Captive of the Vampire King (Blood Fire Saga Book 2)

by Bella Klaus

  Normally, I would mutter under my breath about pushy cats who snapped at the hand that fed them, but Macavity seemed to understand every word of English. Since he’d been staying at Valentine’s villa for the past few days and enjoying the luxury fare courtesy of a generous vampire king, I guess Macavity’s loyalties now lay with Valentine.

  When we reached the edge of the path, we walked side by side along the building’s front. I didn’t dare take out my smartphone in case Macavity decided to confiscate it, and I hoped Kain would pull through. The clouds parted, and warm streams of sunlight shone down on the courtyard but did nothing to ease my frustration.

  I tried explaining to Macavity that I was getting Valentine some help, but the leopard shook his head. Whatever. When Valentine awoke, I would help him myself.

  At the door, Macavity transformed into a Bengal cat, climbed up my body using his sharp claws to gain footholds, and settled on my shoulder.

  “Bloody hell,” I snarled. “You were a lot more careful as a leopard.”

  Macavity’s response was a happy purr. From his point of view, I suppose he’d completed his duty of keeping me captive within the grounds of the derelict and was proud to have done a good job. I continued around the pile of burned junk on the ground floor landing and up the stairs. Now that I had spent time upstairs, the scent of brimstone was sharper than ever.

  “Do you know what happened here?” I asked.

  He nodded.

  I continued up the stairs, not bothering to speculate. It wasn’t as though Macavity could describe what the demon had done to the place, and I wasn’t the biggest fan of the creatures because of all the horror stories of murder and mayhem and manipulation they unleashed among humans.

  Demons were a bit like angels—beings more ancient than other supernaturals, who never had their own young. They mostly kept to their own realm with only the highest echelons venturing into Logris. There were lots of demon hybrids in Logris, but they were just regular supernaturals who lived with their non-demon parents and hardly ever ventured into Hell.

  Only four of the seven supernatural races actually lived within Logris—shifters, witches, mages, and vampires. Demons had Hell, angels had Heaven, and faeries had Elphame.

  We reached the door and I placed my hand on the warm wood, which pulsed beneath my palm as though in recognition. White magic shot out from its frame and two strands snaked around my arm and touched my heart.

  The door clicked open, and Macavity jumped down from my shoulder, landing soundlessly on the wooden floorboards. “If I was a prisoner here, don’t you think Valentine would have forced the magic to keep me inside?”

  Ignoring me, he disappeared through the gap in the door with his tail curled in a question mark. With a huff of breath, I pushed it open to find Valentine standing on the other side, already dressed in a white shirt buttoned up to the collar and a pair of black pants. He glowered down at me with furious red eyes, bared his fangs, and hissed.

  My lips parted to let out a shocked breath. “Oh.” I placed a hand on my chest. “I thought you’d be sleeping, so I went out to use my phone. Thanks for finding it.”

  He raised his brows, and a cool gust of wind wrapped around my waist and pulled me into the warmth of the apartment. After shutting the door with a loud slam, he growled, “I told you not to leave.”

  I reared back, hitting my ass on the closed door. “No, you didn’t—”

  As if by magic or sneaky vampire mesmerism, a memory rolled into my head of Valentine asking me not to leave the bed. I shook off the image. Last night didn’t count. That demand not to leave wasn’t specific and he didn’t utter a word of protest when I slept on the sofa.

  The last thing I wanted was an argument with a selectively mute preternatural. I pasted on a smile and said, “I’ve got good news. Kain says—”

  “You disobeyed my order,” he snarled.

  I reared back and pressed myself further into the door. “What?”

  The corners of Valentine’s full lips curled into a cruel smile that made me shudder. He advanced until we stood a mere three inches apart.

  Invisible tendrils of smoky magic billowed off his larger body, wrapping around my senses, teasing my skin like the caresses of dozens of ghost-like fingertips and lips. My breath quickened, and I forced myself not to squirm. Somehow, Valentine was doing this on purpose. If he could manipulate the wind, he could damn well create a soft breeze that drove me into this heightened state. It was part-anticipation, part-arousal, and made every fiber of my body feel like it wanted to submit.

  My jaws clenched and prickly heat rose to my cheeks as his arrogant words filtered through the pleasure. If Valentine had bothered to listen, he would have learned that I was trying to help him return to normal. But the implications of his words made annoyance flare across my skin like an army of fire ants.

  “So, I’m a prisoner then?” I asked from between clenched teeth.

  “Yes,” he replied in a tone that implied the answer was obvious. “And you will be punished.”

  The growl in his voice sent a tingle of anxiety between my legs, and my eyes widened at the prospect of being reprimanded by a dead vampire king. Valentine had always been a kind and patient man and always held back in the name of politeness, but the creature standing in front of me seemed to do or take whatever he pleased.

  Raising both hands, I poured my magic into my palms, trying to ward him off, but he grinned and snatched my forearm. I would have pressed my free hand into his skin to fend him off, but it was only glowing with warm light.

  “What are you doing?” I tried tugging myself free, but Valentine was too fast, too strong, too overpowering.

  He marched me past the kitchen area and onto the living area’s huge ivory rug. He released me to sit in the middle of the sofa and stared up at me with those smoldering red eyes. “Take off your jeans.”

  My core tightened with excitement. “How dare you—”

  “Pull them down,” he drawled.

  I stepped back. “Absolutely not.”

  Valentine chuckled, the sound low and deep. My traitorous nipples tightened in response. What the bloody hell was happening here? Last night, he was awkward and silent, and today, he was acting like a zombie Christian Grey. There was even a color to his skin that hadn’t been there when I’d checked on him in the bed.

  His red eyes glimmered with amusement. “Morata.”

  “I told you not to call me that,” I snapped.

  In the blink of an eye, Valentine appeared at my back, and I bumped into his hard body and yelped. Valentine wrapped his arms around my waist and whispered in my ear, “There are consequences to disobeying the king.”

  I elbowed him in the gut but only managed to send a jolt of electricity up my funny bone. “I’m not a vampire, remember? Therefore, I’m not one of your subjects.”

  “But you’re my queen.” His deep voice resonated through my bones, making my heart melt.

  Turning around to meet his soft smile, I whispered, “What did you say?”

  Valentine didn’t give me a chance to answer because no sooner had I completed the sentence than he whizzed me over to the sofa and bent me over his knee. A jolt of excitement raced up my spine.

  “What are you doing?” I yelled.

  “Teaching you what happens to naughty queens,” he replied.

  “But this isn’t like you…” My voice faltered.

  Valentine’s laugh sent a thrill of terror down my spine, which settled between my legs and nestled in my core. I bucked and thrashed on his lap, trying to roll off and escape. He couldn’t call me a queen in one sentence and pull me over his knee in another. His large palm landed on my ass, holding me in place. Unlike yesterday, he wasn’t radiating cold but was at body temperature.

  I bit down hard on my lip, wondering if death had scrambled Valentine’s brain. Even though he hadn’t been like this while we were courting, the vampire had centuries of experience with women. What if he’d spanked a few in his
time and was getting me confused with the girls who enjoyed that sort of thing?

  “Stop this, right now.” I slapped his leg.

  Valentine gave me a light swat over my jeans.

  Every muscle in my body stiffened, and I sucked in a breath through my teeth. This had never happened to me before—not even when I was young and growing up with Aunt Arianna. Her punishments centered around taking away toys, withholding treats, and confining me to my room if I was ever bad. This was just… humiliating.

  “Are you going to take your punishment like a good queen?” he rumbled.

  “As far as I know, queens don’t get treated like naughty toddlers,” I snapped.

  “They do when they disobey orders from their king,” he whispered into my ear.

  “Bugger off.”

  The air around me shifted, and in the quickest of movements, Valentine had my jeans around my knees and ran his fingers over the lace of my panties.

  My breath quickened. He had never undressed me without my permission. Surely he wasn’t serious about this spanking?

  Valentine made a rumble of satisfaction that reminded me of the purring of an oversized cat.

  I turned my gaze to the feline sitting sphinx-like on the coffee table. “Macavity,” I hissed. “Valentine’s gone mad. Turn into a leopard and save me.”

  The wretched cat jumped down from the low table and trotted away with his tail in the air. As he disappeared around the back of the sofa, a whimper reverberated in the back of my throat. Was this his way of saying I deserved the impending punishment?

  I wriggled from side to side, trying to create some leverage to slither off his lap, but the hand holding my ass wouldn’t budge, and he rubbed the pad of his thumb over my sensitive flesh. Tendrils of pleasant sensation slid downward, settling in the most unlikely place.

  “If you’re going to spank me like a savage, then get it over with.” I gritted my teeth, waiting for the first blow.

  Valentine continued caressing my ass, running those large, thick fingers over the edges of the lace, from the top of my hip, over the curve of my ass and down to where my thighs met. As he stroked and teased but never ventured any further than this single line of flesh, warmth gathered between my legs. I squeezed my thighs together, trying to stem the arousal building in my core. What on earth was he doing to me?

  I tried wriggling off his lap, and he dealt another swat. This time, the sting spread across my ass cheek and settled between my slickening folds. A gasp caught in the back of my throat.

  “What is this?” I hissed.

  “Your punishment,” he replied, sounding like he’d already explained the concept to me twice already and he wouldn’t tell me a third time.

  “I thought spanking was supposed to hurt.”

  “Is that what you want, my Inamorata?”

  “No,” I squeaked. “But that’s two spanks. Let’s make it three and say I’ve learned my lesson.”

  His cruel laughter rang in my ears, and I squeezed my thighs even tighter, squirming with a mix of heat and humiliation. Why had I just tried to negotiate with an undead tyrant?

  “When I give you an order, I expect you to obey it,” he said in a voice as dark as smoke. “You will not venture out of the safe house without my express permission and you will not share our location with others.”

  “You can’t just make up the rules!” Without meaning to, my traitorous hips rose off his lap. Perhaps my body was just eager to complete the ordeal, so I could take my spanking and go to the corner and sulk.

  His fingers closed around the curve of my ass and squeezed. I bit down hard on my lip, trying not to make a sound.

  Valentine’s satisfied purr reverberated along my right side. “Your body is even more luscious than I remember. I will enjoy reddening those cheeks.”

  Heat rose to the cheeks on my face, and I squeezed my eyes shut. This was not happening.

  He delivered another slap, this one harder than the other two, sending a sharp sting across my flesh. I jerked with the shock of the pain, but Valentine’s fingers delved between my legs and skimmed my sensitive bundle of nerves. Pleasure rippled up my core, and I swallowed back a squeak.

  “What kind of spanking is this?” I whispered.

  “The kind fit for a queen.” His fingers withdrew from between my legs, skimming the lace of my panties.

  This time, I didn’t argue back. My throat was too dry, and conflicting sensations coursed through my body. The sting of the slap now felt… pleasant, as though such a painful and humiliating thing could be possible. I had read Fifty Shades only because Beatrice wouldn’t stop talking about the book, but I had never believed the main character could enjoy pain, even if dished out by a devastatingly handsome billionaire.

  Valentine had this way with his hands, his voice, and his magic that confused a girl’s senses. I shook myself back to reality. This was probably a side effect of being so close to preternatural magic. Undead vampires needed to eat, too. They probably made everything exquisitely pleasant for their victims—addled their senses, turned pain into pleasure. That was why my body was reacting like this was the most erotic experience of its life.

  Every nerve ending sang for more, but I told my confused senses to go back to sleep and help me endure this bizarre punishment. Valentine’s large palm rubbed gentle circles over my ass, and a force beyond my control parted my thighs to give him better access for soothing me after the next slap.

  I held still, letting rapid breaths puff in and out of my lips. Even my nipples tightened with anticipation of what he would do next.

  Valentine delivered another slap that made me suck in a deep breath through my teeth. Bloody vampire—didn’t he realize Neutral bodies were fragile? Before I could cry out, those thick fingers delved between my thighs and caressed me over the silk of my panties.

  Pleasure swirled around my clit, sending a surge of slickness to my folds. I clenched the muscles of my core and curled my toes. This was maddening. Sweat beaded across my brow, and I suddenly felt overdressed. The hoodie was too thick, too warm, too cumbersome, as were the silk panties. I thought spankings were supposed to be delivered on bare behinds. I didn’t say this, of course. There was absolutely no way I would give Valentine the satisfaction of knowing the effect he had on my body.

  “I am not to be taken lightly.” His deep voice penetrated the pulse thudding between my ears. “You are mine, Inamorata.”

  A curl of magic accompanied those words. On someone not sensitive to power, it might have seeped through my awareness and implanted in my brain. I clamped my lips shut and shook my head from side to side, resisting the urge to tell him anything he wanted to hear… as long as he would continue this infernal spanking.

  Valentine’s next blow sent an explosion of pain that made my back arch and tore a cry from my lips. This time, his fingers circled my clit with a precision that made my core muscles spasm and clench for more. My entire body shuddered with the onslaught of sensations. Pleasure. Pain. Panic. It no longer mattered. He had scrambled everything to the point that everything I experienced was exquisite. Round and round that thick finger went, sliding over my aching, pulsing nub.

  A moan slipped from my lips, and I parted my thighs further, bucked my hips to increase the friction. When would he deliver the next spank? When would he slip that finger beneath the silk and touch me where I needed him most?

  My head spun, and I lay still across his lap, waiting—aching for him to take things further. The pleasure built and built and I felt myself reaching the point of bursting. One more spank. One more spank, and this would be the most explosive orgasm of my life.

  Valentine withdrew his fingers from my slit and placed his large hand on my ass. “Well done.” With his other hand, he lifted me by the shoulder and gave me a gentle push off his lap. “You took your punishment like a queen.”

  Straightening, I pulled up my jeans and took a few steps back, cringing at the slickness between my folds. Why did he stop? Or was the stopping
the actual punishment? “Four?” I said without thinking. “That’s all I get for trying to escape?”

  Valentine sat back on the sofa, curving his full lips into a smirk, and his red eyes twinkled with mirth. Right now, he didn’t look as dead as he had before. “You enjoyed your punishment so much, you want more?”

  “No.” I shook my head for emphasis. “I just wanted to make sure you don’t change the rules on me—not that I accept your self-proclaimed authority.”

  His face broke out into a grin of dazzling white fangs that made my stomach flip. Valentine sauntered across the room with the grace of a panther. “Do not lie to me. I can smell your need and I have you on your knees, begging for me to finish what we started.”

  Chapter Eight

  Backing away, I licked my dry lips, trying to make sense of what this vampire was trying to do. There were two things I was coming to understand about this heartless version of Valentine. One, he had lost all gentlemanly traits the moment they had cut out his heart, and two, he wasn’t prepared to put up with any bullshit.

  The old Valentine would have acted like he hadn’t scented my arousal and at least put up a pretense that he believed I didn’t want an extra spanking. Hell, he wouldn’t have spanked me at all. But this Valentine? He took what he bloody well wanted, and right now, he wanted to teach me a lesson I would probably enjoy.

  Well, I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. Regardless of what he said and how he would stimulate my body to yearn for his touch, I wasn’t his property. Nor was I some kind of vassal that had to obey his commands. I needed to nip this dominant trait in the bud before he turned into my personal undead sex tyrant.

  “Stay back.” I pointed a glowing finger at him, probably looking like a more human version of ET.

  His grin widened. “Why don’t you admit what you want?”

  “What happened to you?” I snapped. “Even your body temperature has risen.”

  “Don’t change the subject,” he said, still advancing on me like a panther.