TEASER TUESDAY ~ Who wants double-dipped Vasyl?

Okay. Okay.

As you know I've been doing the Teaser Tuesdays and using short scenes from my second book, Vampire's Trill, trying to fan the fires of interest in all of you. As if I need to, right?

Today I'm going to pull a scene where Vasyl has come into Sabrina's house for the very first time. And he is nummy.

Before I do this, however, and because I don't want you all panting and frustrated, wondering when this book is due out, I just got word from my publisher it is due out "EARLY NOVEMEBER".

Withou further ado: from Chapter 11

I turned to see Vasyl's gaze rise to take me in. He seemed larger than I remembered. At least several inches taller than myself. Which was a surprise, since when he was a living man people were not very tall. He was nearly as tall as Tremayne. I guessed he must be six-six.

“Invite me in, Sabrina.”

“Please come in, Vasyl.” I stepped back, holding the door open for him.

Cautious steps brought him over the threshold. He seemed unreal, to me. Like someone who had stepped out of my childhood dreams. Actually he had. He threw off enough pheromones to drop an elephant. My skin hummed, my scalp crawled, I imagined my hair was sticking out like I'd touched one of those static balls at the Museum of Science and Industry.

“Do not resist me, cherie,” he said, head lowered to gaze at me with beautiful eyes. Up till now I'd thought his eyes were warm-brown, but I was mistaken. In the glow of the small lamp situated behind him, and those from my bedroom, I could see they were a dark blue. Almost violet. Perhaps they were.

“Who's resisting? You can't be real,” I said, my heart thumping inside my chest as I neared him, taking him in; his beautiful face, coiled black hair, and broad white chest. He looked like a rock star, and totally out of his element standing in my dining room. He needed an electric guitar or something to bring it all together. I'd never seen him wear shoes, and he didn't tonight. The white shirt (a companion to the one he had given me to wear, and was still in my closet) draped on him, open in the front, had my eyes tracing the edges of where his chest and abdomen was exposed, right to where his faded jeans hung low on his hips—yowza . Both ears were pierced, and when I looked close—my God—tinny gold crosses with small diamonds in their centers dangled from each ear. How could he wear them? His answer to my absurd question interrupted my thoughts on a vampire wearing dangling crucifix earrings.

“I am very real, cherie.”

“Can I touch you?” I asked, nervous of his answer either way. “Without you touching me, I mean?”

“S'il vous plaît, Sabrina. Please, touch me all you wish,” he said in an inviting tone, moving his arms out to his sides to allow me to approach him, showing me he wouldn't touch me—and I trusted he wouldn't bring his arms around me to trap me against himself. He stood stone still, only his eyes watching me.

“And block me from picking up thoughts and emotions from you, please?” Normally I couldn't get a read from a vampire. But I worried because I'd had his blood.

“Oui, I shall do so,” he agreed.

I moved in closer, my trembling hand reaching up toward his long glistening hair. It came to below his waist in the back, and in the front, it grew to his waist in loose coils. Incredibly thick and heavy, it was a wonder his head didn't snap off from the weight of it all. I took a bit of it in my fingers and marveled at how silky it felt. His face looked like chiseled alabaster, the large crimson lips almost the only color. His large dark eyes, and hair contrasting so that if he stood naked in the snow, that's all you would see of him. But it was enough.

“Closer, cherie, closer,” he whispered. “I will not harm you. I have fed well tonight and do not require your blood.”

With the invitation I wavered on an unseen knife's edge between reality and my dream world. He was here, the man—vampire—of my dreams, in my house! The things I'd dreamt I would do to him. And here I was with my irritating monthly. I was never the aggressor in any relationship I'd ever had—all two of them. Dante had been a gentle lover, but unarguably the aggressive one. But this was all new to me. Whether it was a regular man, or vampire, it didn't matter. Vampires were very aggressive, as sex and blood lust drove them to choose their partners with care, as they wanted someone they could come to on a continuous, nightly bases, and were jealous of their donors and wouldn't allow anyone else to touch them. It made for a really one-sided relationship, unless the human had no problem being a vampire's paramour. At the moment, I didn't want to think about this part. I wanted to act out my dreams, just this once.

I moved a bit closer; breathing in his scent. Every vampire had his, or her own scent. I gathered that they probably sniffed us for exactly that same reason. His was a mixture of the aroma of an exotic flower, newly tilled earth—and now I could detect old leather, like saddle leather. It reminded me of horses. The barn where he slept held horses. I knew now that he fed from these animals, instead of hunting humans.

“Touch me,” he whispered. “Do not be afraid.” He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, arms out. “I ache for your touch, mon amour.”

I wasn't afraid of him. I was in awe of him.

copyright Lorelei Bell