Her Vampire Temptation (Midnight Doms Book 8) Page 4

  “Smart-ass.” I can smell her more strongly now, and she’s just as good as before. Better, because she’s pulsing with energy and desire. Need. It’s intoxicating.

  But I meant it: what the hell is she doing here at Club Toxic? It isn’t possible she felt my plea and came because I called her…right?

  Martin’s voice is wry. “Mayhap, you shall have a busy night.”

  I scan the road, but of course, there’s no street side parking. I head to the Mercado lot, just a minute away. “She’s not a fit.”

  “Then you don’t mind if I give her a good tumble?” He’s got a faux innocent tone.

  “No, you may not, you goddamn animal. Get out.”

  I park the car and unfold my legs from the Porsche and listen. I can hear at twenty times the distance of an ordinary man even in a crowded concert.

  I call to Tiberius, the bouncer on duty, the one whose suits are impeccable, and who prefers his young men built. “Go get the redhead. Bring her in for me.”

  One of the handy things about being undead—with hearing this excellent, we can communicate from farther apart than humans.

  “Sure thing, Alain.”

  “And don’t let anyone fucking touch her until I get there.”

  Maybe she’s not right for me, but damned if I’ll let another vampire get his hands on her, let alone his fangs. If she chooses anyone at the club tonight, it will be me.

  Chapter 5

  Bri

  “Excuse me, Miss?” The handsome bouncer inexplicably bypasses the models and comes right up to me. “You can come in.”

  I glance behind me. “Me?”

  “Yes.” He’s utter perfection in his classy black suit. He’s not a huge man, but he gives the impression of restrained power.

  “Why me? Not that I’m not excited.” I notice a few catty glances and wistful stares and try not to feel like some kind of royalty.

  He smiles. “Special invitation from a VIP.”

  My bubble bursts. “Maybe you mean someone else?”

  His voice is patient but firm. “I don’t make mistakes. Are you coming?”

  “Yes. Of course. Thank you.” I follow as quickly as I can in my heels because he’s quick.

  “Right this way.” He gestures as we approach the front.

  The building is old, made of adobe, painted white, and fitted with a thigh-high metal railing in front that outlines the space for a patio. There are no tables, though—just another massive bouncer at the door, all in black, unsmiling. Soft incandescent bulbs are strung up along the upper balustrade, a faux balcony for the second floor, lending the place an air of holiday festivity.

  “Have a good time. Welcome to the club.” He opens the door to another world.

  “Who told you to let me in? Can you point him out?”

  But I’m already in, and the door is shut behind me, apparently without needing to pay a cover charge.

  Club Toxic, the #1 spot in Tucson.

  Music blares from a wicked sound system. The bar is packed, and people are talking, dancing, heads bent together, bodies entwined. The lights are low but perfectly set for the ambience, and the whole place is sexy.

  There’s a small temporary raised stage in the corner, and I see a band setting up. Someone has a candy red Fender Stratocaster, a tall lean guy with a black ponytail and deep eyes. He looks at me and smiles, and my stomach flips.

  He’s cute. Is he the one who sent me the invitation? Maybe he saw me in line?

  I want to dance. I want to kiss a sexy man tonight. And maybe, if the vibe is right, I’ll take him home with me and forget myself in his arms. I look again at the guitarist.

  But something whispers in my mind. No, not that one.

  I frown. Shake my head.

  Then, suddenly, my neck tingles, and I feel the urge to turn away from the guitarist, towards the far wall.

  And it’s then that I see him.

  Alain

  She thinks she’s hunting—how cute. She has no idea how out of her depth she is here, at Club Toxic, where the supernatural come to play.

  Soon enough, she’ll realize she’s the prey…and I’m the one who plans to catch her.

  Not without a little fight, though, I hope.

  As soon as she sees me, her eyes widen, and I can smell the adrenaline flow into her veins. Yeah, she’s excited to see me.

  I make my way over to her. Her eyes are on me the entire time, her body attentive.

  She’s even more beautiful than I remember, and I nearly catch my breath as I approach. Her flaming red hair is a mass of perfect curls, and her luscious lips are painted in a beautiful bow. And those green eyes—so large, rimmed with thick black lashes, so expressive, should be immortalized in a painting in the Louvre.

  Not to mention her banging body.

  “Your car must have made it all the way to town.” I signal the bartender and hold up two fingers, point to the bar. You know the one I want.

  He nods. Yup.

  “Of course, it did.” I can hear her heart speed up, but she keeps her voice casual, as if she could possibly fool me into thinking she doesn’t care that I’m here.

  I know better.

  She stands still although the frenetic beat of the music still thrums through our bodies, resonating at the wavelength of fuck me.

  “Care for a drink?” I take her elbow, barely touching it.

  She sucks in her breath, and her cheeks flush. “Depends what it is.”

  “It’s whatever you want it to be.” I pause. “What is it you’re looking for here?”

  She looks away, and her pulse gets even quicker. “What does anyone want? Pure joy. Eternal bliss. The usual.”

  Her voice is defiantly flirtatious, but there’s a sadness to her, something deep and dark, hidden under the surface. Normally I don’t care what emotions humans squirrel away, but I’m curious about this girl.

  “What do you want?” She looks up at me, challenge in her eyes.

  I put my hand at the small of her back and smile at her tiny gasp. “Exactly the same thing.” I guide her to the bar, and it takes just a fingertip of a touch for her to follow my head. Oh, this girl will be fun.

  Two glasses of champagne stand tall, rims just touching. The bartender tilts his head. “Enjoy.”

  “Moet et Chandon. All the way from Epernay.” I hand her one of the crystal goblets.

  “From France to Tucson. Quite a journey.” She raises her glass. “What a tortuous trip, just for a little pleasure.”

  “Oh, but don’t you think that pleasure is enhanced with a little bite of pain?” I check her face.

  Yes, there it is: Her pupils dilate, and her blood pulses hard and fast.

  “I saw your face when we met. When I spoke of pleasure and pain.” I smile. “It’s my specialty.” Without giving her a chance to respond, maybe keep her a bit off balance, I tap her glass with mine, a deliberate ping. “To what shall we toast?”

  She smiles. “Well, I’m toasting to all my dreams. That they come true.” A micro expression flashes across her face. That undertone of alarm, even despair. But it’s gone as quickly as it came.

  “Then I wish you the same.”

  “What about your dreams?” Her voice is light. “Shouldn’t you save your wish for yourself?”

  I lock eyes with her. “I usually get exactly what I want. I don’t need to make wishes.”

  She sips hard and coughs a little. Waves her hand in front of her face. “Excuse me.”

  She’s aroused but off balance, a heady combination—it means that playing her will be even more delightful.

  I sip the champagne, savoring the flavor, the bubbles on my tongue. I can hear them pop on her lips, tiny fireworks of carbonation and alcohol. “Remember what I said? This goes well with what you want.”

  “I remember everything you said.” Her voice is low and throaty. She smiles.

  My cock gets hard. I murmur something from my old tongue, words I haven’t spoken in a hundred years.

/>   She raises her voice to beat the music. “What did you say?”

  “I said that we can go somewhere else. There’s another level to this club if you’re brave enough to find out.” I step closer and whisper into her ear, letting my lips brush her lobe.

  “W- What kind of place?” She sucks in her breath.

  I can smell her body’s arousal. I already know her answer, even before she does.

  I hide my smile. “A BDSM club. Downstairs. Secret…and invitation only.” I look into her eyes. “I’m inviting you.”

  She makes a tiny humming noise and shuts her eyes, almost drifting into me. “I don’t even know your name.”

  “Alain. Marchmont. And you?”

  “Briana. Shaughnessy. I go by Bri.”

  I brush a kiss at the base of her jaw. “Sweet Bri. I can give you what you came here for tonight. All the pleasure you can handle…as long as you are willing to play my game.”

  “Tell me your rules.” She narrows her eyes at me. “And I’ll tell you mine.”

  I put my lips back to her ear. “My only requirement is that you do exactly what I say, when I say it. For as long as you enjoy yourself. Yes?”

  “You’re a dom?”

  “Exactly. For one night only.” I brush a finger down the side of her face. “You have rules as well?”

  She looks away, then back at me. “One night is my rule, too. I don’t do relationships. I can leave at any time. If you have any diseases, leave now.” She pauses. “And don’t call me tomorrow.” She sticks up her chin.

  Does she even know how perfect she is for me right now?

  It’s all I can do not to grab her right here and have my way with her on the bar. Among all the civilians. Of course, I have more control than that. Barely.

  “Done. Shall we?” I hold out my hand.

  She blinks. She’s at war with herself, and then she falls off the edge. She drains her champagne and puts the glass back onto the bar. “Yes.”

  “Good.” I take her hand in mine. “Come.”

  She follows me across the floor to the coatroom, where I blur the edges of my body as I open the secret door. Nobody’s here but the bouncer, another vamp, but I do it just in case. This place must stay a secret from the commoners.

  And then I take her downstairs.

  Chapter 6

  Bri

  This is exactly what I need. One night with a hot guy before I deal with all of my messy life—the medical concerns and my upcoming visits with Dr. Su, my work projects, everything.

  I’d be stupid to refuse this offer. One beautiful night to sustain me.

  “If you don’t like it, you are free to leave at any time,” he murmurs, bending his dark head down to mine. “But I think you’ll be begging me to stay.”

  Just having him so near sets my body aflame. “We’ll see.” He’s probably right, but he’s so incredibly cocky. He knows he has me, and that pisses me off. I wanted to be more of a mystery to him. Not easy pickings.

  Then my mind is officially blown as he leads me down the dark staircase and opens a narrow door at the bottom…into another world. “How does nobody know this is here?”

  “The right people know.” He laughs. “It’s a BDSM club for the elite.”

  I’m no stranger to BDSM, and I like kink in my relationships. I’ve even visited the local BDSM club, but it didn’t appeal; I never met anyone special there, and the atmosphere didn’t seem inviting.

  This club, though, has an entirely different vibe. It’s instantly sexy, like someone is whispering into your ear and stroking your body. The people here vibrate with energy, color, brilliance. Heat.

  It’s full of low gleaming lights, expensive wood and exotic finishes. No expense spared; no replicas. Everything gives the air of being heavy, solid, and quality. Classy.

  An immense throne stands haughty in the center of the room, and it seems to me that it’s at once ancient, priceless and full of history. Are those real rubies embedded in the inlay? I want to ask what it’s used for, but other things grab my attention.

  A woman is tied to a perfectly crafted, burnished wooden cross, naked, and a man is lashing her. She cries out, and he steps in, and bends down, putting his head to her neck. Her cries turn from pain to pleasure, and her orgasm rips into the air, making people turn and look.

  I put a hand to my mouth. The absolute bliss in her voice and the way he roars out his satisfaction is unreal. It’s like romance books come to life, but with some kind of dark edge. She’s into blood play, clearly, because when he steps away, there’s a red smear on her neck. On his mouth and his hands.

  Although I’ve never been interested, my body reacts with a visceral tug. I want it to be me who had that screaming orgasm—just the way she did—everything she felt –

  “Do you like that?” Alain’s voice thrums into my ear.

  “I—I don’t know.”

  “Don’t you?” He smiles.

  “I like being tied up.” I glance across the room to a spanking bench that gleams in the golden light. “I like that.” A slender woman is tied down, ass up, and a man spanks her with a paddle. As her ass grows pink, she begins to make sounds of impending bliss and growing discomfort, both.

  My pussy clenches.

  “I think we’ll start with something similar,” Alain murmurs. “Perhaps I’ll spank you and tease you, hmmm?” He watches my reaction like a hawk. Smiles when I flush.

  “Mmmm…” I lean into him, turn, and let my head fall back onto his shoulder.

  He wraps his arms around me from behind. “Will you strip for me, Bri? Let me turn your ass red before I fuck you? Stand in front of me and do what I tell you?”

  “Maybe,” I whisper. He smells amazing, some cologne I’ve never smelled before, and his own essence. “If I like what you ask.” I might have a spontaneous orgasm just from his voice.

  “I’ll make sure you do.” He runs his hands down my body. “First we’ll get another drink.”

  He’s playing me just right, drawing it out. Not pushing. Letting me take this in, at my own pace. It’s like he’s reading my signals, ones I don’t even know I’ve sent.

  It gives me confidence. And makes me needy.

  At the bar, a tall man with piercing eyes and a patrician profile takes a glass from the bartender. The glass is baroque looking, heavy and expensive. It’s filled with a viscous liquid, and for a second, I think I smell the iron tang of blood in the air. He smiles at Alain and raises his glass. “Cheers.”

  The red fluid rolls onto his tongue.

  “What’s he drinking?” I frown. “Is that…?” My voice goes up. It can’t be. But it is, and then I see the man’s teeth, his canines longer than normal—he’s drinking blood.

  “Club special. Not for you.” Alain looks into my eyes and the room blurs for a second.

  A sudden pain splits my skull, and the earth tilts on its axis. I gasp and grab my temples. I’m so disoriented that I stumble and would fall except that Alain grabs me and rights me. I stand up, but I sway.

  “Bri, talk to me.” He grabs the sides of my face, and his hands cover mine, already on my own head. “Look at me.”

  I stare into his eyes, and the pain fades, but I’m dizzy as hell.

  “Are you all right?” His voice is gentle and fierce at the same time. The words don’t make sense yet. For a second the pain returns, and I have no freaking clue where I am. Then it all comes back, like watching a glass window shatter in reverse.

  I shake my head. “I’m sorry—what?”

  “You were a little shaky there.” His hands feel good on my arms. Almost like energy is flowing from him into me.

  I like it and don’t. It’s the kind of thing you need to learn not to rely on.

  “I haven’t eaten much today. And I had a stressful phone call with my d—this afternoon. I’m okay now.” I take a deep breath. “I get migraines sometimes. That felt like one starting. But it went away.”

  “Good.” Alain gestures to the bartender, a
nd suddenly a platter of food appears, like something out of a Renaissance painting: grapes, cheese. I can almost see the brush strokes.

  A tall man next to me looks at us, smiles, and wanders off with an ornate glass. There’s something familiar about him—but I don’t think I’ve ever seen him before. Strange.

  “What was so upsetting about your meeting today?” Alain touches my arm. Soft. And his voice sounds like he actually cares.

  For one split second, I want to tell him. Get the feeling he’ll understand, sympathize. Console.

  Then I remember what life is really like.

  I shrug. “I came here to forget about it.” I give him a meaningful look.

  “Understood.” He nods. “I did promise I could help with that.” He sounds rueful. Then he leans in and barely brushes my lips with his. “And so much more, my dear.”

  My body turns molten. “Good.”

  “You were going to tell me what you want to drink.” He smiles.

  I blink. “Vodka. Rocks.”

  He raises a brow. “Just one.”

  “Why are you in charge of what I drink?”

  “Oh, sweet Bri.” He has a smug look on his face. “Tonight, I’m in charge of everything you do.”

  I feel like arguing for the sake of it because sometimes it’s fun to be sassy. But the truth is that I want exactly this.

  So I sip my vodka and give him my best innocent stare. “Yes, sir.” I run my tongue over my lower lip, a flicker, and smile. “Master.”

  He practically growls. “Fuck, Bri.”

  “Isn’t that the plan?” I slam the shot down, and the liquor sends fire down my throat, and a syncopated beat later, into my veins and my brain. The world gets warm and pretty, and all the harsh edges fade into themselves, leaving the joy behind.

  “Oh, it most definitely is.” He smirks. Then he scoops me up into his arms. “But you’re going to earn it, baby. The fuck doesn’t come for free.”

  I squeak and laugh in delight, in triumph. This. This fucking moment. I’m euphoric. I kick one foot up and close my eyes, enjoying his strong arms.

  He strides across the room to an empty settee and slides me down along his body, and I feel every glorious muscle on the way back to Earth. And his cock. Jesus, he’s hard.