Elusive Hero: Invitation to Eden (Vampire Queen Series Book 12)

by Joey Hill

  “Look, there’s one. Hey, you.”

  Another thing that hadn’t helped his management of the noise was that he’d put in his hearing aids, knowing he was going to be around people other than Kaela. The cacophony of white noise was overpowering, even when he turned down the volume. Now what had sounded like a distant snippet of conversation was actually close, a guest calling out to him. He saw it in Kaela’s mind when she touched his arm.

  A man he’d seen at check-in earlier in the week, who’d obviously remembered Garron worked here despite the lack of official uniform, was headed his way.

  “Apologies, my lady,” he muttered, and turned to acknowledge the guest.

  While all those Vardalos invited to the island received exclusive invitations and were vetted, there were some Garron knew served a “conflict purpose”, challenging the true visitors about the nature of their fantasies, helping them find their way to them. This impatient male, reeking of entitlement and alcoholism, with bloated blood vessels on his nose and cheeks, had to be one of those, because otherwise Garron couldn’t see Vardalos letting him set foot here.

  “I asked for a drink five damn minutes ago.”

  Should have brought your stash from your room to tide you over, Garron thought. His attitude toward the man didn’t improve as he saw his bloodshot gaze go to Kaela and cling. Ignoring male attention as usual, she was watching the play of light over the pool and studying her surroundings, but Garron gave serious thought to scooping the guy’s eyes away from her breasts with a jagged-edged grapefruit spoon.

  “What are you, deaf?”

  Garron cursed himself for looking away. Usually he paid close attention to what a customer was saying. “I’m sorry, sir. What was that?”

  Most the time, the hearing aids went unnoticed, but he realized the torchlight around the pool must have caught the glint on the tubing, for the man’s gaze zoned in on the side of Garron’s head.

  “Well damn, I guess you are.” The man made some elaborate hand gestures, a mockery of sign language, and mouthed his words in an exaggerated fashion. “Think you can send someone this way who knows English? And how to bring me my fucking drink?”

  Garron wondered if it occurred to the asshole that being obnoxious on a remote island in the Bermuda Triangle—where there was no lack of ways to dispose of a body—put him square on the top of the clueless heap. Then he saw Eaton returning with the man’s drink. From the young man’s harassed look, Garron suspected the guy’s drink request had involved a trip into the vaults. Eaton gave him a long suffering look before schooling his face back to professional courtesy.

  “Here comes your drink, sir,” Garron said, turning back to the guest.

  But the man was no longer paying attention to him, and Kaela was no longer to Garron’s left. She was standing in between him and the offensive man, her back to Garron, but because of their mind connection, he heard what the man said to her…as well as her response.

  The man gave her an amused look. “Decided you liked the look of a whole man instead of that scarred freak show, didn’t you, sweetheart? Why don’t you come have a drink—”

  He punctuated the question with a yelp that could have come from a poked Chihuahua. Thanks to the man’s brief-style swim trunks, a poor choice for so many reasons, Kaela had reached down and clamped a hand over his balls. Her grip was hard enough to elicit that high pitched squeak and turn the man to quivering Jell-O as he realized movement would be inadvisable.

  “You know those little stress balls people use to keep their hands strong?” she inquired pleasantly. “Thanks to those, I can tear your tiny little testicles off with no more than a twist.”

  She must have given him a sample demonstration, because he let out another pained grunt, his desperate gaze seeking rescue. Ironically his eyes found Garron, probably in the name of male solidarity. Garron had to admit his balls twinged sympathetically. However, the waves of violence rolling off Kaela suggested it wasn’t yet the right time to intervene. Timing was everything when defusing a bomb.

  “Those who don’t respect others get taught respect,” she said shortly. “You need a rather extreme lesson. Unless you start saying the right things.”

  “I’m sorry,” the man stammered.

  She cocked her head, spoke in a menacing tone. “To him, you worthless piece of shit. Not me.”

  Lady Kaela understood the line between brutality and civility. Garron expected she usually made rational decisions about stepping over it, especially in a human environment. Yet in her head all he saw was her replaying this man’s treatment of her Master. On every replay, she was becoming all the more certain that what was needed was a poolside castration.

  With alarm, he realized she would do it. She was an overlord confident of her ability to take and give life, who was used to making those decisions, enough not to doubt herself when that judgment had to be made. She was scary as a hanging judge. But doing things that drew unwelcome attention to a vampire was not a good thing for her, or the vampire world as a whole. From what Vardalos had told him as part of a whole list of cautions, she could be in deep shit with her Vampire Council if that happened.

  It told him he wasn’t the only one who’d been unbalanced by the intensity of their Dom/sub play. Though he couldn’t have anticipated this scenario, Garron should have been more on top of that. If he didn’t do something to distract her from her current course, Vardalos would owe a rather substantial apology to a guest publicly neutered during late evening cocktails.

  Eaton had stopped a few feet away, his gaze darting between Kaela and the man before going to Garron. Garron raised a finger, a quiet command to hold his position. Closing the gap between himself and Kaela, he pressed against her back. He slid his hand over her shoulder, caressed her throat as his other hand rested on her waist. She was rigid as a board, but her acceptance of his touch made him feel like he was calming a dragon who allowed only him within the range of her fiery snarl. He embraced the feeling, even as he realized the hefty responsibility that came with the honor. She would mutilate this male without remorse.

  “We’re done here, my lady,” he said quietly. “Point made. Stand down.” Sticks and stones, my lady. He’s just a pathetic asshole.

  After a bated moment, she nodded. “This matter is done. Neither I nor this man”—she jerked her head at Garron—“will hear anything more about this, or I’ll find you again, won’t I? It’s a small island with a tremendous amount of water around it.”

  Garron had to suppress another smile as she pointed out the same thing that had crossed his own mind. The asshole bobbed his head like it was on a string. She tilted her head toward Eaton. “Look. Here’s your drink. All that bad behavior for nothing.”

  She backed another step into Garron. It made it easier for him to turn them together, her close against his side as he maneuvered them into a walk. As they cleared the pool area, moved onto another path screened by vegetation, he slid his arm fully around her, but she shrugged away, moved ahead of him. He gave her the space, watching her thoughtfully as she pulled it together. She’d closed her mind to him, so he stopped, patiently waited until she noticed he wasn’t following. It took about twenty paces. When she turned, he saw the crimson light in her eyes, the tightness of her face that said the anger was still with her.

  He raised a brow. “Problem, my lady?”

  She shook her head, which of course meant nothing. “Why are there always people like that?” she demanded. “Those who take advantage of someone weaker, in a position of less power? You use your sadism as a gift, a way of cherishing and giving pleasure. You understand what power is. It’s a gift or a curse, a tool or a poison, but in its purest form, the way it’s meant to be wielded, it’s…”

  “Creation,” he said. “You can create good things from it. Relationships that last, a stable foundation, a kingdom, a household, or build a rocket and fly to the moon.”

  With a sigh, she shifted her gaze to a clump of crimson exotic flowers beside the
path. As she did that, he closed the distance between them. He didn’t touch her, which got her attention, especially when he crossed his arms, gave her a neutral look. “It’s also a way to help a submissive know when she can let go. When it’s not her job to take care of things.”

  “I know you could have broken him in half. But you would have lost your job. He knows that, too. That’s what I hate. It turned him on, being able to order you around like you were nothing. Nothing.” When she closed her eyes, he put his hands on her shoulders.

  “You’ve been there.”

  “Every made vampire has been. Probably most of the born ones. It makes you determined never to be one of those treated like nothing, ever again. An incentive program for upward mobility, if you will. I get that. It’s how we survive. But pointless cruelty like that, just to make him feel better about himself… I try not to let hate consume me, but I could cheerfully tear his limbs from his body and watch him bleed to death.”

  “Probably best not to go that way,” Garron advised. “Theodosius has a limit on the number of guests we can kill each month. I think we’ve reached our quota.”

  “Oh?” Her lips curved, despite the shadows in her eyes. “What does he do with them?”

  “Feeds them to his Kraken, of course. And the Kraken can only have so many a month. Don’t want him to get fat.”

  Her shoulders eased down and he massaged them, tilted her chin up with a thumb. “It’s okay, my lady. You’re a woman used to being in charge, no matter how much you crave submission. Correct?”

  Her brow creased. She wasn’t sure where he was going. That was okay, because he was going to be crystal clear on this one.

  “During that first fight we had, I made it pretty obvious that I won’t let you walk over me. You received that message, else we wouldn’t have been able to go any farther. Understand?”

  She frowned. “I don’t know.”

  “I’m saying that if I choose to embrace a subservient façade, I have a reason for it. It doesn’t touch who or what I am.” He wondered if she understood the underlying significance of that. From the sharpening of her gaze, and her shoulders tensing under his hands again, he thought she did. He’d leave it there, but he wanted her to keep chewing on it. Despite the displeasure of dealing with him, the obnoxious guest had provided a good opening for that, at least.

  He looped her hand into his elbow. “Come on. I need a swimsuit.”

  Chapter Seven

  The apartments on the fringes of this end of the resort weren’t as posh as guest suites, but Theodosius treated his employees well. The rooms were comfortable and had lots of windows to provide good views of the ocean or forest. Their spacious, open air layouts were reminiscent of homes Garron had seen in Hawaii.

  He’d never played with a sub here, even a staff member. He’d never had that kind of connection with one, where she was given permission to see what kind of Dom he was in his personal space. He kept it in the confines of Club Sin or the areas designated for BDSM play because he understood when he let a sub cross this threshold, he was considering a relationship, something that would include yet expand the Dom/sub dynamic significantly.

  He hadn’t reinforced to Kaela that she had to stay out of his mind, but she didn’t seem to be listening now, because she had no reaction to those thoughts. Which was probably good. After he turned on the entry way and kitchen lights, he turned to watch the beautiful vampire drift through his main living area, taking in everything, what his décor said about the man he was.

  He winced at the thought. He was a minimalist when it came to decorating. The living room had a futon with a quality cherry wood frame and a bamboo coffee table. He had a bookshelf with a few titles on it, a compact, hi-powered stereo system for music. The kitchen was stocked with what he needed.

  As she stepped out onto the deck, fingering the potted plants there, most of them arranged by the Eden landscapers who put their touch on everything, he went to his bedroom to find his swimsuit. He didn’t really go for the Speedo look because it always felt like he was wearing bikini bottoms, but one of the staff subs had talked him into a pair of shorts that hit high on the thigh and were snug enough to make the girth and length of his cock measurable to the eye if he was hard.

  “Master Garron, if your sub gets a good look at you in those, she’ll do anything for you.”

  He’d snorted at that, but had agreed to them, as well as a pair of normal swimsuit shorts for leisure swims. He’d actually found the tight style worked well to do his laps in the ocean in the morning, but women had other reasons for appreciating the aerodynamic fit.

  He didn’t angst over the drawbacks to his scarred appearance, so emphasizing the attributes he knew would please women was a matter of practicality in his profession. But Kaela wasn’t about his job. As he decided to wear the shorts for her, he realized his motives were somewhat different than usual. It was the first time in a while he’d thought about whether a woman liked his appearance overall… Or chosen what to wear because she made him feel good about himself and he wanted to honor that feeling with extra effort on her behalf. Kaela made him feel as if she liked…well, all of him.

  He shook his head, found himself smiling. He was an idiot.

  Turning his thoughts back to her, he expected she was enjoying the view of the water from the deck. A light screen of plants for privacy and barrier was followed by the beach sloping down to the water, about a hundred yards off. He’d stood on that porch during storms, watched the surf get closer. One time it had reached the deck, sloshed over the edge, wet his feet and ankles. He’d turned his face up to the howling wind and driving rain and thought how that fury had felt almost soothing on his scars. Funny, because he typically didn’t enjoy wind in his face because of how it made them feel. But a storm was different.

  He slept on the futon, so his bedroom was just to hold clothes, his workout equipment and a desk to handle his paperwork and bills, not that there were many of those. Lodging, healthcare and utilities were part of the job perks, so that just left groceries and the infrequent impulse buy. Didn’t need anything like life insurance, because he didn’t have any beneficiaries for it, so no point. He didn’t really care about how they disposed of his body.

  “You should,” she said. “It has served you well, suffered for your choices.”

  He turned. It had been years since he’d turned his back on a door when someone else was in his house, yet he had with her present, without thinking about it at all. When she spoke from behind him, having moved with that unconscious vampire stealth, he hadn’t started. Perhaps because they were sharing minds, she felt as present as his own self.

  More than that, he felt safe with her. It was more than the thought he’d had at the pool. He genuinely felt as if he could trust her to watch his back, the way he watched hers. There weren’t many in the world he’d say that about. Definitely none who’d accomplished that in less than two days.

  Her gaze flickered. “Here I was thinking you only had crude reasons for watching my back.”

  “Well, there are a lot of good reasons to watch your back. No reason to limit myself to just one.” He took her hand, tangled their fingers. “I can’t seem to keep you out of my head, my lady.”

  “I was trying to stay clear, until you left the room. I missed you.”

  She said it simply, yet it wasn’t simple at all, the way the words made him feel. She stepped closer, into the shadow of his body. She gazed up at him, lifted her hand, traced the scars on his face again, followed them down to his neck. She liked touching them more than any woman he’d ever met. It was as if she knew they were the vital key to who he was at the bottom of his soul. Her stroke soothed the raw edges that came along with them.

  She’d been honest, and he gave her back the same. “I like hearing you in my head. When you talk, I don’t have to strain to listen. I can almost tune out the verbal, focus only on the mental, even though I have to sort it out with your thoughts, what’s speech and what’s thought.”
He smiled faintly. “Could cause some embarrassment if I mix those up.”

  She continued to study him, her hand drifting down his chest, nestling into the T-shirt he’d donned at the club. He put his hand over hers. “What are you doing?”

  Listening. Just…listening. Her lips curved, her eyes thoughtful. Being in your mind is like listening to the ocean. It whispers and roars, murmurs and laughs…it doesn’t mind others listening to it, because it’s self-contained. It knows who and what it is. It’s both a place full of mystery and shadows, yet sparkling light in so many colors and brutal honesty…

  He thought he could feel her there in his mind, like the touch of her hand in places that so often remained untouched. His heart, his soul. Had he opened his soul to a woman, ever? He gave a vital part of himself to subs. That was important, for it to be as powerful as it should be, but did he open up this layer? Though he’d thought about finding that door inside her, the one that, if the third mark was shared, could be opened to him if she so chose, he hadn’t thought about that same door in himself, or the sudden desire to give her that access. That reciprocal access was a way to an even more powerful connection with a submissive he wanted to keep for his own? Keep forever?

  Her gaze flickered up to his, held. “If I gave it to you here…would the third mark be the same as the second? Temporary? Gone once I leave?”

  “Vardalos and I didn’t talk about it,” he admitted. “But it stands to reason, doesn’t it? If the second mark goes away, and that’s a prerequisite for the third…”