All Souls’ Night: A Midnight Doms Boxset

by Renee Rose

  As I enter the lobby, I make sure not to make eye contact with anyone. Instead, I loudly mutter nonsense about her not holding her alcohol. Hopefully that will keep the suspicion down. I don’t have too far to walk. Definitely a bonus with this hotel. Within moments, I get to the elevator doors and hold my special key against the panel. I don’t even have to press any buttons. It takes me exactly where I need to go.

  The doors open into my foyer and I take my precious cargo over to the nearby sofa. Better she wakes up here instead of a bed. There’s no way I can think of to convince her I didn’t take advantage of her.

  Easing her down, I take a moment to gaze at her face. A light smattering of freckles sweeps across her cheeks and over her nose. They’re simply adorable. Using the pad of my thumb, I brush over them and trail down towards her lips. Such lovely, luscious lips. Too bad she uses them to say all the wrong things.

  I chuckle as I slide my thumb across before dipping it inside her mouth. Groaning, I inch my digit in and out several more times before pulling out completely. What was this about me not taking advantage? I’ve got to get my head back into the game. Leaving her face, I skim my palms down her arms before raising them above her head. A dark, red stain mars her side, and my heart rises in my throat. How did I not know she was injured?

  Leaning close, I examine the wound, relief flooding through me as the scent of wine fills my nose. Not injured, then. Keeping her hands above her head, I continue my exploration, trying to be as clinical as possible. However, my cock has other plans. With each touch of skin, scrape of fabric, I’m getting more and more aroused. What does that say about me? She’s basically unconscious, and I’m getting a hard on.

  I continue my trek down her body, my fingers touching, kneading, moving across her hips and thighs until I get to her ankles. Such small, delicate ankles. Lifting her feet, I remove one shoe, then the other. The soles are worn, almost all the way through. Frowning, I drop them down onto the carpet and really look at what she’s wearing. Everything is clean, except for the stain on the shirt, but still pretty threadbare. The only thing that looks even remotely new is the corset cinching her waist tight.

  Frowning, I ease her over, prepared to remove it. There’s no way it could feel comfortable on her right now. As I reach into the laces, a tag slips out, still attached. Usually people only keep the tags on things they plan on returning. I ease the laces out, taking care to not mar the outfit. It takes a few minutes, but the laces are loose enough for me to slide the corset down and over her hips. The moment the corset loosens off of her, Dahlia takes a huge breath. Just as I thought. As I pass her feet, I ease them through the garment and place them back on the couch. The corset goes to the top of the couch, and I go back to my examination of her.

  Beginning where I left off, I trail my fingers back across her hips, frowning every time my fingers come across a tiny hole or worn area. A woman this beautiful should be clothed in silks, not clothes that are a few months away from being unusable. Shaking my head, I smooth my fingers down her legs, allowing myself a small bit of indulgence as I glide my fingers over her feet. Watching her face, I dig my thumb into her left arch, elated when she lets out a small groan.

  A large smile splits my face as I continue to work her feet, her squirms and moans spurring me on. Glancing back up, I notice a bit of fang peeking out through her open lips. Reality slams back into me. I know nothing about this woman, and yet I’m taking liberties with her.

  I drop her feet and head back up to her mouth. Pretty soon, she’ll be waking back up, and it won’t help my cause if I’ve got my hands all over her. With two fingers, I gently pry open her mouth to explore her fangs. They are almost seamless against her gums, however, closer inspection shows just a hint of acrylic at the gum line. Chuckling to myself, I slide a finger down the fang and test the tip for sharpness. It looks like it could pierce, however, it’s too dull to do anything. Fake fangs, and being in a cemetery close to Halloween. Interesting.

  Pulling back, I sit on the very edge of the couch, counting down the minutes until she’ll be awake. Sure, I could compel her to wake up earlier, but then that would be less time for me to collect my thoughts and re-erect the barriers that she unknowingly tore down. All with those eyes of hers. Alessandra’s eyes.

  A soft moan pulls me away from my musing. She’s awake now. No turning back.

  Chapter 3

  Bright lights pierce my skull, but where did they come from? All my friends like the dark, and they know me well enough to keep the room as dark as possible until I’ve had my first cup of coffee. Groaning, I throw my arm over my eyes, trying to block out the infernal light enough to think. Which couch am I on today? What happened last night? I can definitely party, but I don’t usually black out. That’s Jesse’s job.

  “Good evening.”

  That voice! In a flash, the memories come back, and I bolt up with a start. There he is, sitting calmly as you please, like he didn’t just take me from the cemetery without my permission. Wait! The cemetery! John’s face swims into view, sending nausea roiling through me. The world spins for just a moment and I lie back down to stop it. The lights are no longer specks of brightness, instead, they’re prisms from a chandelier way above me. Turning my neck slowly, I take in the rest of my surroundings. The burgundy couch I’m on feels like soft velvet under my fingertips. Thick, plush carpet, the color of champagne, stretches out as far as I can see. It’s broken up here and there with glass tables and chairs and such. Way fancier than anywhere I’ve even contemplated staying.

  Am I even still in Arizona? My vision is suddenly blocked by a large shadow. My kidnapper. Looking up, I really take a moment to drink him in. He’s not typically the type of guy I go for. I usually go for skinnier, leaner men, but honestly, the way his biceps bulge against his sweater makes my stomach flip. There’s a part of me that so desperately wants to reach out and see if his shirt is as soft as it looks. Is it cashmere? Not that it matters. I’m pinned here by his stare, unable to move.

  “Thank you for rescuing me.”

  My voice sounds soft and thick to my ears. Pathetic. Guy’s a hottie, and I’m already going gaga? Snap out of it, Dee. There’s no way this million dollar snack is ever going to give you the time of day. With slow movements, I ease myself up, trying to make as little contact with McHotterson as possible.

  “So, now you’re thanking me? What happened to me kidnapping you?”

  He eases backwards, and I find that I can breathe a lot easier now. Bringing my knees up to my chest, I shrug and look around the room.

  “Why would someone rich like you kidnap someone like me? There’s no way I’m worth a ransom enough to be worth it to you.”

  He throws his head back and laughs and, the deep rumbles barrel into me, sending sparks and tingles to an area I really don’t need to be thinking about.

  “I guess I can’t really fault your logic with that one. Though trust me,” his eyes turn smoldering, “you are definitely worth being kidnapped.”

  My heart flutters in my chest. Is that a compliment? It’s a weird one, but the way he’s looking at me leaves little doubt that he means his words. He clears his throat, and I realize that I’m staring at him. My eyes skirt away from his lest I’m drawn back into them.

  “So, is someone waiting for you? Anyone who’d be missing you?”

  A bitter, sour taste fills my mouth. I’m pretty sure Jessica said I could crash on her couch tonight. But she’s also been known to flake on me. “Let me just make sure someone’s up.” Patting my chest, I feel around for where I normally keep my phone. I panic for a moment, realizing it’s not there. That’s when memories flood back to me. Closing my eyes, I drop my hands to my sides. “I can’t call anyone. I don’t have my phone.”

  His lips thin as he purses them together. Maybe he is remembering too? Silently, he hands his phone over to me and steps back a little to give me privacy. The phone rings several times before going to voicemail. Well, Jessica is a bust. She must be get
ting laid tonight. That’s usually the only reason she doesn’t answer her phone. And if that’s the case, her couch is definitely out. I run through the list of names in my head. Most of my friends are either out of town, or celebrating with family. Great. That means either the streets or the shelter tonight. Knowing my luck, though, the shelter is probably full already.

  He watches me, a knowing look in his eyes. He doesn’t actually know, right? What should I say to him? I hand him back his phone and drop my hands into my lap. I’m trying to figure out how to tell him the truth when I realize my corset is no longer on me. Panic zips through me. That was almost an entire paycheck. What could have happened to it? I quickly scan the room before noticing it lying neatly on top of the sofa I’m sitting on. I breathe a quick sigh of relief, then notice my shoes are also off.

  Narrowing my eyes, I pin this sexy man with my most deadly glare. He has the audacity to merely raise an eyebrow. Is he just that unaffected?

  “Did you take off my corset and shoes?”

  “Of course I did. It’s not like I’ve got servants lurking around the corner just out of sight.”

  “Why?” I cross my arms over my chest, before rubbing my hands up and down. Closing my eyes, I try to take stock of my body. Everything else seems to be in place, so I don’t think he did anything pervy while I was sleeping.

  His soft breath crosses my cheek, startling me for a brief moment. How did he move that silently? It must be the carpet. As I look up, a surge of longing fills me, arresting my breath. That longing is quickly swallowed up by regret and inadequacy as I look past him to his bright, gleaming walls. I’m not Cinderella, and he is not my Prince Charming.

  “Whatever has your mind turning so fast, it’s not true. I wanted to make you as comfortable as possible. So, I took off your shoes. You started breathing kinda weirdly, and I was worried the corset would suffocate you somehow.” He nods in the direction of the offending garment. “I took great care with it. Even the tags are still on.”

  His eyebrow rises again, and shame floods my body. Frustrated, I run a hand through my hair, pointedly ignoring his questioning look. After long moments of silence, I can’t stand it anymore. Leaping up from the couch, I start pacing, ignoring his look of surprise.

  “We can’t all be rich like you, okay? We can’t all have silver spoons and marble ceilings.”

  He looks up and frowns, before curling his lips up into a slight smile.

  “I should hope it’s not marble. That would be incredibly impractical.”

  Sighing, I look up as well. “I was trying to make a point. I don’t know what the hell that thing is made of. My point is, many people have to do what they can to survive. Not that you would know anything about that.”

  His expression turns dark and unreadable. “Are you so sure of that, belissima?” He stalks towards me, every line of his body hard and implacable. “You’re so convinced you know me, know what makes me tick? I’ve had to work hard to get where I am. No one handed me anything.” His long fingers run through his hair again, tousling it in that oh so sexy way. “I started off with nothing. I left home and scraped by. Yes, I’m successful now, but let me tell you, cara, I had no problem starting at the very bottom. It took a long time, but trust me, I worked hard to make it from the man who shoveled pig shit to the one serving ham at my restaurant for way more than it is normally worth. Maybe if you asked questions and stopped jumping to conclusions, you’d know a little something about me.”

  My heart thumps hard behind my ribcage. It’s a wonder it hasn’t beaten out of my chest yet. Reaching forward, I slide my palm up against his chest. His soft sweater feels like a cloud over hard steel. An ache builds up in me, starting at my heart but moving down much lower. There’s such a raw, primal tone in his voice. One that makes me want to cower beneath him, and curl up into his indomitable strength at the same time.

  “Look, let’s start over. Hi, I’m Dahlia.”

  His lips twitch just a fraction, and the dark intensity starts to leach from his eyes.

  “I’m Damiano,” he murmurs, pulling my hand up to his lips.

  My breath catches in my throat. Is he seriously going to kiss my hand? What is this, the age of chivalry? His fingers are cool to the touch. How is he so cold when I’m burning up from the inside out? Instead of kissing my knuckles, he turns my palm over and brushes his lips against my wrist. Just a fleeting feeling. If I hadn’t been watching him do it, I might have believed his lips never touched me at all.

  Moisture pools low within me and dampens my underwear. Fuck me, and just from a half-kiss. His eyes meet mine and lock on. Slowly, his pupils eat up his irises. Holy cow, he’s getting as turned on as I am. Jerking my hand from him, I step back, just enough so I can think.

  His small frown of disappointment spears me, but I can’t be falling for some stranger. That’s how I got into trouble with John. John! My eyes widen as I remember the events that led me here.

  “Oh my god! We have to call the police!” I say.

  I’ve turned to race towards the door when Damiano’s strong arm wraps about my waist and pulls me flush against him. The fire that started dying immediately flares back to life. I want to melt into that embrace, let him take away my worry and stress. However, the practical part, the loud part, demands that I keep my wits about me.

  “The matter has been taken care of, but we do need to talk about what happened.”

  “Taken care of? What the hell is that supposed to mean? Taken care of like mob taken care of?”

  Damiano’s chuckles vibrate through my back and down to my core. Groaning, I squeeze my legs together in an attempt to alleviate the discomfort. Big mistake. All it does is create an unbearable friction.

  “I guess you can say it’s like the mob. But seriously,” he turns me around and leads me back to the couch, “who was he, and how do you know him?”

  “He’s some guy I met at The Inner Light. It’s some hippy, witchy store that teaches you magic. He and I were going to do a love spell tonight.”

  Damiano arches a brow but remains silent.

  “Look, I don’t know if I believe in that stuff, but it’s super fascinating, and he was hot. I figured, why not?”

  “Do you make a habit of running off with strangers?”

  “Do you make a habit of kidnapping women you don’t know?”

  He smirks. “Touché.” However, his eyes quickly turn serious. “But what do you actually know about him? Did anything seem odd?”

  “You mean, besides the fact that he tried to rape me? No, that seemed perfectly normal.” Irritation builds up under my skin. I want to scratch it out, but there’s no release. Not when Damiano keeps looking at me with that expression that’s half pity and half lust. My mind starts playing back the events of the night. There were odd things, to be sure, but nothing that I can make sense of as a whole.

  Like a stuck record, my brain keeps going back to his fangs. There’s no way they could have got bigger. That had to have been the shadows. It’s the only thing that seems out of place. Like a sore spot in your mouth that your tongue just won’t leave alone, my brain keeps probing at his fangs, trying to make sense of that in light of everything else.

  “There is something, isn’t there?” he asks, and points towards my mouth, where my own tongue keeps going around the fangs while I am deep in thought. It isn’t even a conscious movement.

  “Look, I don’t know what you want me to tell you. Things were happening fast, and the light was making things weird.”

  “Try telling me what was weird. I promise not to laugh.”

  And I believe him, too. His look is deadly serious, not even a hint of humor lines his face.

  “Look, he and I both love vampires.” I point to my teeth for emphasis. “We both saved up the money and got some really good fangs. I’m not talking Hot Topic only-available-for-Halloween fangs, either. We splurged and bought the type they use in movies.” I pull up my lips to show him my gums. “They’re seamless. Basically th
e best thing other than dental implants. That’s my long term goal.”

  I look up at his face, trying to judge how my words are landing. If he is shocked, he doesn’t show it. His face is implacable. Why doesn’t he think I’m crazy? All my other friends do. In fact, John was the first one to not make fun of my obsession.

  “Go on,” Damiano urges, his voice soft and dark.

  “Anyway, we get down there, I start setting stuff up. John was supposed to bring the blood.” A shiver races down my spine and I pull my knees back up into my chest and wrap my arms around them. “I’m starting to realize that I was going to be the blood. He came at me, and I swear his fangs got bigger. But I don’t understand how. We got the same fangs. We ordered them together.”

  I pop one out and look it over. Turning it over in my hands, I look at every nook and cranny. I even press against various spots, trying to see if it will shift and grow larger. “They’re stage fangs, so maybe they just unlock?” Damiano sits there, not saying anything. Oh god. Does he just think I’m crazy? “Here, you try.” I hand him the fang, but he gently eases my hand back towards me.

  “How easily do you freak out?” he asks.

  I frown up at him. “It depends. Are we talking along the scale of arachnids to killer clowns from outer space, or Dahmer to Donner?”

  Smirking, he stands up and starts pacing. “Why vampires?”

  His question takes me aback. “Why not vampires? They’re sexy, hot, domineering.”

  His face zeros in on me. “Domineering?”

  I squirm a bit under his intense gaze. “I mean, it’s just fiction, right?”

  Damiano sits back down, his lips a breath away from mine. How easy would it be to just close the gap?

  “Does this look like fiction to you?” he says. He pulls back a bit and gives me a wide smile. Suddenly, his canines shift a bit before extending into fangs. My stomach flops about, twisting up my insides. What exactly am I seeing? My brain pushes me for the answer. Vampire. However, there’s no way in hell they’re real. If they were, I would have signed up years ago. Still, excitement wars with my apprehension. There’s no way this man is an actual vampire.