Somehow his Southern accent drew out the words. “Gossamer silk? Where do you come up with words like that?”
His full lips poked out in a mock pout. “I found it on a Word of the Day calendar.”
She laughed. “Oh, Raphael. You are my favorite. You never cease to amaze me in more ways than that big strong lance you have between your thighs.”
“I try, milady.” His long, dark hair swung around his lean brown body. Naked, his semi-aroused penis jutted out. In her day, he would have had to cover up such loveliness with layer upon layer of silks, wool, or lace. A crime to do so.
Most of Raphael’s language and courtesan skills came from reading old gothics and medieval romances, and he hadn’t studied the Victorian time frame. But she appreciated his efforts to bond with her.
A mumble sounded from the bed where Crimson still lay tied. She whimpered, breathing deep, her eyes closed. The prisoner slept.
Evangeline studied the girl. What made Bastian enamored of this one? He’d had beauties who’d graced his house for decades. No less beautiful than Crimson. But never had he felt anything serious for them, nor did he feel for this one. But he’d try to save her all the same.
Someone who didn’t love had taken her love. Now the time to pay had come.
“Are you dreaming?” She leaned close in to whisper, “What do you dream of, pet?”
Raph’s hand inched into her upper thigh. She leaned back and spread her legs, giving him easy access to her sex. He strummed her clit. She pressed harder into his palm.
“Do you dream of Bastian? Riding to the rescue like in the romance books? He will, you know. That’s his fatal flaw. He will come to me, even knowing I will kill him. All because of one simple human girl.”
Mary’s face flashed before her, eyes beseeching even as she’d gone to earth, looking to Evangeline to stop it. Only she hadn’t been able to. She put her hand up over her face, even as her lower body bucked, trying for a climax. “Stop!”
Raphael stilled the ministrations of his hand. She pushed it away. Leaped off the chair and grabbed a marble statuette from a black lacquer dresser. Tossed it across the room. “Nooo, Mary. Please, I tried to save you. Don’t look at me with those wanting eyes. Please.” She picked up a second statuette.
A hand on her shoulder gripped her shoulder. “Noo!” She turned, slinging the statue into Raph’s head. He slumped in a heap on the floor. Her hand covered her mouth. “Nooo.” Evangeline dropped the marble figure and fell to her knees.
She stroked Raph’s cheek even as his eyes rolled back in his head. Sometimes, she forgot how fragile mortals were. How easily broken. He’d been trying to comfort her.
Bastian’s fault. All Bastian’s fault. He’d killed the one person she’d ever loved. Made her crazy with grief. All his fault.
“Raphael’s blood is on your hands too, demon. I hope you’re happy. And I hope you rot deep down in Hades when I kill you.”
She ran her hands through her hair. Raph had been right. Gossamer. Like silk. She traced his throat, letting out a little laugh. How fragile he’d been. Yet another casualty to lay at her enemy’s feet.
A movement drew her attention from Raphael’s body to the bed. Crimson’s eyes stared wide into hers.
“Awake, my pet?” Evangeline stood, drawing herself up to her full height. “Did you have a peaceful slumber?”
The fear, the agitation rolled off the beauty’s body in waves like a troubled sea. “I slept well, Evangeline.” She struggled to keep her voice level, keep it calm.
Evangeline clapped her hands together. “Oh, how nice. You used my name without being prodded. You are learning, pet. Are you hungry? Need some water?”
Crimson’s legs quaked, shaking the bed slightly. “I would like some water. Thank you.”
“You’re in a much better mood today.” Evangeline picked up a pitcher and poured some water into a cup. “Much better language too.” She knelt down, looking at the girl’s side. “Healing nicely. Sorry if we hurt you when we fed. But you needed the healing properties of our mouths.” Crimson had passed out when they’d fed. “Here you go. Here’s the water, pet.”
She tossed the cup’s contents into Crimson’s face, who blanched and leaned back. Her tongue came out, trying to capture any droplets she could.
“Oh, pet. I can think of so many uses for that tongue. Slurping me. Licking me. Dueling with mine. They had duels back in my time. Did you know that? Silly little things.”
“Please, Evangeline. I don’t want to do this anymore. I ... thought I did. But now I want to go. You can still get Bastian without me.”
Evangeline sat down on the bed. “You are a silly thing, like those duels. I guess it’s time I told you. You will never have the gift of immortality. Yes, I lied. Shocking, isn’t it? The plan was always to lure Bastian out here when the moment was right. Kill you in front of him. And then kill him. He has to suffer. Suffer for his sins. He was once a Catholic, so he’ll know all about doing penance.” She clucked her tongue. “I hate to kill you. But you’re part of the penance.” She shrugged.
“No. Please. Fuck you. You evil bitch!” Crimson struggled against the bonds.
“Struggle all you want, pet. I know how to tie a good knot. I thought about using cuffs. But it seemed like overkill. And your language is back. Maybe later I will get Evan to deal with you.”
A knock sounded on the large doors.
“What? I asked not to be disturbed.”
Evan, looking all of the lawyer he was, strode through the door. His eyes flickered to Raphael’s body. He made no comment, but turned his vision to Evangeline. Evan, always so direct and worshipful.
“Get someone in here to deal with that. And find me a new favorite.”
“Yes, Mistress.” He dashed to the door, bellowed for others. Came back to stand in front of her, ducking his head down. “I have news.” Evangeline got up and his eyes bugged, his neck craned to the girl on the bed. “What’s wrong, Evan?”
“I ... I thought she’d escaped again.”
Evangeline turned, looking at Crimson, struggling against her bonds. “Now why would you think that?”
“She showed up for work today. I saw her, Mistress. With my own eyes.”
Two men scurried in to pick up Raph and dispose of him.
“That’s impossible. The girl is right here.” Evangeline gestured with her hands.
“I can’t explain it, Mistress.” He shook his head, ducking it down again in reverence.
“Pet. Have you been holding out on me?” She ran her hand up Crimson’s side, and then stroked a round breast in her ascent.
“I won’t tell you shit!”
Evangeline sighed. “Such a waste. I need the information right away. I don’t have time to play any more games with you. But your pleasure is in pain, so how to get it?” She tapped her chin.
“Fuck you.”
Evangeline darted out a finger. “Bingo. I think that’s the ticket to get the information I want. As my touch disturbs you so much. Thanks for the idea, pet.”
Her eyes turned to the men struggling with Raph. One of them, a lean muscular one, was still underage for drinking. His brown hair was cropped close on his neck. His muscles strained, but he didn’t struggle as much as the blond.
“You? What’s your name again?”
“Mike.” Evan pulled off some lint from his wool suit. “What are we going to do about this poser? If Bastian thinks the girl is back, he won’t come here to find her.”
“I didn’t ask you the name, Evan.” He swallowed, lowering his chin. “And I will find out everything I need to know from Crimson. Mike, let him get that. You come with me.” She laughed. “I made an interesting choice of words.” She leaned down and kissed Crimson’s nipple. Mike sauntered up to the bed. “You’ll tell me, won’t you pet? Everything I want to know and more.”
Crimson squirmed on the bed. “No. Leave me alone.”
“When you tell me what I want to know. If you don’t, I w
ill take you, Crimson. Do all those crude things to you that you hate. All you have to do to avoid my touch is tell me who the girl is. I’m guessing ... sister. Or cousin. But you will talk.” She went back to laving Crimson’s nipple. “Leave us, Evan. See if you can find out who the look-alike is. But I won’t have anything spoil my plans with Bastian.”
Evangeline sucked on Crimson’s breast and rubbed a lazy hand along her thigh. They heard the click of the door as Evan left, and Crimson screamed.
Chapter Five
Bastian ascended the tall staircase, his bare feet sinking into the plush red carpet. As flame-red as Copper’s hair. It would be so silky running over his fingers. Or wisping over his body as she went down on him. His hardness took his breath away. He’d never wanted a woman more than he did the one down the hall.
Looking for one woman while another pretended to be her. Damn, but he could get into a situation. There had been no sign of Crimson. He’d run out of leads, out of checks, out of time. If trouble had found her, he was probably too late to save her. Aren’t you always? To save the ones who matter.
He’d never give up. Not only because of Copper but for his own reasons. Copper would hate him if he didn’t save her sister. He had no idea how Crimson would react to his feelings for her sister. A messed up situation. Crimson didn’t love him, never had. But jealousy often reared its head where you least expected it. Damn, he needed to find the woman.
It was nerve-wracking and refreshing all at the same time not to know what Copper had in her mind.
Breathing heavily, desire humming through his veins, he skulked down the long corridor. Slipped open the door.
I’m nuts. He didn’t need these problems in his life. But here he went, into Crimson’s room where her sister lay sound asleep on the bed.
Tousled in the silken sheets. One pale leg wrapped around them. Bared. She wore a gray T-shirt. Nothing like what Crimson wore to bed. Leather or lace and seduction incarnate. And yet, the slender legs peeking out of the Cardinal’s T-shirt enticed him to look. To salivate. To imagine caresses of fingers, tongue and teeth up her muscular calf to the inside of one silken thigh, until he reached her center. He’d part her pubic hair, sure to match the hair on her head, and find that button of pleasure, strumming it until she screamed. Sink into her wetness, find nirvana between her legs. Bury so deep into her pussy, they’d be as one.
Her nipples puckered, elongating, visible through her shirt. He wanted to nip them with his teeth. Pierce them with his fangs. Take blood from that tender spot first. His hunger drew in and knotted his insides. Sexual. Blood. All ran together like paints on a canvas until there was only one writhing, burning want inside him.
She let out a throaty moan.
Dreaming. She was lost in those realms. Did she dream of him? Gods, let her.
Bastian’s mouth dried. He turned fast on his heels, striding back out of the room. Almost daylight. If she woke, he’d take her.
* * * * *
Hours later, Bastian woke to the door being nudged open and closed. His breath caught. Copper? His nose quickly scented Tad. Damn. He sighed in disappointment. Hardly a fair reaction to the boy, but not something Bastian could help.
Tad padded to the bed, clothes dropping on the way, making soft swooshes against the carpeted floor.
“I know you’re awake, Bastian. Like I could sneak up on you.” Tad snorted. He slid in under the sheets. His leg brushed Bastian’s. The contact deliberate. Slid it across again like they were crickets.
“Aren’t you supposed to be watching C-Crimson?” Bastian almost called her Copper. He had to watch that. It would get things found out quickly. Tad, for all his smart-ass bluster, was no dummy.
“Pope is watching her.” Tad’s warm hand slid up Bastian’s calf and then further up his thigh. A light touch. Gliding over the skin. Tad’s erection brushed against him, rocking lightly against his leg.
Bastian sucked in a breath. Tad’s hand close by his cock. It jerked to get attention. Closing his eyes, Bastian tried to give himself over to the sensations. Tad grasped him firmly, pumping, measured strokes that knew exactly how to bring the most pleasure.
All he could see in front of his closed eyes was red hair. Flashing emerald eyes. All he could see, Copper.
“No.” Bastian grabbed Tad’s wrist.
“No?”
“No.” Bastian had never taken anyone fantasizing about someone else, and he wouldn’t start now. Damn it to hell. Not fair to Tad. To Copper. Or to himself.
Even in the natural light, Bastian saw the hurt prickle in Tad’s eyes, though his face stayed neutral. “Why?” He sat partway up. The sheet slid down, uncovering his body to the waist. Bastian admired the exposed flesh. He’d explored every pore. But it didn’t captivate him the way it had once. The way it had before he’d seen Copper.
“Because I said no. Crimson’s back.”
“Oh, bullshit. You’ve never turned me down before. Not for Crimson or anyone else. You’ve had sex in your bed with Crimson down the hall. Nothing different than that tonight. Or is there?” Tad’s eyes narrowed.
“Nothing is different. I ... I just got her back. I don’t want to jeopardize that.”
“Hell, Crimson has never cared who you screwed. Or you her. Why start now? And don’t you need to feed?”
“Tad, I can’t tonight. I won’t tonight. Neither sex or feeding. Go look after Crimson. Like you were ordered to do.”
“You’ve never treated me like an employee before.” Tad’s voice sounded bruised, confused. If Bastian tried anything now to comfort or to appease, he’d hurt Tad more. He didn’t know why his attraction to Copper was so strong. But it overruled all his other desires.
“You’ve never given me cause to. Thaddeus.” Bastian went the bastard route.
Tad froze at hearing his whole name. The name he’d gone by on the streets when he’d been pimped out by a drug pusher, who had sold Tad’s soul for the money he collected from vampires. Only Bastian’s intervention had stopped his life from ending. Tad flipped him off, not even grabbing clothes on his way out of Bastian’s room.
* * * * *
Copper plopped onto her mahogany four-poster bed with a sigh. Ran her hands over the thick, down comforter on top of silk sheets. Everything in the room was dark, from black or dark wood furnishings and accessories to the shades over the windows. Even the chandelier looked like something out of a gothic castle, with lights that looked like candles and didn’t give off much light.
Impersonating her sister among hostiles hadn’t been easy. And doing so with Bastian -- not a hostile, though he seemed more indifferent than she would have liked -- had been much harder. Somehow, so far, she’d pulled it off.
He made her senses sing like the golden harp in the beanstalk story. And he thinks you’re your sister. She lay back with a loud sigh. The only reason she had his attention -- he believed she was someone else. Copper had never been jealous of her sister. Until now.
Running her fingers through that thick, short, ebony hair would be like owning a piece of heaven. So many scenarios and fantasies. She closed her eyes. I’m a horrid horrid person. He had an inner magnet, which attracted her like no other. Like an iron shaving, she couldn’t help but drift in his direction. Please don’t let him be responsible for Crimson’s disappearance. His being there that night could mean nothing. Or everything. The arguments went back and forth.
So far she knew nothing more than when she’d begun the charade. Well, except she wanted her sister’s boyfriend in all the worst and best ways possible.
Tad shuffled in her room without a knock. “You want dinner?”
“I’d love some. I’m starving.”
He rolled his eyes. “Lucy fixed some spaghetti while we were at work.”
She arched a brow at him.
“Hey, I worked. I looked after you.”
Tad had escorted her to and from Lucky’s Bar today. He’d disappeared for a short while and came back in a pissy mood. She hadn’t
liked the grunge king who had kept watch on her while he’d been gone. She hadn’t seen too much of Bastian. Luckily, no one had requested anything other than drinks.
“Is Bastian eating with us?”
Tad stopped in front of her, causing her to run into his back. “What?”
She backed up a step. He turned to face her, his whole face crinkling. “Is Bastian going to eat dinner with us? I was only curious, Tad.” She reached her hand up, then jerked it back before she could check and see if she’d sprouted another head.
“OK, sometimes it seems like your IQ went up. Then you say stuff like that, when I think you couldn’t be any stupider. Has Bastian ever joined us for dinner? Why would he start now?” He shook his head and continued walking, rambling the whole time. “Unless you’re going to slit your wrist into a goblet for him. Which isn’t a half bad idea. Especially if you do it too deep.”
Copper took another step back, not following. Slit her wrists? What the hell did that mean?
Tad turned at the bottom of the steps so like those at Tara in Gone with the Wind. “Are you coming? I am not warming anything up for you.”
She took a breath. “I’m coming. And I thought maybe Bastian would join us as he’s not spent much time around here lately.”
Tad frowned, but didn’t comment. She could see the torrent of emotion behind his eyes. Bastian had secluded himself in his room. Was he avoiding her? She had no idea why. Maybe Crimson had carried whatever had happened too far. But why wouldn’t he be kicking her out or making up with her?
They entered the huge kitchen, as picturesque as the rest of the house, with an open floor plan and lots of cabinets and a bar island to one side. The black stone countertops looked like real marble, the cabinets all a dark-stained wood.
Lucy’s eyes narrowed, her lips compressed in a tight line. “Hello, Crimson.” Her voice always snapped, at least her way. To Tad, it came out jovial. To Bastian, it sounded as syrupy as a bottle of molasses. Lucy clung a lot to Bastian. Much more than Copper liked.
Blood Lines: Conduit Page 5
