air is foul with the smell of his body's waste. He's p.i.s.sed and s.h.i.+t himself and all around, laughter erupts.

Holliday holsters his gun. "Sorry for the mess," he says.

He looks around at the crowd. "I reckon someone should get Marshal Kelly. And call whoever you have in town who serves as a medical man to tend to Allen here. I'll be at the bar."

He holds out his arm and I take it. "You know you're going to pay for the damage to the floor."

Holliday grins. "You are no ordinary wh.o.r.e. That's a fact."

Sunny Tom is directing the music man back to his playing and the girls back to their hustling. He herds players toward the gaming tables to resume their interrupted poker game. I signal the bartender to give everyone a drink on the house. Soon Billy Allen is nothing more than a mewling distraction to be stepped around until the town's doctor arrives to cart him off.

Holliday and I sip whiskey at the bar.

"What's going to happen?" I ask. It's a stupid question. I know the answer.

Holliday's smile acknowledges that we both do. "I'll be arrested. If I'm lucky, they'll let me out on bail. If not, I'll be in jail until the trial."

"It's self-defense, though, pure and simple. Sunny Tom said Allen was gunning for you. You have a right to protect yourself."

Holliday laughs. "I'll be sure you're called as a defense witness."

"It will be my pleasure."

We lapse into silence. I can't quantify what it is about this man, this stranger, that has touched me. I only know that I want him to stay with me, if not forever, than at least as long as human life allows.

"You better come right back here the minute you're released, y'hear?"

Another rumbling laugh. "You sure like to give orders."

"I do. And I'm used to those orders being followed. Don't make me come after you."

He puts his hand over mine on the bar and squeezes. "I'll do my best."

I lean toward him, resting my head on his shoulder, wondering again if I told him what I was and offered him eternal life what he might say. Would he believe me?

No. Worse, he might think me mad. Better to wait until he comes back. Until I have time to explain the gift I have to offer. What it means to me. What it can mean to him.

My heart is pounding so hard, I'm sure he must hear it. Maybe if I remind him of what we shared upstairs. Give him a hint of what could be. What will be when he returns.

I move closer, my lips at his ear.

He bends his head. "Yes, Rose?"