Real Vampires Have Curves by Gerry Bartlett Page B

haven’t killed anything in centuries. ” I glanced at the castle. Grand stone entry flanked by gargoyles. “I’m not staying long, but I would like to see this coffin I’ve heard about.”
    â€œIt’s a start.” Damian pulled me toward the door.
    â€œWait! My shoes.”
    â€œYou won’t need them.” He swung me up and into his arms.
    â€œAre you crazy? I’m no featherweight, Damian.”
    He strode easily up the steps, reminding me that he had vamp strength. So did I, but for now I was content to relax and let him show off.
    â€œYou weigh nothing, less than a feather.”
    I hugged his neck. This was fun. I felt like a bride being carried over the threshold as he juggled me to open the front door. Hold it. Not a wedding night. Just looking at his bed, er, coffin.
    â€œYou have a really cool place.” Which was certainly true if you were into castles. Which I was, as long as they had modern conveniences and were within minutes of a shopping mall like this one was.
    â€œYou’ll have to come back some night and take the full tour when you have more time. I know you’re anxious to get back to your shop.”
    Giving himself an out if I called a halt to things? Good. He saved his pride and I had an unwimpy excuse for rushing out of here if things got too intense.
    â€œThe shop. Yes, I’m anxious.” I felt his arms cradling me and smiled. Were we really having this conversation while he held me like this? “But not too anxious.”
    â€œExcellent.” Damian grinned and headed up the wide stone staircase. “Come to my coffin, pretty one.” He growled and showed his fangs.
    He played up the vamp thing like this was all a game. Which it had to be. It had been six weeks, but Damian knew I’d been remembering my last visit here. With Blade. A man would have to be a fool to compete with Jeremy Blade.
    â€œI don’t just compete, I win, Gloriana.” He kicked open a door at the end of a long hall.
    I’d let that comment go for now. Damian the mind reader would soon realize that I wasn’t the prize in a vamp tug-of-war. Forget games. Hello, coffin. Funeral directors would have wept at its beauty. Mahogany. Brass fittings. King-sized.
    â€œThat is the most amazing bed I’ve ever seen.” The bed slash coffin dominated the large room. A fat mattress covered with white satin sheets gleamed in the candlelight from sconces set in niches about the room. At least six pillows were propped up against the headboard and a wine, or should I say blood, red velvet comforter was folded neatly across the foot of the bed.
    Damian strode into the room. “Here’s the best part.” He dropped me, no, threw me onto the bed. I sank into sheer, unadulterated soft-as-a-cloud bliss.
    â€œI love this bed.” I threw back my arms and looked up. Gilt cherubs flew along the edge of a wooden canopy lined with more white satin. A fancy coffin lid. “That thing’s not going to close on me is it?”
    â€œNot unless I press this button.” He reached for the headboard.
    I sat up. “You wouldn’t—”
    Damian laughed and kicked off his shoes. “Just kidding. Relax. Lie back.” He settled on the bed beside me and we lay there shoulder to shoulder. “Cool, isn’t it?”
    The bed, yes. And the man? Not cool. Hot. Candlelight flickered over his Roman nose and strong chin, shadowed by a slight beard. Masculine. Powerful. Very sexy.
    I rolled onto my side and propped my head on my hand, giving him a good view of cleavage if he’d just check it out. He checked and grinned. And reached for the tab again. The sound of that old metal zipper riding down my body was a total turn on. Should I stop him? He looked up, his eyes gleaming, daring me to stop him as he inched the zipper lower.
    A dare? I reached for his shirt and unbuttoned it just as slowly as he was unzipping me. He had a