Strawberry-A Vampire Romance Read online

  Strawberry-A Vampire Romance

  Vampire Temptations, Volume 1

  Lena Fox

  Published by Lena Fox, 2013.

  Copyright Information

  First Published by Lena Fox July 2013

  Strawberry Copyright © 2013 Lena Fox

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 978-0-9875635-2-1

  http://www.lenafox.com

  About This Book

  An out of work actress can find herself in some shady situations. For Kitty French, some raunchy role-playing gone wrong lands her in the clutches of an honest-to-god vampire who decides she’s the tastiest of them all. Being a blood-sucker’s ongoing meal plan is not high on her wish list, no matter how sexy he is. Will she escape from his cold lips alive, and will she still want to?

  A bite sized, steamy, paranormal romance, Strawberry is a short novel of 50,000 words. Contains graphic sex scenes, light horror, a sassy heroine, and a happily ever after you won't see coming.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Strawberry-A Vampire Romance

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

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  STRAWBERRY

  Chapter One

  As an out of work actor you can often find yourself in shady situations. That was how I found myself now, lying on a vintage chaise lounge under red lighting, wearing a lacy white night gown, awaiting the vampire hordes. At least it would bring in some money and wasn't quite porn. I’m not sure if that would make my mom feel any prouder if she found out about this little escapade. She never will know about it, I promised myself.

  It was too late for second thoughts but I was having them anyway. Maybe it was the scantiness of the night gown, or the fact that I was beginning to wonder if there really was a porn movie in the making here despite what my agent promised me.

  I had stormed into his office earlier today, hell bent that I wasn’t going to put up with any more of his secretary’s polite excuses. I know when I’m being given the cold shoulder.

  I also knew when that secretary left for lunch every day, so I waited for her to leave, lurking outside of the office just out of sight, then dashed in before anyone could stop me. I felt a little ashamed that I let the cold, glasses wearing matron that guarded my agent’s door scare me off, but the woman was truly frightening. I’d rather brave a dragon than her.

  Harvey Hall is a second rate agent to struggling actors. His one claim to fame is that he signed a few of the bigger names when they were still broke enough to hope that his representation would lead to a big role. I have no illusions about good old Harvey and I’m sure he harbors no illusions about me either. As soon as I build a resume I’m leaving his ass in the dust without a single look back. Since he had been too busy to answer my calls because he had just signed on a whole new stable of girls fresh off the bus - girls willing to work as extras and wear bikinis and be billed as Hooker Number Three - I doubt that is an unfair thing to do.

  “Ah, Kitty, how nice of you to drop in.” He managed to sound happy to see me even though it was clear he wasn’t. Something of an actor himself. “What can I do for you?”

  “You can get me a part, Harvey. My rent is due, my car actually needs gas to run and while I could stand to lose a little weight, starvation is not a good thing.” I bit my tongue on that last bit. I was just giving him more ammunition to use against me. He’d been on my back ever since I’d signed on to lose weight. I wasn’t overweight, but I enjoyed my food and sometimes I didn’t make it to the gym as often as I could.

  “Calm down, little lady. You’re a keen one, aren’t you?” He steepled his sausage fat fingers together and said, “I may have something for you.”

  The smugness of his voice made my relief tentative. “What is it?”

  “It's a Live Action Role Playing event,” he said, “Not a normal acting job, but it’s still acting and it pays well. Not just some kids fighting orcs in their backyard, this is real prestige stuff. A club downtown runs these vampire nights now and then. A bunch of guys who like to pretend they are bloodsuckers and chase pretty girls around. The club brings in a few willing victims, actresses hired to take part in the game. The girl who was supposed to do it got a lucky break and landed a nice fat role on a new series. Great for her, but she can’t make it to the gig tonight and has left me high and dry. How about it, you want to play the victim?”

  “Are you kidding me? You want me to play a game?” I stared at him. His greasy moon face was filmed with sweat despite the air conditioner’s steady cooling blow. He stank of cheap cologne and cigar smoke, just like some slime ball out of a noir flick. I had to wonder how much of the shine was from sweat and how much of it was from the pomade trickling out of his thinning, slicked back hair.

  I could see my own reflection in the gleaming surfaces of the awards hanging on his walls: a very pale oval face, slightly slanted green eyes, and a mouth that is perhaps a trifle too thin by some standards. I can’t count the number of times I’ve been told I should get collagen injections. There was a little too much white showing around my eyes and a slight tremble in my chin. I looked scared and I didn’t like that at all. If I could see that fear so could Harvey and Harvey is like a dog, let him smell fear and he will move in for the kill. I could tell from the way he was watching me that he knew he had me.

  He locked me in his gaze. “High end LARP events like this are easy money. You get these rich bastards willing to spend good money to be somebody else for a little while. Sometimes we get troll guys or warlords from alternate universes or wannabe Lords of Crazyshit Manor who want to duel at dawn and win the fair maiden and so on. Lots of actors do it, not that they will ever admit it. There’s a non-disclosure agreement you have to sign and you can’t tell anyone because discretion matters to these folks. Are we clear?”

  “Come on, Harvey. I’ve been in seven movies already, two of them as the lead. I know they were B-movies but still... Surely you can do better than some weird game!” I was pleading now. I doubted any real actors did this kind of gig. It sounded strictly amateur to me and I was getting tired of being an amateur. But I already knew I was going to take it. Lisa, my landlord from hell, was breathing down my neck for rent.

  “Listen Kitty, it isn’t my fault.” Harvey went all serious, leaning across his desk so far his puffy belly melted into the edges of it and rolled over the top. “Every casting director with a movie on their desk is looking for a cute blonde with a huge rack and a nice ass. Blonde is back in style and you and your bookish goth chick look is played out. Not that I’m saying your rack isn’t nice.”

  I wanted to smack the sleazy grin off his face, but just balled my fists at my sides where he couldn’t see them past the edge of the desk. As much as I hated him, I needed Harvey right now. I knew he was right too. I kept up with the casting trends as much as he did. There just wasn’t much call for girls of my type lately.

  “It isn’t just the hair color either, sweetheart. Saying your last films were B-rated is like saying root canal surgery is a pleasant way to spend an afternoon when they are all just goddamn painful. Three of them were so bad they died untimely deaths in the cutting room, never even made it past editing before they were canned. Those included the two which you had the lead role in. That is hardly a selling point in
Hollywood, kiddo.”

  Ouch. I sat back in the hard chair that sat across from his desk and tried to decide whether to punch him in the face or ask for a loan to get a boob job and dye my hair. He was right. What few parts were floating around that I might be good for were either porno or demanded starvation levels of waif-thin that I wasn’t willing to sink to. Maybe I should just take what he was offering me. But it somehow sounded shady. “I’m not a hooker, Harvey.”

  “There’s no sex. This is all high class stuff, I swear!” Harvey swiped an X across his heart with a finger. Or at least where his heart would be if he had one. “Okay, okay, you’re going to get guys nibbling on you a bit, that’s a given, it’s vampires for crissakes, but nothing more serious than that.”

  I didn’t have anything to lose really but I still wasn’t sold all the way, “How much does it pay?”

  “Two grand. Are you in?”

  I said yes, what else could I say? I wasn’t doing so hot to tell the truth. When you share a two bedroom apartment with six other people, all of whom want to be famous as badly as you do, it can be difficult to say the least. The money Harvey offered would be enough for a rental deposit to let me get a place of my own and ensure I could eat something besides Ramen noodles cooked by soaking them in cold water on a hot patio. If it were as tame and easy as Harvey promised, maybe I could even turn it into a regular gig, a way to pay my living while I was trying to get real parts.

  A girl had to hold onto hope.

  Above me, the red lights flickered and a soundtrack of distant thunder played through hidden speakers nearby. A whisper of a shiver ran up my spine as I waited. I was doing my best to get into my role while I waited for the players to appear, and the effects they had set up for the event did a decent job of building the mood. The décor was a little over the top and cliché, from the smoke machine mist drifting across the floor to the lights flashing behind fake windows to simulate lightening. I had been startled by the expense put into the event, and that wasn’t even counting my wage for the night, or that of the other victim girl.

  The club, Dark Raine, also surprised me when I first showed up. It was all class, with shining black marble floors and sparkling crystal chandeliers, cozy nooks for couples sharing cocktails and businessmen unwinding after work. It hadn’t been open when I arrived. When I poked my head into the back entrance, a young man in a tailored black uniform that matched the décor greeted me. After my bewildered introduction, I was directed to the second floor where the event would take place. The set was something straight out of a classic Hammer horror film. Billowing, tattered curtains, black leather furniture, huge candelabras with candles guttering in their grips. They looked like diseased trees and I felt a tingle of unease run down my back. That was nothing compared to how I felt when a woman claiming to be the event liaison handed me the sheer nightie and lace g-string I was expected to wear. Thankfully, she had also confirmed that participants weren’t allowed to take clothes off - mine or theirs - though they were allowed to touch and bite a little.

  Another girl was there waiting, looking bored as though she’d done this a million times already. She gave me a nod and little wink and chuckled at her own joke about me being new blood. I grinned politely in return. Seeing I wasn’t the only victim for the event calmed me a little, until the paranoia that this was really a porn shoot came back. She was already in her “costume” and went to take up her starting spot in another room. Her ass was entirely visible through the sheer fabric of her gown. I looked again at the outfit I had been given and bit my lip, reminded myself of the money at the end, and got changed.

  Adding to my discomfort was my overfull belly, which was entirely my own fault. Harvey had given me a rather tidy advance on the two thousand I would be making. I made for the Boa Steakhouse so fast I’m surprised I didn’t run down a few diners trying to get into the place. Oysters on the half shell for starters, then a perfectly rare filet mignon with roasted asparagus. I managed to refrain from dessert, mostly on account of being entirely too full.

  If I ever do get rich and famous I swear I am going to be one of those stars that the paparazzi always catches coming out of some trendy restaurant.

  I have a taste for the exotic, the sumptuous and the decadent. I love food in all of its forms and I read menus like some people read books, making lists of the places I want to eat at when I have enough money to afford them. If I didn’t want to be an actress so bad I would have been a chef. I once took a job on a catering staff just so I could have access to food I don’t normally get. Good food for me is better than sex. Or at least is more easily available and with less attached baggage, which I have found is far more preferable.

  The lights flickered again and I stared upward, my body going rigid as the first rustles started in the distance. They were coming. Despite being told what to expect, I was nervous. A deep animal instinct welled up in me unexpectedly and it was all I could do not to run. But I’d committed to this crazy job, and I was going to be professional about it. I would run, but not until the players were ready to chase me. I swallowed hard and focused on the prize, the cute little one-bedroom place I had gone to check out earlier in the day. It was in West Hollywood, same location as the place I currently lived, but it would be just mine. I could get a cat. Finally start down the inevitable road of becoming a crazy cat lady that I felt destined for. At the rate I’m going in my social life I’m never going to get laid, much less go out on a decent date or have a real relationship. I know that’s my own fault. I work too hard on getting my career off the ground, and seem to have the worst taste in guys. I should know by now that bad boys are just that – bad.

  The air conditioning chilled the room, making my nipples harden involuntarily and peak against the thin nightie. My cheeks flushed at the thought that I was about to be set upon by a stranger, lying here so exposed like this. I stifled a chuckle. It would be more action than I’d had in a year. My last boyfriend had been a down and out loser by anyone’s standards. Seth, with his leather jacket, motorcycle, and nasty habit of borrowing money. By the time I kicked him out of my life he owed me over a grand. That wasn’t the only reason our relationship had ended though. He was a poet, and had always insisted that he needed certain things to feel inspired. Alcohol and sex, primarily. He wasn’t a very good poet either, but apparently that’s how he ended up in the woman’s restroom at open mic night with a woman named Irene.

  The rustling grew louder and I threw an arm dramatically over my forehead and feigned sleep. From beneath the shadow of my arm, I cracked open my eyelids to watch what was going on. The dark deepened and a tall figure came at me from the shadows in a rush. I shrieked and it wasn’t fake. Adrenaline spurted into my bloodstream and I hurled myself off the lounge, running for the double doors to the right. It was the first place I saw and so the first place I went. It was just a game, but between the suddenness of it all and the darkness that suddenly seemed much more sinister than it had a moment ago, I felt real fear. My logical brain reminded me that the club had security watching in case someone went too far but terror made me panic as the man chased me around the room. Curtains swirled like caressing ghosts about me, disorienting me as I spun around and came face-to-face with the vampire.

  I almost laughed. Okay, yeah I did laugh. So much for staying professional. A guy that looked like a friendly accountant peered at me. He had a little bit of a paunch that spilled over his burgundy cummerbund. Contact lenses made his eyes a rich red and he wore gothic clothing with a long cape and stiff high collar. He bared his fangs and waggled his eyebrows at me from under a heavy coating of glitter. Oh, THAT kind of vampire. I wasn’t so scared anymore.

  He hissed and drew his ridiculously long cape over his face like a wannabe Bela Lugosi. I faked a swoon, letting my eyelashes flutter dramatically against my cheeks. My knees bent as though about to give out. He reached out to grab me but I ran into the next room with a girly shriek. I swear I heard him chuckle as I fled. He followed slowly, enjoying the
chase. I wouldn’t admit it aloud, but I was almost starting to enjoy myself. After all, how many girls get turned into the object of a man’s fantasy and get chased around for a few hours? Acting was my passion, and even something as nonsensical as this stirred my blood. I let myself get into it. I tapped into the hundreds of horror movies I watched, calling on that archetypal, innocent, Victorian maiden stereotype that seemed so omnipresent.

  I dodged between tattered curtains, the smell of dust and rain swirling through the air. Did someone open a window? Maybe my imagination was just running away with me. I could hear the sounds of the club downstairs over the fake thunder and sound of a downpour. I nearly crashed into a candelabra and paused to catch my breath, looking around wide eyed and panting. A slight shift in a shadow caught my attention, and another dark figure appearing. This one had a bit more going for him in terms of being tall, dark, and deadly serious. He extended a hand towards me, each finger tipped with a long, sharp nail. I hoped they were fake. I watched his hand for a moment as if mesmerized.

  Then I shook my head and bolted, going for the first set of doors I could see. I sure was getting my cardio today. I could hear my pulse in my ears and feel my heart pounding in my chest.

  The next room was set up to look like a Victorian banquet hall, complete with a long dining table and roaring fireplace. As I ran in, two more men appeared out of the shadows, swooping at me. I was seized on both sides and lifted off my feet as I screamed. I struggled, but the men kept a strong grip on me as they laid me on the dining table. I was supine, pinned down, at the mercy of three vampires. It’s okay. They aren’t real. Just men playing a game.

  That didn’t stop my gut reaction to struggle. I tugged one of my arms and felt one of the vampires struggle to hold me down. I relaxed slightly. Those hours at the gym paid off, but I was being paid to play a victim. Knowing that I could probably break free if things got out of hand did make me feel better. I just had to make sure not to make them feel less powerful. They wanted to feel like they were in control. I continued to squirm and struggle, still panting from my adrenaline driven sprint. I could feel the nightie creeping up as I kicked, leaving my legs bare nearly all the way up.