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LENGTH: Full Novel
SENSUALITY: Spicy/Carnal

Cover art (c) Alex DeShanks 2009
ISBN 978-1-60394-277-5

Sandra Ashton is a witch who suddenly finds herself dating three vampires. So, what do you do when you’ve got three immortal beings professing their undying or is that undead love for you? You agree to what they like to call, ‘joint custody’.

Rating: Spicy/Carnal.

BITTEN

By

Tracey H. Kitts

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

How do dead men attract so many live women? I can’t, for the life of me, understand it. It was Halloween night, and I was yet again trying to unravel this mystery. I might have had more success without the alcohol. But I’d been suckered into the whole situation, anyway.

I was at a bachelorette party in a club called Lucy’s. Who the hell has their bachelorette party on Halloween night? My friend, Karen. While I watched the tall, leggy blond celebrating her last night as a free woman, I got distracted by … the wildlife.

One of the main attractions at Lucy’s was its dancers. Taking center stage was a luscious piece of meat by the name of Alex. He was a weretiger. I knew this because he’d purred at me earlier. His lithe body moved easily to the music, like a well-oiled machine. He was beautiful, but I didn’t pay much attention. While he gyrated to some of Ms. Lennox’s greatest hits, I found what sweet dreams were made of—and it wasn’t on stage.

He was around six-feet tall with long auburn hair and the most magnificent backside I’d ever seen. I couldn’t wait to see what his front looked like. While I took in the view, the lyrics of the song combined with my blood alcohol level made me think I might like to be used by him. Better yet, what it might be to abuse him.

Whoever he was, I was willing to bet he wasn’t human. The really hot ones rarely are. Everyone knows Lucy’s isn’t run by humans, though the patrons are almost exclusively human, but I was still surprised to come across someone so obviously … other.

As I watched him, I knew he was aware of my gaze. How could he not be? As my grandmother would have said, I was “staring a hole through him.” On my way to the restroom, I had to force myself to look away from the redheaded stranger before I ran into a table.

My red dress was still in good shape, even after a night of bar hopping with a bunch of drunken twenty-something’s. It was strappy and short, but not short enough to look slutty. The color went well with my dark hair, and I ran a hand through my long wavy locks as means of freshening up. After rummaging in my little red evening bag, I powdered my nose and reapplied lipstick before leaving the restroom. If that tall, handsome … whatever he was decided to look my way, I wanted to give him something worth looking at.

I reentered the main room, and he turned toward me as if he’d read my mind. His hair fell in a silken mass about his shoulders as he turned. His eyes were a stunning shade of green, which matched his shirt perfectly and complemented his hair. I admit that I have a weakness for redheads, but this one made me literally weak.

The top few buttons on his shirt were undone and I tried not to stare at the pulse in his throat as he approached. My smile just wasn’t working, and I’m sure I looked as nervous as I felt. Before he could get closer, I walked out the back door. Yes, I know it was a cowardly thing to do, but I wasn’t about to pick up a strange preternatural being. I’d also had quite enough of the party and was taking out my cell phone to call a cab when I froze.

Something was coming toward me. I looked around and realized I’d walked out into a dark alley. Stupid is too mild a word. Whatever it was, it growled as it approached, and I saw amber eyes glowing in the darkness.

“Going somewhere?” a deep voice growled.

Before I could answer, I was pinned against the wall. My cell phone fell to the ground along with my purse. A werewolf had flung himself at me and was pinning me by the throat against the wall. I could barely breathe, let alone summon up a scream.

He leaned in and began to sniff my midriff as if he were breathing in a steak on the grill. But before he could bite into my flesh, he was gone. I hit the ground and stared in numb shock as the redheaded stranger flung the werewolf down the alley as if he weighed nothing.

The wolf yelped like an injured dog and ran, but my savior didn’t pursue. As the stranger turned to me, his eyes glowed as well and with his long hair now covering his face, they were all I could see.

“My name is Navarre,” he said, and his voice was like velvet. “I don’t know who you are Miss, but you should stay out of dark alleys.”

“I’m Sandra.”

“Well, Sandra, it looks as if my dinner has escaped this evening.”

Then I understood. He was a vampire. I looked into his eyes once more and knew what Navarre wanted as a reward. I tilted my head and instantly felt his lips pressed against my throat. I’m not sure the exact moment he bit me. Excitement and arousal coursed through my veins like the greatest thrill. He smelled of expensive cologne and his hair fell across my face as he embraced me. Just as the pleasure became almost too much, I felt the slightest pain, and he withdrew from me.

Navarre thanked me for my generous reward, and I made it home safely that night.

“You may think I’m crazy, but that won’t be my last visit to Lucy’s. Blame it on my weakness for redheads, but I’m going back for more,” I told my sister.

“You’re crazy,” Priscilla said with a laugh.

“You should have seen him,” I insisted while fumbling around in the cabinet for some aspirin.

“Are you going to tell Zanna?” she asked.

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

Zanna is my grandmother, though we’ve always called her by her first name. She’s also a witch, like most of our ancestors, which might explain some of the odd behaviors of my family, but certainly not all of them. She runs a shop in town called “Potions, lotions, and other wicked notions.”

“But, I thought you were working today?” Priscilla asked.

“Yeah, so?”

“So, those marks are obvious,” she teased.

As she said this my sister rose from her chair and pulled back my hair, exposing Navarre’s bite.

“You have a point.” I sighed. “I’ll just wear a turtleneck until it heals.”

“Oh,” she said, dropping my hair back into place. “I’ve got just the thing,” she assured me as she took off toward her room.

Priscilla and I both live with our grandmother. Our parents died when we were young, and life with her is just about all we’ve ever known. Zanna has a large, though very strange, home built by her great grandparents years ago. The style is eclectic, to say the least. It’s not exactly Victorian, but it’s close. Priscilla lives at the top of what we used to call “the tower” when we were little, and I live in the guesthouse which is connected through the greenhouse.

There are plants growing all over our home. Whether it is in the greenhouse, or up the side of the porch. At a glance, it might look overgrown. But upon closer inspection, you can see how lush everything is and that the place is actually well tended. It’s almost like one big garden that just happens to have a house in the middle of it.

While I took some aspirin, I heard something crash at the top of the stairs.

“Not another of your remedies, Pris,” I yelled. “The last one broke me out in hives.”

“This one will work,” she called.

From the sound of things, she was already on her way downstairs.

“Here,” she said, holding a little jar out in front of her.

“What’s in it?” I asked.

I took a whiff of the contents and nearly passed out.

“Don’t ask,” she answered. “Just rub a little bit of this over the bite and it will be well by morning.”

“Are you serious?”

“Just do it,” she said urgently. “I swear this one will work.”

Priscilla is three years older than me. She’s a bit strange, but brilliant. There was only one problem with her spell work. Her potions either really worked, or they really didn’t. Still, I didn’t want to have to worry about covering up my neck for longer than a day or so, so I let her rub the mixture over the small puncture wounds.

“There,” she said, smiling. “Now, you’ll only need to wear a turtleneck for today.” She took a closer look at me and asked, “Exactly how did you get home last night?”

“I must have taken a cab,” I said, turning back to the coffee pot. It was still really early and if I was going to make it through the day with a hangover, I needed some caffeine.

“Must have? You mean you don’t remember?”

“Not exactly, no. But I was really drunk,” I reminded her. “The point is that I made it home in one piece. I could have been killed by that werewolf, but as it is, I’m unharmed.”

“Unharmed?! You were bitten by a vampire and don’t remember how you got home!”

I shut my eyes tight against her shrill voice.

“You don’t have to yell, Pris. I feel bad enough as it is.”

“Sure you do, but not about the bite. You just feel bad because you drank too much. What you did last night was very dangerous.”

“You’re not my keeper,” I said angrily.

“No, I’m not. But you know what Zanna always said about vamps. They can’t be trusted. They just aren’t human anymore. They see the world differently than we do. Okay, so he was hot. There’s nothing wrong with that, but you can’t get mixed up with him.”

“And that fling you had with the wereleopard—that was all right I suppose?”

Priscilla rolled her eyes. “No one needs to know about that. Besides, that was different.”

“How so?”

“I just wanted a good fuck.”

I laughed and it made my head throb.

“What makes you think I’m looking for more than that?”

She grew very serious and to my surprise, she hugged me.

“Because John was a redhead.” She sighed. “It’s not just a weakness, honey. You’re looking for a man who doesn’t exist.”

“I’m not looking for John,” I answered softly.

“Then what are you looking for that a living breathing human can’t satisfy?” she asked softly.

“I don’t know,” I answered.

I poured myself a cup of coffee and walked back with it through the greenhouse and into the guesthouse. Two thousand square feet all to myself, was normally enough to make me smile, but not today. No one had mentioned my John in a long time, and I couldn’t help but be a little sad at his memory.

We were married right out of high school. He was the love of my life and for two years we were perfectly happy. We’d even decided to have children. But before I could get pregnant, John was killed on his way home from work one night by a drunk driver. To make matters worse, the driver was one of my ex-boyfriends. His name was Jamie, and no matter how much he apologized, I still hated him.

I found Zanna’s copy of the Necronomicon and was going to attempt to resurrect John, but she stopped me. Thank goodness for that. I was out of my mind with grief and only later saw the foolishness of what I had almost done.

I wanted to curse Jamie too, but I never did. Still, it didn’t matter. He killed himself two months later. He left a letter explaining that he blamed himself for John’s death. Even though he was going to serve time for involuntary manslaughter, Jamie didn’t feel that was a harsh enough punishment for what he’d done. To my discredit, I agreed. However, I had never forgiven myself for hating him. Even though I had never performed the curse, I wished it on him with my hatred. Jamie’s death was my fault, and there wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t pray for forgiveness.

“I’m sorry,” Priscilla said from behind me and I jumped. I hadn’t heard her following me. “I shouldn’t have mentioned John,” she said softly.

“No, it’s all right,” I said. “That was nine years ago. You’d think I could hear his name without falling to pieces by now.”

“Come on,” Priscilla said with a sigh. “Get dressed and let’s go to work. I’m supposed to brew up some more ritual bath wash today.”

Ritual bath wash was one of our best sellers, and something that my sister did well. Her cleansing magic never failed and as she smiled at me that morning, I felt like my spirit was being washed clean.

“All right,” I said, taking a sip of my coffee. “Give me about twenty minutes and I’ll be ready.”

Today was the day I was supposed to collect some fresh ingredients and order others online. Our shelves were getting a little bare in some areas. You’d be surprised what a market there is for already prepared spells. Or better yet, those who are willing to pay to have a spell performed. Sure, there were plenty of people who still hated us for what we were, but there were plenty who didn’t, and we were well out of the Burning Times.

Our house was on the outskirts of a little town in South Carolina called Westley, and it was beautiful this time of year. October was my favorite month of the whole year, and fall, my favorite season. Unfortunately, this day was November first, and my favorite holiday had passed. I’d much rather have dressed up and passed out candy to the kids last night instead of being dragged along with Karen. But I was going to be her maid of honor this Saturday, so I really had to be there.

As I selected a comfortable pair of jeans to wear, I reminded myself that if I hadn’t gone along, I never would have met Navarre.

“What’s wrong with you?” I asked my reflection while I brushed my hair. “You can’t get involved with a vampire. Pris is right.”

But while I plugged in my flat iron, I didn’t listen. In a few minutes, I had straightened out my long dark hair and found a comfortable blue turtleneck. Priscilla, who was always hot-natured, met me at the door wearing Capri pants, a T-shirt and sandals.

“It’s sixty degrees out here,” I said incredulously.

“Yeah, it feels great,” she said.