THE GARDEN HOUSE

by

MIA CHERISH &
JACQUELINE QUAID

Amber Quill Press, LLC
http://www.amberquill.com

The Garden House
An Amber Quill Press Book

This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author's imagination, or have been used fictitiously.
Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

Amber Quill Press, LLC

http://www.amberquill.com

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

Copyright © 2006 by Mia Cherish & Jacqueline Quaid
ISBN 1-59279-570-6
Cover Art © 2006 Trace Edward Zaber

Layout and Formatting
Provided by: ElementalAlchemy.com

Published in the United States of America

Dedication

This story is dedicated to the beauty and the ghosts of the Garden District in New Orleans.

The authors would like to thank Jolie Stratton for her help and support.

Chapter 1

Léonor Griffin was tempted to spew enough obscenities to intimidate a person far tougher-looking than the girl gesturing at her courtyard gate. How dare she sneak onto the grounds and then rattle the iron door and call Lea's name until she finally got out of bed to come for her?

"Hi!" Rattle and clatter with one hand shaking the gate while the other one waved. "Hello?"

She could hear the girl saying it, even through the glare-proof tinted glass of the solarium.

Léonor growled as she wrapped herself in her embroidered kimono. If she were a true human and someone was disturbing her at an ungodly hour when she wanted to sleep, the authorities could be summoned to interfere on her behalf and remove the offender. Unfortunately humans did not regard six-thirty in the evening as an ungodly hour. There was no justice in the world, and she would have to deal with the situation herself.

The twilight sun was unpleasantly warm but not unbearable. Léonor blinked smarting eyes against it. She didn't bother with sunglasses. When the schoolgirl saw how angry she was, she'd likely scurry off and never dare peep at this property again.

And why was the girl fussing with the courtyard entrance toward the rear of the house anyway? If she was doing a fundraiser she could just as well have knocked at the front door, and Joshua would have received her, bought so many chocolate bars or gift sets or liquid soaps or whatever new gizmos the local Catholic schools wanted students to sell to benefit whatever worthy cause they'd selected.

Léonor's gaze sharpened. The girl looked harmless enough, slim and cute in her pleated skirt and crisp white blouse with its Peter Pan collar. She was a hands-width shorter than Léonor and her delicate bone structure added to the illusion of extreme youth. Closer inspection realized budding curves beneath the girlish clothes, and Léonor reevaluated her visitor's age. The worn-to-a-perfect-fit designer loafers were scuffed and unpolished and her scrunched white cotton ankle socks boasted a thin strip of crocheted lace, a delicate framework for muscular calves.

Léonor liked puzzles as much as anyone, just not when she'd been awakened a good three hours before she preferred to get out of bed. The schoolgirl didn't smell of gunpowder, violence, or adrenaline. No one else was hidden close by. She wasn't an assassin, but she wasn't here to sell anything or request signatures on a petition. If she was a missionary, Léonor was going to hurt her.

"Yes?" She managed not to bark the word, but she didn't sound too welcoming either.

The girl's bright smile faltered, but didn't quite fade. She took a deep breath and smiled again, as if her own courtesy could will similar behavior in Léonor.

"Hi, Belle Madame...I mean...Mrs. Griffin...I mean..." She shrugged and added with an artless kind of charm, "Who are you right now anyway?"

Léonor put her more homicidal impulses under control. "All of the above. When in doubt, your highness works."

"Oh, sure!" The smile broadened, though Léonor detected a nervous tightening of her facial lines. Good. The girl wasn't stupid, even if she was unnecessarily cheerful in the morning. Stars, barely twinkling in lapis twilight, forced the vampiress to concede that okay, so it wasn't morning yet.

"So...Your Highness," her visitor offered. Léonor reminded herself not to quip since the young human didn't understand her sarcasm. "My sisters say I have to climb into your garden and make a bouquet of flowers and bring it back to the Theta house as an offering after sunset today. Ummm..." Now she was embarrassed. "In my old school uniform," she added, a negligent gesture, pointing out that the plaid pleated skirt was a little too short and her cardigan fitted a trace too slim. "I thought you might prefer me asking for flowers rather than just...uh...stealing them," she finished lamely.

Okay, much smarter than first impressions would lead you to believe. "I'd much prefer it."

It was cute. It was also sort of intriguing. And Léonor was bored. The boys were all off doing things and she was alone. Joshua was around, but it was his night off. He had a girl or three in his suite, and she wasn't inclined to interrupt him. "All right. Come in." She opened the gate. "So what do I get in exchange for letting you raid my garden?"

A flurry of emotions shifted across a face too round to be elegant. Delighted that Belle Madame had consented, doubt about the opening gate, and consternation regarding the last question.

"Well, I..." She trailed off and took a moment to look past the vampiress toward the multitude of flowers so carefully cultivated to look so careless. "I...You are entitled to compensation. Especially for such beautiful flowers." Another admiring look around. "Ummm... What would you consider...fair?" she offered.

"Flowers are living things. I generally don't let anyone pick them. They're prettier on the bush and their fragrance is more lasting. What do you think is proper for taking a little bit of life from something?" Léonor stepped away and moved toward a towering Japonica full of delicate pink blooms.

"Well, I'd rather not ruin your gardens...Your Highness," the young woman added carefully since she hadn't been advised which name Léonor preferred. "I would rather take...anything...whatever you felt left the grounds still pleasing to the eyes."

Her accent was interesting. Léonor detected much of the local inflection and speech patterns, and yet something foreign polished her words. Something a touch more northern, like she'd spent too much time away from home.

"It's not about pleasing me, honey. It's about hurting the plants. What do you think is fair in exchange for causing the flowers pain?" Jesus, Lea realized she really was in a dramatic sort of mood!

Liquid dark eyes flicked up to her. The round face was framed by a riot of thickly curling tendrils, black as night, that had escaped their ponytail. "Well...I don't know. Really."

She was very young. Or at least she looked young, even for a Theta pledge. Léonor could smell the innocence along with the gardenias and the tea olive. Like pure white flowers, innocence was a clean, sweet perfume.

Where had she seen this girl before? Léonor couldn't dismiss the annoying sense of intimacy, as though she'd known her at some time. Which was impossible. Or maybe not. Perhaps she'd seen her when she was a baby or a young girl at a Mardi Gras party or a Christmas ball.

She found herself shaking her head. "Petite, why in the name of God did you agree to come here? Don't you have any idea who I am and what I do?" She sat on a beautifully designed wrought iron chaise whose deep green damask pillows were put out in the afternoon and would be brought in as soon as the sun appeared.

The child gave her a speculative glance, as if trying to guess what Léonor really wanted to know. "I need to pledge Theta. My mother and grandmother would've completely freaked out in heaven if I didn't. It'd be even worse if they were still alive." She looked a little ashamed of the frivolity of her excuse. "Anyhow I don't mesh too well with the Theta president. I guess that's why I was asked to come."

She waited a few minutes for Léonor to invite her to sit. When the vampiress never did, she slid gracefully onto the chair opposite Léonor. Her careful gestures could not prevent the pleated skirt from riding halfway up her thighs. "I thought I'd better ask you rather than give up on it."

"So the president of Theta wants you dead or at least maimed? Belle amie, I'd give it a pass if I were you. Well, actually, me being me, I'd tie her in her car and push it in a bayou." She smiled at the image as she leaned back and crossed her legs. "If you want me to, I'll push her in the bayou for you?"

"Oh no! No thanks. I mean," she added, a twinge of rushed nervousness coloring her expression. "I know you can do what you want and all of that, but..." She brightened. "I think living well is the best revenge. It would piss Patty off a lot more if I showed up with the flowers."

The response pulled a chuckle from Léonor. It was just what Jean would've said. Give her the flowers, chere; it'd irk the snotty little cow if you did. "I agree with that philosophy! I think we can get a bouquet big enough to turn your Miss Patty emerald." She snapped her fingers and one of Joshua's minions appeared. "Fill the back seat of my limo with flowers from the garden. But don't touch the azaleas; I only have them for three weeks as it is. Leave just enough room for Miss..." She raised her eyebrows in inquiry.

"It's Clancy. Clancy Rosabel." She supplied the name like it would mean something to Léonor. Another little debutante whose daddy brushed arms with the late master. Or perhaps her mother had caught Jean's fancy at some time or other. Or her grandmother. Who knew.

Léonor frowned at her own recollection. "From the Rosalba house on Jackson Avenue?" Her brother Caspaar had once had an amourette in that family, almost three decades before northern troops ever occupied New Orleans. An attractive redhead who succumbed to yellow fever and died childless.

Clancy blinked but her smile indicated delight at the woman's recognition. "Yes. But you don't have to give me all your flowers, Belle Madame."

Lea waved the suggestion away. It was a distant connection but close enough to justify generosity on her part. "Leave enough room for Miss Rosabel to sit comfortably. Have some of the humans follow so they can deliver the flowers for her. And be sure that a Patty person understands they are from me. Let her know the next time she sends some innocent child to raid my gardens I intend to tie her to the steering wheel of whatever overpriced, ostentatious car she drives, and push her off the Lake Pontchartrain bridge." She smiled pleasantly at the servant. "And have someone bring us some drinks." The one good thing about Joshua's minions...they were all bright and she never needed to repeat herself.

The girl was brimming with delight. "Thank you." She remained calm, but Léonor sensed the rush of excitement in her, a blend of relief at her good luck and happiness that she could fulfill the task assigned her and not lose face with her sorority fellows.

"We still need to talk about the payment, cherie." Léonor was finding it all diverting. "I'm big on justice as you may have heard. So what do you think is fair?"

Now the grown-up veneer faded as the girl shifted in her seat. Clancy's late momma really should have told her never to tuck one foot under her while dressed in a short skirt. The girl's panties were the color of freshly cooked crepes, made of lace.

"You're offering me a carload of flowers. I don't know what would be truly fair." She sighed. "Should I contact a professional florist for an estimate?"

Léonor shook her head. "Money isn't the answer. You're young and need to learn there are some things money can't get you out of and won't buy for you. My flowers are one of them."

Her guest swallowed. Such a pretty movement of her throat and the pale rose tongue sweeping over her full lower lip. "I don't... What... How can I..."

"You know the saying about an eye for an eye." She gestured to where a minion was clipping a large tropical bloom. Milky sap oozed from the plant. "My flowers are bleeding. So blood for blood." She met the girl's gaze. "A little of yours for what my plants are giving up."

"Oh!" Her eyes widened. "I...You mean some of mine...for you?"

Léonor inclined her head. "For me. I won't take enough to hurt you. Just a token."

"But why?"

"You smell very pure, cherie. Very clean and sweet. You don't smoke. There aren't any drugs in your blood. I seldom taste such goodness. I won't harm you," she repeated, hoping the explanation didn't terrify her guest. Her lips stretched in a grin. "Besides, imagine Patty's face when you have a bite mark to prove you talked to me!"

Lovely complexity of emotions played upon Clancy's features. "Well... But... Your Highness...When I do this won't it mean other vampires will think I'd want to let them bite me, too?"

Interesting choice of words. When. Not if.

Léonor shook her head. "No. In fact, it would warn them away. You'll never have to worry about one wanting to bite you ever. A scar from me means I would take it very badly if anyone encroached upon my territory."

Milky thighs tightened from stiffening muscles. "Well, I...I guess it's all right." She thought a minute. "Should I drink a glass of water first?"

Léonor couldn't help laughing. "If you want to. But I'll see you get some juice afterward. It'll do you more good."

She petted Clancy's cheek. Her fingers chose to linger and trace the shape of the bone beneath the velvety plump flesh. The mortal's porcelain complexion was tinted by blue-red blood flowing within her. Léonor followed the crest of her cheekbone up toward her temple until her fingers slipped over silk floss hair.

Clancy's tension increased, eyes ablaze, while her elegant nostrils flared. Léonor marveled at the simple beauty of her licking her lips. Was the girl considering the vampiress' trustworthiness? She'd likely been raised on tales of Belle Madame and her family feasting upon the blood of the city's seedier element while they seduced innocents to feed on love. Was she concerned Léonor might lock her up in the attic and never let her out? Léonor didn't mean to, but the thought made her laugh softly. Clancy relaxed, her head tilting toward the caress until Léonor's fingertips vanished into an ebon sea of softness.

"It could be very nice for us both." Léonor wondered at her own quiet coaxing.

She watched her little guest glance to one side of the garden, then the other. The minions worked diligently at the task Léonor ordered of them, filling baskets with some of her choicest flowers. Shyness in the hint of a blush touched her cheeks when the vampiress felt the surprising jolt of her own hunger. Clancy was not a creature she would ever have designated as prey. She was too small to make a good meal, and there was nothing of evil in her. And yet there was undeniable appeal. Sweet blood and warmth, soft eyes.

When was the last time she'd really longed to feed? Léonor couldn't remember being hungry enough for her jaw to ache like it did now. She knew it'd happened in the past. She recalled hunger and priceless anticipation. Now it bumped against her like a stray cat desperate for a home.

What would she do if Clancy said no?

"When...when should we..."

"Now," Léonor decided before this moment exiled itself. "Would you rather go inside? Where there aren't so many people?"

"Yes, please." She uncurled her legs and stood up too hastily.

Léonor's rise was more fluid. She really did enjoy the ease of movement that went with being undead.

"This way." She led Clancy deeper into the garden, past the pool landscaped to appear natural and inviting--a miniature pleasure lake instead of a swimming spot--to a gorgeous classical structure that could be mistaken for a tiny temple.

Chapter 2

"This is my guest house. It used to be the garconiere. The family who built this house had eight sons, so they needed the extra rooms. It's small but still comfortable." Léonor wondered why she felt the need to apologize. She hadn't updated the dwelling since Jean's passing, but her servants followed her orders to keep it in good condition. The wide French doors didn't even squeak when she opened them.

A flick of a switch shed delicate rosy light from a chandelier dripping pear-shaped crystals almost too large to be tasteful from the cathedral ceiling. The same switch also turned on a pair of twin hurricane lamps in the huge bedroom to the right.

"Your décor is lovely." Clancy meant it and Léonor was pleased. The pale rose tones of the house's fixtures mimicked natural light, revealing a clever mixture of Empire and Victorian influences more inviting than imposing. The overall impression suggested a relaxed, informal country cottage with touches of town polish.

"Merci." Léonor watched Clancy finger the spider-web fine pattern of a crocheted doily tossed on a table. "It had more living quarters in it, but we sacrificed two bedrooms to make up the kitchenette and the bathroom. The upstairs was a recreation room for the young gentlemen of the house, complete with billiards and a piano. One of the sons fancied himself a composer."

"Really? Did he publish anything?" The slim body turned back to her, and Léonor recognized interest in her eyes.

"Non. He drowned in a boating accident before he went to college." She didn't add that the pool table, its scarlet brilliance faded to pinkish red, remained on the upper floor, along with the piano that had been its companion for over a century. Jean had passed on before they could redecorate it. "My agent warned us the house was haunted when we bought it. The boy is supposed to return sometimes, and play the piano."

"Is it true?"

"I don't know." The vampiress felt her brows arch when Clancy threw her a skeptical look. "I really don't." Vampirism didn't give one some kind of instant affinity with the dead. "Sometimes I imagine I've heard piano music, but I've never seen any ghost."

She motioned Clancy toward the huge bedroom that took up more than half of the main floor. The girl preceded her, her body close enough to brush Léonor despite the generous width of the doorway.

"Well, could anyone else in your household be playing piano?" Clancy's smile went crooked when she meant to be cheeky, deepening a dimple in the left corner of her mouth.

"Almost everyone." Léonor returned the smile along with the cheek. "It was a common accomplishment for ladies and gentlemen a century ago." She allowed herself to caress the length of Clancy's thick hair, halting her from sitting on a plump settée near the barren fireplace. "You want to lie down?" She was aware of her own tone growing softer, an octave deeper. "You'll be more comfortable." Léonor gestured to the soft bed heaped with pillows. "Why don't you come lie down?"

Clancy nodded, not quite looking at her, and Léonor watched the girl mount the heavy step-stool alongside the high four-poster. She still made an effort to ease onto the mattress' edge and keep her skirt from riding too high. Léonor quelled the impulse to grasp a slim ankle and raise her foot to slip her shoe free. Instead she watched Clancy fold her arms, then relax a bit, then fold her arms again.

"It's a beautiful room." Clancy's voice had softened. She was growing shy, more aware of the intimacy in which the situation placed the both of them. "I'm a little nervous."

It was true. She was also a little excited. Clancy's rushing heart seemed to call Léonor, and the vampire queen grew conscious of the urge to hunt and possess her. It had been a long time since she'd felt that kind of wanting! Another aroma, more secret and faint, struck the vampiress' nostrils. The hint of feminine arousal.

Interesting. She'd help the girl out of her shoes after all. And a few other items of clothing.

"It's okay to be nervous. But I won't hurt you. You have my promise." Lea slipped out of her own shoes, dainty little beaded slippers. No need for fancy heels at home when no one was around. "Let me help you get comfortable." She bent and lifted Clancy's foot. The girl caught her breath, then exhaled when nimble fingers carelessly slipped off the first loafer. Then the other. Léonor glanced up to a sheepish smile.

"They really would ruin your bedspread." Clancy eased back, upper body propped on her bent elbows. In the soft flattering light she almost passed for a parochial schoolgirl. It was the outgrown fit of the clothing that stifled the illusion. That and the careful eyeliner and no decorations in the heavy ponytail of hair.

Léonor stretched out beside her and turned so she could look into those big dark eyes and rest a casual hand on the broad expanse of thigh the skirt exposed. Her body was so firm, skin satin smooth against her fingertips. "You ever kissed a girl, chere?"

"Hehn?" So endearing, the spin locals put on the expression. "N-not the way you mean," she added.

Beat...beat...beat...thrum, thrum, thrum of blood. Arousal deepening in thickening nether lips. Not only Clancy's. Her own body's secret places were tightening and swelling, growing damp.

"Well, you see there are two ways vampires take blood. They can just bite you and drink, but that's for killing. Or they can take just a little blood, just a few sips, but that's for, well, fucking." She ignored a twinge of conscience at her dishonesty. It wasn't like the girl wasn't turned on.

Clancy's eyes couldn't be that large. It had to be a trick of the light. But a trick made them no less beautiful.

"We're two girls," Clancy pointed out. Then her face worked, blaming herself for a faux pas. "I mean I'm a girl. You're a vampire woman. So..." She continued when Léonor's stare never left her face. "We can't really...fuck."

Léonor chuckled again. There was no way someone could be that innocent. "What do you think lesbian and bi girls do, mon petite?" She ran her hand farther up that silky, barely legal thigh and watched Clancy's pink mouth tremble. "Fucking...petting... Call it what you will, I can make you come so hard you'll scream."

A priceless shiver and wriggle of hips that had grown a little too pleasingly ample for that plaid skirt. Léonor smelled a delicious blush.

"Belle Madame." The belle in the honorary title the old New Orleans elite bestowed on Léonor was a squeak that would have been annoying if it weren't for the fact that the girl's bare flesh was so warm beneath her fingers. "I don't know what I can...I'm not sure I can..." She didn't resist the arm slipping under her shoulders. "I mean I don't know how."

"That's okay. I do. Why don't you relax and let me take care of it?" Lea released a wicked grin straining against her mouth and eyes. "Just enjoy the ride." She let her fingers trail over the inside of that perfect thigh. For a tiny thing, the girl was put together well. And Léonor found pleasure in the smaller woman's frame. It was nice not to be the diminutive one for a change.

"There's all sorts of things I can do." She eased closer so her body was in total contact with Clancy's. "I can kiss you. Anywhere you'd like. Ever been kissed on the nipples? Or between your legs?"

Those trim little thighs clamped at the suggestion. Clancy shook her head, and Léonor felt a warm cheek against her own face. The younger girl moaned, a delicious sound. Clancy brushed her face against Léonor's again, and began to tremble.

"No," she admitted.

Léonor tsked. "What are boys thinking of these days!" She eased her hand upward and brushed the lace of Clancy's panties. She kissed the delightful offering of a soft cheek. "Unbutton your shirt, cherie, so I can kiss you there."

"Belle Madame!" Clancy gasped when fingertips briefly stroked moist lace between her legs. Léonor smiled when the girl lay back on down pillows and began unbuttoning her plain white blouse. Passion leaped into her features, something not-so-childlike and innocent. Léonor appreciated that. What a lovely little toy she'd found. Or it had found her.

What difference did it make?

The girl opened her blouse slowly. Her breasts were modest peaks unrestrained with lingerie, high and perky with rose pink tips already hardening into points before Léonor touched them.

"Very pretty indeed." She blew across the twin mounds just to watch Clancy's reaction. It was amazing that human eyes could be that round. Good God! Had no one ever touched the girl? Léonor was somewhat pleased at the thought. She traced the darling buds with the tip of her tongue before pressing the promised kiss on each one. Her fingers stroked the lace covering Clancy's crotch, releasing more of that delicious scent of arousal.

"Do you like that, dear? Isn't it good?"

A short sharp cry affirmed she did. Clancy's hips rose, pressing closer to those fingers, and Léonor eased back. It was a little too soon; she wanted to watch the girl's pleasure build.

A trembling mouth lit on Léonor's face, just outside the corner of her eye.

"It's okay, chere belle. Relax. We're just getting started." She took one of the tightening nipples in her mouth, sucking and laving it with her tongue while she busied herself with Clancy's zipper. "Slip your skirt off, baby."

The lithe brunette obeyed and Léonor reveled in the hot young body squirming to work the skirt free. Her movements sent her soft curves bumping against Léonor's more pronounced charms, and the vampiress felt her own arousal grow.

How odd. She had never chosen a female lover of her own accord, though she'd accepted one when a girl was offered to her as hospitality from another vampire. None had quite the appeal this one did. Léonor felt Clancy's hands roam down her back, caressing her hair and brushing the fabric of her caftan.

There was something terribly sensual about being dressed while the girl was almost nude and would be completely so in just a moment. "And your panties. Take off your panties for me, Clancy. I want to see you naked." She punctuated the request with another assault on those exquisite nipples.

"I..." Clancy worked more slowly with the scrap of fabric and strings. Léonor inhaled fragrant moist body hair; she heard it brush against her silk garment. Clancy's head swept from side to side as Lea tugged and licked and kissed her nipples until they were large, taut rosettes. They would look so pretty pierced in white metal; silver or platinum would stand out against their pinkness.

Clancy kicked her panties free of her ankles and stroked Léonor's instep with her toes.

"Now, isn't that better." Lea pulled back so she could survey the exquisite body unencumbered by the uniform. "Oh, that's so nice, Clancy. You're so pretty this way! It's a shame you have to ever put on clothes!" She ran her fingertips over Clancy's thighs. "Open your legs, belle. Don't be bashful. I want to see how pretty you look with your legs spread." She brushed the dense thatch of coarse hair. "And I promised I'd kiss you there, too, remember?"

Clancy's thighs parted, bare inches. The dark eyes seemed almost fevered.

"Poor shy darling!" Léonor slipped her finger over the slit barely exposed by the action. "Don't be shy. Open them for me, cherie. Don't you want me to touch you there? To see how pretty you are?" She felt the glow begin in the back of her eyes. It probably wasn't enough for the girl to notice, but it was enough to rim the body beside her in glorious rainbow hues. Heat was rising from her new lover. "Think of how my mouth will feel down there."

Clancy's blush darkened, but she spread farther, opening enough for her most secret places to be exposed. Léonor smiled. She knew Clancy's startled little jump meant her teeth were changing, but the girl didn't flee.

Instead, she spread wider still.

Oh, yes! This one was delicious. Startled, yes, but not the least afraid of Lea's fangs. And so turned on she was slick. "Beautiful. You're beautiful like this." Léonor let her fingers slide through the moisture, slipping easily over wet softness. She tweaked one of Clancy's nipples with her other hand. "What do you want, petite? Do you want me to make you scream now?"

"Yeah--oh yeah. But..." She broke off, trembling from precious anticipation. "I mean, what about...I promised..."

"Blood. Sweet cherie, you promised me blood."

Léonor nodded. "All in good time. Didn't I tell you that sort of biting was for fucking?" She ran her thumb over a spot high on Clancy's inner thigh, just below the crease of her leg. "I think I'll bite you here. You want that, don't you? A bite mark somewhere really intimate so you can touch it and remember what it felt like when I kissed your pussy." Her voice deepened as she found her affection toward the girl increasing.

Fear swirled into the haze of sensations, but the longing didn't die in Clancy's eyes. "Yes...Yes. I want it like that. There." Clancy shivered when Léonor caressed the spot again.

"Then that's where it will be." The vampiress settled herself between the now wide-spread legs. "But first you get to have some real fun." She ran a stiff tongue through Clancy's slit, separating the moist folds just a bit.

"Belle Madame!" Her cry rang out, and the queen had to restrain those eager hips.

"Sweet little pussy," Léonor murmured to her pet, as tenderly as Jean had ever murmured the words to her. "My name's Léonor." She caressed Clancy's flat tummy with one hand while the girl responded to the endearment just as Lea had so many years ago.

"Léonor..." Delight in the admiring attention, still shy of it, and too shocked and excited to refuse it. "Oh, Léonor..."

It wasn't hard to find the dear thing's clit, throbbing for attention. Léonor grinned as she settled her lips on it in the promised kiss before she began to suck and play with it, her tongue rolling upon and stroking the tender bud of sensitive flesh.

Clancy shrieked and keened, permitting Léonor's weight to hold her legs so she wouldn't kick. Her sharp breaths turned into pants. "Oh, my God...Léonor..." she whimpered and added a little more apologetically, "Belle Madame."

The rhythm of her body was a pulse beckoning to Léonor as she lapped the precious pleasure knot. Lea wanted to explore farther, slide a finger into the unprotected opening lower down. A slick glide for just a few inches and then the girl stiffened and moaned as her channel grew snugger. A virgin.

Ah, care would be needed then. And Léonor could wait. This dear little thing was far too precious to simply fuck once and let go. In fact, she seemed perfectly suited to this little doll house. The vampiress would see if Clancy could be persuaded to move in. A good first lay might be some inducement.

She didn't press past the snugness. Let the little darling stay intact for a while. Besides, virgin blood was candy on the tongue. She settled for curling her fingers and tickling until the upward surge of Clancy's hips proved she'd found that perfect G-spot. Tongue manipulating her clit and fingers massaging her G-spot, Léonor worked at making sure Clancy achieved the ultimate pleasure from their encounter.

Clancy was throbbing, pulsing, becoming less restrained at stifling her cries and the occasional grunt that must have been distressingly unladylike to her. Léonor tilted her face and whipped just the edge of a particularly moist spot with rapid strokes of her tongue.

"Léonor!" Churning hips, sweaty little body pumping and thrusting, coming unglued in the most sublime fashion. Léonor felt the spasms begin to rip through her new little lover. How could she not like those low crooning moans when each one had her name on it?

As Clancy's body still shook and spasmed, Léonor pushed the darling's left leg a little higher, baring the spot she had coveted earlier. Her own body trembling with need, her sex moist with longing, Lea sank her long fangs into the girl's upper thigh. Sugared blood, full of desire, first fulfillment, and innocence flooded over her taste buds. So rich with all the things Léonor had long forgotten, it triggered a climax as strong as any her sire had ever coaxed from her in those long ago days when she, though not virgin, was nearly as clean and unsullied as this precious thing. As she lay gasping, blood still sliding over her tongue, Léonor swore that though she'd teach this one every sexual joy possible, she'd guard that innocence as ferociously as she guarded her family's safety.

She moved finally, to lift Clancy and tuck her under the covers before stretching out to lie beside her, cradling her. "Sleep for a while, sweetheart. Then you can take your flowers to Patty. And tell her that if she ever looks at you wrong again I really will dump her in a bayou. Tell her I don't like people being mean to my lovers."

The eyes on her were sleepy and fulfilled, confused and perhaps a touch disturbed. But she cherished the arms around her, pressing closer into them and nestling against Léonor's body.

"I... You...this is...was...so good, Léonor." She was trailing off into sleep. "Th-thank you," she added more quietly.

Léonor pressed a kiss on the damask cheek. "Non, mon cherie. Thank you. And you can pick flowers in my garden any time you want to."

Chapter 3

"Jean Lafitte's long association with New Orleans and the Gulf Coast has left a slew of legends and ghost stories. There are accounts of Lafitte's ghost appearing in Pirate Alley alongside the Saint Louis Cathedral after midnight. And Destrehan plantation, one of the oldest colonial plantation buildings along the famous River Road, boasts an apparition of a pirate who makes regular appearances in the main house and points toward a wall. This sighting has prompted a legend specifying treasure is hidden on the grounds."

Clancy did her best to follow her instructor's lecture. Normally she found this kind of discussion fascinating, and she had elected to take Louisiana History: Myths and Legends despite its grueling Saturday A.M. schedule. She'd hoped Dr. DesChamps's enthusiasm for his subject would lull her out of interest in the one topic that had remained foremost in her mind for a full week now.

"Couldn't they just gut the place the ghost points at?" The question came from the student seated at Clancy's right.

"Destrehan is a registered historical landmark. Gutting it would be a no-no." Clancy's reply was louder than she intended. Normally a remark like that triggered irritation in her and made her wonder why students took these classes hoping for an easy "A."

"Good!" Dr. DesChamps endorsed her with a smile before adding, "Since Destrehan also remained under private ownership until 1910--except for the Union forces occupying the property during most of the Northern Aggression--it's doubtful vandals were ever permitted to do any treasure-seeking."

"Is that why they've never opened Belle Madame's tomb to see if Lafitte really buried her with a fortune in jewels?"

A sophomore a row or two down laughed. "It wouldn't do any good. She got up and walked away." He made an exaggerated face, his mouth wide as if biting something. His clicking teeth made Clancy flinch. "She would have taken the treasure with her."

Clancy felt her ribs spasm and she shifted in her seat. A comfortable posture eluded her and she could not escape the sensitivity between her shoulder blades, a sensation of being chronically watched. All she thought of now was Belle Madame. The one local legend that remained undiscussed in the classroom and whose chapter in the textbook was not required reading in DesChamps's thorough course outline.

A Theta sister whose name escaped Clancy grinned. "I hear she spent them on a house and fancy garden." The stress on the last word was far less than subtle as was her pointed stare in Clancy's direction.

Clancy stared back, a cold blank gaze she'd learned was very effective during an eight year sojourn at an exclusive Virginia boarding school. Only when the Theta girl's sneer faded to confused annoyance did she offer her a chilly smile.

Theta might mean everything to her family. It might be terribly impressive to the Thetas themselves. Clancy was too much a native stranger for it to matter the way they seemed to think it should have. When she'd stopped at the sorority house to tell Patty Gilbert she was no longer interested in pledging, she'd offered her a colorful recommendation as to where she ought to place the flowers Lea Griffin sent.

The professor shuffled to his next 3x5 card. "Yes, opening a mausoleum simply to satisfy a prurient curiosity would be, as Miss Rosabel points out, a no-no. It would also be illegal desecration of a grave."

"Isn't that redundant?" the hung-over boy on Clancy's right asked.

"I think Lafitte was jealous of her other lover and killed her. The fancy funeral and all his cronies turned out in mourning were just a ploy to divert suspicion."

"Ah." Dr. DesChamps turned to one of the pet skeptics of the class. "Yet it's a known fact Captain Lafitte played the field and was not prone to exhibitions of jealousy over his women."

Skeptic shrugged. "There's always a first time. After the funeral he probably dug her up, stole the loot, and threw her remains in the swamp."

"Oh, I doubt that." The Theta sister was smirking now. "I bet Clancy agrees with me that it's highly unlikely Belle Madame is in the swamp."

Dr. DesChamps glanced from the saccharine cheerleader to Clancy. Clancy had had the professor for two classes last semester and another two this semester. He was a fine-looking man, just her type with boy-next-door good looks groomed and aged into pleasant dignity. She hadn't thought his rich hazel eyes could still be so appealing since she'd had sex with Lea. But they were. She frowned at the complexity of the situation, registered that the instructor probably thought her frown was for him, and willed her features smooth.

"I do agree." Her words were far simpler than her thoughts. "I don't think she's in the swamp."

The Theta slut seemed to feel this was a victory and settled back in content.

She's most certainly not in the swamp, bitch, Clancy wanted to shout. Belle Madame's in a garden. A beautiful, lush garden. She took a deep breath as she stared at her professor's attractive hazel eyes and tried to concentrate on what he was saying.

She didn't mind when Dr. DesChamps smiled at her and directed the lecture back to Lafitte's fall from grace with Louisiana locals and his subsequent retreat to Galveston. The last forty minutes of class were slower than she had ever remembered any of his lectures being, and Clancy found herself fidgeting with her laptop case before the professor officially dismissed the class.

The chilled dampness of early morning had dissipated to a cloudy day about ten degrees warmer. It was actually colder within the old building than outdoors because the plaster walls retained the coolness. Outside the breezy humidity sliced through the jackets of less in-the-know students who presumed a low fifties temperature made a jacket or a sweater adequate protection from the elements. Past winter holidays had taught Clancy a layered ensemble was more reliable. The moisture in the cold made it colder.

Standing in the foyer, she made it a point to search her knapsack for her sunglasses, ignoring the frank appraisal of a rude student she'd already refused to go out with twice. She didn't like the guy and found his staring offensive, but it was still immeasurably gratifying to have his interest. It had to be some perverse biological drive, wanting interest, wanting notice from a potential mate, even if she found him undesirable. Something to do with survival in ancient humans their descendants hadn't outgrown.

A couple she knew greeted her and made their way out of the building, hand-in-hand. Clancy retrieved her shades from the tapestry case she always carried them in and put them on before she slipped out behind the couple, then past them as the man herded his girlfriend to the edge of the gallery to nuzzle and kiss.

The miniature love scene smote Clancy's peripheral right and she scurried down the steps with a feigned sense of purpose, too busy to notice some students making out á la high school steady. They were cute despite their inappropriate display and reminded Clancy of some of her own adolescent shenanigans. Her boyfriend's kisses had always been a little too hard, sucking and passionate. It wasn't his fault his fumbling had seemed more heavy-handed than pleasant, squeezing too hard, pushing her roughly against his groin as he sought some kind of relief with her. He'd been about as inexperienced as Clancy was herself. He had no way of knowing how to do the things Lea had done to her.

This boy knew what he was doing, though, a fact evidenced by the couple's gradually tightening clinch and the way they closed out the rest of the world while they made out. What did the girl kiss like? She was pretty and seemed very nice. Was her mouth silken and flexible? Her body was a touch too slim, lacking Lea Griffin's curvaceousness. Clancy frowned at her own wanderings. It wasn't the first time she'd ever looked at another female as a sexual being, but her little...interlude or whatever it was with Lea...made it seem more ordinary and acceptable to her. Which was an oddity at the same time.

Her mouth puckered and stifled laughter made her cheeks swell. Clancy turned her attention to the university grounds. The statue of Jesus Christ, arms outstretched above the main court to embrace the entire campus sobered her enough to swallow the mirth.

Did Jesus really care that she'd let Léonor fuck her? Did it matter that she'd wanted to do it more than the action itself? Was it even real fucking at all since their erotic playtime couldn't include sexual intercourse? She had left Lea's bed to attend the same early Sunday mass she'd always attended since she'd graduated high school, and the rituals hadn't lacked their usual magic. The softly modulated Latin, the faint, drugged sweetness of incense and the plush padding beneath her knees cocooned her in the comfort her religion had offered her since she was old enough to understand that, despite world imperfection, she really did believe.

Ave Maria...Agnus Dei...Patri...Fili...Spiritus Sancti...I do believe in you and love you. Just as much as I did yesterday.

The warmth thrumming in her heart that seemed to encompass her entire being remained undiminished. If God in all God's multiple avatars had abandoned her, Clancy couldn't feel it while she prayed.

Bless my mother. Father. Grandfather, Grandmother, and Grand-mére Marie... She inhaled slowly and her emotions proceeded without intellectual concerns of sin. Bless Léonor...

Again, no sense of being bereft of grace. If anything the warmth in her heart grew stronger.

"Good morning, Miss Rosabel."

Clancy blinked and smiled a hello as Dr. DesChamps passed her at a brisk pace. He obviously made time to work out in his personal life, and the infrequent threads of silver offered a striking contrast to his dark wavy hair and fair olive complexion. He cared enough about his students to show up well-dressed even on a Saturday, and Clancy liked to return the favor. If he'd lingered alongside her in his hurry to the parking lot, they would have passed for a couple.

Beyond the statue of Jesus, St. Charles Avenue reached out to the world. The dull olive and orange streetcars clattered by to remind the students a half hour's noisy ride on ancient wooden seats swept them away from the sedate campus, depositing them at the mouth of the Vieux Carré, New Orleans's French historical district and a veritable adult's playground of nightclubs, novelty shops, and a giant casino. Directly across St. Charles, Audubon Park presented its too well-manicured lawns as a study nook. Venerable oak trees so top-heavy their limbs threatened to uproot them without wooden supports to sustain their weight offered picturesque canopies over the fitness paths and bike trails that led to the Zoological Gardens on the park's opposite edge.

How often had Lea strolled those paths? She was here before the park was ever a park.

New Orleans winter never scraped its handsome foliage completely bare. Nevertheless a brief springtime offered fresh rich greenery and a speck or two of wildflowers. The mammoth trees coupled with the fact that the park was a closer walk than the dormitory proved too great a temptation to Clancy after three hours in one class. True, the park was a good ten degrees colder thanks to the added insulation offered by the trees, but at least her busybody roommate couldn't hang over her shoulder and ask questions. Clancy quickened her pace once she'd made up her mind.

The slatted metal back and seat of the bench she selected was painted forest green, as though its neutrality would make its presence less noticeable. Clancy sat on the end dappled with sunshine and the shadows of tree branches and planted one foot slightly under the bench while she rummaged for her textbook.

The chapter she was looking for was marked by a fine textured envelope. Embarrassment tinged Clancy's thoughts as she observed the shredded edge of the envelope flap. Such elegant expensive notepaper deserved an artful slash of her grandmother's antique letter opener instead of eager ripping fingers. The silver engraved "L V G" adorning the flap was torn. No need to withdraw the matching card. She'd read it so many times she knew just how it looked and what it said.

Dear Miss Rosabel, I enjoyed your last call and wished to remind you that you are most welcome to call again. I will welcome your company for a late lunch, about four-thirty this coming Wednesday.

Cordially, Léonor-Victoire Griffin.

She fingered the silvered edge of the dove gray stationery, not quite believing she hadn't bothered to show up for the vampiress' invitation. Clancy had felt her body spring into hot anticipation the moment she'd first received the card. She had carried it to her afternoon classes that day and had not been able to leave it behind since.

Still, she had not been able to bring herself to visit Léonor at the requested time. Instead she'd strolled along St. Charles Avenue on the opposite side of the street and dawdled near the corner of the 6000 block. Léonor's house was an exquisite structure, scrupulously maintained, the sort of place that ended up on postcards and coffee table books of luxurious historical homes. Even among the pomp and glamour of the Garden District it stood aloof from its neighbors, a mammoth Victorian with graceful curved verandas, embellished Grecian columns, upper galleries and widow's walks placed in curious asymmetry that only contributed to the property's eclectic appeal. The scrollwork and embellishment upon the façade were white on white, almost like decorations for a wedding cake, and late winter showed the home in the literal flower of its beauty while festoons of white azalea blossomed along the front and the sides of the house.

Beyond the tall iron gates, past the naked crepe myrtles flanking the carriage court, a sliver of the pool gleamed. Only the calmer side. The precious artificial waterfall was concealed behind the house itself. Farther still, the guest house stood, pristine and elegant, a simpler design than its coordinating home but still charming.

There was no fear Léonor could be watching her, she had to be sleeping at midday. Clancy watched the house hungrily, taking in details she'd been too nervous to notice the evening she'd gone on her fool's errand to collect the requisite flowers. The gardens had replenished themselves and the grounds looked like something from a dream of fairyland.

Was someone peeking at her from the upper window of the guest house? Clancy squinted, determined to prove to herself the tall trim man-shaped shadow was afternoon sun dazzle and her own imagination, but her efforts were inconclusive. If the former master's son still haunted the old garconiere, he hadn't chosen to serenade Clancy and Léonor the entire night they'd made love and slept in his house. When she'd loitered long enough to feel silly, milkmaid-ish Clancy had returned to the campus.

Maybe it was some internal stubbornness determined to refuse something she wanted that was decadent and dangerous no matter how badly she craved it. Clancy scowled at the rustling palm tree interrupting her musings. Perhaps she resented the confident tone of Léonor's note. The vampiress hadn't requested a regret or included her telephone number so that Clancy could offer one. She must have known the so-careful puncture wounds on Clancy's inner thigh would throb without mercy whenever Clancy thought about her and the time they'd spent together. Léonor must not have expected her to refuse.

Or maybe she was as anxious to see you again as you were to see her. And took it for granted you felt the same way.

It was disturbing she'd even received the card at all. She hadn't provided Léonor with her mailing address. Yet the note had arrived, pristine and neat, with her name and address scripted in a bold flowing hand more perfect than the engraving work on the stationery. Of course, it made sense Léonor's handwriting would be perfection. She'd been writing for nearly three hundred years.

Léonor, where are you? Who are you? Clancy tucked the envelope under her left thigh. She couldn't forget the delicious affectionate quality of the vampiress' hugs after their tryst. She'd cradled Clancy, held her against her side, and her softly whispered conversation had held a lulling, calming quality. Had Léonor done it deliberately, did she know that her smudged contralto tones possessed a charm all their own? It had been such a long time since she'd been...just cuddled, just held closely and whispered to. She felt like Léonor treasured her and perhaps the vampiress really had done so for the night they'd rested together.

Was there genuine liking on Lea Griffin's part, or was seduction another part of her repertoire? If she really was Belle Madame, Jean Lafitte's paramour who abandoned him in favor of an undead lover, Lea had sustained herself for lifetimes on human blood. While the colorful legend placed her as an avenging angel of sorts, defending helpless innocents of the city by feeding upon its inexhaustible criminal population, it made just as much sense for her to sustain herself on lovers' gifts of blood. Every time Clancy thought about how easily she had yielded up her own blood...and everything else...she turned red. And she'd barely known the woman an hour before she'd been willing to give her what she wanted.

And I want to give you more.

The poor photocopy of Belle Madame de Nouvelle-Orleans by an unknown artist was the one likeness offered in the chapter devoted to the vampiress' legend. Clancy thought she discerned some of the character in Lea's face in the painting, but it was too smudged for her to be sure. Her ball gown was caught up in several places with little bouquets of flowers. Roses, or perhaps camellias. She wore a beauty patch on one side of her face and the heart-shaped ornament had an asymmetrical effect upon her strong features. The stillness of portraiture conquered the illusion of beauty. Lea's prettiness required animation and movement to show to full advantage.

When they pressed close to one another in bed, their bodies were a comfortable fit, lacking any extreme variation in height. It had been almost like a girl's sleepover that included sex. Really good sex. Her pussy still felt tender whenever she recalled that fact, and then she became wet. She was recalling the fact too often.

Clancy felt a pink flush warm her face with no one but the sparrows, the squirrels, and the infrequent jogger to wonder why she blushed down at a textbook and ran a nervous fingertip over the page.

Léonor, who are you? I want to see you again.

Chapter 4

"Hi!"

Léonor took in her petite amour. As before Clancy chose to linger at the garden gate instead of knocking at the front door. Today she looked pretty, more woman than girl in a mint green princess dress with a pale gray wool hat over her flowing hair. She carried a bundle of flowers wrapped in darker green paper and adorned with a cheery hot pink ribbon. As Léonor descended the veranda and made her way toward the gate, she realized the flowers were daffodils, their golden cups quivering amongst fussy little ferns.

"I told you that you could pick flowers here whenever you liked."

"I remember but..." Clancy beamed when her hostess unhooked the iron gate and swung it wide for her to enter. "I just wanted to bring you something." She held out the bouquet.

"You brought me flowers? That's...lovely." Lea didn't quite know what to say. It had been a very long time since anyone had bothered to gift her with something so simple or so lover-like.

"They just looked so cheery and--friendly. Like they wanted to belong to you." The garden path, constructed of sunken, crooked bricks, was just wide enough for them to walk alongside each other. "And I've missed you. They made me think about you."

It was a lovely sentiment, hackneyed but still touching. Lea was surprised at just how affecting she found the gift. "Thank you. They're very pretty." The proper response would be to say they reminded her of Clancy, but they didn't. The girl was something more than a mixed bouquet of hothouse flowers. To remind Léonor of her, they would have to be wild flowers picked fresh from the fields and woods, apparently common but in reality far superior in texture, scent, and color to their bland commercial cousins.

She made an airy gesture toward the same little bower they had first sat at when the human had asked her for flowers. "Joshua, please set an extra place for Clancy. She'll have iced tea with me." She smiled when she intercepted the girl's shy glance toward the garden house. Blushes became her and smelled so nice. Her entire body was an exquisite garden, only newly in blossom with such rare precious blooms.

Raise your skirt for me, little rose. Show me where my bite lingers still and your sweet little pussy...

"I'm sorry I couldn't come last week." Clancy fingered the edge of the small seat. "I did want to come but I had tests."

"It's very important to pay attention to your school work." Léonor sat down, crossing her legs and gesturing to the place beside her, not across from her.

She watched Clancy hesitate, slender pink tongue sweeping over her generous mouth. It was a bare moment before she slipped into the place Léonor offered her, smoothing her skirt under her pretty bottom. The back of her dress was styled with laces like a Medieval gown.

"It's very sweet that you brought me flowers, but you didn't need to. You paid your debt for the flowers I gave you quite...acceptably." She wondered how the blatant reminder of their tryst would affect the girl.

"I wanted to bring you something you didn't have in your own garden." Clancy's blush deepened, her pretty hands folded neatly in her lap. "I..." She grimaced and fought for words she wanted to say. "I enjoyed...paying my debt." Her face was red, but her eyes didn't falter. "You know I did."

Joshua moved around them, soundless, setting chilled glasses of strong iced tea on the table within easy reach. If there was a speculative gleam in his eyes, he hid it well. Léonor surrendered the flowers to him and asked him to handle them carefully. It was delectable, watching Clancy lift the dewy frosted tumbler to her lips, tilt her head back and sip. Her pleased little moan was not unexpected--after fifty years, Joshua brewed remarkably good tea--but it was still a treat.

She should command Clancy to rise, raise her skirt to her waist and draw her sleeves off her arms and sit back down beside her while they drank their tea together. Naked was always lovely, but there was something provocative beyond bare skin when a body was naked, and yet still clothed. She could request it. If Clancy had come to her when she'd invited her, she might have no reservations about it.

But what if the girl refused her? And why come now? The excuse about her classwork load was barely plausible. Clancy was fighting the pleasure to be found in their new connection.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

Was dismay touching the girl's pretty features? "I wanted to come," she replied. "I wished I could have come before. And I missed you. I hope I'm not imposing." Tension, where before there had been ease.

It was easy to smile. "No imposition. So you've missed me?"

"Yes." She breathed relief when she said it.

"How did Patty like the flowers you sent?" Léonor smirked.

"Green is an unattractive complexion for a bottled blonde." The droll words mingled into easy laughter. "She tried to say I tricked you--fooled you or blackmailed you into giving me the flowers."

"I'm sure my servants set her to the right on that. She never bothered to phone and ask me about it."

"I'm not surprised." Clancy snorted. Then she shrugged and looked at her tea.

"Maybe I should give her a call." Léonor's grin was all teeth, some of them far longer than the average human would show.

The girl beside her drew in a deep breath. Her cheery heartbeat quickened, a pulse that cried excitement. Léonor dropped her gaze to Clancy's breasts, uncaring if the girl noticed, and watched pert nipples swell against her bodice.

"Don't bother. I decided Theta isn't worth the crappola. I withdrew my pledge."

"Sounds like a smart decision. Though you could have waited 'til you were accepted and then told them to go to hell. It could have been fun." What would happen if she reached out and tweaked one of those hardening nipples?

Another ripple of shoulders. "I never wanted it. My stepmother thought I should pledge because she and my mother pledged. So did my grandma and my great-grandma. It's okay."

"Not afraid to break with tradition?" The smile was less toothy but no less dangerous for it. "I like a rebellious spirit."

Clancy had a prom queen smile, clean and straight and white. "I'm not rebellious. I just don't believe in wasting time." The smile disappeared. "When we...I can't stop thinking about what happened between us."

Well, it seemed she practiced what she preached. "And what's been on your mind about it?" Léonor twirled one of Clancy's curls around her fingers. "How good it felt, maybe?"

Thick lashes, bereft of any mascara, veiled her eyes for a moment. "It felt very good. I liked it. Even when...at the end."

At the...ah! "When I bit you." Right next to that darling pussy.

"Yes." She was relieved Léonor had said it; it was clear on her pretty face. "It felt good to me and...it still feels good to me now."

Her nipples looked like ripe berries against her dress. Hot cream was pooling deep in her body, leaking onto her private curls. Lea inhaled deeply to take in the delicious aroma.

"Sometimes..." Clancy's voice was trembling. "It feels like I still need you to do it." She paused and sipped more tea.

"Maybe you do." It seemed so from the delightful smell of arousal. "I can certainly bite you again. It was a lot of fun the first time." Lea leaned a little closer. "You were so pretty naked."

At last the girl took advantage of their closeness, half leaning toward Léonor. "You're the only person I've been with," she said. "I didn't know I could like things the way we did them. I thought I might--" The admission surprised Léonor more than she thought. "But I didn't know it."

"So you've thought about girls sometimes." She placed a hand on the warm thigh nearest her. "Do I appeal even without the biting?"

She was so quiet, and the vampiress liked it. Her body retained a beautiful melody of heartbeat and circulation. Breathing, pulse, heartbeat...Everything.

"I think you do," she whispered.

Léonor's fingers traced the line where Clancy's legs were pressed together. "Should I take my shirt off for you?"

Soft fingers captured hers. Funny. The girl was more petite than Léonor, but her hands were larger. She bent the last inch she needed to and kissed the vampiress with warm lips.

Léonor returned the kiss with alacrity. She'd wanted to do it ever since she saw the darling thing with her armful of flowers. Clancy's lips tasted of some sugary lip gloss. Cherry? Strawberry? Some sort of fruit. As her tongue slipped past the ripe lips and explored deeper, Léonor tasted sweet tea and fresh mint, warm with life. She moaned a bit and pulled the human closer.

Lea could taste Clancy's low little cry, feel it before it worked free. Léonor's own name, a gusty little plea.

Her hand stole over the breast she'd been so fascinated by, the nipple now hard and no doubt tender. She took the girl's hand and guided it to her own. "It's okay to touch me. Do what you want to do."

First the soft cupped palm pressed against her, then eased away for fingers to play and twirl against generously curved breasts.

"I've...wanted to be with you so much." She unfastened the looped buttons on the vampiress' brocaded shirt.

"All you had to do was come. You were invited." She watched as Clancy's fingers worked at the button. It wouldn't take up a minute and she'd be bared for the girl's pleasure. She seldom bothered with a bra. One of the glories of being undead--she didn't need one.

"I know but...I was afraid." She swept clean hands over Léonor's shoulders. Silk brocade crashed like water down her back onto the wrought iron behind her. Clancy didn't turn away from the vampiress' sharp gaze as she continued. "I was afraid...you expected me to come to you and that...I didn't have a real choice." She swallowed and added, "I missed you. I missed feeling your presence. And sometimes it hurts where you bit me."

Léonor slid her hand up until she could feel the little scars. "But not really a hurt, a feeling like you needed something touching you there. It's an ache but not an ache." She remembered the sensation though it had been towering stacks of time since she'd felt it. It was impossible to forget.

Her fingertips massaged the twin bumps just as her other hand was massaging Clancy's nipple. "I didn't come after you, though. So the choice is yours."

The pretty brunette opened her legs and inched forward in her seat. Her kisses varied from passionate and hard to soft childish pecks, then trailed over the vampiress' shoulders.

"Please," she whispered. "I want to be with you."

"That's all you needed to say." Such an impassioned creature! They were rare, those humans who threw themselves so totally into the sensual. Léonor's touch drifted over the crotch of the girl's panties. It already felt damp.

The little rose whimpered, encouraging her to play and delve among the creamy-wet folds. She balanced on her side and showered her lover's neck with soft kisses.

"Where do you want to touch me, cherie?" Untried, the dear thing would have to be taught. "What do you want?"

Clancy whispered hoarse responses. It felt good when Léonor slid fingers up her tight channel, if they didn't go too far, and so very good when she tweaked her in that sensitive place just a little higher. Clancy tugged at Léonor's fly. "Let me touch you there, too."

"Oh yes, I'd love that." What a splendid lover this one was turning out to be. So ardent to learn and experience. Léonor stood and shimmied out of her pants. Naked, she smiled down at the girl. "So, is this what you wanted?"

Dark eyes scorched her. Did Clancy know her eyes were the rich deep shade of a pansy flower's center? The hand settling upon her pussy was light, careful, as though Clancy feared Léonor might be injured from her touch. The vampiress sighed as fingers sank down into soft flesh.

"Did you like biting me?" Clancy kissed Léonor's breast. Her fingers began to twirl and play.

"Very much. And biting you in so intimate a way, in so intimate a place just made it better." She sighed as Clancy brushed her clit. "Right there, cher belle. Think of what you do when you pleasure yourself."

"Will you do it to me again? Today?" Clancy surrounded the pleasure knot with fingertips and began a persistent pressure.

"Oh, yes. Gladly. But first, we're going to fuck each other." She spread her legs wider and urged Clancy to stop just long enough to remove her dress.

Clancy stripped slowly, more the meticulous care a young woman showed for a special dress when she didn't want it rumpled or wrinkled than an act of teasing.

"You've got a lovely figure, petite rose." Léonor's sincerity strummed through the edge of growling that clung to her voice. The girl was a sylph, long graceful limbs and delicate budding apples for breasts, just enough to fill an open hand. Her trim waist swelled into round hips and slender legs. When Clancy turned to set her carefully folded dress on the chair opposite them, Léonor took in a luscious moon of an ass, high and firm and round, bare cheeks bisected by the mint green thong she wore.

"Why is it that a sweet girl like you wears panties that won't even cover your ass?" Lea wondered aloud. In truth, that glorious bottom begged to be dressed in a G-string. It begged for spankings, an erotic spice Léonor loved to employ, and for softer petting and moist kisses.

All in good time.

"So I won't show panty lines under my clothes." A self-conscious hand flitted over one pearly cheek, then grasped the tiny elastic ribbon riding low on her hips to draw the scrap of lingerie down.

"Don't." The sharpening in Léonor's voice startled both of them. "Leave them. For now."

It wasn't until later, a languorous pastime of orgasms later, that Léonor tugged the fragile underwear free of Clancy's hips. The little rose proved an eager student, uninhibited once the vampiress convinced her they would not be seen. Léonor's vulva throbbed, still engorged and slick with the juices of her own passion coaxed by Clancy's stroking fingers.

Clancy had rained kisses upon her skin and whispered appreciation of her. You're so beautiful. You feel so good. You smell wonderful. You taste delicious. Ardent little phrases from an ardent little lover. Albeit an untaught one.

It had been a long time since Léonor had heard those things. Her sons and brother had warned her against closing herself off after her husband's passing. Jean had helped her live the life of a vampire because they hadn't lived like vampires at all. He had always filled their house with love. She had missed him too much to take more than physical enjoyment in any lover. And so her lovers had been casual, their words attuned to their own enjoyment. But Clancy was different. She longed for the student's fulfillment, but also for the pleasure her partner took in their encounter.

So she embraced Clancy repeatedly, first in the close quarters of their shared garden seat, then on the long chaise-style daybed in the garden house where she could hug the girl close and urge her when to stroke, when to pinch, when to plunge her fingers deep in Léonor's pussy while she kissed and nibbled her breasts. At one point she'd held Clancy when the darling, overwhelmed with lust, had collapsed into little death throes, violent quivering while she pushed her hips against her lover's thigh, her climax fueled by desire alone.

Sweet little girl. Sweet little pussy. Léonor cuddled Clancy long after she drifted into a light sleep.

Lea scowled at the dated bathroom. She'd rarely used the garden house, even for guests in the past fifty years or so. The tiled walls reversed her frown. She remembered Jean and Caspaar selecting the rare white porcelain, hand enameled with intricate black scrollwork, in Italy long before America entered that first skirmish with the Germans. The bathroom needed a facelift all the same. A full bathtub instead of the neat little shower stall. And a bidet.

Léonor collected a plush cotton washcloth from the squeezed-in-a-corner cupboard. The taps never had to run too long to make pleasingly warm water. She saturated the washcloth and wrung it tight, smiling at the ghost of her grandmother advising her to "wring the laundry tighter, get all that water out, Léonor." Over two hundred years, and her hands still remembered feeling dry and blistered.

Back in the living room, her little rose drowsed, nestled among firm down pillows covered in checkered silk. She was a virgin bride. An odalisque in a pasha's harem, lounging and dreaming the moments away until she caught her lord's notice. A colored girl repeating the trick to inflame her white gentleman protector.

Dark eyes, mild and warm, met Léonor's and their warmth twisted in her stomach, set the muscles in her pelvic floor tightening. Clancy was hers for the asking. No one else's.

"Come, chere." She settled upon the edge of the bed and ran her hand down her guest's shoulder and arm. "Turn over." She watched the girl roll against the soft bedding to face her.

Clancy smiled when she faced her lover, and Léonor wondered what she saw. Did her lily-skinned beauty see her pretty complexion and wide almond eyes and dainty chiseled nose? Or did she note the conflicting characteristics in Léonor's looks that made her undesirable to the class she'd been born in?

"You didn't get your sister's skin. And your lip is way too full. Poor child...You'd almost pass if it weren't for that mouth. Go help your grand-mére with the laundry."

"You have the most unique coloring." The little rose spoke in a wondering sleepy sort of way. "So fair but almost golden, too. Are you Iranian? You look like an exchange student in one of my classes."

Almost pass. But never quite.

"Non, not Iranian. Open your legs, chere." She felt her face soften as Clancy cooed enjoyment when the warm, damp towel first blotted her sex. "I used to be called a sang-mêlée." She wiped gently, careful with the tender nether lips.

"Sang-mêlée? Mixed blood?" Clancy echoed. "You mean a quadroon?"

"Non, not a quadroon." Why the guilt when the girl looked stung by her sharper tone? Funny how some human resentments that had no logic in them whatsoever could linger in the soul. "My great-grandfather was a quadroon." She ground anger under her heel as Clancy's confusion grew more apparent in her expression and the thighs that had been so relaxed a moment before stiffened in tension. "I'm sorry, petite rose. It's complicated." She tried to find the words to explain something at once so common and convoluted.

"There was much mixing of the races during the days of the colonies and much mixing afterward. My great-grandfather was the son of a sugar planter in Martinique and a half-caste girl from Vacherie. In Europe he was able to enjoy more worldly opportunities than he could ever hope to have in the New World. He attended university and enjoyed a colorful career in the French army. He married a white girl. Their children were called octoroons, still colored and thus tainted in American eyes according to the One Drop Rule. It would not have mattered except that through his mother's side, my great-grandfather had inherited lands, plantation property in the Vacherie area.

"One of his younger sons came here to farm the land and discovered himself cut off socially from many of the same fine Creole families who had been his friends in Europe. He found it intolerable, hired a bailiff to keep the properties running smoothly and sailed back to France to marry the white lady he loved and had affianced himself to before he'd ever come to America. He did not dare to return since marriage between colored and white was forbidden in Louisiana and he feared social as well as legal reprisal. Bad losses during the war years left his heirs nearly destitute, though, and they retreated to Louisiana where at least they had a home.

"My mother, one of his daughters, was called a quintroon, the term meant to apply to a person only one sixteenth colored. She was a lovely and accomplished woman, educated in social graces and considered very beautiful. She was also completely unmarriageable to any of the sons of the Creole families who owned the adjoining properties to theirs because she could not be forgiven the drop or two of African blood that might still be active in her veins. At the same time she could not be expected to marry a slave, or even a former slave. A hierarchy of sorts had asserted itself within the colored society and families who were many generations displaced from slavery regarded a person more closely connected to it as somehow inferior. Whether the man was clever, handsome, or even wealthy in his own right was immaterial."

"But there were other colored Creole families in Louisiana. I've studied about them in my Louisiana history class. Families like the Metoyers in Isle-Brevelle."

"Oui. But many of the eligible colored Creole men were often already spoken for. The very wealthy elite preferred to send them abroad for education. Often they remained in Europe and married European women. And after the Louisiana Purchase, the Anglo government began mandating laws restricting new colored men from moving into the area."

"Thus there would always be a shortage of husbands and a surplus of colored women," Clancy concurred. "So your mother appeared at the quadroon balls and accepted a white suitor?"

"The proper term was protector, chere." Léonor stroked Clancy's glistening inner thighs with the washcloth. Now they were clean and there was nothing left to do but fold the cooling cloth. "And he was an older man, widowed, a neighbor who'd been one of her father's friends in Europe that had to pretend they were more civil acquaintances here. When he died, it was discovered that he'd placed the bulk of his personal assets in my and my sister's name. With all the new laws the Americans were making it was becoming harder for a man to bequeath an inheritance to his family if his family wasn't white. He wanted to see us provided for, so he purchased lands, machinery, even slaves and cottonseed in our names, only listing himself as our guardian while he operated it. When he passed on, we discovered we were joint owners of an impressive fortune."

In the back of her mind Léonor heard her sister's bitter reproaches to her mother. "Why don't you send her away? She could go to school in France or even England for all I care! She'd probably be happier there anyway! Why should she stay here? Why should she? Do you understand I could have been married if Monsieur Roussel hadn't taken one good look at her and recognized what she was?"

She shoved the old hurt away. Blanche had been dead and buried for over a century. And she had died loving Léonor, never dreaming her sister had overheard what she really thought.

"Sang-mêlée is a word the French Creoles made to describe colored people so removed from their African heritage as for the amount to be too insignificant to measure." Except in matters of commerce and legality. "It was the Anglo Americans who grouped all colored variations into the term quadroon."

She watched Clancy close her legs and begin to sit up against the pillows. Léonor offered her a hand for help, and she accepted it with a quick thank you, then refused to relinquish it, entwining their fingers instead.

"So." Clancy tilted her head to one side, forcing a cascade of loose waves to slip over one shoulder. "I asked you if you were Iranian and I got a fantastic mini-history of your family and the caveat that in addition to lesbianism I'm also engaging in interracial sex." Her generous mouth quivered and the dark chocolate of her eyes gleamed.

Léonor shrugged. "I want to be truthful to you. You detected a difference and might have guessed on your own. There are still people to whom such things matter." Her own sire had abandoned her because of it, left her trapped in a coffin without nourishment. If Jean had not come back for her, she would have deteriorated into madness in that filthy stinking mausoleum.

"I appreciate it." Clancy held their joined hands up. The twined fingers varied only slightly in hue. Some digits were pale lily with a cool rose tone, the others the shade of the meat of an almond with nail beds more plum than pink. "I am duly warned that you are--just a little bit--black."

"Oui."

Léonor wondered what in her assent affected her little rose. It was as though her agreement had pricked a balloon of laughter inside Clancy and now that mirth pealed out like holiday bells on a winter equipage.

"Oh!" She sparkled with good humor. "Oh! Oh!" Laughter was a beauty asset, especially after lovemaking. Clancy's eyes were stars, an enhancement of her pink cheeks and gleaming hair. When her head fell back, the beauty of her throat was revealed, an alabaster column subtly marbled from blue veins.

Clancy squeezed Léonor's hand. "Are there any other perversions I should know I'm committing?" Suddenly her face bled dry of fun. "Are you still married?" she asked suddenly.

"My Jean is dead." Léonor kept a neutral but steady gaze upon her guest. It appeared the young innocent who laughed at the antiquated notion of the One Drop Rule and did not bat a single curled eyelash at the thought of touching a vampire, and a female vampire at that, was appalled at the thought of conspiring in adultery.

She watched Clancy grow shy, dropping her eyes and seeking shelter for her nakedness in the bedclothes.

"I know your husband's dead--as in being undead." The sweep of her tongue over her lips was not a sensual act. "But is he...maybe..." Now little white teeth scraped the recently licked lip. "Is he sort of officially dead? In a temporary way? Maybe hiding out a while?"

"Hiding out?" Léonor echoed. "What you mean, rose?"

"Like he needs to disappear for a couple years and come back with a new identity?"

It was Léonor's turn to giggle. Vampire novels left people with the most extraordinary ideas! "Cherie, my Jean and I lived here over fifty years. We hadn't gone out of our way to make our presence felt, but plenty people know who we are. What we are. If we'd needed to go into hiding, we'd have gone together." Her next breath hurt her lungs and throat. "Jean died true death, chere." The completeness of the fact always hurt more when she heard herself say it.

The light fingers twined with hers squeezed. "Please forgive me. I didn't mean to bring up any painful reminders."

"I know." She pressed an impulsive kiss on Clancy's knuckles before releasing them. "Why don't you treat yourself to a warm shower, and come across to the house and have dinner with me?" The stretch of her lips when she smiled at Clancy's double-take at her watch felt good. The girl was surprised their loving had wiled away most of the late afternoon hours. "I would like to offer you this house." It was easier to say than she thought. "If you like it," she added. "And after your supper we will finish."

"Finish?"

"Oui. I've still not fed from you today, petite rose. And you still want me to."

Chapter 5

"You're diddling Lea Griffin. Aren't you?"

Clancy reminded herself of all her intentions not to satisfy her roommate's curiosity. The girl was an incredible busybody. Given her journalism major it seemed entirely likely to Clancy she would end up as a top paid columnist for either a Hollywood gossip rag or a British tabloid magazine. Maybe that was why she always spoke with an affected British accent.

Clancy didn't turn her attention away from the pile of clothes on her bed and her gaping suitcase. On the sliver of floor space she claimed as her own a yard-size trash bag waited, half-filled and hungry for more.

Léonor had advised her to bring only the clothing she truly loved and couldn't bear to do without. Léonor wanted to dress her herself. And she wanted Clancy's nipples pierced.

The thought of body piercing always caused the pertinent anatomy to pebble into hard little points beneath her bra cups.

Yes, it will hurt a little, cherie. And it will also feel so good and I'll take very good care of you so you don't get any icky infections. They'll make you so pretty.

How to refuse her coaxing when the words were accompanied by so many licks and slow wet kisses?

"Do you let her bite you?" Roommate leaned so far forward she was in peril of rolling off the spongy edge of the mattress. "The old stories about her say she likes feeding off her lovers."

Part of Clancy wanted to snarl at her nosy neighbor. Do I look bitten? Maybe it would be best to assume an air of wounded innocence. How could any sensible person believe in all that old superstitious gossip? Vampires can actually be really decent people, by the way. You shouldn't believe all the prejudiced accounts sensationalized in popular fiction. Another darker part of her longed to roll sideways on her own bed, raise spread legs over her head and hike her skirt. Yes, look where she bit me! It's the most incredible feeling in the world! Especially when she makes me come! Clancy smirked at her own wicked thoughts and dumped a checkered dress in the trash. It had an enormous platter collar and the print looked like a picnic tablecloth. What if Léonor found picnic tablecloth dresses with schoolgirl collars appealing?

"So now she's setting you up real nice, huh? Making you one of her lovers like she did in the old days."

It was horribly generous of Léonor to offer Clancy her own little house on the grounds, something so close to the campus that a clamorous St. Charles Avenue streetcar would get her to class in no time or she could even walk if she wanted the exercise.

"Why don't you move in here? It's been a long time since there's been another female on the property. It would be nice to have someone to help counteract the testosterone levels." Léonor swept a buttermilk hand to encompass the little bedroom. "You could have the garden house. It's not very big, but I think it would be just right for a college girl. We'll decorate it, cherie, make it your own little place. But still close to me. I can be near you. We can be together."

"Patty Gilbert said she knew you wouldn't mind kneeling down to Lea because of the way you stared at her in the shower after the Delta Phi carwash meet." A mean edge touched the idiot's tone.

Clancy snorted aloud. She couldn't help it. I stared at her when she flipped her shower shoes into the air and one of them hit me on the head! She gripped the inside of her cheek with her teeth to keep from shouting it. A moment later her stomach crumpled.

She hadn't cared for Patty one whit, but now she wondered about the sorority president's active and open dislike of her. Had Patty recognized a latent interest in women in her and despised her for it? Clancy had never thought of herself as gay or even as having homosexual leanings. She'd always liked her high school steady and cried her share of tears when they agreed they needed freedom after he accepted a scholarship from an out of state university. From time to time she'd glanced at a female and found her particularly attractive, wondered what it might be like to kiss her. But feelings like that were supposed to be normal.

Weren't they?

But you're still a virgin. Insecurity mocked her. No matter how much you thought yourself in love with Killian you never did the deed with him. You thought you were being so principled, you believed it was morally right to save yourself and wait for marriage, but just look at you now! You're throwing out most of your clothes and moving in with a woman! And it's not just because she has a nicer house than this musty, undersized dormitory, it's because you find the idea of not being able to play sex games with her unendurable!

Léonor's mark, the bite placed high on her inner thigh, throbbed. Maybe it was not all about the sex. The bite did something, made Clancy more...more...somehow more hers. Léonor's.

"You know, you're free to speak up and say something any time you want." Roommate was growing bored. "Our founding fathers did fight for freedom of speech for everyone."

You're an exchange student from Bangledesh!

Clancy forced herself not to turn away from her task. The fact that her roommate was a pompous donkey probably had some influence on her decision, too. Not to mention the fact that the dorms had needed renovating for quite some time. There were other more practical reasons for her to want to stay with Léonor. Did that make her less of a sex fiend?

Besides, the rent was a steal.

"Chere belle, I don't want money!" Laughter had chased through the corners of the grand Baroque dining room in Léonor's house the third time they'd talked about it. Joshua had cleared the long table without appearing to notice or care that his mistress had propped her young supper guest on the opposite end. Clancy's skirt had been raised to her waist and she'd unbuttoned the front of her blouse of her own accord to entice the vampiress to love on her breasts.

"Not your money, any way." Léonor kissed the scar on Clancy's thigh. "I do want this, though. And this." Her kiss trailed upward to the naked, still moist pussy. "Why don't you let me take care of you for a while? At least until you're out of school and have a job. It's better you focus on your classes now." The next kiss was firmer. "It's best you get to know my sons. And you spend so much of your time here anyway. It's already so late, petite rose, will you be staying tonight?"

Nails trailed over Clancy's thighs. The vampiress' sexy body had a golden cast to it from the dwindling candlelight. Their coupling had grown fevered when the golden witch had lifted Clancy off the table and set her body astride her own on the ancient Persian carpet. Clancy had ridden Léonor hard, grinding their pussies together while Léonor whispered encouragement and praised her. The resulting orgasm had shattered Clancy, and she'd known from that moment she wanted to accept.

"You've spent a lot of time there." Roommate's voice had deepened. Was that disapproval or envy? Maybe she was just getting pissed off because Clancy wouldn't bother to answer her.

The gleaming peau de soie pumps with their champagne-stem heels were the first evening shoes Clancy had ever owned. She remembered the feel of the wide ties of satin ribbon binding her ankles and tied into bows like ballet slippers. The shoes were useless, now, dyed-to-match her prom dress. They made a clattery thud against whatever else she'd just thrown away.

Each time she'd been to see Léonor over the past three months the vampiress had reissued her offer. Sometimes she made just a casual mention of it. Other times she sought more inventive forms of persuasion.

She must have known Clancy would say yes one day, but her delight at the mortal's acquiescence still gratified Clancy's vanity.

"And, chere, I would rather you weren't sleeping with other people."

Clancy had looked at her stupidly. "I don't sleep with anyone," she declared. "Besides you." Did Léonor think she had time to cat around town as well as attend full-time classes and slip into the vampiress' own bed any chance she got? "I've never been with anybody but you."

"I know that, but you're a very pretty young woman. And I'm sure you have your share of offers. I suppose I'm selfish, but I'd like to have you to myself while you're here. And it's silly, and I'd hardly call you a virgin after all we've done, but because we've never popped your maidenhead you taste wonderful. Could you not do anything to change that? I do love the way you taste." She ran the edges of her fangs over and around the scars they matched. "You're like a gorgeous dessert that tastes as good as it looks." Her smile was as winsome as her dusty French accent. "Only dessert doesn't make me come the way you do."

Léonor laughed when Clancy accused her of using enchantment in her voice to sway the human to her will.

"Look!" The British journalist wanna-be sharpened her tone to just beneath a shout. "I don't appreciate being ignored in my own room. Will you just tell me what is going on?"

What is going on? For your information, Miss Betty Boop-a-doop, I've made the first big-girl decision in my life. I've decided I want to live with a person who is so original and so fascinating I'm kicking myself in the butt for not jumping on the opportunity when I first had it. And it's not the plush digs and the mind-blowing sex or the thrill of an avant-garde lifestyle spurring me on; it's so many little things I can't begin to count them all. It's those warm kisses--the ones that have nothing to do with sex--when I'm half-asleep and she wants to tell me good night. It's the way she'll get out of bed on Sundays and make me a cup of mocha with fresh whipped cream. It's when she grins and tells me not to bother getting dressed because she loves, not likes, but loves me when I'm bare-assed. And it's that hug--that last hug before I hop on the streetcar or run out to the cab to get back here. And that look. She wants me to come back. She wants me to stay. She wants me to decide to stay with her because she really wants me to stay and she doesn't want to make me.

This was all so stupid. Clancy's glare took in the insipid grayish blue walls, the serviceable tile flooring and the utilitarian closets. Why was she wasting her time here? She could have let Joshua collect her personal property or even told him to throw it all out. Half her toiletries were already in Léonor's bathroom. Her textbooks and backpack were ready to go and the rust and golden toned abstract designer print on her wall wasn't dear to her; it was a gift from her well-intentioned but truly tasteless stepmother. She didn't need to keep it.

"Well? What's happening?"

Clancy fumbled through her memory. Why couldn't she recall the chick's name? She had lived with her for the past four months. She dismissed the effort and strode toward the front door, a task accomplished in four steps.

"Nothing's happening." The brief toss of her head might look like she was glancing back toward her ex-roommate but she wasn't. "Just fucking around."

Chapter 6

"Tell me about your new girl, liebchen."

Léonor felt her mouth curl into a smirk. "What new girl, frére?"

Caspaar Florescu did not turn away from the huge framed photograph he was adjusting. Léonor waited for her perfectionist sibling to fiddle with the picture, then step backward and eyed its alignment to the rest of the room with slightly tilted head. He frowned after a moment and resumed his work, shifting the plain chrome frame farther toward the left.

"Oh, that looks ever so much better," Léonor baited him playfully. "But what do you think? Perhaps an additional billionth of an inch more to the right would create a more harmonious placement."

"No. The configuration is perfect. The size of the print is a little dissonant." Eyes the shade and clarity of flawless aquamarine squinted almost closed and opened very slowly. "I should have cut it about one quarter inch wider for true symmetry with this room."

Léonor shook her head. "I'm afraid I still don't see it, honey."

She paused to take in her sibling's latest work of art. The reclining model was a statuesque brunette, beautifully proportioned, clad in a simple white gauze sundress that had been saturated in water until it clung to her skin and revealed every single detail of her nude body. Hard dark nipples matched the thatch of pubic hair. The woman's navel was a perfect oval adornment for her flat trim stomach, and the shape of the oval repeated itself in a giant mabé pearl ring on her outstretched hand. Huge dark sunglasses masking her eyes and brows lent her a bizarre anonymity given the model's uninhibited display of her remaining charms.

"She's quite beautiful. Even better than the one you did of Marilyn Monroe."

"She's the daughter of an American heiress and a British nobleman. She has a Mediterranean mindset."

"I still don't understand how you cope with the pressure. One day someone will recognize the flavor of your work and compare it to some of your more...distant pieces." She swallowed. "You could be discovered."

"I know. It's risky." Caspaar's steady tone held no room for regret. "But I've switched mediums several times, you know? And my publicist has never denied my ancestry in an artistic family." The way his sculpted chin hardened when his lips pursed always made Léonor grin. "So. Caspaar Florescu IV is the famous photographer great-grandson of Kaspaar Florescu the celebrated portrait photographer who never denied his own grandfather had been a popular portrait artist in the eighteenth century, a talent he no doubt inherited from his late uncle who never stopped pursuing his abysmal sculpting trade until he died." His lips softened into a sly smile, revealing clean straight teeth and deepening a cleft in his chin that lent his golden good looks a precious little-boy quality. "I've paid my dues when it was necessary, Lea. When I have to I'll go underground again. For now..." Massive shoulders rippled. "It's my time to shine."

Léonor slipped her arm around Caspaar's lower back and leaned into his powerful body. "It would be a shame if you never picked up a paintbrush again," she conceded. "Although after a century and a half of refinements your black-and-white photography is impeccable."

"It would be a worse shame if you never modeled again, liebchen." He reached out to finger a strand of hair that had worked free of the French roll at the back of her head.

"Not another word!" she scolded. "I made the one painting, just the one, after I lost that whist hand to you. I told you, never again!"

"To this day you don't know how I envied Jean when he was sent to court you." He gave her a dreamy-eyed smile and pressed his warm lips to her brow for just a moment. "Don't you wonder how it might've been." It was not a question.

"Never." She raised her face to accept one more chaste peck on her cheek this time. Caspaar wore a delicious fragrance, a woodsy medley laced with a touch of tuberose. "I love you too much the way we are now." When he smiled his thin mouth looked less cruel, more like who he really was.

"About this girl," he began again. When he turned away from his masterpiece of the moment his lush ponytail of wavy hair swished against Léonor's caftan. His hair was liquid gold. Skilled fingers collected the mess of brown parceling and tape, bubble paper and strings used to protect the photograph on its trek to the black-and-white room Léonor kept especially for Caspaar's work.

"Yes, she's very pretty. Did you know her well when you shot her?" The handsome German would never outgrow the artist within himself. Léonor knew not one hand besides his own had ever touched the photo from the moment it was merely a burned film exposure to its delivery and mounting upon the wall of her house.

His mouth thinned. "I mean your girl."

"I don't have a girl." She watched him ball up all the packaging into a compact mass the size of a basketball and toss it into the marble wastepaper basket near the door.

"Very well. I mean the slave you took in your garden house."

Léonor's eyes narrowed. "I don't have a slave." Her slippered feet took two precise steps away from him.

"Your sentiments don't negate the old rules, Léonor. If you've taken her and don't want to offer her any sort of place in your household, she is clearly unworthy of the privilege. Any other vampire who wishes to may make full use of her. Allow me," he added when she reached for the door handle. He turned the handle, swung the door open, and then retreated so that Léonor might precede him out.

Caspaar was a gentleman, even in the wretched uber-egalitarian social mindset of the modern world. It was what made him so successful with so many women. That he was a cross between Adonis and a Viking prince didn't hurt, either. Jean had also been a polite man, but he'd lacked his sibling's charismatic flair. Caspaar was a natural celebrity, a powerful creature, and so damn gorgeous he should have been illegal. It took very little effort for him to make a subject comfortable, become friends with her and make her like him enough that stripping naked and opening up to his camera became a romantic experience instead of a job. Caspaar's beautiful nudes, always so relaxed, natural, and feminine, were his trademark, a classic in photographic art.

"Not that I'm saying she's in hot demand just now, but my nephew tells me she's quite enticing."

"What are you talking about?" Léonor scowled. "I've never introduced her to Raymond or Guste! They haven't met her!"

"Ja. They did see you...er...refreshing yourselves in the pool after the young lady visited you to beg for flowers and you drew her into your playhouse for a little heart-to-heart. Now wait a minute, Lea!"

He knew the exact moment when her good humor boiled and her body stiffened, preparing to launch into a swift chilly glide to her room. She saw that he knew it. Caspaar slipped ahead of her, just solid enough to keep her from fleeing to her neutral corner. He was smiling again, and those charming eyes gleamed.

"You know your boys aren't spying on you. They're trying to respect your privacy, but they worry about you, too, liebchen. And they are curious about your visitor..." She watched him smooth over his impulse to say "slave" again. "Because they know how isolated you've been since Jean left us."

"Jean did not leave us! He was taken from us!" She would never forgive those idiotic vampire-slayers with their heroic aspirations and nauseating good intentions. And damn them they'd been well-meaning youngsters, too foolish to be evil. She could not find enough monster inside her raging grief to kill them.

"And most importantly he was taken from you. Liebchen." Caspaar lifted both hands and held them out at his sides palms up, the picture of non-confrontation. A brilliant dark blue sapphire set in heavy gold shone on his right middle finger. "You chose not to follow Jean. I am selfish enough to be thankful you didn't. I swear on my knighthood it would have broken me to lose both of you. But what I wonder--what Raymond and Guste both wonder--is what does your new lover mean? Are you able to let your heart move past loving Jean and allow yourself to be happy remembering him? Is she a casual diversion? If she is, you must still be careful with her. There are people who would hurt her to hurt you. Matteo wronged you--no sire could wrong his offspring more brutally than he wronged you. But he was right about some things." His voice deepened and cooled. "And one of them was security. Casual lovers are food, chattel. They can be shared, defended, or abandoned at whim. The clan won't fight to protect them because they are not worth risking the security of the clan."

"I. Know. That." She had to scrape her tongue with blunt teeth to rid herself of the taste of those words.

"And you have never accepted a casual lover before. I've never known you to find women enticing."

"What do you want, Caspaar?"

The splendid man didn't take offense at her resentful tone or her fisted hands and tightly folded arms. His eyes remained warm, steady and kind.

"Tell me who she is. What she means to you and what she should mean to us."

Léonor sucked the back of her front teeth hard enough to make a popping noise. Caspaar was one of her favorite people, but he surely got on her nerves when he backed her into a corner. The blond giant's even gaze was not affected in the least by her rudeness. She could get in a fistfight with him, a physical confrontation where he would refuse to defend himself, to get him to move out of her way. Or she could start talking.

Léonor sighed. "I've seen Clancy for a few months. We met when she came to my house to snitch flowers as a sorority stunt."

"Ah." Caspaar clicked his teeth. "College children can be so cruel."

"I laid her then. I don't know why." She stared into her friend's silent disbelief. "She was pretty. And interesting. And she was interested in me, too. It was like she woke me up." Léonor shook her head. "I realized there were still very pretty bodies in the world." Why did everything she said sound not quite right? She wanted to tell her brother what he wanted to know, but how she felt wasn't translating into speech. Her words didn't clarify how fucking Clancy seemed to make full moon nights so much clearer despite New Orleans' persistent fog. Bed was warmer. The sweet olive trees released more luxuriant perfume into the side courtyard. Every simple pleasure was so much more enhanced when she shared it with her new lover.

"It's the first time you've bothered to notice beauty since Jean's passing though."

"I know." Okay. Maybe her words did make sense, or maybe Caspaar understood her well enough to see past their inadequacy. "And it was good. She was really good." She hesitated but decided to add, "She's a virgin."

"Ah." Caspaar's pleasant tones took on a knowing resonance. "What have you done for the last three months since this pleasing interlude?"

"I wanted her to come back. I don't know why," she insisted. "It wasn't even entirely about fucking. She--Clancy is very sweet. I like having her here." Pleasant silence stretched out between them, tension melting away. "She's very sexy and open to what I want to do. And then she's so delicate and ladylike at the same time."

"Oh, yes." His fervent agreement forced blood to warm Léonor's cheeks. Not an easy thing, a vampire's blush. It wasn't the first time her desire for another being had been so powerful this very clever relation of hers sensed it. "I should like to discover some of that daintiness myself."

"Mais non!" Her casual clasp on his wrist tightened to bone-crushing force. Caspaar's nearly white brows sprang high.

"Even if she wishes it?" he prompted.

Léonor swallowed. The lump in her tightening throat didn't diminish.

"I don't think she would wish it," she heard herself say. Did she really mean that or was it only wishful thinking? "But if she did I'd chalk it up to your immeasurable experience with females. My little pet wouldn't stand a chance." Or would she? Léonor scowled at her own curiosity.

"Your pet..." Caspaar temporized.

"It doesn't matter what I call her or how I think of her!"

"Of course it does." Caspaar shook his head and his wavy hair rippled around his shoulders. "If she is merely a precious lovely you've enjoyed, then there is no reason any of us should not enjoy her."

Her teeth drew fine flakes of skin upon her arid lower lip. "If she wanted it..." Something burst inside her and it spilled out of her mouth, "I don't want it!"

She stared at the man she'd affectionately called brother for so many years and smothered the guilt clutching her diaphragm. She knew her family loved her. It was the only reason she'd had to keep going after her husband's death. It wasn't right for her to criticize them for being curious or even hopeful that she'd moved on, found someone new in her life. She was being too sensitive. Raymond had not been spying on her, nor had she made any effort to conceal what she'd done with her little rose. She hadn't even showered the night they were last together, retaining the aroma of Clancy's sex on her fingers, musk mixed with the chlorinated water they'd splashed and played in afterward.

Memory struck Léonor. A vampire's recollections were always so vivid, the result of heightened senses. At one point during their late night swim in the garden pool Clancy had stood just beyond the artificial waterfall and shaken her hair back under the steady flow of water, then tilted farther so that silvery streams slid over her collarbones and down her body. Moonlight gleamed on wet beauty, outlining each little angle and curve. Léonor would never find a more beautiful decoration for the pool, and certainly not such a smile.

It had been the most natural thing in the world to slip up behind Clancy, curl an arm around her waist. Water made their bodies slippery, and shared passion left their skins fever-warm. Her own nipples were stiff, plump berries bumping against Clancy's shoulder blades and she ground herself against the human girl's buttocks.

Clancy whimpered...oh...oh...oh...please, please, please... She'd reached into Clancy's most intimate folds and discovered her newly hot and creamy. Oh, yes, Léonor! Oh, my God... She found the perfect rhythm of stroking, massaging the needy center of her lover while Clancy rode her fingers, rocking back and cuddling Léonor's groin against her ass. Her climax had been an intense explosion, a kaleidoscope of pleasure, and the entire world had turned red and warm when Léonor sank slim sharp fangs into the sweet place where Clancy's neck joined her shoulder.

Yeah, Lea. I want it so much...

How could she ignore that mewling, pleading, sweet girl? It was too easy to lift her and settle her bottom upon the very edge of the pool. Léonor was already bending over her, tracing waterdrop trails on Clancy's stomach with her lips.

Lay back, baby girl. And spread your legs wide.

Léonor closed her eyes. Just the recollection of those delicious moments caused a hint of sweat to break over her lower back, and she knew the hectic sparkle in Caspaar's brilliant eyes and his own lengthening fangs meant he felt her remembered excitement, the emotional residue of her swimming playmate.

"I believe you don't want it." He took a slow step back from her. The tension within Léonor was lashing out to surround and enmesh the man who had been so close to her for many human lifetimes. "I would not want to give up such a claim either." He shook his head free of the dazzling emotions he hadn't expected.

"I'm sorry, frére." She wanted to reach out to him but didn't quite dare. He needed a little extra space and so she stepped back. Once. Twice. Again.

"It's nothing, liebchen." The slur crept out of his words, and his splendid fangs receded. "And it's not nothing," he clarified. "It's everything." He rose to his full height. "Your feelings for Clancy--you're quite right to think of her as a rose, what an execrable name for a beautiful girl-child!" He beamed at Léonor's brief confusion as he leaped around the subject. "This is not a casual interest. I think I'd like to photograph her for you."

Her lips were working though she couldn't make words. Even her brother's attempt at ribaldry didn't curb her anxiety. How to explain where Clancy belonged when she wasn't quite sure herself? She always had to second-guess her young lover. Léonor thought her offer of protection would be plenty of incentive for her so-willing pupil to live near her. The idea of Clancy close to her, in a bed nearby where she could watch her sleeping, touch her, make love with her and feed, sent caution beyond a tattered universe within the vampiress' mind.

"Léonor."

Her name seemed to mean so much more when Caspaar articulated it. Tenderness prevailed over sympathy and somehow made the sympathy less unpalatable. It was natural to welcome his long arms around her, the shelter of his body and the precious warm aura that always told her you do not worry...I am here... Caspaar had been the complement of Jean.

"It's no crime to desire a beautiful woman who wants to love you," he murmured the words into her hair. "If you love her now it does not mean you love Jean any less."

"I don't know!" The sob strangled her words. "I don't know what she--really wants. Everything between us has happened so naturally and we haven't talked about closer commitments than what we have." She couldn't understand why it meant so much to her, enough to make her sniffle and spill hot tears.

Caspaar sighed consolation and lifted the wet drops away with silk fingertips.

"What is it, Joshua?" Léonor knew his step and presence so well she'd given up looking for him long ago when he entered a room to attend her. Bitterness flooded her heart. She didn't know what distressed her most, Clancy's reticence or her own longing for more.

Joshua remained unruffled. He had grown old and widowed with her just as they had once been young and happy while Jean still lived.

"Miss Rosabel is here, Léonor. She's asked if she might wait if you decide you'd like to see her." Her loyal servant didn't alter his expression. "She didn't wish to come indoors, Lady. Instead she's waiting outside at the courtyard entrance. She says if you wish, she can return to the garden house."

"And where does she belong, liebchen? Where is it you wish her to be?"

Léonor stared into Caspaar's concerned smile. "Here. I want her to be here with me." If only I could be sure that's what she wants.

"That would be well, madame." Joshua's complacent expression didn't change. "I'm sending for Miss Rosabel's luggage right now."

Chapter 7

"I take it that will be all?" The vampiress' voice was cold and clipped, her French accent prominent upon every word. The two humans staring over the edge of her desk had done nothing to recommend themselves to better grace from her.

The hardened leather binding of her desktop checkbook made a distinct thud when Léonor shut it.

"It'll do." The salt-and-peppered man grunted, making Léonor more aware of his receding hairline and thickening waist. Didn't he know rudeness made ugliness uglier? The silver cross on prominent display over his collar added to his hypocrisy.

"Mrs. Griffin..." His well-preserved wife used a more conciliatory tone. She was smarter than her husband. "It might make things so much more comfortable for m--my son in these circumstances if Clancy would separate her business interests with him."

"I think that is something you and your son's representative should discuss with Miss Rosabel's attorney, Mrs. Smith." The more offended she felt, the thinner her veneer of an ordinary twenty-first century woman became. Her speech and manner grew distant, formal, the epitome of the era in which she'd been raised.

"Oh, lawyers!" Samantha Smith waved the suggestion away. The flirtatious giggle she offered would have been endearing if she was still a little girl. "This is family business, we shouldn't need lawyers!"

"True. So you ought to be able to discuss it with Miss Rosabel yourself." Léonor let the full weight of her contempt show in her expression. The couple would not fail to understand she was disgusted with them.

"My stepson is a young Christian man with no call to be tied up in legal ventures with demons!" When Mr. Smith gave his temper free rein, his northern Louisiana accent grew more pronounced, too, an excellent accompaniment to his backwoods mindset.

Samantha's smile grew fixed, its sincerity faded from her crystal blue eyes. "It's just that we're concerned about his inheritance, Mrs. Griffin. If Clancy becomes more like you, how can her brother ever inherit their shared property or bequeath it to his own heirs?" She began playing with the bamboo handles of her crocheted tote bag.

The woman was a simpleton. And rude and presumptuous. Léonor shrugged. "I still own joint interests with the descendants of my sister's family, Mrs. Smith. Like any other business venture it's had sweet and sour moments."

"But what about us?" The bamboo purse handles clicked and clattered hard enough to chip a professional manicure. "The house can't be really ours if Clancy won't sell it to us. What if she decided to live there?"

"You both have a legal right to live there, Mrs. Smith." Léonor's smile hid her feelings. "Unless your son reaches his majority and decides he would prefer you lived elsewhere."

"But we couldn't share the house with...with..."

"Its legal owners?" Léonor supplied helpfully. She knew Samantha was irritated with the situation. The gleaming blonde wanted to be rescued from saying unpleasant things and neither her husband nor her hostess was assisting her.

"We don't believe in the way you're living." Mr. Smith stood up tall. "We don't believe the living have business trafficking with the dead and we don't believe in the way you've got Clancy set up as a concubine for you and your boys. And we don't believe in race-mixing either." His nostrils flared in dislike.

You've been dying to say that since you first got here. Haven't you? Léonor resisted the urge to say what she thought. "I haven't heard the situation referred to in quite that light before, Mr. Smith." She was determined not to provoke a fight with this bumpkin. He reminded her of the illiterate oafs she'd sometimes met when she traveled in the nineteenth century, demanding to see her free papers when they couldn't even read them just to harass her. She didn't trouble herself to look up at him and didn't smile at his wife.

Besides, what difference did it make? Clancy still chose to live with her. Léonor could afford a little tolerance.

"We won't have this travesty in our house."

That comment made her brow climb. "I'm afraid that's nothing I'm able to help you with, Mr. Smith. The Rosabel home has belonged to Clancy's ancestors since 1872." Was he surprised she'd know that? The Garden District was a small place, after all. "I don't think she'll be inclined to sell it." She paused to add weight to her next words. "She's not lacking resources where the profits of such a sale would have value to her."

"We've lived there for over twenty years! The house is part of our heritage, too." Samantha's eyes were huge with tears and her lower lip quivered. Léonor wondered if she'd worn her hair in Shirley Temple ringlets when she was a child.

"Of course it is, Mrs. Smith. As long as you remain on amiable terms with Clancy and with your son, there's no reason you can't continue that tradition." Though I'll make sure you face a hearty rent increase to offset the cost of Clancy's tuition since you're outright refusing to pay it. Léonor stood up. "Joshua will see you out in a moment." She hesitated, guessing their answer but wanting to know anyway. "Clancy is in her house working on a paper. Did you want to stop in and say hello to her?" She smiled coldly at Samantha's apologetic assertion of a pending hair appointment and left the room without a farewell.

* * * *

"So." Clancy rested her folded hands on the edge of her laptop stand. "Good? Bad? Do you have an opinion?"

Léonor gestured for patience while she read the last two pages. For a laptop, Clancy's computer speakers had remarkable clarity. One of Chopin's nocturnes played so pure and dreamy it sounded live.

"Your written voice is wonderful." Léonor turned over the second-to-last page of Clancy's essay. "It might be a little too good-humored in places to qualify as dry explanations of a well-researched subject." A sly smile crept over her features and tone. "I notice you've meticulously refrained from any mention of Lafitte's women."

"I thought it might lead to certain speculations." Clancy's hair bounced over her shoulder when she tilted her head to one side.

"Wouldn't be the first time, cherie."

"Have you," Clancy searched for words. "Do you get confronted by many people? I mean people who believe in you?"

"Sometimes."

Léonor didn't elaborate. Instead she held up a hand for silence as she finished reading the last few paragraphs. Then she rose from the wing-back chair and shuffled the printed sheets back into their proper order as she crossed the room to hand them to her lover.

"It's a good paper, but you ought to go over it once more. Spell checks and grammar checks don't always cover everything. And I think you deserve a break after all the furious clacking you've done at your machine. Come with me next door. We'll have some tea and fresh fruit." She smiled into the younger female's eyes as Clancy stood up. "Aren't you going to turn off your music?"

Ebony satin brows knit on a snowy forehead. "I can't," she said.

"What you mean you can't?" Léonor teased. "Isn't there an off switch?"

Clancy smiled, cleared her throat, and hastily signed out of her computer. The soft flow of piano never faltered when the monitor faded to black with a closing chirp.

Léonor stared around the entire room, then raised her head up toward the ceiling where the nocturne was most prominent.

"His name is James Monmouth. I looked up information about him on the internet. He was the second eldest son of the Monmouths." Clancy raised her eyebrows when Léonor seemed unaffected. "The family who owned this place before you did."

"The pianist? The drowned pianist?" She knew Clancy had to think she looked ridiculous, but she couldn't help recoiling from the bedroom back into the small entry hall.

"He's actually pretty good, isn't he?" Clancy stopped just before the entry to slip into some sandals. "Thank God he knows how to play. Imagine how gruesome it'd be if you had residual spirits of bad musicians in the house."

"He's a ghost!"

"Are you scared, Lea?" Clancy looked concerned. "I'm not sure he's even a sentient spirit. He's never manifested except as the music."

"No. Non. Of course not." The eerie prickling feeling on the back of her neck was not fear. She was not afraid of a little music. "Can I borrow these?" She reached for a pair of sunglasses and plunked them on her face.

"We could just wait. It'll be dark in another two hours."

"No, baby." Scarlet lips spread. Léonor gripped her collapsed umbrella in one hand while she slid her free arm over Clancy's back. "I thank you for your concern but we'll only be outside a moment."

"I can't believe an umbrella is enough cover for you." Nevertheless the mortal girl waited for the vampiress to open the glass-paneled door halfway. Standing in the doorway, an inaudible click of the button on the handle activated a mushroom effect. Léonor stepped into the late afternoon under the umbrella's white canopy and beckoned Clancy to join her.

"I'll be fine. In a few more decades I might not need the shade at all," she assured her.

Léonor took advantage of the brief stroll to admire some of the new landscaping. Clusters of hydrangeas and broad-bladed irises waited to bloom. The honeysuckle vines were culled back, promising to fill the gazebo on the opposite side of the pool with their perfume once the weather was warm enough. The rosemary patch looked stunted but still defiant, able to take over its entire bed in summer heat so Joshua could clip lengths of it and dry it for use in the kitchen and the bath.

"Mmmmmm!" Clancy dawdled inside the solarium to savor Joshua's lavender plants before she followed Lea to the kitchen. Lea felt her diaphragm swell joyfully as she set the kettle on the stove. There were so many simple pleasures to be had with her new lover. Of course she liked lavender, but somehow she'd forgotten to take pleasure in it until Clancy reminded her it smelled so good.

I've missed being married...Being involved.

"You really have a great kitchen set-up."

"Thank you, belle." Lea selected a mango and two blood oranges from the crisper drawer and closed the refrigerator.

"My grand-mére had a good large country kitchen with lots of windows. It always seemed so...welcoming. Inviting."

"An indoor kitchen was one of the best things ever made," Léonor agreed with fervor born of experience. The mango was going to be a very good one. The firm skin yielded tender wedges of golden fruit. Lea breathed in the exotic aroma and restrained a sigh. Everything was so much more interesting. So wonderful.

"When my stepmother moved in, she painted the kitchen peach and beige."

"I gather that didn't meet with your approval." It was an artistic thing, the way clear water raised to a rolling boil spilled over tea leaves and created a wonderful dark fluid with a trace of gold swirling through it.

"I was too young to care about a color scheme in an old house." Lea could sense Clancy's shrug. "But it hurt my grand-mére. She'd gotten older, a little slower, and my father thought it was best for us to move in with her to help take care of her. Samantha decided she could decorate the way she wanted without asking."

Did she hurt your grandmother's feelings, chere belle? I should kick her ass just for that. It's a bad thing, disrespecting ones elders. Aloud she asked, "Is your grand-mére still living?"

"This really looks good." The Royal Doulton fruit platter chinked softly when Clancy set it on the kitchen table with both hands. "She and my father passed away when I was almost nine years old. They ran into a heavy truck because of a brake failure on their car."

"I'm sorry, belle." She stroked the length of Clancy's spine and passed her hand in a circle in the small of her back while she sat down.

"It was a long time ago. I remember a lot of good times." Clancy selected a sliver of the ruddy orange and nibbled, then bit. "These are very mild. They're good."

"Is that why you had to move out of state?" Lea's eyes smiled at Clancy's surprise. "It's kind of obvious you haven't always lived here." She smoothed back a loose tendril and tucked it behind Clancy's ear.

"That's sort of the reason." The brunette bit into another wedge. She chewed and swallowed. "I still sort of live there. Legally fifty percent of the home belongs to me and the other half belongs to my half-brother." She giggled and leaned forward in her chair. "It's awful, but I sometimes wonder if my grand-mére held on to dear life on purpose so she'd outlive my dad. That way my brother and I were her legal heirs and Samantha--that's my stepmother--couldn't inherit the house from him."

"Sounds like something a strong-minded, opinionated lady would do." Lea cherished the spark in Clancy's eyes, the sense of kindred spirit.

"So Samantha lives in the house, with Mike and her new husband. They're okay. I've been in boarding school since before she got married." She sucked away at the pulp of a mango section and sipped her tea. "They tried to talk me into signing away any claim on the house once I was eighteen years old, but I still want it. I figure one day Sam will grow up enough to realize the house isn't hers and then I can fix it if I want to. Paint the kitchen white again." She offered Lea a Cheshire cat grin. "Besides, it's fun to collect rent from her when she resents it so much."

Lea burst out laughing. "I can see how that'd be the very best part!" She reached out to Clancy, cupped a velvet cheek.

"You smell nice. Like mango." Was it the words that set flames licking at Léonor's entrails, or was it the heat of Clancy's mouth on her fingers and palm?

The vampiress' growl thundered down into the intimate core of her. She was blossoming like the carefully cultivated flowers in her own garden. Her breath was rushing and at the same time she couldn't seem to really breathe. She knew she didn't need to breathe at all, but it just didn't matter.

Clancy groaned, dark with her own want, and didn't resist Lea's arms enfolding her, their bodies crashing together.

I love you, baby girl. I love you and I want you here so much.

She pushed, relentless, until the wall offered support at Clancy's back and pinned the girl with her own body. Clancy's mouth was soft and sweet with the traces of the fruit they'd just eaten clinging to her lips.

"Lea!" Her mouth was open now, her tongue reaching for Léonor's, twining over it, caressing her, retreating to push with her lips.

Léonor worked at the smooth pewter buttons at the sides of the girl's twill shortalls. Clancy's whimpers urged her on while the girl worked her own shoulder straps lose. A growl, another firm tug, and the last buttons popped free. The shortalls tumbled free of sylph-like hips and the metal fixings clattered on the floor.

"Yes!" Clancy gasped as manicured fingers tugged at the short ribbed tank top she wore for coverage, urging it up until the bottom hem clung beneath her armpits. She grunted when less gentle hands forced her panties off her hips and down her thighs.

Léonor devoured Clancy, suckling on her mouth while she savored her precious body heat. She felt the girl's racing heart; she could hear it. It made all the sense in the world to want to hold her closer. The vampiress' own heart rate was naturally slower than a human's, but it was rushing now, too.

She fell against Clancy and drew in deep breaths. She smelled so good and felt so clean and nice. Léonor breathed in the warmth of Clancy's skin, the golden scent of shampoo lingering in her hair. The girl's slender arms were clinging vines, curling over her own limbs while her kisses pushed against firm skin, the hollow above her collarbone.

"Lea... It's so good... So good with you..." Clancy's assurances mixed with sensuous little pecks on the top of Léonor's head as the vampiress kissed a path down her shoulder, pausing on the delicate pulse inside her elbow. Both women shivered from the contact.

Léonor stepped back from Clancy and stared at her. She felt the demonic edge of the monster her human veneer covered. Her eyes were blazing, golden brown paling to amber, and her fangs extending, glinting at the corners of her lips.

"Oh, Lea..." Clancy whispered her yearning.

Léonor continue to stare, baffled. When had she learned to crave feminine love until her entire body creamed and burned for its pleasures? She had never imagined a girl could offer her this much enjoyment or that she could crave it so much. Did Clancy understand how incredible she looked, back against the wall with her shortalls at her ankles, her tank top raised to her armpits, and her panties halfway to her knees? Her pink mouth looked bruised and swollen from their kisses, the same color of her roseberry nipples that stood hard and erect upon the creamy peak of each breast.

"I'm going to fuck you, baby girl. Right here." Her voice darkened, tremulous with passion. Léonor lifted a segment of blood orange and held it to Clancy's lips. "Open." She held the edge of the fruit while the girl nibbled it, eating a bit at a time, and pausing to lick the fingers feeding her before she took the last bite. It was incredibly sensual to watch her eat the ruddy orange pulp from Léonor's hand.

"Stay right here." Léonor turned to their near-abandoned snack again and selected a slender wedge of mango. "Good girl." The praise was whispered and hoarse in her throat. She touched Clancy's lips with the mango, briefly, moistening her before she leaned in to kiss her, gently licking away the taste. "It's so good, amour." The endearment slipped free with a high catch in her voice.

Now she stroked Clancy's naked breasts with the mango. The moisture made her nipples seem even more lush before Léonor cleaned them as ardently as she'd cleaned Clancy's mouth. Her pretty playmate shuddered and whimpered, raised her body high on tiptoe to make her breasts as accessible to the vampiress as she could.

"Oui, amour." Léonor praised the arched back and rotating hips. Clancy needed to know it was just as much a turn-on to her to see that Clancy liked what she did as it was for her to do it. "Show me that you like it."

Léonor brushed the mango down the girl's silken belly, teased the oval navel for a moment before gliding down toward the source of Clancy's most aromatic nectar. She kissed Clancy passionately on the mouth while she slipped the mango between her nether lips, lifting it carefully against her clitoris, a hard swollen pearl within the slick hot folds.

She worked slowly, manipulating the sensitive knot of flesh, circling it, dipping the fruit a little deeper from time to time, but careful to avoid actually penetrating Clancy's innocent sex.

"Does that feel good to you, petite rose?" Léonor smiled at her lover's shocked wide eyes. She seemed to be a creature of sensation only, groaning through gritted teeth and pushing back against the fruit being used to titillate her. When Lea spoke, she turned eyes made of black fire upon her face, a look so lascivious and unrestrained the vampiress caught her breath.

"Yes!" she nearly growled.

"Good." She kissed Clancy's forehead. "I want you to come on it, baby. Sweeten it up for me."

Léonor cupped one breast and kneaded it with thorough, careful fingers while the darling worked against the mango pushed against her pussy. Joshua had noted the appointment for Clancy's piercings in her planner a week from tomorrow. The rosette tips were lovely unadorned, the texture of firm summer ripened blackberries. With the rings they'd be even more beautiful, sensitive and so much more exciting to the vampiress because of the gesture of obedience to Léonor the rings entailed.

What if Clancy really didn't want it that way? Léonor frowned at the unpleasant idea.

"Lea?" Clancy reached out to stroke one side of her face. Her fingers drifted lower, stroking her lover's long neck. She was seeking the open V of Léonor's blouse.

She whispered wordless endearments against Clancy's temple, communicated with every facility she had of face and body that Clancy was welcome and her body was eager for hers.

Did the girl understand that passion such as theirs was uncommon?

"Lea!"

Clancy backed off, out of their embrace. Anxious hands pulled her little ribbed shirt over her breasts, a sacrilege that made Lea want to weep in frustration, but she was too confused by her pet's behavior.

"Forgive me. I meant no disrespect. I only wished to watch."

Damn. Damn. And still more damn.

Instinctively Léonor turned around and stood directly in the path of Clancy's frantic efforts to pull her clothes back on and Caspaar's apologetic tone. He was as well-dressed as he ever was and his posture held its usual confident powerful laziness, but the lines in his face were harsh. His magnificent eyes burned as though he might penetrate his sibling to see her lover, deliciously aroused and naked.

"It's all right, Caspaar." She meant the words even if she wished with all her heart he was anywhere but in her kitchen. "You didn't know we were here."

"I'm sorry." Clancy sighed relief when she buttoned her second shortall strap closed. The sense of comfort being clothed gave her almost made Lea want to laugh. "We were just fooling around. It...got out of hand."

Caspaar turned the full brilliance of his smile upon her. "Yes. You make a beautiful couple."

"Thank you," Lea replied civilly. Behind her she smelled Clancy blushing. The mango in her hand still felt warm.

"Thanks." Clancy echoed her.

The handsome German swept into a bow and raised his golden head. "I would be honored if you ever desired me to join you." His white teeth gleamed. "And I would make a splendid portrait of you. If you wished it."

And still more damn. Léonor wanted to scream. She had no one but herself to blame for this.

"That's nice of you, Caspaar. Maybe we'll talk about it later." She arched her brows in an expression he would not mistake. Much later. Very much later. Perhaps never.

Caspaar's gleaming clear eyes swept from Lea to Clancy and back. Léonor read his dismay. "Yes." His voice was beautiful and neutral. "Forgive me," he added.

"No...It's okay, I actually need to get back to my place."

Léonor turned toward Clancy as the girl brushed past her. The blush on her cheeks made her look like a painted china doll.

"Clancy," she whispered. I wouldn't embarrass you, cherie. Not on purpose, not for the world.

"It's okay." She turned back to Léonor without really facing her. "I needed to get back to work and finish up my paper. Remember? I just dropped in for...a snack," she concluded lamely.

"Clancy, this...I'm sorry for this." She swept her hands wide. "Can I please come by later? After you've finished your paper?"

"Yeah. Sure." The girl's bland courtesy froze inside Léonor. The mango grew mushy in her tightening grip. "We can talk later on." Clancy was already halfway through the back door and then the door closed.

* * * *

"It will happen again. Someone walking in on us, I mean." Lea leaned against the door of Clancy's sitting room. Upstairs one of Chopin's waltzes played in a sinuous flow of clever handwork. Ghost or no ghost, James Monmouth had a wonderful articulation of notes.

"I'm sorry you were embarrassed. But you didn't have any need to be. It's different when you're in a vampire household."

"I don't see how. Being caught...naked is being caught naked."

"You didn't mind when Joshua cleared the kitchen table while I loved you upon it."

The human woman turned slowly. She was agitated still and trying not to appear so. "That was different. It wasn't daylight. I don't think he could even really see us." Léonor watched her patiently. "He wasn't really watching us, he was just there. Caspaar wanted to watch."

Lea's lips twitched and a slight smile appeared. "Yes. But you have a beautiful body, chere belle. And there is no one who can appreciate that more than Caspaar."

Clancy gasped so hard she had to cover her mouth with her hand to stifle it. "He spoke like it was perfectly all right to watch and to...like it!" The last two words were an exclamation.

"It was. In our society, he did nothing wrong or rude. In fact, he paid us a great compliment." She shifted, crossing her arms with apparent nonchalance. "I'll admit I was not happy to be interrupted and most unhappy you were disconcerted. But please understand, there was nothing to be self-conscious about. In the world of vampires, Caspaar is my brother. A dearly loved brother. And it is common for us to share...most things in our lives."

"I...know." Even though she was fully dressed Clancy still crossed her arms across the front of her body. Her eyes remained fixed upon her knees. "I've heard that sometimes you...that you like to..." Suddenly her lips thinned, angry at her own modesty. "I know you let each other fuck your pets!" It was good to say it, get it out in the open.

"Ah." The sound was almost a sigh but not quite. Léonor wondered who Clancy had been talking to and what she had been told. "But you will notice that Caspaar begged your pardon, petite. He realized his perception was somewhat in error." She drew a deep breath. "I have told him that you will be his niece one day if such is your wish. That puts a very different complexion on the situation."

"What?" Clancy stopped staring at her knees and raised her face. She could not conceal her own relief. She'd worried about the day she'd be expected to swap, whether Lea wanted to reward one of her relations or offer hospitality to someone. She'd been trying to school herself to accept it and convince herself that the price was worth it to be with Lea. She'd been so afraid of the beautiful blonde giant and her own lack of experience with men, of not pleasing, of not satisfying Lea. She wasn't experienced with men. "I don't need to do anything?"

One dark gold eyebrow climbed. "Do anything? You mean have sex with someone else? I'm not going to order you to have sex with anyone, Clancy. I would hope you know I care more for you than that." She stepped away from the door and crossed to sit on the chaise. "I would like for our friendship to continue, m' belle. And I would like to offer you the advantages of becoming one of my family."

She looked up directly at Léonor, started to speak again but stopped herself. Tell me how you feel, cherie, so I can tell you I won't use you. "I How would Léonor understand how she felt about her? "I would have done it if you wanted me to," she added. "But I'd rather not."

Léonor's mouth pressed closed and her eyes narrowed. Did she know what her stepmother's old coot of a husband had told her when he showed up at Lea's house to pay the rent? She always seemed to hear things very well no matter where she was in the house. The awareness between them was strengthening, and it had nothing to do with any blood bonds. Léonor had never let Clancy taste her blood. Their closeness was something different altogether.

"I would rather you had enough respect for yourself not to have sex with anyone unless you want to." The vampiress didn't seem angry, but neither did she seem pleased. Her lips were still a tight line, their soft curve destroyed. "And as my daughter that would never be a problem. You wouldn't be a pet. You'd be family."

"Family," Clancy repeated. She felt her heart turning cartwheels. "You mean...family like Caspaar. I'd be like you."

Lea nodded, hair waving with the motion and the hard line of her mouth relaxed into more accustomed sweetness. "You would. In time. At first, the sun would be very dangerous. You wouldn't be as strong as I am now. But you would be much stronger than you are now. Your senses would become keener." A smile flitted across her face. "If you think sex is good now, wait until you can bite me back."

Clancy gasped, but she couldn't stop laughing. "Lea!" Her pronunciation of the word forced her lips to spread like a smile. "You're talking about bringing me over. Converting me into vampirism. Should I do that just for really great sex? Better than what we get now?" She wrinkled her nose. "How much better do you mean?" Instead of being disgusted by the prospect, the idea of biting Lea tightened her stomach.

"Think of feeling everything, every sensation, a hundred times stronger than you do now." Lea returned the joyful smile. "And yes, I'm talking about bringing you over. Would you like to be my daughter, Clancy? Part of me and my family forever?"

Clancy leaned into the shapely arm reaching to curl around her. "I think I'd be excited to always be with you." The smiled faded. "Sort of. It's just that what happens between us now is really so good. It'll change won't it? If we're always together? What if you decide you want...well...I mean if you want to marry again..." Anxiety left her tongue tied.

Lea shook her head. "I won't."

"You can't promise me forever, Lea. That just happens in romantic stories." She folded her arms around her lover, enjoying the feel of her body being close to her own.

Sadness settled over the vampiress' finely sculptured face. "I know that better than anyone, cherie. That is another reason I would like you to join me. Your life will be so short. You are far too lovely and I care for you too much to see you bloom for a day and then fade. It pains my heart." Her hands moved over Clancy's back. "If you become my child, you will be as you are for however long our eternity is."

Clancy sighed, snuggling against her shoulder. "Will it be different for you? The way you feel about me?" she clarified when she sensed Lea's faint scowl. "I mean if I was also your daughter..."

Again, Lea's hair moved as she indicated it wouldn't. Clancy could feel it move against her skin. "We will only be closer. You'll be able to feel more of me, more of how I feel."

Clancy followed Lea's body into the comfort of the daybed. It was beautiful to be so close to her, intimate and warm. She could not remember feeling so secure since her childhood.

"If I went mad," she began. Lea stiffened and Clancy massaged her upper arm to comfort her. "If I went renegade and killing mad like some of the vampires do... You know you'd have to put me down."

This time the head shake was short, choppy, and violent. "No. I would nurse you and care for you until you were all right. It's been done and I could do it."

"What if it didn't work?"

"It will work." The touch of force on Lea's tone was more frightening than a knife wielding psychopath bent on murder. She drew Clancy closer, cradling her body. "It will work, petite rose. The mad ones you speak of are victims, taken and made by force, often by an older vampire seeking minions to serve him. I will never take you that way."

They lay together in silence while Clancy absorbed her words. It took some time for her to speak again.

"I think I could never be happier than I've been the last few months," she admitted. "Unless I knew you would always be part of me. Somehow." Her eyes were burning with hot salty tears and she looked up. I do love you.

Lea kissed her forehead. "And so it is settled. You will always be with me, my lover and my child. When you are ready."

Chapter 8

"Tell 'em I'm busy, Joshua," Léonor advised him and she meant it. She had more important things to think about. She thumbed rapidly through her second oldest cookbook trying to find a seafood dish that might prove tempting to Clancy. She'd invited Caspaar as well as her sons to join them for supper. The artist had enough nerve and charm for forty men, and Léonor was sure Caspaar would be able to assuage some of Clancy's embarrassment from their earlier meeting.

"It's very urgent, Belle Madame."

"It always is." Léonor ran her finger over the ghost of a brown oily stain on the corner of the page listing Jean's favorite duck recipe. The memory of Jean gulping roasted game baked within flaky croissant bread made Léonor smile as she turned the page. It was time her family met Clancy, and it had been too long since she'd felt like cooking for a supper party.

"It's the department head of Louisiana History at Loyola University. He says it isn't about a donation." Joshua's persistence made him an excellent caretaker.

"It better not be. I give them enough money to run a small city as is." She reached for the phone. "'Allo?"

"Hello? Mrs. Rosabel?" The polite tones were brown-sugared, native to Lafayette. "I was calling to inquire about Clancy, see how she's doing?"

Léonor raised an eyebrow. Not the president or the dean then. "Clancy? I'm sorry I don't understand. Has something happened?" Was her little lover hurt? Sent to the campus clinic or even the hospital?

"This is Dr. DesChamps."

"Yes?" Frozen iron fingers grasped Léonor's throat.

"I instruct Louisiana History and Acadian Cultures."

"Yes?" The cruel iron let go.

"Clancy missed classes last week as well as the previous Saturday and I haven't received any medical excuses. I taught her last semester and always knew her to be very prompt. I was worried and wanted to offer her an opportunity to make up the midterm examination." His tone positively oozed goodwill and Léonor's heart softened without her wanting it to. She was partial to that accent.

Léonor sat up very straight. "You're sure she wasn't in class?" Especially since the girl often regaled Léonor with accounts of her Saturday morning classes, praising her instructor for his attention to the subject. "Why would she skip your class?"

"Er...yes. She's always very prompt. Please I'm very concerned. Clancy is a good student, a very interested student," he added lamely. Léonor wondered how many bored faces the man lectured every day before he found the scant handful that actually gave a damn about what he had to say. "I do detract attendance points and I would hate to see her fail the semester."

"So would I!" Anger and disappointment rushed to replace the fear clouding Léonor's stomach. "She'll be in her next class, Doctor. Don't worry about that. Thank you for calling."

"Please ask Miss Rosabel to phone me during office hours. Thank you, Mrs. Rosabel." It never occurred to the polite instructor to assume she wasn't Clancy's mother since Léonor hadn't corrected him.

As she handed the phone back to Joshua, she supposed the professor's assumption wasn't completely wrong. The terse conversation she'd had with Clancy's stepfather on his one visit after Clancy moved in had been rather brutal and to the point. "If you're going to pervert everything about her, you better be prepared to take care of her because we won't. She doesn't have a family any more."

"So you're saying you'll have as much to do with her now as you did prior to her change of address?" Léonor had wanted to know. It seemed to anger him more when she didn't lose her temper. Bastard.

Léonor told him fine. She'd be all the family Clancy needed. Mother and father if need be. Now it looked like need had occurred.

"Where's Clancy?" She turned to Joshua's too bland face.

"I believe she is in the garden house, lady. She asked me for flowers earlier."

A word of thanks and she used the arbors and densely shaded walks to make her way to the garden house. At this time of the day, Clancy should have been at school.

Instead she was putting a finishing touch or two on a careful effort at a flower arrangement.

"Why are you home?" Léonor had found that it saved a lot of time if you got right to the middle of a problem. "It's three-thirty. Aren't you supposed to be in class? Taking your mid-terms, maybe?"

"Oh, I don't have a mid-term today. That was last week," she offered carelessly. "We're on fall break now."

"And how did your exams go?" Don't you dare lie to me...

Clancy shrugged while she focused on the infinitesimal perfect placement of a gardenia. "All right, I guess."

Léonor took in Clancy's damp hair and the lavender plaid bikini she hadn't bothered to change out of after a morning swim. The high sides narrowed into a thong back baring her lean round ass.

"You guess? Were they hard?" Come on, cherie. 'Fess up. Don't lie. Please.

"The ones I took were no big deal. I didn't take all of them." Another negligent shrug.

"Well, the other ones might have been a big deal if you'd bothered to take them." Léonor felt anger crowding her disappointment. Since when were tests optional? No wonder the American university system was supposed to be going down the drain! "You know, skipping class is the sort of thing you lie to your mother about, not your lover." Finally the younger woman looked at her, pansy-deep eyes flicking shock at how upset Léonor was. "So I guess that means you see me more as a parent. And that means I have to act like one." The palm of her hand connected sharply with Clancy's butt.

"Ow!" The girl turned abruptly, jumping back from Léonor. Her little mouth half-opened and worked. "How did--why did--"

"You skipped school, you might be failing, and you lied to me about it." Her voice grew angrier with each accusation, covering up the stark ache of the last.

Clancy gasped and stared at her for a moment. "I am not failing and I didn't lie!" Then her brows knit. "Even if I did that's no call for you to--to--to do what you just did!" Her posture stiffened, growing more indignant. "How dare you!" she scolded. Her bare foot thumped against the hardwood floor.

"Where do you go to school, honey?" Léonor asked her.

An impatient jerk of her head accompanied her reply. "You know I go to Loyola."

"Did you see your latest tuition bill?"

Sullen sloe-eyes on her face, resentful, but still attentive.

"I saw it," Léonor continued. "And I paid it. I won't pay for discretionary attendance." Since your family has seen fit to inform me that I'm expected to take care of you if I seduce you away from all that's right and proper, I'm somewhat obligated, n'est-ce pas?"

Clancy's eyes widened. "What? Is that why they came?" A coarse word came out of her that clarified her thoughts on that issue. "You could have told me! I would've..." She struggled with what she would have done. "I could have...I would have gone to class if I knew you were footing the bill!"

Léonor shook her head. Couldn't she see it didn't matter whether she despised her stepfamily or not, a college education was too precious to trifle with? "Well, I am. And I'll continue to do it but you, my darling little truant, had better have your ass in class each day or it will have my hand on it in a way that you won't like."

Clancy huffed but remained conveniently out of arm's reach.

"I'm not your kid. You should've just told me."

One bronze eyebrow rose at Clancy's hostile tone. "If everything goes as we've talked about, you will be my child. I don't accept willful idiocy or backtalk from my sons and I won't accept it from my daughter, so you better start practicing a new attitude." She smiled. "Your bottom is adorable, mon chere belle, and that rosy red becomes it, but I'd rather spank you because you get off on it than to punish you." An evil smile crept over her face when Clancy's face grew pinker from the suggestion. "But I will smack that pretty ass if you don't straighten up and pay attention to your grades."

Clancy recoiled from her for a moment. Léonor's eyes hardened as she sensed the shock of fear run through her pretty childling. "All--all right." She lowered her head meekly. "I'm sorry. I mean for keeping it from you. I didn't mean it the way it sounded, I just didn't think it was important." She wrung her hands. "I didn't want to deceive you," she added, in genuine regret.

The second eyebrow joined the first. It was doubtful her wonderful stepfamily ever wondered if Clancy's grades could have been better. "That's fine then." She sat down on the chaise before the lace-draped window. "Has no one ever loved you enough to spank you when you were bad before, honey?"

"No." She seemed more surprised by her answer than Léonor's question. "My nanny would swat my hands sometimes," she remembered. She pulled a kimono around her, one of Léonor's, embarrassed for her lover to see her in sexy clothes while they argued. She turned away to work the top and thong off under cover of the lush oriental silk.

Seconds stretched into minutes while they watched each other, waiting to see how the situation would resolve itself. When the silence grew too strained, Clancy spoke her mind.

"I'm going to pass Louisiana Legends with or without the midterm. I've got enough credits and I know I'll pass the final. You said I'd be part of your family, so isn't it more important that I learn to live like one of you? Is a degree going to do me any good? Who cares whether I graduate college or not?"

"I care." The vampiress' visage grew stern. "I care about you throwing away an opportunity I was never able to consider when I was your age! I care that ten or twenty years from now you'll be highly disappointed in yourself if you drop out of school or even if you pass and understand you never did your best. I care that you aren't enjoying all the things that college can offer." She realized Clancy was shrinking from her and lowered her voice, willing her to understand. "It's more than the classes, chere. I know that you've found that sorority a big disappointment. But there are others. And if you are in class you might meet interesting people. Get invited to parties." She smiled and shook her head coquettishly to endorse the option. "You can't spend all your time with an old woman. You might decide you don't like it. After a while." There she'd said it. She kept promising that she would do the right thing and offer Clancy the chance to make a choice that was totally hers. Now the words were ricocheting about the room. Lea felt the blows each time they rebounded from her body.

"You want me to start dating?" Clancy's head whipped around. The top of Léonor's kimono gaped, revealing an expanse of creamy skin all the way to Clancy's waist.

"No." Léonor's answer was too swift and her next words came slowly and after much consideration. "I think I wouldn't like it one little bit. But I want you to be sure it's not what you want." She would be honest. If she wanted to build a future with Clancy, she couldn't keep hiding. She had to admit her feelings even with the fear of rejection looming over her.

Lamplight gleamed on Clancy. Léonor watched it play lovingly with her dark-eyed beauty's features. The sheen of silk accented delicate curves. The crescent nipple rings were outlined against the fabric. The rings were smooth platinum, tipped with a single white pearl on each curved edge. Léonor knew she was the only one who'd ever seen them once they'd been put on.

"I don't think I'd like that." Clancy sucked in a breath. "I don't think I'd be happy, doing that."

"You deserve the chance to find out though." It would be so easy to manipulate her, to say whatever she wanted to hear, and keep her at Léonor's side. But then Léonor would never be sure that Clancy was with her out of true love. She knew Jean had loved her. He'd had his choices and made his own decisions and his devotion was unquestionable. Jean's love was the most precious gift she'd ever had, and now she wanted that same gift from Clancy. Was it too much to ask from a young human not yet out of school? Léonor wasn't a gambler unless it was a sure thing, but this time she had to take the chance.

"You don't have to go out with anyone if you don't like it. But you should talk to people--other people your own age, make sure this is really the life you want." She played with a tassel on one of the chaise pillows. Ivory silk, it was no smoother than her petite lover's hair and became the girl's complexion when she was stretched upon it naked, legs lolling, panting for her vampiress' touch.

"Okay." Clancy nodded despite her quivering voice. Now she couldn't quite look at Léonor. "Do...do you not want me to stay here anymore?" she asked the crystal-handled doorknob.

"Come here." There was every iota of command Léonor had gained from a near-century of rule.

The girl obeyed her, padding slowly across the room. The ceiling fan current caught the edge of the loose kimono and swept it over Clancy's shoulder. She raised her hands to smooth it up, too focused on holding it closed to notice the separated edges below her waist, revealing milky thighs and a well-groomed thicket of mahogany curls. Léonor caught only quick glances of part of her mark as her lover approached her. To see the whole wound, Clancy had to spread for her.

When Clancy was close enough Léonor slid her arms over her shoulders.

"Now, listen to me, belle amour." She let her heart slip into her words. "I want you here with me more than anything. Haven't we talked about all the changes we want to make to the house so it will be just perfect for you? Haven't we already made tons of them?" She didn't wait for Clancy to respond. Instead, she reached down between the edges of the robe. Her fingers sought the mark she'd made upon Clancy the first night they were together. Clancy moaned softly while she fondled the tiny edge of scar tissue. "I don't pass these out. Only you and my sons have one and I was not in love with either of my sons when I marked them. So don't give me nonsense about not wanting you here. The question isn't me. The question is you. I don't want you to wake up one morning and wonder what your life would have been like if you found some nice boy and settled down to have a house full of rug rats." The picture in her mind of Clancy older, a little heavier and surrounded by children was both pleasing and painful.

Clancy closed her eyes. And nodded, like she understood but didn't really want to. "But you wouldn't have a place in my life if I wanted to do that." Her voice had grown high and squeaky. "Would you?"

Léonor nodded. "I want you to be happy, pumpkin. And if that's with me, then I'm overjoyed and if it's not...well, I'll be happy that you could be happy and that's what counts."

"'Kay. I'll try to...get out more. See people."

Precious beyond price, the warm teardrop that slipped onto Léonor's arm.

"An' I'll go to class. Of course." Clancy's more earnest tones in that statement made Lea smile. The bright pink handprint on the girl's ass wasn't lacking in appeal, but clearly the darling was in no hurry to repeat the experience.

Chapter 9

The vampiress' hand stole under the kimono and cupped the warm, abused bottom. "Does it still smart? Want me to kiss it better?"

"Léonor!" The girl almost scolded, but she inched forward, welcoming the soothing caress.

Lea pulled the kimono farther open, planting a kiss on one of the pearl-decorated nipples. "If it burns, I can cool it off for you." Her fingers spread wide over the silky buttock.

Clancy slipped her hands into Léonor's hair, pressing and massaging her scalp. Her lips lit on Léonor's hair, then her forehead.

"Yes...I'd...like it..." Clancy sighed. "Very much," she added.

Léonor obligingly continued to kiss and nibble at the pretty, pert breasts, grasping the rings in her teeth and pulling gently or sucking them and rolling the nipples with her tongue. It was easy to slide the kimono away, letting it pool around Clancy's slim ankles. Her hands were busy, stroking the human's smooth ass, a teasing finger running over the crack, never quite entering it.

Her little human pet whimpered, a sound Léonor felt on her own hairline between Clancy's kisses.

"Go kneel down on the bed, honey." The shiver that ran through Clancy at her whisper was glorious. "I'll make that little ass feel all better." She gave it a final pat.

"Oh, please..." Clancy's fingers slipped lower. She used light strokes of her nails scraping Léonor's vertebrae at the top of her spine before she walked away from her lover, deliberately slow. Léonor admired the roll and sway of her hips and chuckled at the blatant provocative air in that elegant body as Clancy climbed upon the bed they called theirs.

"Vixen! Tease!" Léonor grinned the whole time her darling baby doll paraded away from her, clearly aware of how delectable her backside was and keen to show it for her lover's appreciation. When Clancy peeped over her shoulder, those glorious hips lifted proudly above the ivory and old gold damask that covered the bed, Léonor had to admit she'd seldom seen a more compelling or erotic sight. "Imp."

Then the tease faded when Clancy held out one longing hand, inviting Léonor's closeness. The dark eyes were serious, aflame with passion.

The vampiress took the proffered hand and turned it, pressing a hard kiss into the warm little palm before she bent slightly to kiss Clancy's upturned ass. The bed was tall and Clancy's still rosy bottom was at a perfect height for Léonor's ministrations. "Poor little butt. It's all red." She ran her tongue over one perfectly shaped globe. "But it tastes wonderful."

Clancy shuddered, a wonderful movement. "Yes?" Her breathing sounded suspiciously like panting.

"Very. Maybe I'll bite you here." Her finger traced a spot in the center of Clancy's left cheek. "Or maybe here would be better." It moved to a spot where her leg joined that beautiful ass, and much closer to the source of the fragrant arousal Léonor doubted she'd ever have enough of. She kissed the hollow low on Clancy's back.

"Ooooooohhhhh..." Clancy arched, involuntarily lifting her peach of a rump. She was an exquisite human sculpture, soft delicate limbs and proportions, full firm cheeks just as fun to pleasure as they were to punish. Her breasts were scrumptious little cupcakes, and the platinum piercings shone, white metal emphasizing the pinkness of her nipples.

"I love you, Lea." It came out husky and very soft.

Léonor's movements paused for an instant. I hope you always do. "And I love you." She resumed her intent of offering the darling all the pleasure she could manage. She ran a stiffened tongue into the cleft of that perfect peach, tickling the budded rosette that clinched and unclinched under her touch before exploring the already wet opening below it.

Clancy choked Léonor's name. So innocent. Léonor breathed in the scent of Clancy's deepening arousal. Certainly never touched there.

Léonor slid open the small drawer at the top of the high antique chest beside the bed. In a moment she found a small tube of lubricant.

"Ma precieuse...Belle amour." Her croon sent cool air into the hot moisture. An instant and there was warm gel on her fingers ready to spread on that tight opening. "You'll like me inside you here," she promised when Clancy began to quiver. "It'll feel so good." She pressed against the rosette with a well-lubed finger. "Just relax and let me in."

Léonor ran her free hand over the girl's lower back and buttocks in soothing circular passes of her palms. She felt Clancy's ribs expand, then relax, expand and relax. A little extra pressure and Clancy's secret opening began to swallow Léonor's finger.

"Yes." Clancy eased her hips back toward the new sensation.

Her lover echoed the sentiment. "Oui. I love being inside you, darling, being a part of your body for a little while." She pulled her finger back, but not far enough to exit, and pushed in again.

She smiled at Clancy's surprised little groan. She hadn't expected pleasure. Not there. Even though Léonor had promised her. She felt incredibly tight, almost unbearably hot, the little muscles just about sucking Léonor's finger, then trying to release her only to tighten again.

"It's good, n'est-ce pas, mon cher amour?" She repeated the gesture, free hand teasing the sensitive, untouched skin where Clancy's sweet ass met her legs. "Spread your legs a little more, darling. I want to see your pretty pussy while I do this."

Clancy's upper body dipped, and Léonor caught her breath. The gesture threw the beautiful lines of Clancy's back and ass into prominence. She shifted, parting her trim thighs. Sweet nether lips, pink and swollen and--oh--so wet through the veil of secret hair, pouted beneath Léonor's hand.

"Like this?" Clancy whispered.

"Oh yes! Just like that. God, you're beautiful. Every part of you." Lea took exaggerated care in easing a second finger into her petite lover, easing any sting by licking that swollen lower mouth.

Clancy cooed softly, pushing gently toward Léonor until her creamy labia seemed to kiss Léonor back.

It took a moment for her body to relax and accommodate the second digit, but as the vampiress' entry progressed a satisfied whine built in Clancy's throat.

"It feels nice," she admitted. Her voice was quiet, relaxed and wondering.

Léonor smiled. Clancy always did tell her whatever she thought. The vampiress paused in the measured swipes of her tongue. "Yes, it does. I'll teach you how to do this to me. God, you taste wonderful!" She pressed her tongue as deeply as she could into Clancy's still virgin opening. It amused and delighted her, her little lover, so willing, so anxious to strip naked and let Léonor fuck her into unconsciousness but still technically a virgin. Her blood was delicious, a rare dessert flavored with high passion.

"Oh, yes!" Clancy's tight ass gripped Léonor in her excitement at the prospect of offering her the same treatment.

"I love it when you fuck me, mon cherie amour." Léonor mouthed against Clancy's wet, slick folds. She scissored her fingers, stretching Clancy so she'd feel more filled, while her mouth dipped lower, seeking Clancy's pulsing clit. Léonor wrapped her tongue around the swollen flesh and sucked.

Clancy gasped, the first shock of near-pain coated with a rush of pleasure. She pushed her ass back against those probing fingers while she ground against Léonor's eager mouth.

Little virgin. So sweet. So ready. So obedient, generally.

If Lea turned her without penetrating her, that tight little membrane would remain intact forever, healing whenever it was ruptured. Clancy would become an immortal virgin, unusual, but common enough to work its way into myth.

The thought was irresistible. She didn't doubt she could give her lover enough pleasure to compensate for keeping her hymen whole until she was turned. And then...Oh, but she could make such an event of the first time she did pop that precious cherry! A week in some exotic playground, equally exotic entertainment, all leading to a special night with a private dinner prepared by a world famous chef just for Clancy, a special designer gown, an even more special negligee, a bed draped in silk and lace. Le Bon Dieu! It would all be perfect. Léonor's desire already ran high and the thought of Clancy's sweet, eternally virgin blood, vampire blood, staining pristine silk sheets was intoxicating.

She groaned against her lover's clit, a third finger pressing into Clancy's tight asshole as she imagined slipping her fingers into Clancy's taut vagina for the first time. The anticipation alone was enough to dampen Lea's panties with lust.

"Léonor!" Clancy shuddered, struggling to accept being filled. She rocked on her knees, panting while Léonor loved her with her mouth. Léonor felt Clancy's sphincter spasming, working to take what both women wanted her to take.

"I..." she faltered.

"Come for me." Léonor's order was breathless. "Come for me and then fuck me. I need you so much, Clancy!"

Clancy pushed out with her hips, swallowing hard. Léonor felt her third finger begin to sink into the snug cavern.

"Oh, God, I love you." She assaulted her lover's clit with talented fingers while she rained kisses over the upturned ass and drenched pussy. "I love you so much, Clancy."

"I love you, too. You feel so good in me." Clancy was bracing, pushing back against Léonor in hectic excitement. "I...Oh, God! Lea, I..."

Her clitoris grew even more swollen, Léonor could feel her throbbing, and her rectum was beginning to quiver, warning Léonor of the climax about to explode inside her.

She settled an impassioned kiss on the opening of the spot Léonor had decided would remain unbreached until Clancy was her daughter. She kissed the tight opening with the same fervor she would have shown Clancy's rich mouth, sliding her tongue into the opening, flicking it against the walls, sucking the passionate fluids it issued, groaning at the sheer glory of its weeping beauty.

"Oh! Oh, Lea! Oh, Lea! Please... Oh... Oh..." Clancy collapsed, mewling into the pillow and trembling uncontrollably against the woman she loved.

Clancy loves me. Tears burned Léonor's eyes. She does love me. Clancy's ass tightened convulsively, clenching and throbbing in delightful, rippling spasms, clamping down to hold Léonor's fingers as desperately as Léonor had ever gripped a cock in the same position.

She wanted to hold Léonor inside her. Wanted to prolong that connection as long as she could. Only when she was still, when that tight hold had released, did Lea withdraw. She wiped her fingers on her skirt, not wanting to soil Clancy's bed, and gently turned her lover over. Her own desire ran so high that it was hard not to beg Clancy to fuck her that instant, but she'd let the darling regain her breath. Still she couldn't resist covering that doll-like face with kisses or caressing the cupcake breasts.

"You're so amazing." Clancy drew her close, clasping her in a loose persistent hug. She kissed Léonor breathlessly. "I didn't know we could...do that," she finished.

She nibbled Léonor's mouth until the woman moaned. "And now...I want...to kiss you." Clancy's fingers were untaught but still careful with Léonor's shirt. "Fuck you. Feel you...Just like you felt me."

"God, yes! I want you to fuck me, Clancy, please!" Léonor kissed her with abandon, plundering the fragrant mouth tasting of the apple she'd enjoyed before Léonor had come to her.

Clancy's efforts grew more urgent, a little clumsier, working the wraps and buttons of Léonor's interesting suit. Clancy always loved her so softly, kissing and touching lightly at first, increasing tension and pressure before she gauged Léonor ready to be bitten softly, scratched or pinched.

The awakening of passion, of knowledge, was so dear, so wonderful. Léonor didn't help her with the fastenings, even though she was dying for the girl to touch her. Clancy had climaxed hard enough to dampen desire for hours if not days, but she was needy again, desire still strong. Léonor moaned and let her head drop back.

Hungry lips tugged at her nipple while knowing fingers kneaded her other breast, gripping the deep plum tip, tugging and rolling between her fingers. That mouth was so warm, the lashing little tongue molding her into a stiff taut bud.

Why don't you wear piercings, Léonor? the darling had once asked.

The piercings are to make you pretty, sweetheart. And to remind you that you belong to me.

Clancy had stopped sucking her, turned limpid eyes toward her own half-shut gaze. "You are so beautiful."

Lea cupped the unlined cheek. "Not nearly so much as you." Such beauty needed to be preserved. She would turn Clancy as soon as the girl wished it.

Clancy tossed her head, flipping her hair to one side. She glided slowly down Léonor's body, trailing silky curls over Léonor's breasts and belly. She paused at the juncture of Léonor's pale gold thighs. The vampiress closed her eyes as she felt Clancy's breath on her drenched sex.

"I want you so much, amour."

"I know it." That exquisite little tongue drifted over her slit, lolling and lashing the edges.

Léonor opened her legs wide, breathing fast though she didn't need oxygen. She closed her eyes against the exquisite sensation of Clancy's mouth against her.

Sucking lips and plunging tongue. Clancy caressed her thighs and Léonor even felt the sweep of her eyelashes upon her abdomen.

It was so easy to drown in the physical and even easier to sink into the bliss of Clancy's emotions. So much love! Léonor moaned and lifted her hips to meet that delicious onslaught. She wanted to cry out instead of locking the words deep inside. Yes, love me! Love me as much as I love you.

Clancy worked with an artistry that astonished Léonor sometimes. She knew when to lick, when to lap with a softer, widened tongue, when to whip Léonor's clitoris with a tensed pointed tip...even when to scrape her softly with blunted teeth.

"You taste good to me." A choked little sigh. "I want you. Only you." Almost weeping except she felt so happy. "I can't do this with anybody but you."

Tears eased from the corners of Léonor's eyes. "I can't stand to think of you doing this with anyone else." It was true. She wanted Clancy for herself, wanted this wondrous love directed only at her.

One hand eased back up Léonor's body, smoothing Clancey's silken hair over her naked skin, cupping a breast, squeezing. "Love you. Love you like this."

Léonor felt lips grip her swollen clitoris and massage with slow precise squeezing.

Her hips pressed against that excruciatingly pleasurable pressure. Her heart was chanting. Love me, loveme, lovemelovemeloveme! So hungry for it, for all Clancy could give.

Fingers slid into Léonor, gently pumping her in a precious counterpoint to Clancy's avid mouth. Clancy knew...just when to bend her fingers and angle her thrusts...

The moans and cries that escaped Léonor grew incoherent, words of love and desire jumbled together. Her hips bucked now and her legs wrapped about Clancy's shoulders.

The hand on her breast retreated, curled caressingly over her hip and delved into her rear cleft.

So gentle, the finger tracing that vulnerable opening, swirling along the puckered edge.

Léonor growled. That voracious sucking mouth, fingers inside her, other fingers exploring... All of her was hardening, swelling, tingling, bursting with pleasure.

Yes! YesYesYes! "Fuck me there, too." Clancy was everywhere, all Léonor could think of.

One slender digit wormed its way into her and Clancy exclaimed against Léonor, delighted at how tight she was, how smooth.

It was impossible to decide which was better, Clancy's naturally talented mouth or the finger newly inserted in her. She rocked between them.

"Léonor...You're so good...Do you love me, Lea?"

"Oh, God, yes! Love you so much." She pushed against the finger in her backside.

Clancy slid her digit halfway out and then slid back, twisting into a figure eight shape. Clancy bathed Léonor's clit with an ardent formula of kisses and strokes.

"I want to taste you coming."

The heated whispered assertion was enough to set Léonor's body clenching, her sphincter seizing Clancy's finger while liquid desire flowed into her lover's hungry mouth.

Clancy pushed a half-fist against Léonor's ass, driving her finger as far as it would go. She lapped at Léonor, a demanding kitten offered fresh cream. The steady, unchanging, constant strokes commanded a harder climax, one longer and more intense, from her lover.

"I belong to you, Léonor. I'll see other people if you want me to, but I'll still belong to you." Charlie took in her love's golden-skinned tremors and magnificent groans with unconcealed satisfaction. She nuzzled one of the vampiress's quaking thighs and planted a soft kiss just above her hipbone, a sensitive place that made Lea growl louder.

"No!" It was pulled from somewhere deep in Léonor. "No one else can touch you! You can't touch anyone like this. It kills me to think of it! Love only me!" Truth was so hard to stifle.

The smaller woman collapsed against her body, panting and trembling a little from the tension of holding her position for so long. "I will." She kissed Léonor's stomach tenderly, waiting for her body to relax further. "I never believed I'd love like this. I can only love you like this. Only you," she whispered it onto skin.

A leaden hand fell on her curls, Léonor's body rendered heavy and near paralyzed by the force of her climax. "I love you."

"I love you, too. And I'll always love you with everything inside me." Clancy eased up toward Léonor, curling onto the dense down pillow Léonor rested on. She watched Léonor in solemn silence for a short while. Then her moist lips curved in aromatic humor.

"And I'll go to class," she promised.

Léonor laughed weakly. "Good. I don't think you like spankings yet." Wrapping her arms around Clancey's offered warmth, Léonor kissed her forehead.

Clancy snuggled, happy beside her. Léonor watched that contented glow brim in the girl's dark eyes. It took little to make her happy. Of course, this cuddly bed and cuddly company made unhappiness difficult.

"Can I like a spanking?" Clancy wondered, lolling against Léonor's honeyed ivory shoulder. A lily-shaped hand kneaded the back of Léonor's neck. For some reason the gesture made the vampiress' heart quiver. It had been ages since her body had been mortal, since she'd borne arthritis and the other pains of age. She did not need this tenderness and somehow that made it the more precious.

"You might. A lot of people do. We'll have to see one day." She caressed Clancy's bare shoulders. "Can I sleep here?" That was the rule. On paper, Léonor might own the tiny house, but in their world it belonged to Clancy and she had the right to refuse or allow who lingered in it. A hint of independence in what could easily be a life that was too circumspect.

"You know I love it when you stay." Clancy traced a waving line of Léonor's hair down the side of her face. Silky soft, the shade of antiqued bronze, like molten gold spilling onto Clancey's darker curls.

The vampiress turned to press a soft kiss on the caressing hand. "Then pull up the covers and hold me while we sleep, belle amour."

"Okay." Clancy nestled them in silk sheets. "I never did thank you for showing me how comfortable these are." She draped the covers over Léonor's bare shoulders. "Will Joshua come? To tell you when it's time to go back to the house? To your family?" she asked. She always did.

Léonor was silent. It was awkward, this private little place she was not inclined to invite her much beloved brother and sons.

Finally, she sighed. "Joshua won't come unless I call him. And he knows that's not likely to happen." She caressed Clancy's breast, not trying to reawaken desire, but just because she enjoyed the feel of the girl.

She would not mock Clancy for the sudden relief flooding her face and relaxing tense muscles. She would not do that.

"Okay."

The little nipple fascinated her. She'd have to turn Clancy while she was still young, while those adorable breasts were still free from gravity's assault. She slid the pearl back and forth on its crescent and savored the delicate hitches in Clancy's breath. Nipple piercings were a delightful toy for careful lovers. "Do you really not want a boy, or rather a man? You really prefer me?" It seemed incredible. Could youth, beauty, and light really prefer someone bound to the darkness?

Clancy was silent, and for once Léonor didn't understand everything in those deep eyes. "I guess I think men are cute," she admitted quietly. "Well, I know they're cute. But I can't have something with a man that I have with you. I can't have something with another woman that I have with you. I'm in love with you, and I'm not going to love another person like I love you." She turned to press a kiss on Léonor's face. "I don't care if I don't get something from you I could get from a man. You're what I want. You're what brings me joy here." She gestured at her chest. "I've never wanted anyone but you to touch me. I couldn't let someone else do the things I've done with you."

There was the most pleasant sort of pain in Léonor's chest, and she pulled Clancy close for a deep kiss.

"Then that's the way it will be. Just the two of us." She held her lover close. She wouldn't try to understand everything that happened since the day Clancy came to steal flowers from her garden and crept away with her heart instead, the happiness and the selfishness and the hungers all so vital a part of lasting love. Instead she rested and managed a sleepy smile for the sweet faint strains of Chopin twinkling an accompaniment to Clancy's precious breathing.

Mia Cherish & Jacqueline Quaid

Mia Cherish adores strolling through the Garden District and the massive oak trees of City Park New Orleans dreaming up unique stories with a sensual bent blending history with supernatural/paranormal elements. "The Garden House" is her first erotica effort.

Jacqueline Quaid is the pen name of an EPPIE Finalist who doesn't want to have to explain all this to her grandmother-in-law.

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