by Sharon Page
“It’s a craving you can’t control,” he whispered. “If you don’t make love to me, your body won’t survive.” Once was all right. He could still taste her on his mouth, and he wanted her. “I know you’re not doing this because you want to, but I swear I will make it good for you—”
She stroked his face. Her caress was so sweet, it touched his heart. And that heightened his desire even more.
“You’re wrong,” she whispered. “It’s not just a craving. It’s not just need. Ever since I watched you help my daughter, I’ve desired you. I’ve tried to fight it. I don’t want to anymore.”
She leaned over, letting her sinfully beautiful hair tumble over her and over him. Her lips touched his.
Such a kiss. Soft and loving, slow and passionate and heart melting. It was the kiss of a woman who admired him.
He knew she was driven by uncontrollable lust. Knew she had seen him do two good deeds: one for her, one for her daughter. She had no idea what a blackguard he really was.
And right now, he couldn’t tell her. He just had to fuck her, make her come, and explode in the climax of his life.
He kissed her back hungrily. He reached up and cupped her generous breasts. Then he playfully jiggled them, making them bounce and slap his hands. She moaned in the middle of the kiss. A demoness like her would play fierce.
He tugged open the fastenings of her nightgown. Her breasts tumbled into his hands, plump, gold, and topped with blushing pink nipples. What more could a man want? These were breasts that could addict a man. And he only got to enjoy them once.
He flicked her nipples with his thumbs. Savored her fevered moan. Savored the sensation of velvety flesh hardening against his fingers. He delighted in the way he could make them grow thick and eager with just light brushes of his thumbs.
She was so hot and responsive. It had to be her demoness instincts taking charge. Before tonight, she had acted like a woman who didn’t like sex, who had been taken roughly and was haunted by those memories.
He smiled up at her. God, she was exquisitely beautiful. Her eyes were luminous blue, glowing in a way that could remind him of the sun he’d never see again. She had a face that any man would want to watch for his entire life, for it changed every moment and it was impossible to look away. She cocked her head, letting silken hair spill over her smooth, creamy shoulder. “Please?” she whispered.
He hadn’t made love to a woman like this, with deep smiles, with his heart pounding hard, for a long, long time.
“All right, Vivienne,” he murmured. “But for our safety, let me be the guide.”
Her brows made two golden arches. “Our safety?”
“I’m a demon, love. We can’t forget that.”
Softly, she added, “As am I.”
He gave her a smile. “Tonight, I intend to make love to you like a demon.” For their one and only time together.
Vivienne had no idea how a demon would make love. But she suddenly found herself lifted in the air and deposited onto her back. Her soft bed jiggled beneath her. It was like being made love to—fucked—upon a cloud.
Heath yanked his trousers down, displaying his remarkable, rigid, enormous cock to her. Aroused beyond belief, she reached out and touched. She stroked his chest, let her hands coast over his tight waist, his flat, hard stomach. She caressed the flares of his hipbones, stroked his deeply indented haunches. His cock stood tall, pointing to the ceiling. Evidence he wanted this as much as she.
She grabbed his hips and tried to pull him down to her.
With a smile that made her heart flutter, he gripped his cock in hand and lowered between her legs. One long, confident thrust took him inside her. “Ooooh.” It was a long moan of pleasure. She’d been slick from her orgasm; she was now even creamier from lusting for this.
He took control. It astonished her how she wanted him to. With Heath, she had no fear, no fierce need to resist as he capturedher wrists and held them above her head. He moved so smoothly in her, so controlled, it was like heaven. He stirred her tight, wet cunny with his massive cock. She wrapped her legs around him, determined to keep him inside her forever.
He thrust deep, the head of his thick member nudging the entrance to her womb. And each push gave her a jolt of pure pleasure.
“This …” Her voice died. Her legs were entwined around him, sitting above those delicious hips of his.
“This is my hard cock filling you,” he rasped. “This is me driving deep into you. This is pleasure and sin. This is what being a demon is all about, my love.”
“Yes,” she whispered. She savored the lovely, slick kissing sound as his groin collided with hers. He was moaning, too, breathing hard with his thrusts. The bed groaned beneath them, the canopy swayed. She’d never had a man move so fiercely in bed, thrust so hard. He was almost lifting the bed off its legs.
And she loved it. Heath didn’t scare her—not even when he was wild with lust and hungering to fuck hard. He braced himself over her, thrust deeply in without hurting her. He wanted it to be good for her. He looked after her, even as he drove madly to pleasure.
Her cunny was tugging at him, tightening around him. Tension built inside her.
Her eyes opened wide. Something heavenly burst inside her. Her fingers clutched his. Her back arched. She came with such intensity she had to scream, “Heath. Heath. Heath!”
“God yes, Vivi. Come for me. Come around me. Grip my cock and squeeze him tight.”
She had to giggle, even while gasping for breath.
He laughed with her, a sharp, curt sound. Then his head bowed suddenly and his body shuddered. And he came, too.
With her.
She could barely savor his ecstasy for the wonderful waves of her pleasure. He held himself above her, and she watched the fierce agony on his face.
He gave a low, harsh groan. “Vivienne, love … it’s never been like this.”
And he captured her mouth with his, kissing her deeply, kissing her with a passion she’d never known before.
Damn, he was hungry.
Heath paced in the dark, fighting his hunger for blood and listening to Vivienne sleep. Her breathing was soft and relaxed. Making love to her had worked; his explosive orgasm had satisfied her need for a man’s pleasure.
Too bad it could never happen between them again.
All he had to do was open her window and he could fly anywhere he wanted. It would be easy to find an unsuspecting mortal and slake his thirst for blood.
He could hear the heartbeat of everyone in the house. It was a constant, rhythmic sound. It was temptation. If he was at home he could use some of his other sources of blood. He acquired animal blood from the slaughterhouses.
He should have drunk blood while he had taken Vivienne to his library. If he tried to push himself much longer, he’d break.
Through the window, he spied a dark shape. It flew across the night sky, soared over the roof of Vivienne’s house.
Heath left the window. It was Julian.
6
She truly was a succubus.
Vivienne sat up in her bed. Moonlight crept into her room where her curtains didn’t meet. She could see the gleam of her white escritoire, the curved shapes of two chairs drawn by the fireplace. Her bedroom looked blessedly normal. And she was not.
Last night, she had been in pain and terrified. She’d been consumed with the need to have sex with Heath. She had been determined to bed him. Even if she’d had to tear his trousers off and … and force him.
Fortunately, he’d been willing.
Sex had made the pain go away. It had banished the cold. Did that mean she could actually die if she didn’t have sex? Why had she never felt such pain before? How could she be a succubus and not know about it?
Vivienne sobbed softly in the dark.
Heath had told her he didn’t know what this meant for Sarah. What if Sarah was so sick because she was a succubus, too? Or a half succubus, if there could be such a thing? Sarah’s father had been a vicious b
rute of a man, a fact Vivienne had never told her daughter, but he had been human, despite his cruel behavior.
Sarah was eighteen. She had been seventeen when she bore Sarah. Everything Vivienne had done had been to ensure her daughter never had to endure the risks and horrors she had. She had been determined Sarah would never have to sell her body for survival.
But what if Sarah was like her? What if Sarah had to sleep with men to keep herself alive?
There was only one person she could turn to for answers. And he had already left her bed.
Low masculine voices spoke outside her partially open bedroom door. Heath. And he was speaking to another man. Drawing on her robe, she opened the door to see Heath stalk across the hall to Julian, grasp the younger man’s chin, and forcefully turn his face.
Vivienne swallowed a gasp. Julian’s lips were stained red with blood. And a small rivulet of it dripped from his mouth.
“You fed,” Heath said flatly.
Julian pushed the hand away. He adjusted his clothing. She knew the gesture: his pride was insulted, and he was now posturing against Heath’s obvious dominance. “I’m a vampire. I don’t intend to starve myself like you do.”
She gasped slightly. She had not seen Heath bite anyone. Vampires were supposed to drink blood. But Heath had not bitten her. Or Sarah.
“Who did you feed from?” he snapped at Julian. “Did you leave them living or dead?”
She didn’t understand. If he himself was a vampire, why did he sound so angry?
Suddenly, Heath roared, grabbed Julian by the shoulder, and hauled the younger man across the hallway. As she stared, confused and shocked, the window at the end of her hallway exploded. Her drapes flew inward, torn off their rod, and shards of glass rained down on the floor.
Somehow Heath had known her window was going to shatter, and he’d pulled Julian to safety. Now he spun toward her. He crossed to her so swiftly, she didn’t see him move. “Get back into your bedroom,” he commanded, “And lock your damn door.”
“Why?” She didn’t just take orders—
Some sort of black liquid was pouring in the window. Then the fluid split apart and she could see what it was. Bats. Hundreds of them. Their wings thundered as they whipped in through the broken window and raced down the hallway toward her and Heath.
What was happening? She had to get Sarah out of the house—
But Heath’s hands clamped down on her shoulders and she couldn’t run. “Go into your room. Sarah will be safe in hers. I can fight them off.”
“Good heavens, how?”
He pushed her back and stepped toward the flapping mass of bats. They circled him. “They want me,” he shouted to her over the buzzing sound of their wings beating. “I’ve been summoned. You will be safe. I have to go. I have to make sure the council doesn’t know what you are—”
Then the small black bodies whirled faster around Heath, until she could no longer see him. The bats suddenly turned and streamed out of the broken window. And Heath was gone, too.
She ran toward the window, but firm hands caught her shoulders and pulled her back. She stared up into the silvery eyes of the blond man called Julian. “Glass, Miss Dare. You would cut your feet.”
She looked down at the shards that could have sliced her soles to ribbons. But she didn’t care about that. “What happened to Heath? Where did he go?”
“The bats took him. He’s been summoned by the vampire council.”
“Vampire council?” she repeated, her voice squeaking in disbelief. “A council of vampires sent hundreds of bats to … to fetch him?”
Julian nodded. “Of course. That’s how they do it.”
But she could see fear in Julian’s face. “What’s wrong? Is he in danger?”
“He could be. The council wants to destroy him because of his curse.”
Her wits were whirling. Curse? The curse of being a vampire? “Destroy him?” she echoed weakly. “He is … an immortal vampire.”
“We can be destroyed,” Julian said.
She felt sick. What would Sarah do if he didn’t return? She needed more of his blood.
Another fear, one Vivienne did not want to face, burned in her heart. She didn’t want to think of Heath in danger. She didn’t want to think he might be destroyed.
She knew this sensation. The way her stomach plummeted. The hard, sharp pain about her heart. She was beginning to care about Heath.
She knew nothing about him. Other than the mad fact that he was a vampire, and she was a demoness. Somehow, amidst all this madness and horror, she was opening her heart, when she had promised she would never be like her mother and ruin Sarah’s life by chasing after a man’s love. She had vowed she would love no one but her daughter.
“We must rescue him.”
Julian shook his head. “Impossible. No one can break out of the vampire council’s mansion. We just have to wait—and see if he survives.”
* * *
Propelled by an army of bats, Heath fell into the foyer of the quiet mansion at No. 10 Curzon Street. His knees cracked against the marble floor. His lungs heaved for breath. The bats had forced him to shape shift into his winged form to fly, then had herded him here with bites and scratches.
There was no doubt he was in trouble.
When had he not been in trouble with the blasted council? What frightened him more was that Vivienne and her daughter were now unprotected, unless he could trust Julian to take care of them.
The door closed smoothly behind him, and Hopkins, Lord Adder’s correct butler, stepped forward. Nothing fazed Hopkins. Not even the sudden appearance of a naked earl in the middle of the foyer. The butler held out a robe of black silk. “The council awaits, my lord. If you will be so good as to follow me.”
Heath barked a laugh. “As if I have a choice, Hopkins.” Hopkins had served Adder—and remained mortal—for fifteen years. “Why have you not run screaming years ago, Hopkins?” he asked, more to torment the staid man than for any expectation of an answer.
“My position is very satisfactory, my lord.” The butler’s shoes echoed in the enormous foyer as he began to lead the way. “I am most humbled by your condescension of an inquiry.”
Heath shrugged on the robe and followed. Adder was not a peer of the realm, but had fashioned himself as a “lord” in the vampire world. All six members of the council had taken the title. At a double door decorated with gilt, Hopkins stopped abruptly. “In here, my lord.”
Heath lifted a brow. “Not the usual council chamber?”
“Not tonight, my lord.” The butler retreated into shadow, but Heath could see fear on the man’s face. He’d never seen any emotion crack the blank surface of Hopkins’s face.
Inside, Heath rolled his eyes at the sight facing him. A star had been drawn in blood upon the floor; a pentagram made up its core. A large gold bowl sat in the middle of the pentagram. It held silvery water, flat as a mirror.
“What do you want? To slap me on my arse for not finding you a villainess yet?”
He never walked in here without insolence on his lips. It wasn’t that he hated these men for the fact they planned to destroy him. That would be one of the mercies of his life. He hated them because they intended to kill his brother.
The vampire council sat in large, thronelike chairs arranged in a semicircle around the pentagram. He sauntered toward them. He might look unimpressed by them, but he was wary inside.
“Lord Blackmoor.”
Adder was the one to address him. He considered himself to be their leader. All six vampires wore black cloaks, with hoods over the heads shrouding their faces. Adder pushed back his hood to reveal his harsh features—the sharp cheekbones, a blade of a nose, large chin. Black eyes that didn’t reflect light like other vampires’ eyes but sucked it in. His coal-black hair reflected the candlelight; it was slicked back with pomade.
Adder’s voice was a cold slice through the stillness of the room. “You have found her. Last night, we convinced Julian to do his
duty to us.”
“Convinced?” Heath lifted a brow.
“All right. Tortured. Julian informed us that you have found a courtesan who is also a succubus, who is the woman who drained the souls of the five peers. But you have not brought her to us.”
“I have no evidence yet that she is responsible for those men’s deaths.”
“She had sexual intercourse with them, and she is a succubus.”
“This is England, gents.” Heath tried to control his anger. No matter what, Vivienne was innocent. She hadn’t even known what she was. “We don’t condemn people without a trial and evidence. I repeat—slowly, so you won’t miss it this time—I have no proof. Yes, she took the men as lovers. But I know for a fact she was not with Lord Cavendish when he died. Normally when a succubus kills a man, it is because she has completely drained him during sex. My theory is the succubus is innocent and someone else is the killer.”
Adder’s hands tightened on the curved arms of his throne. “You know nothing. It is not your place to make theories. The woman is a tool for a stronger power. Your duty is to bring her to us.”
Stronger power? Hell, could it be Nikolai? “Not to have her killed without a chance to defend herself.”
“We do not intend to kill her. We intend to find out the truth. We must find out what entity controls her.”
“She doesn’t know. She can’t tell you anything.”
Adder surged from his chair. “Of course she knows,” he spat. “But you have not forced her to reveal anything. You were too busy having intimate relations with her yourself.” He lifted a wand from the arm of his chair and waved it.
The water in the gold bowl rippled, like the water in the Dartmoor pool had done. Then scenes of his night of lovemaking with Vivienne flashed upon its surface.
Damn these men. They’d had no right to watch something so intimate.
But Heath couldn’t stop looking at Vivienne. In the silver water, he watched her move beneath him, thrusting up along his throbbing erection, her breasts squashed against his chest. He saw her long, naked legs wrap around his waist. He saw her lift to him and arch in her climax.
