Chapter 7 – The Race

Josef opened his eyes. He knew it wasn't twilight, in fact it felt like he'd only just closed his eyes. Normally he slept like… well, like the dead. He sat up, and the lights in his freezer compartment came on automatically, a soothing female voice saying, "Good morning Mr Kostan, it is five nineteen a.m."

Crap. He had only just closed his eyes. He was still a little groggy, but if he'd woken, it meant that something was wrong. He'd learned to trust his instincts about trouble over the years, and the most likely source of trouble in this house was Beth.

"Access safe."

The sound of the hydraulics lifting the safe from his study directly below was so muted, that Josef could only vaguely hear the hum of its passage. He padded over to the wall, and pushed on a metal plate, swinging the safe door open. The entry mechanism was voice activated, the lock disengaging only for his voice, a coded sentence in his native language; he was positive that nobody could access it but him. Still, with Beth, one never knew. He pursed his lips. There was the vial, safe and sound, nestled between a wax-sealed scroll of parchment, an ivory cameo and a sealed beaker full of Black Crystal, exactly where he'd left it. So why was his internal alarm bell still ringing? Beth Turner had his nerves in a complete frazzle.

"VASDARC, confirm bedroom door operations, guest wing, Beth Turner."

"What time period, Mr Kostan?"

"Proximal to my ingress this morning, Primary Public Entrance."

The Voice Activated Security and Domestic Recreational Control System was silent for a moment then said in the same soothing tones, "Beth Turner, guest wing, bedroom door opened and closed within expected parameters, four oh three a.m."

Josef breathed a sigh of relief and shuffled wearily back to the white marble plinth in the centre of his freezer room. He lay down and the lights went out, plunging the sealed room into an inky darkness leavened only by the tiny lights in the ceiling that approximated the positions of stars visible from the northern hemisphere. His instincts could have been a little over-tweaked this evening. Although he'd made light of it at the time, Beth had almost been killed tonight, and the high drama of that scenario had probably just been playing on his mind.

He felt a cool rush of affectionate pride as he thought of her. He really was becoming quite fond of that girl. A smile played around the edges of his mouth as he recalled her daring leap, and how beautiful she had looked afterward, all mussed up and subdued and dewy-eyed. She'd been sweet enough to eat. Any less self control and he would have broken his unspoken pact with Mick tonight, right there against the desk in his study.

His testicles contracted at the thought, the first stirrings of arousal. While he'd never fantasised about feeding from Beth before tonight, the other thing was a different matter entirely. Hell, she was gorgeous, just his type in a way, and he was as red-blooded a vampire as any. He knew he shouldn't indulge in this sort of fantasy, that it was naughty and wrong, but fantasising wasn't cheating, not really. That she was forbidden fruit made it almost irresistible. For a moment he tried to resist, just to see if he could, even tried to scrounge up a little bit of guilt about it to bolt the door firmly closed.

Who was he kidding? Sorry, roll down the shutters, the Josef-store was fresh out of guilt today, come back again tomorrow. What the hell, no one would ever know. He grinned and put a hand under his head, the other straying to his groin, ready to lull himself back to sleep in the second best way he knew how, closing his eyes, imagining her naked body, and his…

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Beth hurried over the cobblestones toward the Ferrari as quietly as she could, head down, hand rummaging inside her purse. Finally her fingers closed around the cold metal tag of the prancing horse and she lifted and pointed.

Bleep, bleep!

She winced, looking around furtively. The sound was so loud in the early morning air, surely one of Josef's staff would spring from the bushes and manhandle her back inside under house arrest for attempted grand theft auto. She waited a second, cocking her head to listen for the sounds of life from within the mansion, and when she was sure she was still undetected, she eased her fingers under the recessed door handle, lifting it gently.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After a moment, he sighed and stopped stroking, squeezing his semi-hard member with regret. His spider sense was still tingling. Something just wasn't right.

His mind ticked over, thinking about their last exchange: her mutinous eyes, slapping the vial into his hand, saying nothing, storming out. He was silent for a moment, allowing his accomplished conman's brain to sift through the sequence of events, tally scraps of information, recalling Beth's incredible persistence and determination in the face of Cynthia's labyrinthine manoeuvres these past months.

That was it! Oh, she was good, she was very good, but she'd made one little mistake. Although she'd stormed out, slammed his study door so hard she'd rattled paintings worth a fortune in their frames, she'd said nothing, hadn't even tried to talk him out of taking the vial, or annoyed him with petty irrational arguments meant to persuade him that she was responsible enough to keep it. She'd handed over that damned glass cylinder, the one she was prepared to die for, way too easily. He remembered how cool the vial felt against the skin of his palm and he swore, picturing the champagne bucket full of icy water on his desk.

The little hellcat had switched vials on him.

"VASDARC, confirm all door operations for this evening, Beth Turner."

"Beth Turner, guest wing, bedroom door opened and closed within expected parameters, five twenty one a.m. Beth Turner, main foyer, primary public entrance opened and closed within expected parameters, five twenty three a.m."

Son of a bitch!

"Time!" he commanded.

"Five twenty four a.m."

Her car was safely garaged in his locked underground car park, and that meant she was taking the Ferrari. Josef sprang from the marble platform, brushing his hands over his naked body to dislodge the tiny crystals of dry ice that clung to his musculature.

If he hurried, the girl was going to get the spanking he had promised her, the one she so richly deserved.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Beth shimmied in behind the wheel, cursing the super low chassis. What was it about men and sports cars? Her skirt was already up around her thighs; this thing was going to be harder to get out of than a football parking lot after Super Bowl Sunday.

She searched around the steering column, looking for the key mechanism, then slipped in the shiny metal arm and twisted. The car roared to life with an intensity that frightened her and her foot slipped on the pedal, revving the engine. Great. That was loud enough to literally wake the dead, and she didn't intend to be around when Josef discovered that his precious Ferrari-kins was M.I.A.

Oh well, now that the entire neighbourhood knew the Ferrari had cranked up, perhaps she didn't have to baby it out of here after all. With a grin, she gunned the engine, jammed her foot on the clutch and dropped it into first gear, surging away from the house with a squeal of burning rubber, heading directly toward the two vampire guards at the security gates at the far end of the long and winding driveway at fifty miles an hour.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Josef shrugged into a soft grey sweater, hopping on one leg as he pulled on a pair of jeans, zipping with care. He was going commando, and even though vampires were rapid healers, nobody enjoyed a zipper accident.

"VASDARC, lock down all security gates."

"Security gates locked down, Mr Kostan."

He ran down the hallway toward the stairs, mentally calculating the time it would take for Beth to start the car and get down the drive. She'd never driven the car before, so perhaps she'd get stuck, put it in reverse by mistake, or be cautious with her speed down the winding driveway in the dark, give him some time to stop this suicidal nonsense.

When he reached the head of the stairs he didn't hesitate, one hand pushed off the balustrade and he leapt over, landing on his feet with ballet-like grace in the middle of the marble entranceway.

"Put me through to Security Booth One"

There was a slight pause, and then: "Security Booth One, sir. What can I do for you?"

Josef made a beeline for the door, hoping that he'd miscalculated, that she was still sitting in the driveway, trying to figure out how to put the car into first gear like most girls would be. Fuck! The driveway was empty. She was gone, and the car, his car - the only one of five Special Edition Ferrari's in the world - was also gone. The acrid stench of burning rubber assaulted his nostrils. Oh, when he caught up with her, she was going to be one very, very sorry young lady indeed.

He stalked back into the foyer with a face like thunder, his voice as sweet as treacle when he said: "Roy, please tell me you have Ms Turner detained at the gates."

There was a moment of silence, probably as one of the security guards poked his head out of the security window, and checked the driveway leading down to the gates to confirm her arrival.

"I wish I could, sir. Ms Turner left a few seconds ago, just before the lockdown order came through. She said to thank you for the loan of the car, and to say that if she wasn't back by the time you woke up, that you'd know where to find her."

Jesus! The little fool's neck was going to be used as sushi train by every vamp in Cynthia's employ before she died, or worse. He'd never find her body; the Cleaners never divulged details of their clean-ups, especially not when it was an issue of dispute between vamps as powerful as the Duvall's and himself. He looked up as the security guard's voice went on.

"Ah, there was one more thing, sir. She said to give you another message, to tell you that there's something wrong with the car, and I quote - 'the engine keeps making a horrible crunching when I touch the little stick thing. And then she laughed, sir."

Josef stood still, very still, his face an expressionless mask, and then a tiny muscle in his jaw pulsed twice, and he smiled. If Cynthia didn't kill Beth, he certainly would.

"Thank-you Roy," he said. He got the message, oh yes, he got the message all right. She wouldn't think she was so damned clever when her throat was being ripped out by one of Cynthia's security vamps. His stomach clenched. Cynthia and Lance weren't the sort of vampires you fooled around with. He didn't have much time.

He looked up toward the concealed microphone in the ceiling, "Open the garage door."

It was time the Maserati had a run.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Coraline's eyes widened, then her eyelids dropped, and she sighed, a long low moan of pleasure from down deep in her throat.

Mick raised his head, lips gleaming.

"You surely," he pressed his lips to her hip bone, "can't be finished," he kissed her belly, "this quickly," his tongue circled her nipple, "my love."

She twisted her hand in his dark waves and gave them an affectionate tug.

"Oh I'm not," she said, with a provocative leer, "I'm far from finished - with you."

And with that, she wriggled her slender body, hooking a leg under his, flipping him onto his back, straddling him, positioning her hips modestly above his.

She bent to kiss him, the milk chocolate tips of her small breasts grazing his chest with exquisite, feather light touches. He wound his hand into her hair, holding his hand at the back of her head, deepening the kiss.

"You're my world," she murmured, when he allowed her a moment's respite. "I'd do anything for you."

Her dark eyes reddened; she looked like she was about to cry. That was happening more often lately, and Mick didn't know why or what to do about it. He tried to keep her happy, satisfied, but something deep inside her was always just out of reach.

She sat up, the childlike look of determination on her face almost making him laugh. Whatever it was, he was going to hear about it now. She wasted no time on preambles; they'd known each other too long to be coy.

"I've been wanting to know for ages, but was too scared to ask, haven't wanted to say anything, just in case it would jinx things. Why did you come back?"

"Come back?" His puzzled smile showed that while he didn't understand, he'd play along with this little game - after all, that was her forte, interesting little sexual games that kept him on his toes.

"I've tried for years to win you back, but you came all by yourself. Why?"

He could feel his erection softening. He didn't know what she was talking about, and she sounded as if she were serious. Vampires had no physical health issues, and before today, he presumed they had no mental health issues either, but if she believed that he'd been gone for years, something was very wrong with her. She went on.

"And you have no trouble feeding from the girls anymore. You don't make a peep when you need to feed, you just… feed. What happened to never eating fresh, it's wrong, blah, blah, blah?"

He'd been eating fresh ever since he could remember. Oh, the early days after first being turned were a little hazy, a little crazy, but he'd always eaten fresh, couldn't imagine anything else. He was beginning to feel really concerned. Much as he hated to, he was going to have to speak with Cynthia. If anyone knew what was going on, it would be her.

His eyes softened, the concern in them becoming obvious, and Coraline trembled, realising that she'd pushed too far.

"Never mind," she said brightly, hoping her desperation to distract him wasn't obvious; "we can play some other game, now." She reached behind her and curled her fingers around his flaccid penis, gently stroking along its length, trying to re-awaken it. It remained stubbornly limp.

"Have you eaten tonight, baby?" She asked, knowing that maintaining an erection could be problematic at times for male vampires if they hadn't recently fed.

"I don't think you've eaten. Maybe.." she said, her tone light, trying to recapture the eroticism of the moments before she'd questioned him, "maybe it's you that needs to be eaten," she said with a brazen, bordello girl waggle of her eyebrows. She raised her hips, and moved backwards on her knees until she'd positioned herself correctly, leaning just above his knees, and she bent her head, taking him in her mouth.

Mick lay back on the pillow, staring at the ceiling. Although he hadn't said it, Coraline was his world too, was the only woman he'd ever loved. He didn't know what he'd do if this continued. His concern prevented his cock from becoming more than semi hard despite the pleasurable sensation at his groin, and he rested his hand on the back of her head to reassure her that his continued lack of response wasn't because he wasn't paying attention.

He glanced down at her, his hand tangled in the swathe of long blonde locks strewn wantonly over his hips, moving rhythmically over him, her face obscured. God, he was suddenly so hard it was almost painful, and he groaned, eliciting a faster rhythm from her, punching him toward climax like a heavy weight boxer coming in for the knockout blow, bam- bam- bam- bam. He couldn't take his eyes off her, caressing her hair, reaching to push the heavy weight of it from her forehead so he could see her face. He needed to see her face.

Then she squeezed his balls and he came, in strong painful jerks that rolled his eyes back in his head, made him arch his back, cry out.

After a moment, he relaxed his lower back onto the bed, his chin dropping to his chest, looking down as Coraline, beautiful dark haired Coraline, smiled up at him, eyes shining with love.

What the hell just happened? Christ, maybe it wasn't Coraline who was unwell.

Maybe it was him.