A Vampire for Christmas Read online

  Table of Contents

  Legal Page

  Title Page

  Book Description

  Dedication

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  New Excerpt

  About the Author

  Publisher Page

  A Totally Bound Publication

  A Vampire for Christmas

  ISBN # 9781781848289

  ©Copyright Tuesday Morrigan 2013

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright October 2013

  Edited by Jennifer Douglas

  Totally Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2013 by Totally Bound Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Totally Sizzling and a Sexometer of 2.

  This story contains 118 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book containing 10 pages.

  A VAMPIRE FOR CHRISTMAS

  Tuesday Morrigan

  Kyle Lepiz knows his neighbor isn’t quite human and he’s right. Kyle just never expected him to be so dark, seductive…or undead.

  Kyle is a hacker determined to prove the government is experimenting on soldiers. Lucky for him, the proof is living right next door. Dieter has to be a government-created superhuman—no mere mortal could be that good-looking. All Kyle has to do is rein in his libido long enough to convince Dieter to spill his secrets.

  Dieter is a vampire on the run from an old-fashioned and overbearing family. His mother wants grandchildren, his grandfather wants power and both of them are convinced Dieter’s marriage to a rich heiress is the solution. The last thing the harried vampire needs is a crazy-ass neighbor stalking him through the streets of the city, weirding out any man Dieter tries to date and severely impeding the vampire’s mission to find his True Mate—the one person good enough to put an end to his family’s plans for an arranged marriage. If only there was some way to get the handsome lunatic off Dieter’s back.

  The situation comes to a head when Dieter finally confronts Kyle about his ‘surveillance’. A flash of inspiration later, a deal is struck. Dieter will answer Kyle’s questions in exchange for erotic access to Kyle’s body. Kyle will get the information he so desires, and Dieter will be able to work off some of the tension wearing him down. But as the clothes come off and the information comes out, will either one of them keep his head long enough to remember why they struck the bargain? Will they even care?

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to my parents, Gabriel and Helen, and my siblings, Pamela and David, for cheering me on. Thank you for never leaving my side and for having more faith in my talents and me than I did. I will never forget your steadfast devotion and how you’ve pushed me to make my dreams of being a full-time writer a reality. Thank you—today and always.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Starbucks: Starbucks Corporation

  Photoshop: Adobe Systems, Inc

  Ayingers: Ayinger Brewery

  Chapter One

  Kyle’s neighbor was so smoking hot he’d set off the smoke detector. Literally.

  Okay, so maybe he was so good-looking Kyle’d forgotten he was cooking the first time he’d spotted him and ended up burning the plantains.

  It hadn’t helped that the guy had been naked and the only thing hiding his modesty had been a strategically placed blue vase. Stupid glass! It had kept Kyle from finding out if the man was just as well-built…everywhere.

  That day six weeks ago had begun Kyle Lepiz’s fascination with his neighbor, though it wasn’t right to call the tall, dark and often naked guy his neighbor since he lived in the building next to his rather than down the hall.

  The guy was perfect. Unnaturally so.

  Kyle had just known there was something otherworldly about him the first time he’d spotted him and his investigations had proved it.

  Initially, Kyle hadn’t been sure he’d had the right guy. Kyle had followed D Mossel—at least that was the name on his mailbox at his apartment—for six painfully boring nights before Mr Perfect had done something…well…unnatural.

  The night had started out like any other. Keeping at least a half a block between them, Kyle had followed the man through Manhattan. About an hour later, tall, dark and gorgeous had ducked into an alley.

  That had been different. It should have clued Kyle in that the night wasn’t going to be like the others.

  For a moment, Kyle had been unsure of what to do. D Mossel was in the alley and he might be doing something perfectly unnatural—like smoking a cigarette—but to find out, Kyle would have to move closer to him, and maybe even walk into the alley. After about three minutes of indecision, Kyle had ventured toward the small street.

  Mossel had just been zipping up his slacks when Kyle had ducked into the lane. Flustered, Kyle had damn near tripped over some trash in the mouth of the alley.

  After buttoning up his coat, Mossel hadn’t headed toward the mouth of the alley like Kyle had expected. Instead the man had walked to the farthest wall. He’d stood there for a moment then had run at the opposite wall. Frightened, Kyle had watched, worried about him smacking into the building, because Mossel hadn’t been slowing down. In fact, he’d seemed to be moving faster with each step. However, Mossel had never collided with the wall. Just before he’d reached the bricks, he’d leaped and landed on top of the building.

  The roof he’d jumped onto was only two stories tall, but…it was two freaking stories tall.

  Kyle had followed Mossel every night, since that evening six weeks ago, but the man hadn’t done anything special since then. Still, Kyle knew the guy wasn’t human, not entirely. Kyle just needed to figure out what he was.

  Kyle rushed off the subway and doubled up the concrete steps at his stop, dodging bodies and sliding through the after-work crowd. He just barely stopped himself from jogging the four blocks to his apartment to get home as quickly as possible.

  It was the first week in December and the city was overrun with materialistic Christmas cheer. There was a tastefully done bright white holiday display in the front window of the ground-floor drugstore just to the right of the train station. Arms laden down with two paper bags, one woman stepped out of the store. A cheerful Christmas song sung by this year’s latest boy band floated over to him.

  Humming the redone classic, Kyle doubled his pace until he spotted his apartment building. He unzipped his leather jacket before pull
ing open the door to his building. He jogged the few feet to the elevator. A few minutes later he was in front of his apartment.

  A smile curved his mouth when his eyes landed on the hand-woven Christmas wreath on his door. His abuela, grandmother, had made it for him when he’d first moved into his apartment.

  The ornament was more than a little unconventional, crafted from plants and flowers from his native Puerto Rico rather than the traditional evergreen, but he loved it anyway.

  His hands shook with nerves as he jammed the key into the lock and opened the door. He dropped his bag a few inches away from the entrance, slammed the fireproof door behind him and ran up to the window in his kitchen.

  Right across from his itty-bitty window were three floor-to-ceiling panes of spotless glass. The windowpanes were dark. Blackout curtains hid the apartment from view.

  Kyle knew from experience that the lights were off in the apartment. The occupant was still asleep. He glanced at his watch. It was a little after six in the evening. He still had some time.

  He darted around his place. It was a tiny one-bedroom apartment that personified living space in New York City. His bedroom fit his full-sized bed and two small dressers, placed side by side across from the bed, and nothing more.

  The single bedroom, living room and kitchen were clean. He owned little to dirty the place up. His study area was a sharp departure from the rest of his minimalist apartment.

  Most of the money spent on his place was in that small corner. His desk was heavy and wood. Hand-carved, it had cabinets, slots and nooks for everything. The desk was long and wide, large enough to fit a pretty impressive flat-screen desktop computer and a laptop.

  Neither computer could be found in a store. They were the products of long hours, blood, sweat and a whole lot of tears. The computers were his babies, family he’d built piece by piece.

  They made his nighttime activities much easier. With them, he’d managed to cut down the amount of time needed to find and exploit weaknesses in computer security networks. Government agencies, particularly military government agencies, were his preferred targets, and it showed in the sheets strewn across his desk.

  Kyle knew more about the American military than most Generals did.

  Not only were paper heaped in mounds across the desktop, the cabinets were filled to overflowing with folders, and his nooks had little notes and sticky notes everywhere. Five pictures sat above his desk. Three were of his neighbor. They’d been taken in the six weeks since Mr D Mossel had moved into the building next to his.

  The other two were older. Much older.

  A dark-skinned Latino boy glared at the camera in one. The same teen was in the second picture—this time he was several years older, a grown man. He wore Army fatigues and a smile in the last one.

  The pictures were of his older cousin, Eduardo. He’d been Kyle’s hero when they were kids and the admiration had only grown stronger as time went on. When everyone else had either mocked or discouraged Kyle’s fascination with computers, Eduardo had been the only person to encourage him. He’d even gone so far as to scrounge up what he could from his meager paycheck as a fast food worker to buy Kyle his first computer.

  Eduardo was his older brother figure, best friend and confidant. So, when Eduardo had come to him, pale, shaken and frightened out of his mind, Kyle had just guided Eduardo to his living room. After two cups of tea, Eduardo had calmed down enough to pull out a few coffee-stained sheets of paper and a flash drive and asked Kyle to look them over. Kyle hadn’t batted an eyelash.

  A week later, Eduardo had swallowed a lethal combination of prescription drugs.

  Kyle had never got to tell him what he’d found, which was nothing, but the need to answer those questions hadn’t died with Eduardo. If anything the need had grown stronger.

  Kyle glanced sharply at the brightest picture. It hadn’t taken long for him to crack the code on the flash drive. He’d found dozens of detailed files on genetic experimentation. Once he’d pieced them together, Kyle had realized he was looking at the blueprint for a superior human being—a super-soldier.

  However, he couldn’t find where the files originated.

  Eduardo had passed over six months ago and Kyle was still looking for answers. Hopefully D Mossel would provide them.

  His phone sang the latest release from his R&B pop god, Justin. Timberlake, never Beiber.

  He jumped, startled by the song he’d programed just last night. “Guess it works,” he muttered, thinking of how effectively it had jarred him out of his somber thoughts. Then he remembered what it was reminding him of. He switched the lights off in his apartment and stood in front of his kitchen window. Heart heavy and high in his chest, he waited for D Mossel from Apartment 9F to show his handsome face. Among other body parts.

  Mossel stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling high windows and in a flurry of black and white, he pushed aside the curtains. Kyle’s breath hitched for a moment at the sight that greeted him.

  D Mossel was gorgeous.

  He had ink-black hair that fell in soft waves around his face and forehead and the length was just long enough to curl around his nape. His eyebrows were just as dark as his hair. They were bold, feathered lines that highlighted the strength of his forehead. Kyle couldn’t tell what color his eyes were from this far away, but he instinctively knew they were light in color. Mossel’s nose was straight, patrician, with the lightest upturn at the tip. He had high and sharp, almost feminine cheekbones balanced by his carved masculine jaw and the bold angles of his chin. Kyle’s favorite facial feature was Mossel’s mouth. He had a thin upper lip and a heavier bottom one.

  A mouth made for nipping.

  His body matched his face. It was perfection. He was tall, with wide shoulders and muscular arms, a slim, flat stomach and long legs. His dick was the icing on the cake. Even when flaccid, his cock looked large. Kyle shuffled and bit his lip.

  “So fucking hot,” he muttered as he reached down and adjusted his growing erection. He wasn’t blind or stupid. He was a red-blooded gay American and Mr Apartment 9F was smoking hot. That kind of perfection was not humanly possible. Mother Nature was good, but she wasn’t that good.

  He was too handsome, too beautiful, like what those action movies Eduardo had been obsessed with would have a perfect Nazi specimen look like, just with dark hair.

  Kyle lived in New York City, the city of models and actors, second only to Los Angeles for the latter. He’d met some purple-label models and none of them looked like this guy. Mossel was what they pretended to be after they spent hours in the gym and their pictures were altered using Photoshop.

  The good looks and physical perfection were obviously a part of the government’s goal to create the perfect soldier. Kyle could easily see someone giving away secret or sensitive information to a face that looked like that.

  Sexual interrogation was a thing, right? If it wasn’t, it needed to be. Kyle didn’t even have any secrets to give away, but he would happily steal some if Mossel promised to interrogate him.

  Mossel stepped away from the large windows and Kyle’s gaze followed his long, strong form as he strode across the room. Kyle tried not to swallow his tongue as the muscles in Mossel’s perfect bottom tightened and flexed as he moved.

  “Definitely…not…human,” he whispered as Mossel’s nude body disappeared. There was no way someone that flawless wasn’t the result of genetic experimentation. He knew the government was experimenting on the nation’s armed forces to manufacture a superior killer. Kyle glanced at one of the frayed photos above his desk and his left fist clenched. He was sure Mossel was one of these people.

  No one entirely human could jump over twenty feet in the air.

  Mossel disappeared from view and Kyle snapped to attention. He ran into his room and stripped, throwing his work clothes into his laundry basket. He grabbed the articles piled on top of his first dresser and mechanically clothed himself.

  He’d put aside his outfit the night before—
a tissue-thin cotton, long sleeve, thick sweatshirt, clean black underwear, cotton running pants and sneakers. All but the underwear were in dark gray. Black showed up more, oddly enough, at night.

  He glanced at his watch. He had exactly sixty-three seconds before he needed to leave. He grabbed a premade sandwich from his fridge and a small bottle of milk and stumbled out of his apartment to follow his super-attractive, but totally odd neighbor.

  By the time he made it down the hall, off the elevator and out of the building, Mossel was already on the street, about half a block away from where the front door to Kyle’s apartment let tenants onto the street. Kyle waited a few moments for him to move farther down the block before following him.

  Mossel walked like sex incarnated. His every action took advantage of his long limbs. His knee-length coat drew Kyle’s eyes to his broad shoulders, the deepening ‘v’ of his torso, his slim waist and tight ass and his slim legs. Kyle wanted those legs between his, those hips pumping as his cock slid deep within him.

  Focus! Kyle reminded himself. His daydreaming had allowed Mossel to walk out of his view. He searched up and down the street and the neighboring block for the super-soldier. Dark coat swinging in the wind, Mossel was near the end of the block Kyle had just stepped onto.

  His legs naturally ate up the concrete much faster than Kyle’s did. The shorter man found himself doubling up his normal pace until he was damn near power-walking to keep the same distance between them. Kyle managed the feat for five blocks, until Mossel reached a small clinic on the corner. The place didn’t appear to be open, which was not surprising considering the late hour. Kyle glanced down at his watch and noted the time. It was exactly seven-twelve. It seemed they’d been walking for longer than he’d originally thought.

  Mossel stood in front of the clinic for a minute before the door opened. Kyle blinked and suddenly Mossel was gone and the clinic door was closing. He chewed his lip. He knew he’d literally just blinked and in that short amount of time Mossel had managed to cross the several feet separating him from the entrance. In a second he’d somehow managed to make it all the way inside the clinic.