Samson's Lovely Mortal

THIRTEEN

It happened frequently that Amaury spent time in a bed which wasn’t his, but generally for other reasons than on this occasion. By the time he and Samson had looked up from their work helping Delilah, it was too close to sunrise to risk him going home. As much as he hated to intrude on the two lovers, he had no choice but to stay in the guest room.

Which, unfortunately, shared a wall with the master bedroom.

His sensitive hearing picked up more than he wanted to know or be part of, so he fashioned some makeshift earplugs out of cotton balls he found in the bathroom. It helped somewhat. At least he couldn’t hear their voices anymore. It was another matter for the barrage of their emotions that hit him. They made it virtually impossible for Amaury to switch off. It appeared make-up sex was going well.

In all his years as a vampire he’d never met a woman who had stirred him the way Delilah affected Samson. Amaury was quite a bit older than his friend, by almost two hundred years, and he’d tried them all. How he had survived that long, he really wasn’t quite sure, especially since he’d made enough enemies amongst humans and vampires alike.

He’d lived through difficult times in the fifteen and sixteen hundreds in his native France, before he’d felt it was time to get a fresh start on a new continent where his reputation as a scoundrel and philanderer didn’t precede him. Plus, he’d gone through every woman aged from fifteen to fifty, and he was slowly but surely running out of willing bedmates. He was more prolific than Don Juan or Casanova, even though his name didn’t quite make it into the history books. Just as well – he didn’t need any publicity.

The guest room was comfortable enough, but his own personal nightmares woke him too early, an hour before sunset. The nightmares were familiar and hadn’t changed much in the last few hundred years. Despite working with Dr. Drake on the guilt that plagued him, he couldn’t rid himself of the images which tormented his sleep every night.

There was no need to stay in bed if he couldn’t get back to sleep. A quick shower was refreshing, and so was the blood he found in the fridge in the pantry, the combination of which was no secret to him. He’d stayed at Samson’s often enough to be familiar with all supply cabinets, and for now he didn’t have enough time to go out hunting for a fresh meal. How Samson could live off the packaged stuff was beyond him.

Amaury preferred the warm and tasty red liquid pouring straight out of a breathing human. Preferably a female with whom he could satisfy two desires at once—two birds with one stone. And frankly, his carnal desires would need some major soothing soon. He rarely went a night without it.

Amaury wasn’t in a relationship with any particular female. Instead he took whatever he could get from whichever willing female was available. Thanks to his good looks, there were always sufficient females interested in a roll in the hay with him. Well, these days, it wasn’t in the hay anymore, since he actually preferred a soft mattress with high-thread-count Egyptian cotton. Mainstreaming did have its luxuries.

He poured over the newspaper Oliver had brought in earlier in the day. There was no sign of him in the house now; instead, Carl would be reporting to duty soon after sunset.

Minutes after delving into the paper, he heard steps on the stairs. It wasn’t Samson’s heavy footsteps, but Delilah’s much lighter ones which approached. She appeared in the kitchen seconds later, a warm glow about her.

“Morning,” she greeted him with a smile.

“Evening, Delilah. Samson up yet?”

“No. I let him sleep. He seemed exhausted.”

He grinned. “No surprise.”

The house had practically shaken like an earthquake, with the epicenter right in the master bedroom. Or maybe it was just Amaury’s sensitivity to emotions, his special gift—and painful as hell—which had made him feel like San Francisco was in for another big one.

Delilah’s resulting blush would shame a ripe tomato. She would get used to it. If he had read their emotions correctly last night, she would become a permanent fixture in this household.

“I’m starving. Shall I make you a sandwich while I’m at it?” Delilah opened the fridge and started taking out some bread, cold cuts, and salad items.

“No, thanks; solid foods after I’ve just gotten up don’t quite agree with me.” It wasn’t a lie. Solid foods didn’t agree with him, but not just for breakfast. Not that he wouldn’t have liked eating a juicy steak if he could. As a Frenchman the loss of good food after he’d turned into a vampire had hit him the hardest.

Delilah went about washing some tomatoes. “You know, I’ve found something in the transactions last night.”

“Go on.” Amaury had a more than basic understanding of accounting and was a good partner to bounce ideas off.

“So, imagine you want to get past the internal controls to move valuable assets out of the company—what would you do?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at. You can’t just move assets out of the company without signoff from higher sources than this John was. I’m sure you know that as well as I do.”

“Agreed, but John had signing authority for other things. Like if he wanted to scrap an old computer, he’d sign off on it, and it went to a vendor who recycled old electronics,” she explained as she buttered a slice of bread.

“Sure, but you’d have to scrap a lot of little things to make a dent in it. And besides, whatever you scrap probably has very little value left anyway, so what’s the point? I don’t see how you can move a large amount of assets out of the company like that. You’d be busy for years,” Amaury rebuked her idea.

“That’s what I thought at first, too. But what if the true value of the asset isn’t just scrap value, but much more?”

“How?”

“Depreciation.”

“Depreciation?” Amaury didn’t quite understand. Of course he was familiar with the concept of depreciating an asset over its useful life to reflect an accurate value on the books and claim the expense on the profit-and-loss account of the company. But that’s where his knowledge ended.

“Yes. John was authorized to scrap old assets below a value of $2,500 without getting any other signoff from HQ. He accelerated depreciation to reduce the value of these assets to below the threshold he could sign for, thus eluding internal controls.”

This sounded promising, he had to admit. “And then?”

“Then he would transfer the asset to somebody outside the company, who in turn sold it for what it was truly worth. He’d give the scrap value back to the company and keep the difference for himself.” She bit into her sandwich and chewed.

“But how much money could he really have stolen like that? What if it amounts to fifty-or a hundred-thousand dollars? That’s peanuts. Not enough reason to send somebody after you to kill you. You saw yourself from the records we looked through yesterday that this has only been going on for about a year.”

“But this doesn’t change the fact that he was clearly defrauding the company. The transaction documents point to him. His signature was all over them. He initiated and then authorized the transactions. Yes, it wasn’t exactly the most sophisticated fraud, and it certainly isn’t new either, but maybe that kind of money meant more than peanuts to him. And maybe he wasn’t trying to kill me; maybe he was only trying to scare me away?”

“What for? The next auditor would just come along and continue where you left off. It would just be a temporary fix at best.”

“Temporary? Hmm.” She clearly gave it a thought.

“Maybe he had something else up his sleeve.”

She knit her brow. “You mean a better fraud?”

“Why not? At some point criminals get greedy. Trust me, I’ve seen plenty of greed in my life.” Amaury wasn’t exaggerating. He’d seen more than his fair share of greed in his long life.

“Greed. Hmm. It reminds me of something my teacher used to say to us in class. If you want to embezzle, you have to embezzle big. Get what you want in one big strike and get the hell out. Long-time embezzling schemes never work.”

“Interesting teacher. What kind of school did you go to?” Amaury gave her an amused smile.

“He was my accounting teacher in college. Believe it or not, accountants and auditors need to actually learn how to perpetrate a fraud in order to spot one in the books.”

“Like a security specialist who has to have broken into a few safes, huh?”

“Exactly. So, is that how Scanguards trains its people?”

Delilah had finished her sandwich and was putting the remaining food back into the fridge.

He gave her a sideways glance. She probably had no idea how close her question cut to the truth. Not only did Scanguards employ a majority of vampires, some less tame than others, a large number of their human employees were reformed criminals.

“I’m afraid I can’t disclose our methods of how—”

She interrupted him. “Amaury, that was a rhetorical question.”

He let out a nervous laugh and changed the subject. “You know what surprises me about John? He goes through this complicated setup to steal a little money, when it would have probably been so much easier to get at Scanguards’ liquid assets. You’re familiar with our balance sheet. We have very little in fixed assets, many of the buildings we operate out of are rented, the vehicles are generally leased. But we run a very heavy cash position. So why not get at the cash? Wouldn’t that have been easier?”

Delilah pursed her lips. “Your internal controls around cash are pretty solid. Any cash transfers go through a double-approval process. I’ve read the procedure manual on it. He couldn’t have done it on his own.”

She placed the dishes into the sink and started cleaning them.

“I think we’re overlooking something. Let’s examine the facts. You audit the company. John gets nervous because he has been embezzling from us. He hires his brother-in-law to kill or …”

“... or scare me away …”

“... or scare you away. And just when we catch onto him, he is murdered. It wasn’t his brother-in-law, since we’d already apprehended him. It wasn’t a random killing. It was deliberate. So, what would John have told us if we had gotten to him earlier? Would he have confessed that he embezzled from us? Maybe. But that would only hurt himself.”

“Somebody clearly didn’t want us to confront him. John knew that person, and knew what he did, or knew what he’d let him do.”

“That’s right, because John helped him with it. There’s no other reason for somebody to want you dead than thinking that you’ll uncover what they did, and it has to be bigger than accelerated depreciation and selling off small assets. Much bigger.”

Delilah turned around to look at him, interest shimmering in her eyes. Seemingly unaware that she held a sharp knife in her hand, she made an animated gesture. As the blade slipped out of her hand, she made an attempt to grip it, but only caught the sharp end between her fingers. It effortlessly cut into the soft flesh of her fingers before it landed on the floor. Blood immediately ran down her hand.

“Damn!”

“Oh shit!” Amaury exclaimed. That was all he needed – the scent of fresh blood on a virtually empty stomach. “Let me help you bandage it.” The faster he sealed her wound, the better for all of them.

He pulled open a drawer and grabbed a clean napkin. “Let me see.”

She held her good hand against her stomach. “Oh, God, I can’t look.”

“It’s just a little blood,” he assured her and couldn’t help but notice that she’d gone white.

Amaury took her hand to look how deep the wound was, as he held the napkin underneath it to stop the blood from dripping on the floor. He held his breath in order not to become overpowered by the utterly enticing smell.

Samson scented the blood as soon as he stepped out of his bedroom, freshly showered and dressed. There was no doubt whose blood it was and where it came from. His nostrils flared, and his body tensed.

Delilah!

He knew Amaury’s love for warm blood better than anybody and cursed himself for having let him stay while Delilah was with him.

As he flew down the stairs and burst into the kitchen, he was battle ready—to save his woman from his best friend. If Amaury had bitten her, he’d kill him. Fury shot through him as his eyes focused on the scene in the kitchen: Amaury bent over Delilah’s bleeding hand.

Without thinking Samson lunged at his best friend, and with a loud thud they both crashed onto the hard kitchen floor.

“Noooooooo!” Samson’s scream echoed in the kitchen. He flashed his fangs and snarled, pinning Amaury underneath him as he pummeled him with his fists. His friend’s arms came up in defense, trying to shield his face.

“Stop!” But Amaury’s voice was drowned out by Samson’s fierce roar. Samson’s fist connected with his friend’s jaw once more. Deflecting his next hit, Amaury held him at bay.

“Samson!” Delilah’s voice finally penetrated his head.

“I didn’t do anything,” Amaury hissed.

“Samson! What’s going on?”

He jerked his head and instantly knew he shouldn’t have turned toward her when he saw her reaction him. In his daze he’d forgotten about everything. He hadn’t realized what she’d see: his vampire side.

Delilah shrieked, eyes wide, mouth open, her hand holding onto the counter as she backed away from them.

“Oh my God!” Her chest heaved as if she couldn’t get enough air. “Oh my God, what are you?” It wasn’t really a question. It was more of a statement.

He was so screwed.

Samson’s eyes were red. Blinking freaking red!

They looked the same way as that time in the shower, when Ricky had interrupted them. She hadn’t seen wrong, as much as she’d wanted to explain it away. But she couldn’t explain it away, not anymore, not when she looked at his mouth from which two teeth were protruding now.

No, not teeth.

Fangs!

Pointy, sharp fangs like those of an animal. Like a Sabertooth tiger.

She couldn’t think it, no, because to think it made it real. It couldn’t be real. It didn’t exist. He didn’t exist, not like that.

Was this one of her strange dreams again? When would she wake up from this nightmare? When? Delilah gripped the counter behind her harder to counterbalance her buckling knees and felt the pain in her fingers where she’d cut herself. No, this wasn’t a nightmare, this was reality. Bizarre reality.

She watched Samson get up, releasing Amaury from his grip, slowly moving toward her.

“No!” Her breath caught in her chest.

Need air. Need air now.

“Delilah, everything’s ok.” His voice was as soothing as it had been the night before.

“Get away from me.” She backed away further until she hit the wall behind her. There was nowhere else to go. She’d managed to back herself into a corner. And he was coming toward her, slowly, but steadily. Oh, Jesus Christ! Her throat dried up. Her vocal cords froze. She had to face facts now. She couldn’t deny it any longer.

She’d made love to a vampire, over and over again.

Dracula. A vampire.

Samson was a vampire, a vampire whose mouth had devoured her, whose fangs had been so close to her jugular—he could have killed her with one bite.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

She let out a hysterical laugh. “No, you’re just going to bite me. That’s what you want, isn’t it? Oh God, how could I have been so stupid?” Really, how could she have been such a fool? Why had she not seen this coming? She felt like one of those stupid heroines in a B-grade horror movie, running up the stairs in her nightie with the killer hot on her heels.

Delilah frantically looked around for anything she could use as a weapon.

“Amaury, would you give us a moment alone,” Samson requested.

“Do you think that’s such a smart idea?” Amaury rubbed his jaw.

“I want Amaury to stay,” Delilah said quickly, hoping that at least he could provide some protection against Samson.

Samson gave her a surprised look. “So you think having two vampires in the room is safer than one?”

That’s when it hit her. She drew in her breath. They were both dangerous, they were both vampires. Amaury didn’t show any fangs, and now that she stared at Samson again, his had retracted too. His eyes were their usual hazel color. Had she hallucinated? Was she even awake?

“Samson, I wasn’t attacking her. I was helping her bandage the wound.”

They exchanged looks until Samson finally nodded. “I’m sorry I misjudged you, but I couldn’t take the risk of anybody hurting her. The situation—”

“I’m not as bloodthirsty as you think, and I would never touch your woman.” Amaury sounded a tad hurt. A vampire hurt by somebody else’s words?

Get real! You’re seriously losing it.

Delilah slowly moved along the wall while the two vampires had their chatty conversation. She barely listened as she slid along the wall toward the kitchen door. Just a few more steps and she would reach the door.

“Where’re you off to, Delilah?”

She stopped in her tracks. So much for her escape. She bit her lip.

“Let’s bandage your hand first, before the scent of blood drives one of us over the edge.” His voice seemed calm, but it could be a trick. For all she knew he’d suck her dry as soon as he saw the blood drip from her fingers.

Samson took a few steps toward her, and she pressed herself harder against the wall. But there was nowhere else to go. He was only inches away from her now.

“Please, I’m sorry you had to find out like this. I was planning to tell you—”

“When? Before or after you bit me?” She shouldn’t show him her fear. It made her even more vulnerable, but she had no idea how to hide it. And animals like him would pounce as soon as they smelled fear, wouldn’t they? Would he? Would he attack her when he realized that she was scared shitless?

She could feel his breath on her face. It reminded her of the way he’d kissed her, how he’d made love to her, how he’d touched her. How could he be the same man? No, he wasn’t a man, he was a vampire.

Wake up and smell the blood!

“I’ll never hurt you, sweetness. I was trying to protect you. I smelled the blood and thought Amaury had attacked you.” Did he have to look so deadly sexy while he was only inches away from her? It wasn’t fair.

She felt his hand reach for hers and tried to pull back, but he held on.

“Amaury, Band Aids are in the top drawer next to the stove.”

Seconds later, his friend handed him the box of bandage strips. Samson lifted her hand to his mouth. Delilah shrieked. He was going to drink her blood. She knew it! It was just like in her nightmare.

He acknowledged her frightened look. “I’ll lick your wound. My saliva will seal it, and it’ll stop bleeding. Trust me.”

Trust him? Was he kidding?

There was no way she would trust him, but he held her hand in an iron grip, and she couldn’t free herself. Helplessly, Delilah watched as his tongue licked gently over the cuts, lapping up the blood. She felt a warm tingling feeling on her fingers and noticed that the blood flow stopped instantly. Samson placed the Band Aids over the sealed cuts. When he closed his mouth, she saw him swallow and inhale sharply.

His eyes suddenly locked with hers. “Oh God, even your blood tastes of lavender.”

She watched him lower his mouth, but couldn’t stop him. His lips brushed hers lightly before he took her mouth and captured her. That was when she knew with absolute certainty that she wasn’t dreaming. She knew his touch, his taste, his scent. He was real, and he was a vampire.

She couldn’t stop her body from reacting to him in the same way she’d reacted to him the night before and allowed his tongue to enter and caress her.

But this wasn’t like the night before—he wasn’t the same. He was a vampire, not the man she thought he was. She had to get away from him.

Samson was too engrossed in kissing her that the kick to his groin hit him like a train. He instantly let go of her and doubled over. Hell, nobody had ever kicked him in the groin. Right where it hurt most. Nausea overwhelmed him. As a vampire he could take pain, but even for him this was right up there with getting fingernails pulled out of their sockets.

When he looked up he caught a glimpse of Delilah as she ran out of the kitchen. Unable to run after her just yet as he still fought nausea, he gave his friend a command. “Bring her back.”

By the time Amaury came back with her, Samson had recovered from the pain and was able to stand upright again. Amaury held her, too tight for Samson’s liking. A pang of jealousy hit him. This was not good.

“Sweetness, you have to stop hitting me. I’m sure we can find another way for you to show your affection.” He had to hand it to her. She had a lot of spunk, and taming her would be fun, if exhausting, and at times probably painful.

“I’m not your sweetness!”

Ah, that was more like it. He didn’t like the fearful look she’d displayed earlier. He much preferred her being a fighter. Something he could work with.

“Can Amaury let go of you now, or are you going to bolt again?”

Delilah shook off Amaury’s arm as Samson nodded to him. She immediately crossed her arms in front of her chest. Definitely ready for battle. Not that she’d win. Ever. But he’d let her try.

“Can we talk now?”

Delilah didn’t answer and instead, pressed her lips together even tighter. He knew exactly how he could get those lips to open up, but it was probably better to not try it while she was still pissed at him. He didn’t fancy another kick in the balls.

“Shall I leave you guys alone?”

He nodded to his friend. “Thanks. Make yourself comfortable in the living room. This will take a while.”

Once they were alone, he looked at her. Her expression hadn’t changed. He could see the tension in her body and face, the fierce determination not to let anything get to her. She wasn’t ready to listen to him, he knew that. But he had to try anyway.

“Delilah, I’m still the same man.”

She shook her head without saying a word. Ah, the Silent Treatment. A woman’s prerogative.

“What we have together—”

“We have nothing together,” she interrupted him. “You lied to me.” At least she was talking now. It was a start.

“I wanted to tell you. But this isn’t exactly the easiest thing to explain. What should I have said? ‘Hey honey, let me take you to dinner, and oh, by the way, I’m a vampire, so just order anything you want while I drink a glass of blood.’ ”

“You never had the intention of telling me. All you wanted was a little sex toy.”

“That’s not true, and you know it. I told you last night—”

She interrupted him. “Lies. That’s what you told me. I even fell for your cute story about your erection problem. Is that what you tell all the others?”

Delilah uncrossed her arms and fisted her hands at her waist.

“There’s only you. And what I told you last night is true.”

“Bullshit. Is that why the redhead dumped you? She found out you were a vampire?”

“First of all, she’s a vampire too, and second, I left her.” He stared at her shocked face. She obviously hadn’t expected to hear that Ilona was a vampire, but she caught herself quickly.

“So what, you ran out of vampire women and had to fuck a human?”

“It wasn’t about sex, at least not after the first night.”

“Liar.”

“You’re repeating yourself.”

“Because you keep dishing up the same stories.”

“Because they are true. I admit, the first night was all about sex, but after that, damn it, it wasn’t. I wanted you, and not just for physical pleasure. You can’t tell me you didn’t feel that when we made love.”

Delilah had felt it, but it had to be an illusion. He’d tricked her. She’d slept with a vampire, she’d let him inside her, not just her body, but her heart. People like him shouldn’t even exist. Something was so wrong in this world.

“You’re a vampire. You’re a vampire.”

As if by saying it, it would go away, but it didn’t. He was a vampire, and he stood in his kitchen looking at her, making her feel like she’d hit her head and was coming out of a daze. But she hadn’t hit her head. He was real.

“I slept with a vampire.” She dropped her arms to her sides and let her shoulders slump.

Samson nodded. “And you liked it just as much as I did.”

“No.”

She had to deny it to keep her sanity. What would happen to her world if she suddenly had to admit that she liked, no, loved sleeping with a vampire? Everything around her would crumble. Creatures like him shouldn’t—couldn’t!—exist. Vampires were myth, folklore—stories to tell around a campfire to scare people. They only lived in the movies, never in real life. Every child knew that! Just as everybody knew there was no Easter Bunny. This couldn’t happen. None of this could be true. Denial was the only way to go.

“I have to go. I have to go back to New York now.”

He slowly shook his head and came closer. “No. You’re not leaving.” With his knuckles, he stroked her cheek softly. “I need you.”

“You’re a vampire.”

“Don’t you think I know that? It doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

“Get away from me.” She used all her strength to reject him, when her body was trying to lean into him. He still had the same power over her he’d had ever since she’d met him. She still wanted him, wanted to lick every bit of his skin with her tongue. She wanted to have his hard body pressed against hers and feel him impale her, when what she should want was to impale him—with a wooden stake right through the heart! If he even had a heart.

“Don’t touch me!” At her outburst, he instantly pulled his hand back as if she’d slapped him. She could see the anger well up in him, his eyes suddenly flickering red. It looked as if it took all his strength to control himself.

“Amaury! Get in here.” Samson’s voice was sharp. She flinched. Would he lash out at her? Hit her? Bite her?

His friend appeared instantly.

“Watch her,” Samson ordered and bolted from the kitchen.

Her eyes followed him before she looked back at Amaury who casually leaned against the kitchen island as if nothing had happened.

“He wanted to kill me, didn’t he?”

Amaury nodded. “Yes, and he will—between the sheets, over and over again.” He grinned devilishly.

She gave him an undignified look.

“Hey, don’t blame me; I’m just reading his emotions.”

Reading his emotions? What the hell was Amaury talking about? Her look must have been utterly confused, because he threw up his hands.

“Special gift. Pain in the butt.” Then he winked. “And don’t worry, I’m not going to tell him what you feel. He’ll have to coax that out of you all by himself.”

She listened to the footsteps above her. Samson was pacing.

“Don’t worry about him. He’ll cool off. So, to get back to our conversation before we were so rudely interrupted. Have you—”

“You want to talk about the audit like nothing has happened?”

“Sure, we still have to solve that issue. Just because you now know that we’re vampires doesn’t change the fact that somebody is messing with Samson’s company and wants to harm you.”

Delilah shook her head. “What are you guys? How can you think of business right now? Shouldn’t you be biting me and drinking my blood by now?”

“Thanks for offering, but Samson would so kick my ass if I did that, and, yeah, most likely turn me into dust. So, no thanks. You’re safe from me.”

“I wasn’t offering …” Was she truly safe from Amaury? He looked too relaxed, leaning against the kitchen counter, to seem ready to attack her.

“I know that. Anyway, while Samson and you had your lover’s quarrel, I was thinking. Have you looked into what else John might have done besides those depreciation entries?”

If he wanted to talk about the audit, fine. At least it would bring some normalcy back into her shattered life. “What do you mean?”

“What other transactions has he authorized? What information has he accessed? I think we have to look at everything he did.”

Delilah had an idea. “Does the computer system track which logon has accessed certain files?”

“Sure does.” Amaury nodded, obviously understanding what she was thinking about.

“Then let’s see what he’s been up to.”