Bewitching Bite [A Blending Bloodlines Tale]

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  Resplendence Publishing, LLC

  www.resplendencepublishing.com

  Copyright ©2007 by Destiny Blaine

  First published in RP, 2007

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Note from the author

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  Bewitching Bite

  A Blending Bloodlines Tale

  By

  Destiny Blaine

  Copyright © 2007, Destiny Blaine

  Published October 2007 by Resplendence Publishing, LLC

  Edgewater, Florida

  All rights reserved

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and occurrences are a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

  Chapter One

  "Lick me until I tell you to stop."

  Matilda threw her legs over the mortal man's shoulders, laughing as she tossed her long dark hair over her shoulders. The human didn't seem to be bothered by the crude instructions, but why would he? Matilda knew she had cast just the right spell to make the man's meat thicker and tongue longer, and she planned to ride both into a witch's brew of ecstasy.

  Just one of the many joys of fucking her own concoctions, she knew what was in store because she'd orchestrated the whole thing, planned it right down to every stroke. It was why she loved being a sexually charged little she-devil with enough of her own natural beauty to lure in any man who had the initial equipment she needed.

  The boy-toy's hands grabbed her firm ass bringing her closer. Matilda arched her back in eager anticipation as his tongue entered her center with a slick swipe, penetrating further into her core. It was what she wanted. Precisely as she'd planned, but she'd over-estimated her own stamina. Something she did a lot lately. Grabbing onto his thick curly head, Matilda screamed out.

  "Fuck no. Not like that! I'm coming you ... you ... you ... oh shit. Lick baby! Lick...” Her hips closed tighter giving the man between her legs a squeeze he'd probably never forget.

  One ripple took her and then another and then another. Her eyes were closed tightly when she saw his image. They bulged open in shock.

  "Oh, hell no. It can't be. It's not time yet.” She rolled to the side and closed her eyes again.

  "Something I did?” The man who had tongue-fucked her with such skill sat Indian style on the bed.

  "Just forget about it.” Matilda stared into space.

  She wanted to dismiss him but couldn't. His hard cock pleaded with one eye keenly focused on her. Craving the strength that it promised to deliver, Matilda cursed out loud.

  "What the hell? You're here and I can't think about another slice of beefcake now."

  "What are you talking about?"

  Matilda ignored the question.

  "I said never mind.” She rolled her eyes and straddled the man who seemed willing to stick around for more sexual exploration.

  Sliding her wet sex over him, she took his cock in one fast move, pulling it into her heat. She sat firmly on her homemade-man and thought about the spell she'd put on him. He eyed her like he didn't know what to do.

  Did she have to do everything?

  "Fuck, dumbass. Fuck!"

  His hips began to move under her and she sat firm. She'd always wondered what kind of orgasm she'd have if she resisted the urge to get into the act. The macho prick below her could satisfy her every need. His rod was delivering everything she'd thought about as she'd mixed up the bewitching potion only moments before she'd given him his cocktail.

  She'd picked him up in a club. She knew who he was and heard other young women speak of his extraordinary skills. Of course, now that she'd seen the image of the man who'd become her fate, she sat on top of the completely erect boy-toy finding her energy and desire gone with one mental clip of her blending mate.

  And the fucker below her was coming. His moans were loud and the bed shook violently. Matilda knew his world was moving. She'd arranged for him to have an earth-shattering experience, but for her, achieving an orgasm was suddenly out of the question. His hips were still rising to meet her when she moved off of him.

  "Finish yourself off and get out,” she called over her shoulder as she walked out of the room then down into the pit she referred to fondly as her laboratory.

  * * * *

  "It's time Armand."

  The man who stood in front of his master was solemn. He was dressed in the attire of a hired butler and wore the distinguished look of age as well as heartache. He had been with the family for generations and carried their legacy on his sleeve as proudly as the vampire male in front of him. It was obvious in his mannerisms.

  "So it is."

  Armand stood and waved a dismissive hand. With a slight bow, the butler exited the room. Armand was glad to see him go, and glad to be alone with his thoughts. He'd waited for the elders to come to terms with his fate. He'd asked them for another year but it wasn't granted. It was time to travel to America and find the one whom he was destined to claim as his own for all eternity.

  Armand frowned as he took in his surroundings. In a room full of old walnut and mahogany furnishings, the study was his favorite room in the house. Literary works dating back to the eighteen hundreds lined the walls in hardback covers that were both timeless and priceless. Armand knew his bride would never appreciate these great works of art. She'd probably be a mouthy wench, and demanding like most of the witches he'd heard about. He'd heard horror tales from other vampires. He knew the blending partners could be hell on wheels, and finding patience for such a woman wouldn't be easy.

  Dragged from his thoughts, an unseen force spun his body around in dizzying circles. With his arms held high, he screamed into the empty air.

  But the spinning didn't stop. In fact, he couldn't stop.

  His eyes grew heavy and soon the image of a beautiful woman with long dark hair appeared. Her face was the last thing he saw before the world went dark.

  * * * *

  When Armand stopped whirling around, he wasn't in Russia anymore. Instead, he stood in a field with cattle and horses. The animals seemed quite interested in his arrival, and not in a good sort of way. They stood around him, staring with piercing, suspicious eyes. He stood up and brushed himself off. Acres and acres surrounded him along with a stench that was unmistakable.

  Apparently, he had arrived in America.

  He stared across the street at a large, lighted billboard. “The only mad cow you'll see here is if you trespass in these fields and then, these fellows can be aggressive. No trespassing or hunting on farmland."

  Armand read the sign again and again. He couldn't help but laugh. He'd been in countries struck by mad cow disease before, but he'd never heard of a No Trespassing
sign that referred to it in such a prolific way. As he shook with his laughter, he turned to take in every inch of ground around him. That's when he realized the sign was a fair enough warning.

  A bull approached him with such evil curiosity in his eyes that Armand knew he wasn't a welcomed intruder. He began to back away slowly, maintaining a non-threatening demeanor. Armand was a vampire with a low tolerance for animals. In fact, he didn't quite know what to expect from them. The large bull in front of him stomped a hoof into the ground, the beating of mud and cow patties announcing his intent to pursue.

  He really didn't have time for this shit, but killing the animal would be so ... messy.

  Quickly deciding on a course of action, Armand jumped over the fence and landed on the other side just as the bull bashed heavy horns into the thick fence planks. The wood separating the bull from the vampire wasn't going to hold, and Armand quickly made a run for it, never bothering to note if he was running north or heading south. He didn't give a damn. He just ran as far as he could from the stinking, manure-infested field where he'd landed.

  When he realized he had no idea of what to do or where to go, he halted and called out to vacant air, “Great. Now what?” He looked up at the skies in search of anything that could be taken as a sign from one of the elders.

  "Hello!” Armand shouted once again to an open space with no one around to hear him. “I could use a little help here. Give me an image, or a map, or something!"

  Silence.

  There were no answers for him. He started walking again in hopes of finding someone who would know where this wench Matilda lived. The name and her image were the only two clues the elders had granted him. Once he arrived, he would stay with her until their bond was complete, and then together they would haul ass back to his homeland of Russia. They would return to the place where life for a vampire was simple and easy.

  Armand walked for what seemed like hours until he came upon the town of Roanoke, Virginia. It was a mini-city lit up at night and from the hillside where he stood, the whole town seemed to open up to him.

  Then, he saw it. The cottage that he was certain housed his bewitching little wench of a bride. In a city full of houses, this one stood out with a bright beam of light that was scorching to the naked eye. It had to be Matilda's home.

  He sat down to think for a moment and to plan his strategy. The woman couldn't possibly know what he had in store for her. It was the eve before Halloween, and by his own calculations, he had about three hours to decide how he would make his advance. Three hours to think about their joining, and three hours to enjoy life as a single man before a woman he didn't know, and certainly didn't want to meet, destroyed the happy life he led as a bachelor.

  Bachelor? Yes! That's it. I will find a woman to take all my worries away until after midnight!

  Armand stood and made his way down an incline, headed for the first pub he could find; ready to pursue a quick fuck.

  The last one he'd ever have with strange blood.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Two

  Matilda stood on a platform skimming through several open books in an attempt to explore all of her options. She was a traditional witch in some aspects, yet in many ways, very unconventional. Her shorts were too short, her make-up too contemporary, and her sexual appetite far from accepted by those who knew that she used her powers for twisted pleasures in the bedroom.

  She began to read the words out loud to her cats perched on a log over to the side. She patted the one she called Claude on the head as she spewed the words out.

  "Blending bloodlines at precisely the right time is crucial. The vampire that comes for his bride may not approach her until at least one minute past midnight on All Hallows Eve. Then, he must complete the blending of bloodlines within the twenty-four hour cycle or the bond is not valid.” She smirked as she read it again. “Within the twenty-four hour cycle or the bond is not valid? That's it!"

  Patting Claude on the head, she laughed loudly. “We'll be ready for this bride-seeking vamp and he will never know what hit him when he arrives!"

  Claude let out a loud “Meow!” before screeching out another and hopping off the table where the manuals and books were stacked.

  "Ha! Bring it on, Fang-boy. I'll be waiting for you and it'll be twenty-four hours of fun. I'll teach you a lesson that you can take back to the elders once and for all."

  "Ha ... ha ... haahaahaa!” Matilda's voice raised beyond an octave even she recognized.

  "Think Matilda. Think sexy and provocative.” She ran over to her closet and flung it open. She thumbed through the hangers in her closet. Giggling she found the perfect red dress. She eyed the dress and turned it around on the hanger checking out the back.

  "The poor vamp won't know what hit him."

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  Armand was enjoying the live band. He had checked out every piece of female flesh that had waltzed through the door of the pub but none had caught his eye. That is, no one until he'd stopped to mentally acknowledge his bad fortune.

  That's when he saw the curvaceous woman who strode into the bar, her self-confidence apparent in every step. He watched her with focused inquisitiveness.

  He glanced at the clock behind the bar. It was ten o'clock. He had two hours and a few minutes before he would have to make his way to the witch's cottage for his first introduction. He still had plenty of time to play around, drink and hopefully get the blonde-haired woman who had his undivided attention to engage in an inspiring fuck or suck. Either would be fine.

  She walked toward him with a sultry move that sent a shiver up his spine. When she sashayed by him, the scent of roses and vanilla poured through the air.

  Intoxicating.

  "Excuse me, miss?” He reached up and grabbed her arm.

  The woman turned around quickly. “Yes?"

  "Do I know you?” He searched her eyes. Yes, he'd seen her somewhere before.

  She answered in Russian, telling him no, they had not met.

  He laughed. She was not only beautiful, but smart as well. Her accent implied she wasn't Russian, yet she spoke the language with ease.

  She wiggled to free her arm and laughed before she continued past him. His own native tongue was failing him for some reason as he followed her out into the alley behind the pub.

  He did know her. He looked to the right and then to the left. Nothing was there but darkness and the stench of garbage from the bins beside the door.

  He turned to go back inside when the smell of smoke mixed with the unforgettable smell of vanilla and roses stopped him. Armand turned toward the alluring scent.

  "You won't find her in there.” The voice was feminine but a little gruff and matter-of-fact in tone.

  Armand searched for the female behind the voice. Taking a few steps away from the pub's back door, he saw her leaning against the brick building across the one-way street. He approached her with caution.

  "And who is it that you think I'm looking for?"

  The blonde laughed as she threw her cigarette down at Armand's shoes.

  "I know who you're looking for, sweetie."

  Armand studied her. She had such a familiarity about her. Could she be the one that was meant for him? No. The woman in front of him had blonde hair. His witch was the dark-headed woman from his images. It was the only visual clue he had to go on, but his instincts told him it was one with substantial validity.

  The young woman looked him up and down. “You are ready to meet her, hmm?"

  He shook his head no. “Not really. I've been given few choices. No options. I imagine she has similar feelings about our introduction, as well."

  He was careful about what he said to the girl in front of him and immediately aware that the wench he had traveled to meet fully anticipated his arrival. Something he hadn't planned on, but decided it worked to his advantage.

  "So, what's your name?” She took another cigarette out of her purse as a light rain began to fall. Not a problem for he
r, apparently, as she continued to smoke a cigarette that wasn't destroyed by the fall of raindrops.

  Armand watched in amazement. He had his own share of powers but there wasn't any doubt that the one before him was someone with some supernatural skills of her own. Every drag she took off the lit cigarette proved it. Not one drop of water moistened it or threatened to dim the orange nub at the end.

  "What's wrong? Never seen a woman smoke before? Is it against some law in your country?"

  "I've seen plenty of women smoke.” He looked her up and down. What he'd give to screw her right there in the alley. To rip her snug red dress right off of her body and fuck the smug look off her face. He wanted to sow some wild oats before meeting up with the witch.

  "Do you always look at women as though they are yours for the taking?” She threw the cigarette down and began to walk down the alley toward the street.

  Armand watched her every move, he was craving her with something deep within. It was more than just a hard-on, though he had that too. It was something else.

  "It depends. Are you mine for the taking?"

  She stopped abruptly and turned around. When she did, the falling rain stopped on her apparent silent command.

  Armand looked up at the sky. “Impressive."

  He wasn't that impressed. He'd heard all about the witches that lived in the states. They amused themselves and others with theatrics. The drama they felt compelled to share was often the stage for luring in a vampire in search of blending blood. Typically, the vampires would become so side-tracked by the shows of the witch's talent that they would forget their larger purpose and time would simply click away before they could take their mate.

  The woman transformed into a cat right before his eyes. The precious little kitty shyly walked up to his feet and rubbed in between his ankles, before slowly moving back to the very wall where the woman in red had stood only moments before.

  Armand closed his eyes and opened them again to find her standing before him in all her glory.