Desire After Dark: Lords of Pleasure

by Jo Carlisle

  “All right, boy. Let’s go.” He lifted the reins.

  The staggering blow caught him square in the chest, sending him flying from the saddle as the horse squealed in fright. He hit the ground hard on his back and lay stunned for a moment, wondering what had happened as he listened to the pounding hooves of his mount fading away.

  He rolled painfully to his hands and knees, then stilled, heart in his throat. Right in front of his hands were two paws the size of footballs. Slowly, his eyes swept upward, taking in the furred, enormous shape of the thing towering over him.

  More than nine feet tall, it stood erect on two strong hind legs. The broad torso expanded into a thick chest and arms with claws like rapiers on the end of its fingers.

  And its face.

  Yellow, wide-set eyes narrowed with malice glowed down on him. Dark fur surrounded the face and long black muzzle, which was full of teeth as long as steak knives.

  A werewolf. Not a shifter changed into his full wolf, but a werewolf in half form, which was on average three feet taller than a man and a third again as broad. The deadliest creature on two legs. And like an idiot, he hadn’t brought his sword for protection.

  “Should’ve gone for the horse,” it growled. “But you’ll fill my belly well enough, vampire.”

  Luc’s brain short-circuited. On his knees, he froze, mouth open, unable to utter a sound. The werewolf bent, grabbed him firmly by the arms, and lifted him clear off the ground. Rational thought fled. He stared at the muzzle of the beast in mute terror, shaking his head. Fetid breath fanned inches from his face, canines gleaming in the darkness.

  Subconsciously, he reached out, his silent cry slicing through time and distance.

  No! Oh gods, help me—

  The wolf’s huge jaws clamped down on the vee of his neck and shoulder, crushing bone and muscle. The thing shook him like a rag doll as he screamed in agony. A warm rush of blood splattered his clothing and face, bubbling in his throat to cut off his screams, and he was slammed to the ground. On his back, he could only gape in stark horror as the beast crouched over him, lowering its great head to feast on his flesh.

  Sharp teeth and claws ripped into his throat and his chest. Then suddenly, his brain shut down. Blessedly, he felt nothing more. A strange quiet enveloped him, and he floated outside himself, disembodied, no longer a part of the pain or the hideous event taking place. Oblivion was the only defense left to a man being eaten alive.

  Before the darkness took him, he saw an angel. Over the wolf’s shoulder, the woman appeared from nowhere. She was tall and strong, with thick hair the color of dark honey pulled back into a braid. A great sword was gripped in one hand and, a fierce expression on her angular face, she swung at the beast with a harsh battle cry, sending its head flying.

  Squatting beside him, she stared down at him with something like awe. “Easy, Luc. You’re going to be all right.” A soft hand stroked his brow.

  But it was too late for him. He didn’t even have the voice to whisper his thanks to her.

  Aldric. Soren. I’m so sorry.

  Blackness closed over his head, and he knew nothing more.

  No! Oh gods, help me—

  The man’s terrified cry exploded in Kassandra’s brain, taking her breath away. Stumbling, she put out a hand and steadied herself against a tree. Got her bearings.

  She’d traveled south, teleporting to a wooded area on a resort located on the outer edge of New Orleans. She’d known she was getting close and had sensed someone else nearby. But she’d expected the male to be dead already, not that she would arrive as the poor bastard was being attacked and meeting the prophesied end.

  Before she thought it through, she raced toward the sounds of a struggle, dodging brush and fallen limbs. As she reached a small clearing, the sight ahead filled her with horror. The biggest werewolf she’d ever seen was crouched over its victim, claws and teeth shredding skin. It ripped at the man, shaking him as though he weighed nothing. To the werewolf, its victim was nothing but food.

  It wasn’t her fight. She had a job to do. Yet for some reason, her vision was awash in red—the crimson of rage. The beast was merely doing what it must to survive, but all that mattered to her was the man pinned to the ground, limbs flailing helplessly against one so much stronger.

  Suffering a hideous death.

  The loud war cry erupted from the depths of her soul, and before she considered the consequences, she launched herself across the space separating her from the target. The werewolf never saw the blade coming as she swung it over her head and cut downward in a graceful arc. Its head went flying, the big body slumping to the side. Kicking the beast aside, she dropped her sword, crouched over the vampire—and gasped.

  By the gods above, he was beautiful. An angel. A shiny cap of shaggy blond hair fell around a face that belonged on a cover model. Big blue eyes stared up at her in shock as he struggled to breathe. Underneath the blood and the stench of death, his sweet, natural scent called to her, imprinting itself on her senses as no man’s ever had.

  “Easy, Luc. You’re going to be all right.” Stroking his brow, she watched as his eyes fluttered closed. Desperation squeezed her heart. Shit, what was she going to do?

  Indeed, very little could defeat a Valkyrie. Except finding the one special man she’d searched for these past two millennia.

  And knowing she was sworn to deliver that man—her mate—to his gilded prison upon his death.

  2

  What in blazing hell am I going to do?

  Kass felt totally helpless, frozen by indecision, and hated it. The potential consequences of ignoring an order from Odin—even if he hadn’t given it directly—made her shudder with apprehension.

  But the thought of allowing this man, her mate, to die? The idea made her guts twist and her heart rip apart in her chest. She didn’t know him—but if she did her duty, she never would. Fear seized her by the throat, alien and unwelcome.

  No! That Luc should die was unacceptable. This was either a mistake or a cruel test, and in the end, it didn’t matter which. Her decision wasn’t really a choice at all.

  Carefully, she gathered the gravely wounded vampire into her arms and closed her eyes. In moments, she was crouched in the spacious foyer of the palace, shouting at the top of her lungs.

  “Where is everyone? I need help, dammit!”

  Footsteps came running, and Taryn’s welcome voice intruded on her panic as he crouched next to her. “Let me take him, mistress.”

  He reached out and she snarled, instinctively clutching Luc tighter. “Don’t touch him.”

  “Let me take him,” he repeated softly. “While you fetch Valafar.” It was as close to an order as her beloved slave had ever dared to utter, and the quiet urgency in his steady gaze made her pause. He was only trying to help, and she was wasting time. “All right.”

  Just then, Serena hurried into the foyer and skidded to a halt, eyes wide. “You’ve brought him here?” she gasped. “Are you insane? Odin will—”

  “Fuck Odin,” Kass spat. Her jaw clenched as she fought to contain her overwhelming rage. “And fuck you for setting me up, you bitch. You knew he was my mate!”

  “I didn’t! I just—”

  “Save it,” she sneered. “You didn’t even bother to act surprised about that tidbit. Make yourself useful and get Valafar.”

  Serena paled, if possible. “He won’t help us, Kass. He hates us.”

  “No, he hates you, but he’ll help me. Do it, and quickly.”

  Reluctantly, Kass handed over her burden and followed as Taryn strode for her chambers. She had no worries that Serena wouldn’t comply, because her oldest sister hated blood and chaos inside the palace walls. She’d want this mess cleaned up as quickly as possible, the vampire gone before Odin got wind of it.

  Well, Serena and the others would soon learn this situation was about to get a whole lot messier.

  Kass entered her chambers to see Taryn place the vampire on the bed. Instantly the covers we
re soaked in blood, but that didn’t matter. All that did was the still, pale form of the man whose terrified blue eyes had locked with hers before drifting closed. Anxiety spiked, fear for him churning in her gut. For the first time in her existence, she had knowingly—and willingly—broken her word and defied her duty. She didn’t care as much as she should.

  Moving to Luc’s side, she knelt and wrapped her hand around his chilly fingers. “Don’t make me regret this, vampire.”

  Taryn stood to the side, wiping the blood from his hands onto the front of his loose silk pants. “Who is he, mistress?”

  Her reply was grim. “Trouble.”

  Before the slave could probe further, a large form filled the doorway, hesitating only a second, and then strode inside—all of his gorgeous six feet seven inches, complete with flowing black hair and huge wings to match. The mere sight of the Demon King caused the most lethal of creatures to tremble in terror. Had they any clue Val was also a demigod? They’d probably die of fright on the spot.

  The demon had made Kass tremble, too, on more than one occasion, but for a very different, much more satisfying reason.

  “Val,” Kass breathed. A fraction of the tension eased as her longtime friend approached and took Taryn’s place at her side. “Thank you for coming.”

  “Of course I did. But only for you—not for Serena, that scheming twit.” The big demon shot her a glance, settling his wings at his back. Then he turned his dark gaze on the vampire, blowing out a deep breath as his eyes widened in recognition. “Shit. Luc Fontaine,” he said gravely. “What the fuck happened?”

  “Werewolf. I killed it, but the damage was already done.”

  “Damn. Why is it always the good guys?” he asked nobody in particular. As he knelt by the bed to study Luc, his expression filled with regret. “I don’t know if I can save him, Kass. The antibodies in a werewolf’s saliva can cause death as a result of a single bite, to say nothing of wounds like these. But I’ll do my best.”

  “That’s all I can ask.” In truth, it was asking almost too much, even of a good friend. This was the sort of favor that tested not just physical strength, but alliances. The political fallout of their actions could be far-reaching, and deadly.

  Bracing his elbow on the bed, Valafar wrapped his fingers around Luc’s wrist and bowed his head. Immediately, a soft white glow enveloped the point of their connection. Then, as the light traveled up the vampire’s arm and spread over his entire body, it intensified gradually until Kass squinted and was almost forced to look away.

  Almost. She couldn’t tear her eyes from the awful, gaping furrows marring what was once Luc’s gorgeous skin. Couldn’t look away from the exposed muscle and the tattered flesh of his vulnerable throat as he struggled to draw each shallow breath. A human would’ve been dead long before now.

  Sweat rolled down Val’s temples, and he gritted his teeth, staying with his task. After what seemed an eternity, the flesh began to knit together. The process was slow, nearly invisible at first. Then, bit by bit, the edges drew in and the gaps closed. After a few minutes, only pink scars were left where the horrible wounds had been.

  “Will he be all right now?” Her voice was thin with worry, not quite as casual as she’d intended.

  Releasing the vampire, Val straightened and wiped the sweat from his brow. He appeared exhausted, and the gods only knew what the healing had cost him. “Well, he won’t bleed to death, but he’s not out of the woods yet. I’ll give him some of my blood. Then he’ll have to literally sweat the werewolf’s poison from his system. If he survives, he’s going to be sicker than hell for a couple of days.”

  “What can I do to help him?” Perching on the edge of the bed, she stroked Luc’s silky hair.

  “Get a servant for him to feed from. He’s going to need lots of blood to recover.”

  A servant? That idea didn’t sit well. She’d rather feed him herself, at least until he was well. There was no point in saying this to Val, however. “Blood and rest in between rounds of sickness. Anything else?”

  “Isn’t that enough?” He snorted. “As it stands, no. If he’s still alive tomorrow, he’ll make it. Now I have a question for you. Why do you care so much about saving a vampire you don’t even know?”

  “What makes you think we haven’t met before?”

  “Come on, Kass. You don’t run in the same circles as the Fontaine brothers, and you’ve never associated much with vampires in general.”

  “Neither have you, and you know his family,” she pointed out.

  He ignored her observation. “What makes this one special?”

  She sighed, gazing at Luc’s gorgeous face. “He’s my mate.”

  “No shit?” Val’s voice rose with interest.

  “Yeah. And I was supposed to deliver him to Valhalla instead of saving his hide.”

  The demon whistled, black brows arched. “When you rebel, you really rebel!”

  With his words, the weight of what she’d done began to press down. “I’ve put you in an awful position. I’m so sorry.”

  He waved off her concern. “No one is going to say shit to me. You, on the other hand, may have to answer for your actions whether Luc recovers or not.”

  “What can Odin do to me, really?” she scoffed. But the boldness was a cover for her dread, and Val knew it.

  “You’ve lived far too long in complacency among your spoiled sisters if you’ve forgotten the answer to that question,” her friend said quietly. His expression filled with worry, he stepped close and gripped her shoulders in his massive hands. “Kass, you’re the fiercest warrior I know, an immortal Valkyrie, almost impossible to defeat. But being immortal simply means that under perfect conditions we can live forever, not that we can’t die. And a god as powerful as Odin wouldn’t need a sword to cut you down.”

  She frowned. “Thanks for the pep talk. I feel loads better.”

  “I’m being serious.”

  “I know,” she said, instantly contrite. “You’re always looking out for me, and I’m a selfish bitch.”

  A smile tugged at his lips. “I disagree on both counts—I’m a bastard who doesn’t look out for anyone but myself.”

  “Right. You just look the other way when someone needs help and tell them to screw themselves. You’re so full of bull.” The Demon King would do anything for his friends that was within his power, but he wouldn’t admit it to save his soul. “Anyway, thank you.”

  “Thank me by keeping that pretty ass out of hot water.” Heat warmed his dark eyes. “I’m sort of fond of it.”

  Chuckling, she planted a kiss on his lips. “I’ll do my best.”

  Any other day, she’d take Val up on his not-so-subtle invitation. But being a perceptive guy, he didn’t need to be told that her mind was on the vampire’s recovery, not to mention what the hell to do with him when he did.

  With a wink, the demon took his leave, and Kass returned her attention to Luc. The vampire was still as death, and if not for the slight rise and fall of his chest, she’d have thought him gone to the afterlife.

  And with the battles that lay ahead, the vampire might very well have preferred Valhalla.

  Fangs tore into his throat. The werewolf, ripping into him. Feasting.

  No! Oh gods, help me!

  “Luc? Wake up,” a voice soothed. “You’re safe.”

  Was he? “H-help,” he rasped. It was so hard to speak.

  A hand stroked his hair. “The wolf is dead, and you’re at my palace. Just concentrate on getting better, all right?”

  Through his ravaged throat, he barely managed a reply. “Okay.” Or he thought he’d spoken the word aloud. Could’ve been in his head, but he wasn’t sure.

  His brain struggled to process what the female had said. Werewolf dead. Safe. A palace.

  There had been a woman. A warrior with hair the color of honey, wielding a sword. His savior? Or was he dead after all, conjuring the female as comfort?

  At the moment, her hand seemed real enough—if it
was in fact his rescuer—stroking his hair, his brow. She began to hum, lulling him into a peaceful state, his panic subsiding by slow degrees. It might’ve worked, too, if not for the sudden fire that swept his body from his head to his toes, burning, as though acid had been injected into his veins.

  His eyes flew open, and he let out a startled cry to find himself staring into the most beautiful face he’d ever seen. A strong face with wide eyes, one he didn’t have nearly enough time to appreciate.

  Because a giant fist gripped his guts and twisted.

  “Ahhh!” Arm wrapped around his middle, he rolled to his side and curled into the fetal position as agony liquefied his stomach and shot to every limb. “Oh gods…”

  Gentle hands pressed him onto his back once more, but her words of comfort were lost beneath the pain. All-consuming and terrifying. Beyond coherent speech, he could only groan, shaking, sweat rolling down his temples.

  A cool cloth mopped his face, his chest. As the woman lifted the cloth away, Luc saw that it was stained bright red. He began to shiver with chill.

  What’s happening to me?

  She answered as though she’d read his mind. “You’re sweating out the poison from the werewolf’s bite. I won’t lie—it’s going to suck. But you will recover, Luc. Do you hear me?”

  He managed a nod before another wave of pain washed over his head, drowning him. Taking him under.

  How does she know my name?

  But the darkness swallowed him, and it no longer mattered.

  “Wake up. You have to drink.”

  The command floated somewhere near him in the blackness, disembodied. Insistent. His lady warrior? Yes. But he was so tired. He hurt so much…. In more than three hundred years, if he’d ever been this sick, he couldn’t recall it. He just wanted to let go.

  Can’t fight anymore. Let me die.

  Then he felt himself being lifted to a sitting position, his upper half braced against a strong, masculine chest. Then a second person tilted his head back to rest on the male’s shoulder, and cold metal was placed to his lips.