Girls Who Bite

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Introduction

  BLOODY WICKED

  AL DENTE

  DARK ANGEL

  PET DOOR

  DARK GUARD

  LA CAÍDA

  THE CRYSTAL ALTAR

  BELOVED

  BOUND LOVE

  THE GIFT OF LILITH

  MADELINE

  RED HORIZONS

  IMPUNDULU

  NIGHT AT THE WAX MUSEUM

  SHE KNOWS I AM WATCHING

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  ABOUT THE EDITOR

  Copyright Page

  INTRODUCTION

  Vampire—vagina. A more perfect sensual pairing couldn’t be imagined. Dark hungers, shocking thirsts… For blood, for connection… A sharing of nourishment and comfort… Infliction and acceptance of pain…

  Whether the story depicts a traditional blood-drinker seducing a meal, a psychic vampire stealing life force from an unknowing host, or a real-life sanguinarian seeking a partner to share a ritual bloodletting to cement a bond, the stories will be varied and unexpected. Writers will be encouraged to investigate vampire myths from around the world, looking for something fresh to add to the pantheon.

  That description was included in the call for submissions I sent out when I began this project. This being the first book where I don the editor’s hat and make the selections, I wanted stories the likes of which I hadn’t read before. I write about vampires and werewolves, demons and succubi, and a dragon here and there. I love to read about them. But in this shorter format, I wanted to spark authors to provide me with something rare: a surprise.

  I made hard, excruciating choices, keeping in mind that I wanted the stories to be beyond simply erotic. If they didn’t pull at my emotions, if they didn’t provide me with a fresh twist and leave me feeling hopeful or haunted, I put them aside. I am at heart a romantic.

  Why vampires? Aren’t there enough books and movies to bludgeon the genre to death? Maybe. But I’ll bet there will be a tale or two here that you’ve never read before. Or a twist you didn’t expect. Add the sensual texture of Sapphic love, and it’s a perfect mix. Blood is life. And for a vampire, a blood host is more than food; the relationship is one to be nurtured, and who better to understand that than women?

  So, sit astride the dome of St. Peter’s Basilica, sail with modern-day pirates, watch a meteor fall to earth and taste the powdery wings of a monarch butterfly. Not things you’d expect in a vampire tale? Then sip O-positive from a femoral artery while tugging at the silky strands of your lover’s hair, or scent a fated mate in an ocean breeze. Not so surprising, but eternally delicious.

  Delilah Devlin

  BLOODY WICKED

  Vivi Anna

  A soft, warm breeze tickled the leaves of the grand oak trees as I stepped out of the woods. The sultry night air pressed down. The weather had been unnaturally hot for the end of October, and the dying sun had brought no relief to the day’s humidity. Sweat trickled down my back and over the firm swell of my buttocks. My red silk robe clung sinuously to my clammy skin, and my long hair stuck to the back of my neck. The walk from my home to this sacred place was short, but in this heat even that produced enough sweat to slick my skin.

  Bright light from the full moon illuminated the small clearing. I could clearly see the large wood stump I had consecrated months ago for my altar. I walked to it slowly, breathing in the sweet scents of the night air. It was a perfectly delectable night for making magic.

  I set down the wicker basket I carried on the wooden altar. Stepping alongside it, I shed my robe and slipped off my sandals. I stretched my arms up to the heavens and closed my eyes. The warm breeze caressed my naked body. The only thing I wore was an Egyptian ankh amulet around my neck, a ward against negative energies. I took in one last deep breath, then turned to my basket and the work at hand.

  “I call upon the element of air to be present and to bless the work to be done.” I raised the candle to the night sky. “Hail and welcome.”

  The invocations I did intensified the ancient mystical elements that roamed the woods. I could almost see the magic in the night sky. A faint warm glow emanated around me. The spell would be powerful. I had no doubt it would work. I was a commanding witch.

  From the basket, I withdrew a small clay bowl and set it on the altar. Next, I took out a brown glass bottle, opened it and dripped oil into the bowl. The sweet warm smell of cinnamon wafted up to my nose. I took out another bottle, a plastic one full of avocado oil, and poured some into the bowl.

  Dipping my fingers into the mixture, I rubbed the liquid onto my nipples reveling in the way it made my skin tingle with heat. As I touched my skin, power trickled over me, cutting a lazy trail down my belly to pool in between my legs. Energy crested at my center, making my juices flow.

  I slid my hand over the soft folds of my sex. Wet and hot, I rejoiced in the way my flesh heated even more beneath my fingertips. Slowly, I inserted two fingers inside, pumping lazily, in no hurry to find release. I loved to play with myself. The spell would be stronger because of it.

  Arching my back and spreading my legs even farther apart, I added my other hand to the play. I swirled my fingers over my clit, flinching as my legs tightened and flexed in response. An orgasm was building like a raging inferno.

  Increasing my tempo, I fingered my sex while flicking my clit. It never failed to get me off, and I needed to come hard for my incantation to be potent. The elementals would hear my cries one way or another.

  As I buried my hand to the second knuckle, I pinched my clit sharply. Within seconds, a surge of pleasure crashed through me. Moaning, I clamped my eyes shut and came like a volcano. Hot cream gushed over my fingers.

  Panting, I lay there until I had the strength to move. I sat up, being careful not to wipe off the creamy liquid on my fingers. I reached into my basket and gathered my bolline and two pink candles. With my ritual knife, I carved an ancient symbol into one candle and set it on the altar. I dipped my hands into the oil bowl, mixing my cum with the tincture. Again, I anointed the remaining candle and set it with the other on the altar where I lit them both.

  The wind picked up and swirled violently around me but miraculously did not extinguish the flames. My magic was strong. This spell, I hoped, would be one of my most effective. The elementals couldn’t deny my call.

  I raised my arms to the heavens, closed my eyes and bowed my head. “And let it be done.”

  I rubbed at my temple again. The headache was getting worse, stronger, more centralized. This morning I woke with a dull throb all over my head, but now, late in the day, it was situated in my temples. It was as if someone had pushed pins into the side of my skull.

  The bell at my door rang. I looked up as the door opened and Ted, Raven’s Bay’s deputy, and a woman strolled in. I smiled.

  “Hi, Ted. Did you come for some more bath salts? I just made up a new batch.”

  Ted blushed. “Ah, no, sorry, Anisa. Business today. This is Sheriff Alexa Branwell.” He stepped to the side and waved his hand at the woman commanding the room behind him.

  I felt my heart stutter in my chest as I looked her over. She was tall with wide shoulders and a trim waist. Her curly dark hair brushed at her collar and flirted at her brow, overlooking incredibly dark blue eyes. She had an impressive presence. The weight of her aura pressed back on me, circled me and caressed my skin.

  There was power there.

  “I had no idea Raven’s Bay was getting a new sheriff.”

  She continued to eye me, as if taking measure. I shivered involuntarily at the intensity of her gaze.

  “Ah, she just arrived today and needs to talk to you. In private,” Ted said softly, his eyes flitting to Poppy, my young e
mployee, who hovered nearby, her dark brown eyes wide with interest.

  “Sure. How about we go in the back?” I motioned to the gauzy curtain separating the back rooms.

  I led them to the room where there was a small round table and two chairs. I gestured to one of the chairs. “Would you care to sit?”

  “No, thank you.” The sheriff’s electric voice caressed my skin, and I shivered.

  “Well, I will, if you don’t mind?” I pulled out a chair and sat, crossing my long legs. I hoped she didn’t notice them quivering. Being near the woman was intoxicating. I felt light-headed and almost giddy.

  Clearing my throat, I tried to sound unaffected. “Was there something you wanted?”

  After several long seconds, she pulled her gaze away and glanced around the room. “Did you know Stan Hart?”

  I frowned. “Yes, I know him.”

  “What was your relationship with him?”

  “No relationship, thank you.”

  “Stan’s not your favorite person?” Alexa cocked an eyebrow, and I wondered if she could hear the disdain in my voice.

  “Not really.”

  “You’ve had words over the years? Arguments? Heated arguments ?”

  “You could say that. Stan has a problem with…me.”

  “And that made you…angry?”

  I sat forward in my chair and put a hand onto the table. “What is this all about?”

  Ted sighed. “Stan’s dead, Anisa.”

  I gasped and put a shaky hand to my mouth. Alexa’s gaze never left my face. I could tell she was searching for something. Guilt maybe?

  The sheriff nodded toward Ted. “Deputy, could you excuse us?”

  Ted looked at Alexa, then back to me. “Um…”

  “I’d prefer if he stayed, Sheriff Branwell,” I managed to say, my breath nearly catching in my throat at the surge in power I sensed. My skin tingled and my muscles clenched. Sweat rolled down my chest to settle inside my navel.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

  “Because I don’t like the way you’re looking at me.” I lied. I liked how she regarded me, with equal measures of lust and hostility. The combination made my skin tingle and my muscles melt in desire. An ache, hot, brutal and intense, burned at my core. I pushed back on the heat Alexa aimed at me and wondered if she felt the same delicious quivers through her curvy body.

  Ted looked from me to Alexa, unsure of what to do. “Do you want me to take notes, Sheriff?”

  Alexa glanced over at him and nodded, her jaw clenched.

  Ted took out his notebook and sat down in the chair across the table from me. “Let’s start over, shall we?”

  I set my hands in my lap trying to hide the quake in them. “I’d really appreciate it if you’d tell me what’s going on. I’m feeling very…persecuted right now.”

  “Persecuted? Interesting word choice. Why would you say that?”

  “Well, you’re obviously here because Ted told you Stan and I never got along. You’re also here because Stan’s death was not accidental, and you’re here because Ted told you I’m a witch. So yeah, persecuted, I think, is the correct word for the situation, don’t you think?”

  “You admit to being a witch?”

  “Yes. Do you admit to being a bitch?”

  Alexa tilted her head and grinned. I swallowed down the moan threatening to erupt. Her smile was more disarming than her intense gaze, and did I detect tips of fangs between her full lips?

  Liquid heat pooled between my legs. I didn’t know how long I could hang on without anyone noticing my precarious condition. I desperately wanted to spread my legs and satisfy the throb drumming at my sex.

  “Where’s your crystal ball?”

  “I don’t have one. You have me confused with a psychic.”

  “Okay, where’s your broomstick?”

  “In the corner.” I gestured to the right corner behind her.

  The back and forth banter did nothing to quell my growing need. In fact, it ignited the flames, urging them higher. Licking my lips, I did a slow, thorough perusal of her body. I smiled when I noticed the stain on the crotch of her snug jeans. She was obviously feeling the heat between us.

  “Do you conjure spells?”

  “Yes,” I said, tearing my gaze from between her legs.

  “Can you put spells on people?”

  I leaned back in my chair and narrowed my eyes. “No.”

  I wanted to beg her to move away. Her hot violent aura was pressing down on me—oppressive but delicious. I wanted to reach up and hook my finger in her jeans and pull her closer. The urge to bury my face in her pussy nearly made me choke. “Spells are only suggestions, nothing more.”

  “So, you could do an evil spell, on say, me…and make a suggestion that I…hmm, that I take a flying leap off a bridge?”

  “Magic does no harm.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means, Sheriff, that magic itself is only a tool. It’s neutral. There is no such thing as an evil spell.”

  “How about an evil person? Is there such a thing as an evil person?”

  “I suppose.”

  Alexa touched a finger to her mouth as if in thought. “What if this evil person knew magic? What then?”

  I uncrossed my legs and sat forward in my chair defiantly looking up at Alexa. I knew what she insinuated, and I couldn’t muster the anger to debate her. If only she really knew how wicked I could be. Would she run, or smile in invitation?

  Finally, I found my voice. “Then, I suppose, you’d have one hell of a problem on your hands, Sheriff.”

  “Would I?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  With those words, I released some magic. I didn’t care who saw it in my eyes. I couldn’t contain the vortex of power swirling inside of me. Alexa did something to me no person had before. And I wasn’t quite sure what to do about it.

  The candles sparked to life and the table beneath them trembled as if the earth itself shook.

  Ted stood up abruptly from the table and knocked his chair over. The resonating sound bolted Alexa from her trance. Her eyes snapped open, and she took a shaky step back from me.

  “Okay, I think we’ve bothered you enough, Anisa. We’ll just get going.” Ted stepped up to Alexa and put a hand on her arm.

  Alexa shook her head clear and glanced over at Ted. There was worry in her eyes. I could see it. Alexa looked back down. I still sat forward, but my hands were pressed down on the chair between my legs, as if I was about to spring up and attack, like a cat ready to pounce. If we had been alone, I would’ve.

  “I’ll be following up with you, Ms. Crowley, so don’t think of leaving town.”

  I nodded that I understood because words wouldn’t form. Too tense and on edge, I couldn’t do anything else.

  I watched as Ted escorted Alexa out of the room and back into my shop. I could sense the nervousness Ted felt. The way he looked at Alexa told me that he feared for the sheriff. Ted was a smart man.

  As I opened the doors to my deck, I inhaled the night air. The sweet smell of jasmine, lavender and freesia wafted to my nose from the garden in the backyard. I took in another deep breath, trying to calm my nerves.

  Ever since Sheriff Alexa Branwell had entered my shop and befuddled my senses, I’d been on edge, unnerved. I’d never met a person with her energies. It floated off her like heat waves, causing severe short-circuiting in my own high-energy wiring. The woman had no idea what she did to me.

  After she left the shop, I had to sit still in my chair for another half-hour before I could trust my legs to support my weight. She had caught me off guard. I hadn’t expected to see her so soon. I knew she would have sought me out eventually, having no choice in the matter. Her aura would have recognized mine in time. But coming face-to-face with her, without my shields in place, nearly drained all my powers.

  I turned from the open door and drew my attention back to the tincture brewing on the stove. Putting my nose over the pot, I breathed in
the scent of jasmine, patchouli and nutmeg. I closed my eyes and felt an immediate tightening deep in my belly. I picked up the pot and set it on the warmer to cool, smiling to myself.

  “Trespassing is against the law in this state, Sheriff.” I turned around slowly.

  She stood in my open door, looking rumpled and brooding, and extremely sexy.

  “Would you like some herbal tea? You look like you need some.” I grabbed the teapot and filled it up with water. I set it on the stove and turned on the heat.

  When I turned back, I noticed she hadn’t moved from her spot. It was as if she was rooted there. I leaned back on the counter and regarded her.

  “Have you bewitched me?” Her voice was low and rough.

  “The tea will be ready in a moment. Why don’t you come in and sit down?”

  She moved like lightning. I barely had time to lift my hand before she stood in front of me, her hands gripping my upper arms, fingers digging into my flesh.

  “Have you bewitched me?” she demanded, her voice shaking with anger.

  I raised my head defiantly and stared into the cold blue depths of her eyes. “No more than you have enraptured me.”

  Alexa bent toward my mouth. I could feel her hot breath on my face as she neared my lips. Wanting desperately to taste her, I parted them with a sigh.

  She swore and pushed away from me. “I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. Your face occupies my vision. I can smell your scent on my clothes, on my skin. I showered and scrubbed until I was red and raw, but your smell still lingered.” She turned on me, fists clenched. “I’m the one that usually overpowers the other.”

  I turned, facing the counter, and poured the tea. I took two cups and placed them on the table. I handed one to Alexa. “Take your tea. We’ll talk.”

  Alexa swiped at my hand, knocking the teacup from it. It shattered into pieces on the tiled floor. “I don’t want your fucking tea!”

  The rage pouring out of her surged over me like molten lava. I gasped and felt my knees go weak. I held the table to steady my stance. My breath came in short gasps, and I had trouble swallowing. The ache in my belly slipped lower, centering and intensifying in my sex. My panties moistened and my thighs quivered. “Alexa, you need to calm down.”