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AFTERGLOW
By
Alicia Sparks
© copyright June 2007, Alicia Sparks
Cover art by Kat Richards, © copyright June 2007
ISBN 978-1-60394-042-9
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.
Chapter One
The dreams had been plaguing Stella ever since she had arrived in the old house she now called home. Sure, it might be falling apart around her, but there was something about it that gave her a sense of freedom wrapped up in security at the same time. It was familiar to her, having seen it since she was a child growing up in Harmony Hills, but it also represented her newly found single status.
Somehow, she knew the house and the dreams were responsible for one another.
It wasn’t the house that haunted her so much. It was the man she dreamed of. Crystal blue eyes, long, dark hair, slender white fingers. There was something about him that spoke to her very soul, shaking her from her sleep, drenching her in sweat as she reached out into the darkness and tried to run her fingers through his hair.
Every time she woke, thinking she had almost touched him, she cursed herself for her childish fantasies. There was no ghost here. And the last thing she needed was a man in her life, no matter how exotically gorgeous he might be. She especially didn’t need someone who could bring her the earth-shattering orgasms she had experienced in her sleep. More than once, she had been shaken awake, quivering in delight to unseen hands. Men like that made women lose their minds, and she’d had enough of that in her forty-odd years.
Still, each night, she curled up in her grandmother’s quilt on her old, beat-up couch and waited for him to come to her.
Each time, the sex was different but each time he touched her with more gentleness than she had known in any of her three marriages. He was dangerous, though, for so many reasons. It wasn’t just the fact that he looked like he’d been sent straight from the angels, it was the look of intensity that clouded his eyes when he looked at her.
He would look down at her, his hands silently reaching for her, pulling the quilt aside. Then he would part her legs, running his fingers along her inner thighs, teasing her with the pads of his thumbs, not quite touching the places that needed so desperately to be touched.
Her nipples would harden in response to him, aching for his fingers to wrap around them and give them a gentle squeeze. His lips would turn up in a slight smile just before he lowered his mouth to her, taking one nipple into his mouth, then the other.
Finally, his hands would slide lower, seeking out her inner core. When his fingers came into contact with her clit, she would begin to shake uncontrollably, her entire being crying out for him in orgasm, dying for the release he brought with him. Each time he positioned his cock at the opening of her wet cunt, his mouth closed over her neck. And each time the penetration was bitter sweet as waves of pleasure wrapped in a hint of pain flowed through her like electricity.
Then it would happen. She would open her eyes and look up at him. He would smile. That’s when she would see the source of the pain that accompanied her orgasm. He bared his pearly white fangs to her, unashamed of the fact that her blood dripped from the tips. She wanted to be afraid of him, wanted to push him away, tell him to go back to hell. But Stella was braver than that.
What gifts could a vampire bring into her life? What kind of balm could he provide for a soul that had worked its fingers to the bone, hardly gaining worldly rewards in return?
No, rather than frightening or disgusting her, he intrigued her. And she wondered each time … if he gave her the choice to join him in his night world, would she take it? Would she choose the gift of immortality or would she continue to grow old and eventually die?
Stella wished she knew the answer to that, but since vampires didn’t exist, it really didn’t matter which path she would choose.
She’d never be given a choice like that any way.
So, she resigned herself to nightly sex with a stranger who came to her in her dreams, taking her blood and leaving her longing to feel his arms wrap around her for real.
* * * *
Cindy, who now insisted upon being called Cynthia, sat with her head buried in a bowl of cereal. Her long black hair shielded her face, and Stella cringed at the black nails adorning the ends of her daughter’s fourteen-year-old fingers. Since they had moved to Harmony Hills, Cindy had totally immersed herself in the Goth culture, something that, Stella was sure, was nothing more than a cry to be different in a town of so many ‘country hicks’ as Cindy unaffectionately called them.
“The new boss comes in tonight,” Stella announced, trying to calm her nerves, knowing her daughter wasn’t the least bit interested in her mysterious boss. “How do I look?” she twirled around, almost tripping because of her tight leather skirt and red high heels.
“Like it’s Wednesday night.” Cindy looked up long enough to roll her eyes and then returned to her breakfast, which she was eating at six PM.
“Oh, yeah, I forgot. Your weekly date with the vampire. Nothing else is important when Spike’s on TV.” Cindy’s obsession with Spike from the TV show had started when she was not even a teenager. Stella had to give her an approving nod for her taste in men. Even if Jim Masters wasn’t British, he could still send a shiver of delight down her back any day. Even better, he was her age, even if he didn’t look it.
“It’s the new season.”
“Yeah, I know. And it’s in syndication, which means it’s not so new. And I don’t suppose you could tape it just this once? I’d like to see you in bed at a decent hour.”
“I always tape it. But I have to see it as it happens.”
This really meant she had to be able to go online and chat with other fans while the show was taking place, commenting on what the characters should or shouldn’t do. It was a weekly ritual with the teens and Stella saw no real harm in it.
“Don’t stay up too late, then. I’ll be home really late. I was told the owner wanted to meet with us after work.”
“What ... is he afraid he’ll turn to dust in the sun?” There was a hint of excitement in her voice as she spoke, even though she tried to lace it with sarcasm.
“No. Nothing like that. Just said it would be more convenient.”
“Convenient not to do it in the daytime?”
Here we go again. Stella tuned out as Cindy recounted endless vampire shows depicting strange nighttime barroom activities. She hoped her daughter’s fascination with vampires would end as soon as she made some decent friends. The divorce had been tough on her, and the move here was even worse. But Stella knew that the only way she could rebuild her life was to return to the place where it all went wrong. And Harmony Hills, Louisiana was the birthplace of it all. The courtship, the pregnancy, the shotgun wedding. All of it happened right under the watchful eyes of the ten thousand citizens.
The old house Stella had bought was one she had always hoped to live in as a child. Now that she was older—much—and had a nice savings, thanks to her grandmother and, in spite of herself, she was able to live out that fantasy, even if only three rooms were livable right now and the roof in the back leaked.
Harmony Hills was nice for small town America, but the club where she had been waitressing for a month was the spitting image of big city living. Loud, pulsating music caused the walls to throb and the customers to spend ungodly amounts of money on booze and tips.
“And then there was this one episode where … Mom, are you listening?”
“Yeah, I’m listening.” Stella focused her attention on her daughter’s too-dark eyeliner. When had she started wearing make-up? It seemed like yesterday she was in diapers.
“No, you’re not. How do you think you can defeat the evil vampires if you don’t listen.” Cindy was dead serious.
“There are no evil vampires. This is Harmony Hills.”
“But you have to listen to me. Carla says …” Carla was one of the chat room junkies “… that they do this. They come into small towns and set up shop and before you know it, people disappear.”
“Well, if they wanted people with good taste, they chose the wrong town.”
“They want people that taste good. And here in the sugar-coated sticks, I’m sure they’ll be able to find what they need. Do you think one of them will bite you?” Cindy’s eyes lit up at the prospect.
“God, I hope so,” Stella mumbled under her breath. Slowing down the aging process would be worth a little one-on-one, especially if the vampire in question looked anything like Spike.
“Mo-om,” she whined.
“What? I thought you liked vampires.”
“Only the good ones.”
Stella folded her arms, “And how do you tell the good ones from the bad ones?”
Cindy laughed, “Surely you can figure that one out.”
As if on cue, the clock announced six fifteen.
“I gotta go. See you tonight,” Stella called as she grabbed her purse and keys.
“No you won’t,” was the reply. “Be careful.” Cindy shot her a look of warning before she dashed out the door, her heels clicking in time to her nervous heart.
Why was it that meeting her new boss had her on edge? All the other girls swore he was a great guy. He had been on vacation in the South Pacific when she started working there, which meant one of two things: either he was rich or he was gay. Possibly both. Nobody from Harmony Hills had ever been to the South Pacific. Most had never even heard of it.
She slid her keys into the ignition and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Age lines outlined her eyes and shone like beacons on her forehead. If it weren’t for the bottled blonde she had religiously been pouring on twice a month since she turned thirty, she’d look like her grandma, completely silver. Sean Connery might look good in silver, but Stella Wilson Henry Lucas Rollins did not! If only there were a remedy for growing old! And if it wasn’t bad enough to see the external proof of her aging, her oldest daughter, Judy, was going to have a baby in a few months, making Stella a grandma. She groaned at the thought as she put the car into gear and headed toward After Glow, the club that paid her bills.
At six-thirty, the club was already jumping. Who knew where these people came from? Thanks to the time change, it was already dark out and had been for a good ten minutes. The club patrons seemed to come out of the woodwork, traveling a great distance to dance and drink the night away.
“Hey, Stella. Nice to see you. Need a hand back here,” Vicki, the bartender called.
Stella raised the partition and stepped back, wiping her hands on a towel. “What you need?”
“Got my hands full with margaritas. We need some beer for the guys over there,” she nodded toward a group of five men, all of whom looked as if they had stepped off the cover of Redneck Quarterly.
“What’ll it be, guys?” she placed coasters in front of them, knowing they’d never use them.
“How ‘bout a slice of heaven, sweet thing?”
She groaned. She was a Bubba magnet. “How ‘bout something to drink first?”
“Beer. American. Dark,” he laughed.
Great. A real genius. “I’ll be right back, Sugar,” she winked, hoping they’d tip well. Throwing open the cooler door, she saw the spot where the beer should have been was empty. “Shit. Hey, Vick, got any more?”
“In the back,” Vicki nodded toward the cooler.
“Great. Where’s Todd?” The bar back usually disappeared when he was needed the most.
“Don’t know.” she shrugged. “Can you manage?”
“Sure,” she mumbled.
She stepped into the large cooler in the back room and managed to pull a case of beer off the top of the stack before catching her heel on something and damn near falling face first.
“Careful there,” a rich voice seemed to come out of nowhere as arms circled her waist, steadying her. For a half a second, her nipples reacted to the accent, and then she shook the cobwebs from her head and reminded herself that she was, after all, standing in a beer cooler.
“Jesus Christ, you scared me!” she managed as she turned, almost dropping the case of beer.
“Not quite,” he smiled, “but I have talked to him a time or two.” He took the case from her trembling fingers.
“Thanks.” Damn, this man was fine! And he had a sense of humor. Okay, girl, slow down, she reminded herself. Her last one-night stand had lasted four years and had ended about six weeks ago. Besides, this guy was way out of her league. Tall, well dressed. No, impeccably dressed. He looked like a magazine cover. And it wasn’t Middle Aged Monthly, the one she subscribed to. Sure, she still had her looks, but the last few years had taken their toll. Raising a teenaged daughter was not as easy as she thought it would be.
“You shouldn’t be back here, you know.”
“Huh?” she had been too busy staring into his crystal blue eyes to hear him. There was something hauntingly familiar about him. Something that made her want to think thoughts better left alone.
“I said you shouldn’t be back here. A girl like you could break her neck in a place like this.”
“A girl like me?” she laughed nervously. He looked too much like her dream guy for her to be comfortable. She wrapped her arms around her body in an attempt to feel more secure.
“Yes. Young. Vulnerable. Dressed like a man’s wet dreams.”
She tried to focus on the young, but her fire got the better of her. And she refused to think he meant anything more than a lecherous comment by the wet dreams part. “Look, mister, I don’t know who you are, but …”
“Valen,” he held out his hand. “Drake Valen. And you are?”
“Stella,” she waved away the intended handshake. “And I am more than a wet dream,” she folded her arms across her chest, unwittingly pressing her breasts forward. When she caught him staring, she dropped her arms. “I have some thirsty rednecks out there that want a beer. So be a doll and bring that case for me, ok?”
“Sure.” He smiled. “I am the owner after all.”
Stella almost swallowed her gum. “The owner?”
“Yes. And as the owner, I should apologize to you. I didn’t mean to offend you. I had hoped to flatter you,” he smiled down at her. His long, dark hair framed his face, giving him a natural gothic look. Cindy would be proud her mama had been hit on by someone she would take a liking to.
“Don’t worry about it,” she shook her head. “But I do need that beer.”
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