Pleasures Untold

  Pleasures Untold

  a novel by

  Lisa Sanchez

  Omnific Publishing

  Dallas

  Copyright © 2011 by Lisa Sanchez

  All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976,

  no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted

  in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system,

  without prior written permission of the publisher.

  Omnific Publishing

  P.O. Box 793871, Dallas, TX 75379

  www.omnificpublishing.com

  First Omnific eBook edition, February 2011

  First Omnific trade paperback edition, February 2011

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious.

  Any similarity to real persons, living or dead,

  is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Library of Congress Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

  Sanchez, Lisa.

  Pleasures Untold / Lisa Sanchez – 1st ed.

  ISBN 978-1-936305-60-5

  1. Vampire — Fiction. 2. Witch — Fiction.

  3. Romance — Fiction. 4. Slayer — Fiction. I. Title

  Cover Design and Interior Book Design by Coreen Montagna

  For Martha: You scared me at first. You really did.

  But, then I discovered how beautiful you are, both inside and out.

  And now you’re near and dear to my heart. Love you, girl.

  Chapter 1

  “Oh, for the love of…someone just shoot me now, please.” I groaned, eyeballing the line of over-processed, identically dressed sorority girls waiting to get into Fire and Ice along with us. Why I’d agreed to let my roommates drag me to this hellhole I’d never know. Scratch that. I did know. I was trying to be a good friend. You know, scoring brownie points and all that. And really, what the hell were brownie points? Screw the point thingies and just give me the damn brownie already. Being a good friend always made me hungry.

  My roommate, Taylor, had walked in on her boyfriend this afternoon while he was getting pelvic with some other girl. Douchebag! She’d decided a night on the town would work as well as a Band-Aid. Drunken frat boys weren’t my panacea of choice. If I’d caught my man with his pickle in someone else’s jar, I wouldn’t be going out on the town. Hell, no! I’d be eating my weight in Ben & Jerry’s, listening to angry chick music, and conjuring up pictures of the low-life bastard I could deface. But hey, that’s just me.

  I glanced over to the bright, neon red and blue sign reading Fire and Ice, shook my head and sighed. I didn’t do the club scene. Well, I did, but not like everyone else, and yeah…not a soul had a clue. I liked it that way. Safer for me. Safer for my friends.

  Nausea, intense, sweaty and sickening, rolled around my gut as I took in the serpentine line of scantily dressed co-eds waiting to get in.

  Halter top, halter top, tube top, dental floss? What the hell am I doing here?

  I glanced down at my outfit and frowned. My black corset top, red plaid mini skirt, and Docs were way out of place in this line. Standing in a sea of over-processed Barbie dolls who wore nothing but tight jeans, backless tops, and heels, I looked like a corndog amidst a platter of filet mignon. I’d been lured into the lions’ den, a lamb to the slaughter.

  I swallowed thickly. Crap. Why do my hands always get sweaty when I’m nervous?

  Swiping my palms across my skirt, I pushed back my feelings of insecurity. Yeah, I was uncomfortable, but I’d deal. I’d been through tougher shit than this and come out on top. A few nasty looks from a bunch of nameless plastic Betties weren’t going to keep me down.

  Right when I’d convinced myself the night wouldn’t suck total ass, the tip of my boot caught on the lip of the sidewalk, and I accidentally bumped one of the Barbies as I passed by. As I’m sure you can imagine, things took a nasty turn when she decided to open her mouth and insult me.

  A scorching pair of blue eyes burned a hole into my flesh. “What the hell are you doing here? The freak club is down the street, vamp girl.” Her thin, outstretched arm was slathered with copious amounts of body shimmer, and topped off with frosted pink fingertips. She pointed a dragon-lady nail across the street and away from the club. Under the bright light of the nearby streetlamp, she looked like a cross between a glittering mirror ball and a Barbie someone bedazzled the shit out of.

  Fuming, I stopped walking, closed my eyes, and counted to ten. The palms of my hands cried out in pain as my fingernails dug into their soft skin. The Barbie’s high-pitched, snotty voice ruffled my senses, immediately putting me in defense mode.

  “Just ignore them.” Taylor grabbed my hand and yanked, trying to pull me toward the end of the line. My feet remained anchored to the pavement, and I glared at the nasty source of my irritation. If I could have channeled Superman’s laser vision at that moment, you can bet your ass I would’ve. Girlfriend would have been a charred piece of toast. Extra crispy.

  I sighed and shook my head as I continued to stare down the blonde uber-Betty. Who the hell was I kidding? As tempting as it sounded to zap my assailant into a pile of ash, I knew I never would. My conscience wouldn’t let me, and neither would my oath.

  “Yeah…please…ignore us,” Nasty Betty continued, giggling with her group of exact replicas. “Freak!”

  Her words blistered across my skin like acid, setting my flesh on fire and my blood to boiling. I wrenched my hand away from my friend and took a step toward my plastic aggressor, fully intending to unleash my wrath. I wasn’t the little girl who ran away crying after being bullied anymore. Yeah, I’d taken an oath, the same oath my mother took when she was young, and her mother before her. Vampires, demons, and undead dirtbags were fair game as far as doling out magical spankings went. Your average, everyday asshole? Sadly, they were off limits. But that didn’t mean I’d swallow random bullshit from mindless, affected sycophants. I might not smite humans down with my magic, but I sure as hell could tell them off.

  Confrontations sucked ass: plain and simple. Girls like Nasty Betty were the reason I kept people at arm’s length, avoided relationships, and stayed to myself. A person can only ingest so much crap before they put a foot down and say, “Enough!” After a childhood riddled with Nasty Betty types, I knew how to hold my own. I was fully capable of defending myself and could be downright scary if I wanted to.

  Glaring at my affected heckler, I opened my mouth to unleash a nasty barrage of obscenities when Taylor cut me off, stepping in front of me with her arms crossed over her chest.

  “You know…” Taylor stepped back, placed her hands on her hips, and gave my attacker a haughty once-over. She scrutinized her for a good long while, the air surrounding us thickening with tension. “For someone who looks like a bush pig, I wouldn’t be so quick to insult other people. Now rack off.”

  Jessica, who’d remained silent through the entire snipefest, let out a loud snort and covered her mouth to muffle her laughter.

  Taylor’s colorful Aussie slang came out whenever she was upset or angry, and Nasty Betty had done a bang up job at getting under her skin. After the hellish day she’d had, Taylor’s accent was thick and husky. With her brows furrowed, Taylor turned on her heel and grabbed my wrist, pulling me toward the end of the line once again with Jessica trailing close behind.

  I yanked my hand away, frustrated. “I’m perfectly capable of dealing with Nasty Betty and her vicious band of skanks, thank you very much.” My voice was filled with venom, and the muscles in my neck and shoulders ached from tensing. Still reeling, I closed my eyes, took a
deep breath, and struggled to pull myself together. God. What I wouldn’t give for one night of fun where I wasn’t forced to defend myself against closed-minded idiots.

  Taylor clamped her hands onto my shoulders and gave a squeeze. “Believe me, I know you are.” The normally smooth skin between her eyes creased with worry. “But friends stick up for one another, and you were there for me this afternoon when I needed a shoulder to cry on. I figured I’d return the favor. God, Martha. You’re not mad, are you?”

  Gazing at her long brown hair, chocolate eyes, and exotic good looks, I’d never understand why her boyfriend needed to cheat. Taylor was beautiful, a good friend, lovely both inside and out.

  I took a deep breath before answering her. “No,” I said with a loud exhale. I wasn’t mad. I was irritated. She’d stolen my thunder. I didn’t want Nasty Betty, or anyone else for that matter, thinking I was incapable of fighting my own battles. Of course, neither Taylor, nor the rest of them knew just how insignificant a verbal throw down with Nasty Betty was in comparison to the other battles I’d fought over the years. Still, it was nice to know I had friends who’d stick up for me if I needed them to.

  I plastered a fake smile onto my face and gave Taylor a pat on the arm before staring off into the distance. It wasn’t until the past few months I had anyone to call friend. Growing up with special abilities pretty much labeled me as a freak from early on. No one wanted to befriend the girl who talked to ghosts or banished the demon living in their closet. Nope. If you got too close to me, my “crazy” might rub off. Crowds parted like the Red Sea whenever I came into a room, and a constant stream of whispers, giggles, and complete douchebaggery followed me wherever I went. Haters! Thank God for Jess and Taylor.

  The line to get into the club slowly crept forward. My quest to remain aloof, above the bullshit, lasted all of two seconds. Unease slammed into me, sending an odd tugging sensation whirling throughout my gut. Someone was watching me. Only, instead of the usual creep factor that came with being watched, I experienced a bevy of unsettling sensations. A warm rush of comfort enveloped me. The feeling was so familiar. It left me more than a little unnerved because I’d noticed the same sensation on and off for the past several weeks. I turned, looked around, taking in my surroundings, and saw nothing out of the ordinary. Huh…weird. The strange tugging persisted until I heard a loud shriek coming from a few feet ahead.

  Nasty Betty and her flock of carbon-copied minions were making a spectacle of themselves with regard to their IDs.

  I didn’t care for Betty in the least, but I had to give credit where credit was due. Girlfriend had cajones. The doorman — a beefed up, bald guy with no neck and an ass-load of tatts — towered over her like a skyscraper. Betty didn’t seem to notice — or care. She laid into him like a regular shmoe, and it was definitely a sight to see. “Seriously, assface? Do you know who I am?”

  Beefy Bald Guy pegged her with a hard stare and waved his hand in Betty’s face. “Enough! No ID, no entry. Read the sign.” He jabbed a fat finger through the air, motioning to the rectangular square on the side of the building. Giant black and white lettering shone plain as day under the yellow lighting from above. “No ID, No Entry.”

  Betty lost her game for a moment and stood with her mouth open, obviously flustered. “But…but…”

  “Save it,” the doorman snapped, cutting her off. “Quit wasting my time and step aside.”

  Betty narrowed her eyes and glared at the doorman. If looks could kill, Beefy Bald Guy would have been dead, ten times over. “Whatever, loser.” She jutted her chin out, slapped on a scowl, and stepped aside, all the while complaining to her loyal followers.

  I couldn’t fight the large smile that emerged. For once, the universe had been kind to me, doling out a spanking toward my unwanted bully. The line slithered forward, and I paused in front of Betty momentarily after presenting the doorman with my identification.

  I cast her a sideways glance and raised an eyebrow. “Karma’s a real bitch, isn’t it?” And with a triumphant smile, I strode through the entrance, enjoying the sound of her frustrated shrieks of anger.

  Jessica gave me a nod of deep approval and winked. “Damn, girl, you totally owned her. You are so the shit.”

  Yep. I was the shit. I didn’t bother to wipe the smug grin off my face as we made our way through the crowded club toward a table near the back. It wasn’t often I had the upper hand when faced with pretentious hecklers, and I fully intended on savoring every last drop of my small victory. Gloating felt good. Damn good.

  My butt was in its seat for all of two seconds before a new song blasted over the speakers. Taylor shot out of her seat like the damn thing was on fire. With arms flailing, she shouted over the obnoxious music. “Oh, hell, yes…I love this song. Let’s get out there.”

  Visibly excited, Jessica stood up and craned her head in my direction, motioning for me to follow.

  Oh, hell, no. I didn’t flinch and remained seated.

  “You coming?” She flashed me an expectant look. Blond, five-foot-seven, and a whopping size two — Jess was my polar opposite. Dressed in a pair of dark jeans, a slinky black top, and strappy sandals, she looked like she belonged with the Barbies and their crowd, not with me. The contrast between her dark clothing, fair skin, and blond hair was striking, and for a brief moment, I felt a twinge of jealousy.

  Topping out at a whopping five-foot-five, I was pale and thin except for my boobs which, like the rest of the women on my mother’s side, were positively ginormous. My mahogany locks were layered, the longer pieces sweeping past my shoulders and across my forehead, keeping my face partially hidden and safe from unwanted attention. I suppose my wardrobe choice had something to do with the negative attention I regularly received. Taylor was always telling me I dressed like the poster child for Hot Topic. Whatever. I liked my style. I was no Barbie girl. I looked like the girl who ate Barbie for breakfast.

  I pegged her with a look of you’ve-got-to-be-effing-kidding-me. “Um, that would be a definite no.” I was most certainly not a dancer. The few times I subjected myself to ridicule on the dance floor were few and far between, and had always been when someone forced me to do so. There was no way I’d do the bump and grind thing if I didn’t have to. Hell. To. The. No. I just wasn’t that type of girl. Don’t get me wrong…I love music. Although the stuff that was played at the clubs was, in my opinion, lacking. And besides, my body just didn’t move like everyone else’s. When I tried to sway my hips, it looked more like I was having some kind of fit than any kind of dance. Spastic.

  Jess made a loud pssh sound and rolled her eyes. “C’mon, Martha. It’ll be fun.” She thrust her hand at me again and nodded in the direction of the dance floor.

  I shook my head, remaining firm in my decision. Girlfriend needed to get a clue and get over it. There was no way in hell I’d willingly step foot on the dance floor.

  Jessica stood between Taylor and me, indecision clouding her thoughts as her head whipped back and forth, teetering on the edge of whiplash.

  Amped up and ready to boogie, Taylor tugged at her arm, wanting her to follow. “C’mon, Jess. Hurry up.”

  The massive crowd of writhing bodies behind them sent my stomach churning. Oh, for the love of…“Go,” I said to Jessica, shooing her away with my hands. “Really. I’ll be just fine. I promise.”

  She glanced toward the massive crowd then back at me, her mouth opening, ready to protest again when I swiftly cut her off. Criminy! “Yes.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m gonna go trolling anyway.” I stood up and patted my bag.

  Her blue eyes flashed wide for a moment. She gave me a nod, letting me know she understood and mouthed a quick “be careful.” I watched her follow Taylor into the mammoth crowd, relieved they hadn’t made a bigger stink about my not dancing. Those two were nothing if not persistent.

  To the select few of us who were aware of the existence of otherworldly creat
ures, it was a known fact that demons and vampires patronized popular clubs and bars, as the drunken partiers were easy prey.

  Okay, stop. I got a bit ahead of myself there. Better backtrack, as I’m sure you’re wondering what the hell I’m talking about. Dying to know what’s in my bag? Brace yourself, peeps. I carry a wooden stake with me wherever I go. Uh-huh. That’s right, baby. Ten inches of smooth, polished oak, with a nice grip and a wicked ass point.

  It irritates the crap out of Jess and Taylor because I’m always checking to make sure Chuck’s with me. Yes…you read that right. I named my pointy weapon Chuck. The damn thing’s saved my life more times than I can count and deserves some recognition, so keep your opinions to yourself, please.

  Shortly after Lucian murdered my mother, when I was a child, I vowed to avenge her death. My mother and my grandmother were murdered by a blood-sucking, undead, harbinger of death — a vampire. Naturally, I was pissed about this. Actually, pissed really didn’t cover it, but for now, it would do.

  As I grew older and my strength and powers matured, I took to policing the local hot spots for demonic activity. So yeah, I did the nightclub scene…just not like everyone else did. My mission was simple: kill every vampire, demon, and underworld bastard I came across, because one of those fuckers just might be Lucian. I wasn’t about to let anyone else suffer the heartache and loss I went through as a child. My mission was altruistic and self-serving. I was a damn freaking saint.

  Curious as to how my roommates found out about my witchy mojo? Jess is a long story. She and I weren’t always close. Not by a long shot. Thankfully, opinions change, and she got over her problem with me quickly after I helped our friend, Ryann, reverse her boyfriend’s deadly curse. We’ve been tight ever since. As for Taylor, well…she walked in on me using magic to tidy up the apartment and from that day forward, has begged me for maid service ad nauseum. Her room was as messy as Jessica’s.

  So yeah…both my roomies knew I had power. They also knew I killed the creepy crawlies that lurked in the dark, the ones ready to end your life in a moment’s notice. But that was all they knew. There were some things a girl needed to keep to herself. And those things just might keep everyone else safe.