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LENGTH: Borderline Full Novel
SENSUALITY: Spicy

Cover art (c) Alex DeShanks 2008
ISBN 978-1-60394-252-2

Peter was Lilith's first love--and the first person to call her a monster. Despite their past, Lilith would save him if she could, but when Peter is infected with lycanthropy and becomes determined to challenge Marco for the position of lupinus regalis, wolf king, she faces a hard choice.

Rating: Spicy.

ORIGINAL SIN

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.

Dedication

To my friend Priscilla, who has loved Marco from the beginning … almost as much I have.

Chapter One

In the month since the laws of vampiric tolerance were passed, Dracula had made quite the sensation. He has announced to the media that he is the original vampire. And naturally, the press jumped on the name “Dracula.” Ever since he had become my partner, I had been sucked into his little popularity whirlwind. The first time we were seen together, the media went into a frenzy. It seemed like the announcement of real live, well I suppose you could say, they’re alive, vampires was going to pass by quietly. But that had only lasted about a week.

Of course the werewolves were not forgotten, least of all pack leader, Marco Barak. Actually, I had a date with him that night, and my heart was pounding in anticipation of his nearness as I approached the mailbox.

At least twice a week I got letters from animal rights activists bashing me for my wicked ways. Some were sappy notes from touchy-feely soccer moms who couldn’t believe I had been making a living off killing people who just “happened” to be part animal. Most of the activists were cheesy or laughable. But every now and then they managed to hurt my feelings, because they were right.

Aside from this type of correspondence, I had the tabloids to thank for my other letters. Ever since a few headlines had managed to associate me with Dracula, I had been getting “fan mail” from crazed goth princesses. Some of them were six-page letters where they proclaimed all the ways they loved him. They would tell me that I could never understand him, or ‘worship’ him the way they could (gag). I usually dry-heaved a few times after reading these. But, my favorites were the one-liners like, “Burn in Hell,” or “Eat shit and die.”

Of course, I never responded to any of these; it would only add fuel to the fire. Besides, someone who writes “eat shit and die,” isn’t looking for a response. They were delivering a message. Fine. I got it. What would I say anyway? “Fuck you very much, sincerely, Lilith Mercury?” This was what my mail mostly consisted of since his arrival. To be honest, some small part of me felt sorry for the countless women who begged me to pass on a message to the vampire. But it was a very small part, and I’m not his damn secretary.

However, there were some that I was tempted to answer. The ones who sounded intelligent and just genuinely wanted to know what it was like to be with a werewolf or a vampire. But with my luck, if I did respond the answer would probably end up for sale on an Internet auction.

It was mid afternoon when I collected my new pile of mail, and as reentered the house, the phone rang. A storm was gathering outside, and a small tree branch hit my kitchen window, so I screamed instead of answering “Hello.”

“Lilith?” Marco’s frantic voice replied.

“I’m alright,” I explained. “A tree branch just hit the window.”

Marco informed me briefly that we would need to reschedule our date. Tornados had touched down near his apartment above Club Red, and completely devastated some areas. Even though he was unharmed, there was no way he would ever make it out of town to start the two-hour drive to my house.

Damn southern weather. I told Marco I understood, but it was hard to keep the disappointment from my voice. It was only the second week of March, and already we were experiencing severe weather watches. I really don’t know why they call it the sunshine state. I’ve always loved a good storm, and the rain is very peaceful to me. But I didn’t like anything standing in the way of me seeing Marco.

We had only been dating for a month, but I had known Marco since my days as a trainee with The Hunters. His training was about to finish as mine started. Of course, you’re considered still in training for the first five years, but after six months of training, you can be paid for your services. Marco worked as a Hunter for a little over a year before he was attacked.

I had wanted him since the first moment I saw him, and now nine years later, he was finally mine. We had agreed to take things slow, but my heart wouldn’t listen to reason. The more I was honest with myself, the more I realized I was falling for Marco. And I don’t mean just stumbling a little bit. Once I finally hit the ground, I was going to bounce.

After we hung up, I remembered I needed some things in town. I figured I might as well go before the storm got worse. As I was picking out a bag of fresh cherries I remembered Alfred used to always buy them for me, and I nearly had a breakdown in the middle of the produce isle. It had only been a month, but it seemed like a lifetime since I had been led to the locked drawer in his bedroom by a vision of Alek Ambrose. In this drawer, I discovered that Alfred had not only been assigned to be my partner eight years ago, but my murderer as well. The former commander of The Hunters had ordered Alfred to kill me if I should ever start to become a monster. What hurt the most was that he had signed the paper. The moment suddenly seemed unreal. I felt cold to think of returning home without Alfred there. It was like I was wearing a jacket and someone snatched it off and that warmth was gone. I wasn’t his anymore.

Maybe someday the pain would ease, but not today. I put a hand over my heart as I finished selecting a bag of cherries. If anyone was watching, maybe they’d think I had indigestion and leave me alone. My eyes stung and my chest hurt. I coughed a few times and tried to pretend it was allergies. I thought back to the papers and Alfred’s signature at the bottom of the last page. This helped me to muster up enough anger to keep from crying.

In the time since that discovery, the wizard who’d recently befriended me, Alek Ambrose, had come to live with me. He had set up an apartment in my dungeon. Dracula was my new partner, and they were both members of my Hunter Assault Team for Violators of Werewolf Code, better known as H.A.V.O.C. I had been elected to not only head up the division of H.A.V.O.C. in my area, but head up all divisions on Earth and Terra. I reported directly to the current commander, my father, Jacob Mercury. Initially, I had been very leery of this new responsibility, as well as the celebrity it brought with it. However, I had come to realize that most division leaders could handle themselves. I would only ever be called if there was a severe problem.

I also needed to accumulate some more members in my area. The main problem was that my team was expected to be the best of the best. It’s not that all of The Hunters weren’t qualified individuals, but the members of my team would be watched more closely. It wasn’t fair, but it was true. When I thought of the best, one name came to mind, Johnny Angel. I was on my way home to call him as I drove by the corner gas station and saw a familiar sight.

The instant I saw him approaching, something about him caught my eye. It wasn’t the motorcycle he was riding, or the hot pink t-shirt he wore. Even at a distance, and with only a glance, there was something about the man that felt familiar. I kept looking back, and trying not to run off the road, or miss my turn. He pulled in at the station, and as he walked into the store, I recognized him. I’d know that walk anywhere. It was Peter.

I didn’t get a good look at his face before I turned, but I didn’t need to. The years may have changed his features, but his confident swagger could never be mistaken. I was too shocked to have much of a reaction at the time. But as I thought of him on the way home, my heart didn’t flutter. I was proud of myself. It could be that I was hurting too much over Alfred to spare any heartache for Peter. Either way, I was still proud of myself for not falling to pieces.

Twice over the years I’d caught a fleeting glimpse of Peter. Both times I’d gone home and cried. It had been a good five years since my last glimpse, and this time I didn’t cry. Still, I wondered what he was doing around here. Last I’d heard, Peter had moved away. I was also pleased to hear of his divorce. Not because I wanted him, I just didn’t want her to have him. That was cruel and spiteful of me, but it was the truth. Peter had been my first love, and a part of me had never really let him go.

As I gathered up my groceries and carried them in the house, I remembered the night I had told Peter about my attack. He called me a monster. I picked up the phone and called Johnny to keep from crying. It had been a long time since I’d spoken to Johnny, mainly because Alfred hated him so much. We had dated for a while, after Julius, and before Bradley. I cared for Johnny, but he was too deeply in love with himself to have time for anyone else.

I knew through headquarters where to reach him, and dialed the number with trembling hands. It had been a long time. What if he didn’t want to talk to me? Nah, that wasn’t like Johnny. I steeled my courage and pressed the call button. He picked up on the first ring.

“Yes?” His speech sounded a little slurred, like he’d been drinking, but I knew that tone. I had woken him. He was pleasantly surprised to hear my voice and didn’t miss the opportunity to tell me so. “It’s been a long time,” he said, still with that slur. “I have to tell you, sweetheart, it’s good to hear you.”

“You too,” I admitted.

“Let me guess, you called to beg me to come back to you because I’m absolutely marvelous in bed.”

Even though he was a self-absorbed asshole, I smiled at the sound of Johnny’s voice. We’d had some good times, but I think we were too much alike.

He was currently in Texas, near the border. I explained the situation to him, and told him I’d like for him to be a part of the team. I was a little surprised when he agreed so easily. You know the expression, there is no “I” in team? Well, there is no team in Johnny Angel. Don’t let the name fool you. He said it would take him a few days to wrap things up, and he’d be on his way. I didn’t want to know what “things” Johnny was wrapping so I ended our conversation by saying I looked forward to seeing him. As I hung up, I was shocked to find it was true.

* * * *

It was barely dusk, but it looked like the middle of the night outside. The storm had gotten much worse, and I was moving some candles into the sitting room when I heard someone ring my doorbell. I have a large silver doorknocker. It’s a lion’s head with a ring hanging from the mouth. Most people enjoy the novelty of it, and prefer to use the knocker. The fact that someone had avoided the silver led me to believe there was a werewolf at my door. I was wrong.

Dracula owned some property about an hour away, though I’d never been there. Surely he must have grown wings to reach me so quickly after sundown. He was wearing a white tunic-style shirt devoid of ruffles, and a tight pair of black pants with an intricate gray dagger design. It was about as close to casual as Dracula ever got in public, and I tried to ignore how good he looked in those pants. When I opened the door and took in this sight, I couldn’t deny the thrill that ran through me. But I tried to hide it.

“May I come in?” He spoke softly and his voice seemed to touch me all over at once. That was a loaded question, but I chose to assume he only asked for entry into my house.

“Of course.” I stepped aside and watched in fascination as he glided toward my sitting room. He possessed a grace of movement I had not seen before, even on the dance floor. It had been a few weeks since I’d seen Dracula, and though I’d missed him, I wasn’t ready to be near him. I was never ready to be in his presence, but I also never wanted to leave. Being close to Dracula is something you have to prepare yourself for. When I say he is gorgeous, I’m not trying to flatter his ego. He is beautiful in a way that falls short of description.

I was disappointed at not getting to see Marco, and still a bit shaken from seeing Peter again. Not only that, but since Marco and I were moving slow, which meant no sex. Even the sound of Johnny’s sleepy voice on the phone had turned me on. Don’t get me wrong, he’s sexy and all, but that was over a long time ago. I don’t want Johnny, and I definitely didn’t want Peter. But having so many emotional jolts in the last few hours had left me vulnerable, and when the devil knocked at my door, I let him in.

As I entered the sitting room, I found the vampire casually draped over my sofa, with his arm propped across the back. The space beside him looked remarkably inviting, and so did the curve of his thigh.

“You seem ill at ease, my angel. Is anything wrong?”

The more I looked at him, the stronger my craving grew, but strangely, it was for chocolate. No, nothing was wrong. In fact, I couldn’t find anything wrong with the man, and that was part of the problem. As I watched him, waiting expectantly for my answer, I made a decision. I would feel better if I talked about it, and I was going to talk to Dracula.

“How much time do you have?” I asked.

His expression became serious. “I have all night, if you need me. Come,” he said as he reached for me, “Tell me your troubles.”

I slipped easily against his side, curling up underneath his arm. Even though I tried to hide it, I had longed for Dracula’s embrace. There was a solace in his touch that no amount of meditation could provide. The intoxicating smell of his cologne filled my lungs as I breathed deeply and started telling him about my day. After a few hours, I had not only told Dracula about seeing Peter, we’d discussed my relationship with Julius, Johnny, Bradley, and Alfred. And I’d made the unfortunate mistake of letting it slip that Marco and I weren’t having sex. His only reaction to this was to raise his eyebrows, but coming from him, that was a strong reaction most of the time. He had spent years learning how to hide his emotions from people, and he was good at it. Now, even when he wanted to share, it was sometimes difficult. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel, although to the casual observer, it might seem that way. On the contrary, Dracula felt very deeply. Because he, like myself, was empathic.

Through my touch, I have the ability to feel what other’s feel, to see what images these emotions conjure. Thanks to my inherited ability from Mathias Alexander, my great, great, wizard grandfather, I was more than just empathic, it was my strongest psychic ability. Thank God my abilities are associated through touch, and not just walking into a room. Sure, I get some feelings, first impressions, but I’m able to shut the rest off. That took some practice, but not as much as you would think.

Elementary school was difficult. People thought I was just a cry baby up until about the fifth grade. I felt everything going on around me. I remember sitting next to this one kid who had gotten in trouble at school and was dreading going home, because he knew it would be worse. He wasn’t crying, but I was. I could feel everything that he was afraid to express, and I sat there and cried for him all day.

At around eleven years old, I learned to shut it off. I finally realized one day that it wasn’t my emotions I was feeling. Consequently my grades improved significantly after that. I knew the vampire sitting beside me must have experienced some of the same things as a child, even though that was ancient history by now, because he possessed the same ability.

In the time it had taken me to tell Dracula my entire romantic history, I’d eaten half of a chocolate bar and was about to get up and make hot chocolate when the power went out.

“Shit.”

“You do not wish to be alone in the dark with me?” he inquired softly.

I snickered. “It’s not that. I was just about to make hot chocolate.”

I stood up and began lighting the candles and Dracula sighed heavily. At first I thought it was because we were no longer “alone in the dark.” But that wasn’t it.

“What is it?” I asked.

“I used to love chocolate.” He smiled sadly.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” I felt like a jerk. Then I had an idea. I remembered how Alfred was able to experience my memories through touch, as well as how Alek had entered my mind through dream visitation.

“How would you like to taste it again?”