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When a self-sufficient, independent woman butts heads with a stubborn Irishman, there are bound to be sparks. And that's before she finds out he's a vampire.

COPYRIGHT © 2023 solitary vice publications

My inspiration for this story was my friend Christine Warren. I’m such a huge fan of her paranormal romances that I couldn’t resist writing one of my own. Two things came out of that – a fun story that I got to do a lot of research on Ireland for (I couldn’t afford a plane ticket or I’d have gone over there!), and a brand new appreciation for paranormal writers. It’s a lot harder than you’d think to create a universe – one that doesn’t exist – and make it real. That’s a talent, my friends, and I appreciate it a whole lot more than I used to.

Rowan ran down the road as fast as her legs would carry her. She’d barely cleared the threshold of the pub before she heard the crash of Jack’s chair overturning. She hadn’t paused to look, just kept running. She knew she was fast—she’d run cross country in college and still held the record for stolen bases on her high school softball team—and if she were racing any human, she’d have a better than fair chance of winning. But this was Jack, who while not strictly an immortal—he’d explained as much to her last night—was about twenty times stronger and faster than the average mortal.

She saw the corner of Jack’s street just ahead. Not wanting to slow down more than absolutely necessary, she put a hand on the corner of the building, used it to slingshot herself around the corner and pounded down the street. She could hear Jack behind her, his boot heels ringing on the cobblestones. He was close but she didn’t want to risk turning to see how close since it would only slow her down.

She saw the tobacco shop and picked up speed, the blood pounding in her ears as she heard the footsteps behind her speed up as well. She dug into her pocket for the door key he’d given her earlier, flying on adrenaline as she pounded up the stairs to the apartment. Jack was right behind her, she could feel his breath on the back of her neck, and she put on a burst of speed, slapped her hand on the apartment door a split second before Jack’s broad palm did the same.

A hard hand on her shoulder spun her around, her back hitting the door. His hand came up on either side of her head, effectively caging her in. She looked up into flashing black eyes, her breath coming hard and fast, adrenaline still singing through her blood. “I win,” she panted.

Jack was breathing deep too, but not because the run had tired him out. He could smell the arousal on her—she was so hot he was surprised she hadn’t soaked through her slacks. His dick was so hard he could hammer railroad spikes with it and it was all he could do not to pin her against the door and slam into her. “I let you win,” he growled.

She grinned, eyes snapping. The thrill of the chase had whetted her appetite and she was seriously considering taking his pants down right there on the landing. “I still won.”

“Now what?” he rumbled.

She raised a brow, a little surprised he was still going along with the idea of her being in charge of the sex. She could see how worked up he was, his lips were peeled back over his fangs and his cock looked as though it might burst past his zipper any second. She licked her lips. That bulge was calling her name.

“Now,” she breathed, reaching behind her and fitting her key into the lock by feel, “I’m going to have sex. You can join me if you want.”

She twisted the knob, the door swinging open under their combined weight and she tumbled backward into the room, stopping when her knees came up against the arm of the couch.

Jack slammed the door behind him and began tearing at his clothes. “I want.”

Rowan toed off her sneakers, whipped the jacket off her shoulders and the tank top off her head. Her breasts bounced free, the nipples already pinched tight in excitement. She fought with the waistband of her jeans, her suddenly nerveless fingers fumbling with the buttons.

“I’m ahead of you,” he rumbled, and she looked up. Her mouth went dry and her pussy flooded when she saw he was naked, his cock standing out from his body. The tip was already slick and it seemed to throb in time with his heartbeat. She was so focused on looking at him she forgot about undressing. Until he growled, “Rowan, get out of those jeans.”

She fumbled once again at the button fly of her pants. Her fingers felt like they were five times their normal size, she couldn’t make them work. She fought the stiff fabric, nearly sobbing in frustration when she heard a muffled, “Fuck this,” and her hands were being pushed out of the way.

Jack grasped the waistband of her pants in both hands and yanked hard in opposite directions. Brass buttons went flying, her gasp of surprise nearly drowned out by the sound of rending fabric. In a flash, he had her panties and jeans in a bundle around her knees.

She had a brief flash of his face, hard and intent, eyes glowing red, before she found herself bent backward over the arm of the couch. With her head buried in a cushion and her legs dangling over the edge of the sofa, she gasped, “What’re you doing?”

“I’m having sex,” he growled. She felt the searing heat of his breath wash over the damp folds of her cunt an instant before he clamped his mouth over her clit.