by Sharon Page
“I didn’t. I went to sleep.” She stretched her arms to the ceiling.
The movement stopped him cold. Her breasts rose and fell, mesmerizing him. He was right: her nipples did peek through the scanty lace.
“You look so frustrated. So angry. You didn’t find your brother?”
She was offering him a welcoming embrace. Christ, it floored him.
Longing overcame him. He whisked his shirt over his head and prowled to the bed. She held the sheets open, a saucy, yet sweetly inviting smile on her lips. It was like a dream. A wild, impossible dream in which he was a normal man, one who could marry, who could offer a woman a future.
He yanked off his boots. A vampire had the strength to tear off even the tightest-fitting Hessians. Still wearing his trousers, he slipped in between the sheets.
He didn’t want to make another woman wait for him. He didn’t want to think of Vivi wasting her time, the way he’d demanded it of Ariadne.
His sheets smelled of her perfume and the lush natural scent of her skin. He couldn’t resist wrapping his arm around her and drawing her close to him. Her lips were poised a mere inch from his, soft and ready.
He couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t stand wanting her so much and not having her. He knew he should leave her before he went out of his mind with the torment. But he couldn’t go until he had freed Sarah from her illness and ensured Vivi and her daughter were safe.
Then he would have to face spending eternity without her.
“Did you go to the brothel where I was born?” She bit her lip as she asked. “What was it like?”
“I did go.” It had been after his confrontation with Raine and Nikolai. He had wanted to see where Vivi had been born. “There’s no brothel there anymore, love. The building burned down. Probably years ago.” He stroked her cheek, and she stared at him with eyes filled with raw, open pain.
“I wasn’t sure what I wanted—for you to go and find out what the place was like, or to never know. Now I will never know. I’m not certain whether I’m happy about that or not.”
He wanted her to understand it didn’t matter to him where she was born. And a very naughty way of doing it came to mind.
Vivienne gasped as Heath suddenly turned her so she lay on the bed on her stomach. “What are you up to?” she whispered as he moved over her from behind. His legs rested on each side of hers; he braced himself on his powerful arms.
“If I were to tell you what I’m going to do, you wouldn’t let me,” he murmured by her ear with cheeky arrogance.
Oh no. Suddenly her nightgown slid up. He lifted it higher and higher, until her bottom was bared to him. He gave her cheeks a gentle tap. She’d never allowed any man to spank her, but she liked this. She liked being on this breathless edge, wondering what he would do. The way her bottom quivered when he gave her a light slap … It was very arousing.
“Touch yourself,” he instructed, hoarsely. “Play with yourself, while I play with you.”
Daringly, she lifted her bottom to let her fingers skim down to her quim. She stroked her cunny. Already, she was soaking wet, her nether lips slippery and slick. With her rump in the air, he could see her fingers dallying in the folds, boldly pleasuring her clit.
He growled, grasped the cheeks of her bottom, and spread them apart. “Heath, what are you—?”
Something warm and wet touched her tailbone. Who knew that one spot could make her toes curl in delight? She twisted to see what he was doing, and he licked the base of her spine. He slicked his tongue over her, then ran his tongue daringly, shockingly down the valley of her bottom.
She tensed. Gasped. Moaned. Protested.
But he didn’t stop. He licked the tingling, tensed, sensitive entrance to her bottom. He circled the rim, then plunged his tongue inside.
Good heavens, he was doing … what those two vampires had spoken of doing on the first night she came here. Now she knew why. It was exotic, forbidden, and utterly exquisite.
He thrust his tongue in her bottom, and it felt so hot inside her. At the exact same instant, she raked her fingers over her clit. Pleasure forked through her. His tongue thrust in and out; she screamed to the heavens, and came.
She fell on the bed, her derriere tingling. Behind her, Heath laughed, then stroked the sole of her left foot with a firm, devilish touch. She almost leaped off the bed. “Don’t do that! It tickles—”
Her words died. Heath was up on his knees, his right hand wrapped firmly around his thick shaft, his left harshly massaging his balls. Still breathing hard and floating on the velvety bliss of pleasure, she watched.
He was a typical man, containing his moans. His eyes shut, his long auburn lashes dusting his cheeks. He looked absolutely adorable when masturbating, and she watched every swift moment of his jerking hands.
He let his head drop back. His mouth opened wide, but he didn’t shout. Instead, his hands gripped so hard she feared he’d break either his cock or his balls, then his hips jerked and he came. His white cum jetted out, spilling over his hand.
He groaned. Then he collapsed on the bed beside her, panting hard. “Flower, even when you don’t touch me, you slay me.”
She had to laugh. Despite her fears for the future, her fear over the danger to her and Sarah, her worries for him, Heath could make her laugh.
He gave her a smug grin. “There. I don’t care where you came from. To me, you are beautiful, wonderful, exquisite. Every blessed inch of you. And I proved it, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
A knock sounded at the door, and a soft voice called, “Mother?”
Vivienne shoved her nightgown down. “Sarah?” she called. “Just a moment, dear, and I’ll come to the door.”
Heath must have recognized her embarrassment. He swiftly fixed her nightgown—heavens, one of her breasts had fallen out of the bodice, and she hadn’t noticed. Then using his preternatural speed, he slid out of the bed, yanked on his shirt, and reached the door.
Sarah blinked at Heath, startled. “Oh, Lord Blackmoor. The maid said you hadn’t come back yet.” She looked over to the rumpled bed. Vivienne had never felt so embarrassed as now, as her daughter’s eyes widened at the sight of her open robe and disheveled hair, and heaven only knew if she were still pink-cheeked from pleasure.
Seeing this, what would Sarah think? Oh, Vivienne knew exactly what her daughter would think.
“Come on then, my dear. Do you wish me to leave while you talk to your mother?”
Sarah smiled. One of her fey, lovely grins. “You don’t have to, you know.”
“Don’t have to what?” Heath asked. He remembered being perplexed by half of the things Meredith had said to him. But how could he have understood her world, when he’d rarely been there to see it?
He admired Vivienne. For devoting so much to Sarah. For caring so deeply for her daughter.
Sarah gave a knowing look to her mother. She crossed her arms in front of her pink silk robe. “I know he is your lover, Mama. I’m not a child anymore.”
Vivienne’s blush was as dark red as his bedspread.
Sarah suddenly smiled again. She looked like Meredith had when he’d returned from a long voyage and had pulled a wrapped gift from behind his back. He realized he could remember Meredith’s face clearly again. The way she looked when she smiled. The quiver of her lip before tears would come. Talking about his family to Vivienne must have brought his memories back.
“Goodness,” Sarah said. “You have captured my mother’s heart. I thought no gentleman ever would.”
If the realization about his memories had astonished him, this slammed into him like a runaway carriage.
“Sarah, are you upset about this?” Vivi asked cautiously. “About … Heath and me?”
Heath noticed she did not say anything about whether her heart had been captured.
“Of course not. I’m absolutely delighted. I’m upset because I am tired of being stuck indoors reading books and eating chocolate. What is going
to become of us? What are we going to do? I don’t want to hide in here forever. I would love to go riding again. Or go shopping. Or eat ices at Gunters. I want to do the things I haven’t been able to do for so long.”
Heath, I have no idea how to answer her. I’ve always been able to comfort her. Now I can’t.
The intimacy of Vivi’s words, the fact she would turn to him, touched his heart. “Sarah, love, this is for your protection,” he said. “It won’t last forever, I promise you. But I’m the one who is making these draconian rules, to keep you and your mother safe.”
“You are? And my mother is listening to you. I was right about how much she cares for you. But I want to stop being a prisoner.” Sarah gazed at him with impossible-to-resist blue eyes. “Can’t we at least go outside?”
Vivienne saw pain flash in Heath’s eyes. He literally flinched as Sarah laid her hand on his forearm and whispered, “Please.”
“I’m sorry, Sarah. You can’t go out.”
“No, we cannot,” Vivienne added firmly. “There is too much risk.”
Sarah turned to her. “But you went out to save Lord Blackmoor. Nothing happened to you.”
“I refuse to let you be put at risk.”
Sarah stuck out her lower lip. “You said it won’t be forever. But how can it not be? It feels like we’ve been trapped for eternity!”
Heath sighed. “Sarah, the council controls creatures who could pursue you in the daytime. Your mother should not have risked her life for me. It’s a miracle the council didn’t attack her.”
Vivienne saw Heath give her a disapproving look as he said it, but the sort a husband would give a beloved wife. It startled her. “Dimitri might have some solution so you could at least go out into the garden,” he said.
“Lord Dimitri spoke to me while you were gone,” Sarah said. “He had me brought to his parlor. He asked me not to speak of it to you but—”
“Dimitri brought you to his parlor?” Heath asked sharply. “And he didn’t want you to tell us. What in blazes did he do?”
Icy shock stole Vivienne’s voice. But Heath’s barked words made Sarah draw back. Vivienne hurried to her daughter. “Don’t shout at her, Heath.” But her legs felt wobbly. What had Dimitri done to Sarah? One unwanted touch could devastate Sarah forever. “What did he do?”
“He just talked to me.” Sarah’s large blue-green eyes filled with uncertainty. “I didn’t want to keep it a secret from you.”
Vivienne was ready to kill Lord Dimitri. To stake him in the heart, the fiend. “What did he talk about?” She knew what men did. They used suggestive banter, seductive words, to try to put all sorts of erotic ideas into an innocent girl’s head.
But Heath grasped her wrist. “Don’t worry, Flower. If Dimitri deserves to be staked, I’ll do it.”
And she knew he would. But she realized she hadn’t projected those thoughts to him, yet he’d heard them.
“S—staked? He just asked me about my father,” Sarah cried.
“Your father?” Vivienne echoed.
“He asked who he was. I had to tell him I didn’t know. I was so ashamed … because I couldn’t tell him.”
“Ashamed,” Vivienne repeated, her heart shattering. “You shouldn’t be ashamed. It is not your fault I was not married when I had you. You are perfect and wonderful and beautiful and you shouldn’t feel ashamed!” And suddenly she realized this was what her mother used to do. Even though they lived in squalor, even though her mother, Rose, started drinking and wouldn’t defend herself, she had always defended Vivienne.
Heath’s hand slid across her low back. As though he was touching her to give her strength and support.
“Who was he?” Sarah cried. “Why would you never tell me?”
Vivienne couldn’t answer. She didn’t want to lie to Sarah, as her mother must have lied to her. Rose had insisted her father was a gentleman, but since she was a succubus, her father must have been a demon. She shouldn’t lie, but she wanted to protect Sarah….
“He must have been one of your protectors,” Sarah said. “I know he must have been some peer of the realm. I won’t go to him and tell him I know, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”
Guilt slammed into Vivienne. Of course Sarah would believe she was a peer’s illegitimate child. “I simply can’t tell you, Sarah.” She could say she didn’t know, but it would sound terrible. It would make her sound like a whore.
“I need to know!” Sarah cried.
She knew it wasn’t fair to deny this to Sarah.
Heath suddenly stepped forward. “Shh, Sarah. Perhaps Vivienne—”
“No, Sarah is right. She deserves to know.” Vivienne knew what he was thinking. That she didn’t know, and he was going to save her from the pain of revealing that and the pain of breaking her daughter’s heart.
“It is not right for me to keep this a secret.” She clasped Sarah’s hands. Never had her heart beat so fast. Not even when she’d feared for her life at the hands of the vampire council. She would make her daughter hate her; that seemed worse than death right now.
Heath’s hands slid up over her shoulders. He had moved behind her. He had told her he was a man who had kept away from his family. Yet he was here, supporting her.
She spoke desperately in his thoughts. Heath, I don’t know what to do. Sarah’s father was a peer but he … coerced me.
He forced you?
No, not quite.
Tell her. I think your daughter will be strong enough.
He was right. She clasped Sarah’s hands and led her to the edge of the bed, drawing her to sit down. “First, Sarah, you have to understand I was born in a brothel near Whitechapel. And my mother never told me who my father was. I always wanted to know. I always tried to imagine who he was. Someone rich, and titled, and dashing. But I suspect the truth was not what I imagined. Your father was titled. He was a duke, but he was not one of my protectors. The truth is, he pursued me even though I turned him down. He was a very arrogant, very strong man, and as a duke, he was used to getting whatever he wanted. He wanted me, and he … took me.”
Sarah stared at her, in shock. “He raped you? My father raped you?”
“He didn’t use physical force.” No, the duke’s particular pleasure was not forcing himself on an unwilling woman. He liked to place his victims in a trap from which they could not escape, until they begged him to do whatever he wished, just so they could go free. The duke had stalked her. Then he had hired a dozen investigators to look into her past. She had always pretended to be a gentleman’s daughter, born in the country. Her protectors wanted to believe she was a pretty gem with a pretty little past. The duke had found out the truth, and he tormented her with it. She had been seventeen—young and afraid of such a powerful man. Finally she let him fuck her, just so he would get bored with her and not reveal the truth about her birth.
And she gave Sarah the truth, as gently as she could. She tried to make his obsession sound like it could be considered passionate love instead of a lust for power and control.
But Sarah was far too astute. Her face blanched. Pain and anger flashed in her eyes. “But … but my father was … a monster. He was horrible. And I’m his child.”
“His character has nothing to do with you,” Heath said softly.
“How can you say that? You are an earl because of your bloodlines! If I am the daughter of such a man—”
“You are the daughter of a strong, courageous woman.”
Heath’s vehement defense wrapped around Vivienne’s heart and squeezed tight.
He grasped Sarah gently by her shoulders. “You were raised by that woman. It is not your birth that makes you who you are. You choose to become what you are. I might be an earl, but I was never a noble man.”
“That isn’t true, Heath,” Vivienne declared. “You are noble.”
He ducked his head. “It took becoming a vampire for me to learn how to be noble. It is the events of your life that shape you, Sarah. And the people who truly love
you.”
Impulsively Sarah stood on her tiptoes and pressed a sweet kiss to Heath’s cheek.
Then Sarah suddenly smiled like a little sprite. “Goodness, are your eyes becoming watery, Lord Blackmoor? I did not know vampires could do that.”
16
Vivienne unlocked the library door and negotiated her way through the dark to the curtains. Pulling them open, she saw it was raining, but enough light spilled into the room so she could see. Dimitri had given her the key.
She had stormed into Dimitri’s room this morning….
“You had no right to speak to Sarah about her father,” she had furiously declared.
Her host was dressed as he often was, in nothing more than a silk robe. “I was trying to understand whether Sarah could be a succubus, too. If she had a mortal father, it means she is likely human and mortal.”
Vivienne had almost swayed with relief. But she tersely said, “You should have spoken to me, not to her.”
“Your daughter is a grown woman, Miss Dare. And this is my house. You have my word I would never harm your daughter, but I cannot promise I will not try to help her understand what is happening to her.” He had slanted her an ominous look. “You must tell her what you are.”
“I don’t even understand what I am.”
He had casually tossed her the key to the library. “Then find out, Miss Dare. The last section of bookshelves beside the window contain my books on the succubus.”
So here she was, running her fingers along the spines of the leather-bound books. She pulled out one, Anatomy of the Succubi. But it proved to be filled only with pictures of naked women—many breasts, cunnies, and derrieres. After an hour, she knew little more than she already did. Many of the books detailed erotic tales of bold women seducing men. Some of the stories were so outlandish—including one about a peer who was seduced in the middle of the House of Lords, for heaven’s sake—they had to be fictional.
“Mother? What are you doing in here?”
Vivienne jerked her head up. She had been so busy reading, she hadn’t noticed Sarah walk into the library. “Ew.” Sarah was flipping through a book. “Why are you reading these ghastly things?”
