Blood of the Maple

There was a mock fight in the audience between one of the werewolves and a woman who smelled like a clean, crisp waterfall. The werewolf won by the simple argument that when your tongue is busy dueling with someone else’s, you can’t yell anymore. “Mates?”

“Mm-hmm.” Amara snuggled close, giggling when the werewolf slung the woman over his shoulder, saluted his friends and strode out of the theater. “She’s been dealing with some pollution in her pond, and it made her cranky. This was a good way for her to get some of that out without hurting her mate.”

Parker’s head tilted. “Her pond?”

“She’s a naiad.”

“Oh. That explains the way she smells.”

Her eyes literally lit up, the green glow startling him. “You like the way she smells?” The rumbling tone of her voice startled him even more.

“It’s refreshing, but it isn’t you.” He licked a long line up her neck, enjoying her shiver. “No one is you.”

The glow died down. Amara smiled, one of those satisfied, mysterious smiles that went right to Parker’s cock and perked it up in the best of ways. He shifted in his seat. He didn’t want her to notice how badly he wanted to strip her down and have her right there and then. He didn’t want to scare her off, but he also didn’t want her thinking the only thing he wanted from her was an occasional date.

He was beginning to think he might want everything.

“Ice cream after the movie?”

Parker stared at his date. She’d forgotten he was a vampire for at least one moment in time, and he was tickled pink. “Does it come in A-positive carnation-maple-walnut?”

Her expression was completely serious. “I don’t know. We can check the menu.”

It was Parker’s turn to be startled. “You’re kidding me.”

She smiled. “Nope. Your…unusual difficulties are probably all over town by now. I’m sure some of the merchants have already taken it into account.”

He blinked. “Shit.” He wasn’t sure if this town creeped him the hell out or if he’d found his special slice of American pie. “That’s—” he noticed the looks some of the audience were giving him and changed his answer accordingly, “—neighborly.”

The weres smiled and turned their attention back to the movie. Parker sank in his seat and prayed none of the furry set took it into their heads to teach him the true meaning of neighborly, were- style. While he could take on a few of them, he had no desire to take on all of them.

Amara hid her face in her hands. Even over the howling wolves and screaming idiots on the screen, he could hear her giggles.

“It’s not funny.”

“Yes, it is.” She lifted her head and looked at him. Her eyes were dancing, her lips curled, her cheeks flushed. She looked beautiful.

Could anyone blame him for stealing a kiss? He didn’t think so. He couldn’t remember ever being tempted by a woman’s lips this badly. Kissing the laughter from those full lips almost took top priority. First, of course, was getting a taste of Amara.

And damn if she didn’t taste delicious, as he’d expected. Whether it was her dryad blood, her “something more” or the fact that he was kissing Amara, he wasn’t sure, but he could easily become addicted.

The best part? She hadn’t frozen up on him, hadn’t tried to stop the kiss. No, she parted her lips, inviting him inside the lush warmth of her mouth, dueling with his tongue until the only thing he could hear was the beating of her heart. She grabbed his biceps and pulled him as close as the theater seat would allow. He followed where she led, more than ready to move with her.

“Go, Parker. Go, Parker. It’s your birthday. It’s your birthday.”

Parker froze. His eyes flew open. Oh no. No way. They couldn’t be.

“Be nice, Greg.”

Fuck. They were.

He ripped his mouth from Amara’s and glared over his shoulder. Brian sat with his arm around an empty seat, his attention seemingly riveted to the screen.

“Parker?”

He turned back to Amara. “Ah. Brian and Greg are behind us.”

She waved. “Hello, Brian.”

“Amara. How are you this evening?”

“Fine. You?”

“Good. This is my, um, friend Greg.” Brian pointed toward the empty seat, an adorable blush staining his cheeks. His normally pristine hairstyle was mussed, and his lips were swollen. Parker had to wonder what they had been up to before Greg had made their presence known.

“Greg?”

Parker’s head fell back against his seat. “My Casper.”

“Hey!”

Brian’s laugh was almost as loud as the howl the weres sent up as the bad guy was finally defeated.

“Oh. Nice to meet you, Greg.” She held out her hand to the empty seat, pretending to shake someone else’s hand.

“Parker? What the hell is she doing?”

“Shaking your ectoplasm.”

“That’s my job,” Brian muttered, but there was laughter in his voice.

“Well.” Parker clapped his hands loud enough to make some of the surrounding audience jump and grinned weakly at Amara. “Not that this isn’t humiliating or anything—”

“I’m having a good time.”

“—but would you like to get out of here?”

Amara stood and grabbed her purse. “Have fun, Brian.” She waved goodbye to the empty seat, stealing a bit more of Parker’s heart. “Nice meeting you, Greg.”

“You too.”

Parker shook his head and followed Amara out of the theater. So much for our first date. He hoped she’d be up for a second, and a third.

Was it too soon to ask her to move in?

Amara pointed toward the ice-cream parlor. “It’s open late on MM Night. So is the candy store. Sometimes we leave hungry despite the free popcorn.”

“Hmm. I’m not certain they’ll have anything for me.”

“What’s the worst that can happen? You go home without ice cream?” She grabbed his hand and dragged him inside. “Quick, before everyone else gets here.” She did a goofy victory dance when she saw the place was empty. “Yes! We’re first in line.”

Parker sighed but allowed himself to be danced along. She got the impression he was used to leading.

“Evening, Ken.” Amara smiled at the teenager behind the counter. The Madisons were one of the few families around town who treated her as if she were like everyone else, and for that they had Amara’s undying loyalty. “Can I have Chocolate-Covered Cherry, please?” Amara bounced at the counter. She loved ice cream; it was a special treat for special nights. Even after Glinda’s death she’d continued the practice, rewarding herself with the creamy delight when something good happened in her life.

Tonight was special, and she deserved her special treat.

“Got anything both bloody and green and leafy?” Parker didn’t sound very enthusiastic, but Ken nodded.

“Dr. Hollis, right? I’ve got something you might like. You’ll have to let me know if we can improve it, though.”

Parker’s expression was comical. “You actually have an ice cream you think I can eat?”

“Well, it’s technically not ice cream per se, but…well. You’ll see.” Ken disappeared into the back room and returned with a cone with one scoop of something swirling with colors. Reddish-brown, dark green and tannish-gold warred with one another. The scent had Amara wrinkling her nose, but Parker practically salivated. “My Goddess. That actually smells good.”

Ken looked relieved. “Thanks. My dad came up with the recipe. We modified the standard How Green Is Your