A Vampire for Christmas(78)
She had been a little better prepared during this, her second visitation. The one that was now playing before her eyes and his, and yet she had still not understood what had been required of both her and Damien.
In the vision swirling around them, she saw their happiness and her heart swelled with the joy of it. It made her hope that this time—the third and very rare opportunity with which she had been gifted—would be the lucky one.
At a Christmas Eve so close to the present it could not really be called the past, Damien strode toward her, a sexy smile on his lips and the promise of so much more in his glittering gaze. As Angelina’s heart sped up, she suddenly experienced a strange sensation at her core. The draw was like the one she felt when coming down from Heaven to visit the mortal plain, but not quite the same. The feeling intensified and suddenly everything around her whirled, becoming a dizzying panorama until the images jarred to an abrupt halt.
She jerked back as Damien took another step toward her, his eyes gleaming with passion and joy. A small dimple peeked from the corner of his mouth as he headed straight to one of her tables, much as he had a year earlier.
Angelina unexpectedly realized that she, too, was reliving that fateful night.
Did you think Damien was the only one who had something to learn? came the voice of the Archangel Raphael in her head.
But before she could respond, the Angelina in the vision took control, forcing her into action as Damien sat down at one of the rough oak tables along with several of the town’s fishermen, sailors and laborers who frequented the tavern. She hurried to the bar and ladled up a bowl of the day’s chowder made from a mix of clams and fish fresh from the docks to feed him. She brought the chowder over to him along with a big hunk of bread she had baked that afternoon. Although vampires had no need of food, she now knew that Damien regularly ate with his human friends as a way to be part of their world.
Beside his plate she also placed a pint of rum-laced apple cider that was more rum than cider. The local police officers turned a blind eye to such activities, choosing to crack down on the more blatant speakeasies in the upscale parts of town.
The police left the common folk alone, seeming to understand they needed a nip to ease the chill of the sea and soothe muscles made sore by hard labor. Not to mention the value of a small diversion from the weariness of the Depression, where work, money and food were sometimes hard to find.
As she served him, Angelina made a point of grazing her breast along his arm. Her nipple beaded instantly from that simple contact and when he shot her a slumberous half glance that promised so much more, her sex throbbed and dampened in anticipation. Their encounter earlier that day had left her wanting him.
Angels were not meant to love humans, much less demons, the Archangel Raphael warned, offering her yet another reason why she had been thrust into reexperiencing the past. But despite Raphael’s warning, the Angelina of that Christmas Eve smiled at Damien and did as she had a year earlier.
She leaned down and whispered in her lover’s ear, “It is a Holy Night, you know. The Devil may take you for such wicked thoughts.”
Damien chuckled, wrapping his arm around her and teasing back, “The Devil can have me if it means being in your arms later.”
The Devil must have heard them for he chose that moment to interrupt their happiness.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE THICK OAK DOOR of the tavern flew open and rebounded against the wall as Ramirez, his first mate and one of his sailors entered. The vampire crewmen flanked their captain’s back as he strutted into the tavern. His waddling gait and aggressive demeanor were painfully familiar.
Aware that danger approached, Damien patted her side, handed her his mug and said, “Why don’t you get me another drink?”
Since his mug was still nearly full, she understood he just wanted her out of the way. Because her role here was not to intrude, as she had last time, a fact the Archangels had reminded her of repeatedly before allowing her to return, she stepped away, hoping that this time Damien would make the right choice.
She walked to the bar and, from the corner of her eye, kept a distant vigil.
Damien turned his back to Ramirez and hunched over his bowl of chowder, clearly attempting to pay no heed to the other vampire. He picked up his spoon and began to eat, ignoring his foe until Ramirez walked right up beside him.
The other men at the table, sensing that there would be trouble, grabbed their plates and mugs and moved away.
You cheated me, amigo,” Ramirez said, spreading his legs and jamming his hands on his hips. The action brought his hands dangerously close to the weapons on his belt.