by J. A. Saare
A Kiss Before Dying
Copyright © September 2009, J. A. Saare
Cover art by J. A. Saare © September 2009
Amira Press
Baltimore, MD 21216
www.amirapress.com
ISBN: 978-1-935348-63-4
No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and e-mail, without prior written permission from Amira Press.
Dedication
You were right, sweets. What was I waiting for?
Tonight, I will have him, my Master and vampire Lord. And tonight, I will die.
As a blood slave, I have never known passion or pleasure. We are never to know what it means to be taken into bed. Our virginal blood is our worth, given in exchange to the lords that offer the most lucrative bargain for ten years of servitude. When the time is served, our minds are cleansed of the past, and we are allowed to return to the dregs of a society that know nothing of them.
Most blood slaves are born of the human families that, for generations, have served the lords and ladies of the keep, in a place hidden within the mortal realm. These most cherished servants are treated with the utmost respect, for their bloodlines nourish and provide for their keepers and ensure survival.
Then, there are those like me. Mortal females snagged from a life of poverty, desolation, and misery. There is no choice for us. Once we’ve been marked, all that is required is an unexpected happenstance with The Collector to seal our fate. The vampire slave hunter is known for his exceptional eye for beauty and grace, and his ability to see the aura of purity as it radiates from the source.
Although I resisted my entrapment initially, spewing every vile word in my vocabulary and demanding to be released, it wasn’t long before I met my Shellar—the stunning male that paid the price for my companionship, and thereby held all rights where I was concerned.
Lord Sebastian Arsov.
It seemed destined from the first moment I saw him that I would descend from salvation and cease to fight that which would be regardless. With thick white-blond hair, vivid and impossibly bright mushroom blue eyes, a face beautiful enough to grace heaven, and a chiseled body that moved with such intent and precision he actually appeared to ripple, Sebastian was unlike anyone or anything I’d ever seen.
Yet, it was his tenderness in that first, tentative contact between us that proved to be my undoing, enrapturing me wholly. Until I knew I had to be with him completely.
No longer am I content with his fangs at my throat, followed by the most heartbreakingly tender pulls as he feeds at my veins. I need more than the hours spent conversing privately about his past and my future while wrapped in sheets that know nothing more than the most innocent of touches as we sleep side by side.
The dichotomy has changed. I have changed. The seventeen-year-old girl taken from a harsh life on the streets has gone, replaced by a woman full grown.
I want his kiss of sexual longing at my neck while his large hands explore my breasts. I want to feel the fullness of his cock buried deeply inside my untried body as his moans of pleasure echo inside my ears when he finds release.
Months of preparation have brought me to this place, sitting in this tapestry chair to appear before him when he enters, having committed a betrayal of sorts. For the time with my Lord is nearing an end, and the thought of never remembering Sebastian is more than I can bear, something I am not willing to allow.
Although it will mean my death, I am content in knowing our last moments will be shared together, in the most intimate and beautiful of ways.
And my beloved Shellar will be none the wiser until the deed is done and the piper is paid his due.
It is vampire law. You must not bed those you drink from, as you can never fully wipe their memories clean. Blood drinkers continued to survive by one rule and one rule above all.
No one must know they exist.
It was amazing, when I thought of it, that no mortals recognize the supernatural creatures around them. They are as beautiful as the stories depict, lovely in their absolute grace and sensuality. But they are often isolated as a whole, separate from all those around them, which makes the vampire race lonely creatures.
Often, Sebastian longed for nothing more than our shared talks as we sat before the roaring fire. It was how we spent a majority of our time, in the most innocent and endearing throes of friendship . . .
The large oak door opened with a protest of squeaking hinges, interrupting my thoughts and memories, and Sebastian entered the bedchamber. His massive frame took up a large portion of the bedroom, as did his tremendous presence. He pulled the door closed behind him, walked to the center of the room, and stood before me.
I knew what to expect. I had seen him come to those fortunate enough to grace his bed in those early days of my tenure, exiting just before the females doomed to die glorified in the last dizzying moments of pure bliss. For though they partook in the pleasures of his body, it was I who shared a portion of his mind, and the only reprieve I was allotted from his chamber was when he entertained.
As required, I donned a black mask embossed with blood red jewels that revealed only my cherry-stained lips and darkly kohled chocolate brown eyes, which worked in my favor to keep my identity hidden. Many of the lords preferred to think of their bed partners as little more than disposable pleasures. None of them enjoyed killing, even when it was necessary. The mask also held an enchantment, obscuring my unique scent. Otherwise, Sebastian would easily recognize the aroma of my blood and, by association, my identity.
To continue with the illusion, I chose a long, pale blonde wig to disguise the brunette waves collected underneath. Sebastian loved my hair. He claimed it was a prize of its own. Masking those heavy strands was as important as obscuring my face.
He continued standing there, observing me with a trained and critical eye. He was covered by only the most expensive materials, each piece custom fit to conform to his frame perfectly. The black jacket molded to his wide shoulders was left open along the center to reveal the crisp white shirt beneath with pearly white buttons opened at the collar.
“Rise,” he murmured in his thick, rich voice, slightly accented and entirely erotic.
The mere word caused my thin panties to become drenched with hot liquid arousal. I began to shiver, goose bumps gathering along the surface of my skin. Wantonly, I envisioned the lips that uttered the word against my breasts, sucking and nipping playfully. My nipples, aching and sensitive, hardened at the prospect, and I shifted uncomfortably in the chair.
Scenting my desire, Sebastian chuckled at my reaction. “Rise, little beauty, and come to me.”
This time, I did.
My four-inch heels were uncomfortable and odd to walk in, but they were necessary to add to the illusion and to alter his perception. My hips rotated with each step that brought me closer, and I had to force myself not to peer into the magnificent face of the man I had decided to give myself over to. The man I was willing to die to be possessed completely by.
“You are exceptional,” he breathed, reaching out with his hand and pushing aside the thick red velvet cape to reveal the—as until now unseen—treasures hidden beneath.
The heavy material clung to my shoulders and allowed him uninhibited access to my body. He started at the base of my throat, fingers skimming across the surface of my chest. One large hand cupped my right breast and massaged the mound through the thin corset as his thumb caressed the hard bud beneath. Knowing he enjoyed hearing the sounds of the pleasure he wrought, I didn’t mute my soft moan.
“Tonight, I want to hear my name on the tip of your tongue each time you come.”
It wasn’t difficult to make my voice hu
sky and unrecognizable. “Tell me your name, sire.”
“Sebastian.”
Although there was no need to test it, I repeated the word in a heady tenor. “Sebastian.”
As his face descended, I stood captivated. How many years had I longed for those plush lips against my own? To know exactly how he tasted and smelled? His blood was thick, spicy, and masculine. Would the rest of him be as well?
Just before his lips made contact, he whispered, “Tell me your name, sweet.”
Panic almost ruined everything, but I managed to recover, to remember the ruse and my plan. “Arianna,” I expelled in a rush, using the middle name I had never revealed.
“Arianna.” He sampled the name with his tongue. “A beautiful name to match a sensual vixen, I approve.”
His lips covered mine, his markedly cooler tongue darting out to sample me. Desperate to experience his flavor for the first time, I parted my mouth eagerly, wanting to take him into my body.
As expected, his taste was intoxicating. The headiness of his nearness heated my entire body. The laps of his tongue were tender, brushing against mine as he coaxed a response. Unwilling to disappoint, I mirrored his actions, thrusting my tongue into his mouth and reveling in his throaty groan of approval.
His hands trailed down to my waist and cupped my ass. Each squeeze grew harsher, nearly bruising, but it was the most delicious kind of agony. Years of longing were finally being satisfied, and I wanted to experience it all—both pleasure and pain. The liquid heat between my legs became a raging fire, and I moaned at the empty ache.
“Christ, your scent,” he growled thickly, lifting me into the air and forcing me to wrap my legs around his lean waist as he strode purposely for the bed.
The massive four-post structure was situated against the far wall, next to the old stone fireplace. I knew Sebastian kept it there for the sake of his bedmates, to keep them warm. His body temperature fluctuated depending on the stretch of time since his last feeding. As I was his provider, I knew it had been several days.
It was to be expected that he went to his lover thirsty. Bedmates were loved well before they were drained completely. Afterward, their bodies were taken to the basement and turned into ash inside the incinerator.
Those thoughts were cast aside when Sebastian released my bottom and brought my heeled feet to dark wood floor. He unlatched the toggle of the cloak at my throat, and the red velvet pooled at my feet in a cascade of crushed crimson.
The outfit beneath the cape matched the material. The red and black lace, combined with patches of matching velvet, seamlessly molded to my curves. The bone corset was acceptably tight, accentuating my waist and enhancing the rounded swell of creamy white at my breasts.
I had chosen the colors thinking of him specifically, inspired by the blood red satin sheets casing his bed. They were changed daily, but one thing remained consistent—the shade.
“Exquisite.” He exhaled the word, bringing his hands to my mask. “I would see all of you.”
“Please, do not,” I cried out in alarm, capturing his much larger hand in mine. My voice trembled when I explained quickly, “My face is marred, sire.”
For a moment, he hesitated, and I worried the ruse had failed. Vampires were exceptional at filtering and sensing lies. But after a moment, he smiled, returning his focus to my body instead of my face.
His touch was feather light, fingers barely skimming over the skin of my breasts. Somehow, the most teasing of caresses were more erotic, each brush leaving me yearning for more.
“Your skin is as warm and soft as silk left to bask in the sun. I cannot wait to taste you against my lips and tongue.”
Unable to resist, I arched into his experienced hands and pressed against him. My breasts went flush against his crisp white dress shirt, the mildly starched cotton painful against my sensitized flesh. The skin beneath his clothing would be much better to touch—cool, pale, and smooth.
Completely brazen, I purred, “Allow me to undress you, sire.”
His hands drifted to his sides, and his lips curved into a sinfully delicious smile. “As you wish.”
He removed his coat, and I started at the buttons near his throat, unhindered by my trembling fingers, and revealed his smooth alabaster skin bit by bit. When each button was undone, I slid the material from his shoulders, dropping the shirt to the floor and baring his torso. The muscles along his chest and stomach were cut and defined, each curve and crevice solid and smooth. Although fair, the skin seemed to illuminate from within, porcelain in its vivacity.
“May I?” I asked softly and licked my lips.
He notched his head and answered, “You may.”
Starting at his chest, I began pressing the lightest of kisses to his flawless skin. The flesh was cool and firm, the surface impossibly smooth. Going lower, I followed the ripples of his abdomen and, darting my tongue out to taste the skin, focused for a moment on his belly button.
Sebastian’s breathing became ragged, thickening into a moan when I lapped at him with my tongue. Suddenly, his hands came onto my shoulders and applied subtle pressure, urging me to my knees.
“Finish undressing me, sweet.”
The button on his slacks gave me trouble, but he quickly remedied that by reaching down with one hand and undoing it himself. With my heart pounding and hands beginning to shake, I slowly pulled the zipper down. I’d never seen Sebastian naked, nor had I seen a naked man. And though I had pored over the books in his collection for guidance—including the ever-valuable sex manual, the Ananga Ranga—I was as excited as I was nervous.
When I pushed his slacks down his thighs, his cock sprang forth—solid, long, thick, and hard. The pink flesh was engorged, blue hued veins prominent beneath the surface of the slicked skin.
Carefully, I brought my hands around that impressive part of him, caressing him in the manner that the books described as pleasurable. The rounded, plum like head was swollen and large, much broader than the root.
As I worked his length, a bead appeared at the tip, like a crystalline diamond at the thin slit. I stared at the shimmering drop, mesmerized, longing to taste him.
“You may,” he groaned before I asked and shifted his hips forward and fisting the base of his shaft along with the heavy sac beneath.
I took the cool bead from the bulbous head with the tip of my tongue, bringing it into my mouth to savor. It was a slightly salty taste, bitter, but not entirely unpleasant.
Intrigued, wanting to explore him with my tongue, I moved in for a second lick. Every part of Sebastian was magnificent. This was certainly no different.
Sebastian’s hand went from his shaft to my hair. His fingers twined tightly into the fake strands and tugged. “No more teasing. Adore my cock as you should. Show me how much you want me.”
Widening my mouth and parting my lips, I brought my tongue out to cradle his length. The rounded tip held my attention first, and I made sure to suck firmly and work my hands in harmony with the movements of my lips. Within seconds, I tasted more of his saltiness on my tongue, his arousal spilling into my mouth.
“More,” he demanded, fisting my hair and thrusting gently. “I don’t like to be teased.”
It was difficult taking his length, and I discovered that as much as I longed to, he was simply too long to sheath completely. I sucked greedily to compensate, brushing my tongue against the underside of his shaft.
“That’s it,” he groaned in approval, rocking his hips and going deeper into my throat. “Just like that. Worship my cock with those glorious lips and that wicked little tongue.”
Relaxing my jaw, I bathed him with my tongue, lips, and mouth, and moaned as I became excited by the act of adoring his body just as he asked.
His ragged panting and heavy breathing told me he was enjoying my attention. His thrusts became forceful, a glorious rocking that I couldn’t wait for him to perform on me. He was strong but gentle, insistent but patient.
“I’m going to come, Arianna.” His
voice was throaty, and he sounded precariously close to losing control. “Your mouth feels so good, so hot and wet.”
Unable to speak, I moaned around him, vocal cords sending vibrations up my throat and into the mouth around his cock. He groaned loudly, thrusting sharper, bringing my head forward as his hips surged. As his movements became frenzied, I sucked harder, wanting to taste him, to know what it meant to belong to him entirely.
“Christ,” he cried out and went tight, his muscles flexing.
I wasn’t fully prepared for his climax and nearly choked on the magnitude of his thick, salty seed pouring into my mouth. Quickly, I opened my throat and swallowed spastically while drinking all of him down. I continued even when he stopped shuddering and sucked gently until the fingers in my hair yanked my head back.
“Enough.” He spoke raggedly, moving away.
