by Ann Jacobs
He pulled away, his fingers surrounding her wrists in a steely grip and drawing her arms above her head, his action as clear an indication as anything he might have said to command her obedience. “Though you rule your people, I rule your body. It appears you need reminding. Don’t move.” Standing, his muscles rippling, he strode to a Louis XIV-style chest and snatched open a drawer.
Her cunt clenched. Her skin tingled. She clamped down on her lips to hold back the plea that threatened to pour from her, a plea for him to fuck her now, take over her body the way he’d conquered her mind and soul.
Neckties. A fistful of them dangled from his hand, their jewel tones a brilliant beacon to her gaze as he crossed the room, his sensual lips glistening with her own juices. Almost as though he’d just fed…
But no. His body heat and the ragged sound of his breathing as he secured her wrists in silk and bound them to opposite bedposts reminded Alina of his mortality. Of the temporary nature of their liaison.
It might have been temporary, but it felt so very real. The almost painful roughness of his fingers against her tender skin, the soft bonds that secured her for his pleasure brought her back to the here and now—and the anticipation of surrender…and fulfillment.
Alina. Her name echoed softly in the corners of Sam’s mind. Otherworldly beauty, ageless and timeless, lay before him in a pose of total submission. Surrender. Her eyes, cool and regal to the world, flashed emerald fire—for him. Fire that fueled his own raging lust and more.
Oh, yeah. His lover might rule over a vampire country, but tonight he’d rule over her. He grasped her hips, brought her closer to the edge of the bed until her arms lay at perfect ninety degree angles to her lush body. Then he lifted her legs, bent them at the knees and secured her ankles to her wrists with more of the ties.
Seeing her there on his bed, hands bound to the bedposts, her slender legs spread wide, had him primed to take her. Her hairless labia glistened, the rigid button of her clit beckoned him…and her tight pink anus reminded him he wanted to sample that hole too. Soon. He bent, unable to resist tasting her dewy cunt, ringing her anus with his tongue.
God but he loved that nakedness. The satiny smoothness he was certain didn’t come from shaving. No razor could have left her entire body so soft and kissable.
He stood, holding her gaze as he stripped off the rest of his clothes, revealing a body that wasn’t perfect but thankfully hadn’t been unduly ravaged by the inevitable ticking off of time. His balls tightened when her tongue darted out and she moistened her soft pink lips, the dainty flash of her fangs no longer alarming him.
“I command you not to feast on me,” he said before taking those lips and running his tongue along the front of her teeth.
She laughed, but when he slid his lips along her satiny skin, nibbling his way to one tight pink nipple, that tinkling sound morphed into a soft moan. It was the neediest sound he’d ever heard. He flailed the rigid nub with his tongue before moving lower, across the flat expanse of her belly to her satin-smooth mound. The impudent nub of her clit protruded, seeming to beg silently for the rasp of his teeth, the stimulation of his tongue.
Knowing that with her vampire powers she could break the loose bonds that held her any time, but that she chose to lie here enslaved at his command, got Sam even harder, hotter. More determined to take her higher, show her more than the faceless vampires and mortals in her ageless past. He stroked along the curves of her body, warming her cool flesh.
“Beautiful.” He bent his head, rubbed his beard-roughened cheek against her mound, inhaled her musk. The lift of her hips brought him closer to her prize. Hell, he was only a man. Resistance wasn’t an option.
When he sucked her clit between his teeth it swelled and hardened more. So did his cock. He spread her outer lips, found her warm and wet and waiting when he slid a finger within the silken folds. God but he wanted to plunge inside her now, feel all that slick, tight warmth around his aching cock. He sucked her harder, eliciting little moans of pleasure that spurred him on.
“Yes, oh yes, please don’t stop.” The plaintive tone in her voice had Sam getting even hotter, knowing she was begging him to give her pleasure. In her passion she sounded not like the vampire queen but more like a woman loving his mastery, her own submission. He wet a finger with her cunt juices and used it to tease and circle the entryway to her rear passage. “Oh.”
That single breathlessly uttered word held a world of surprise. He gave her clit one last nibble. Then he blew on it, watching her pale flesh tremble when he drew away. “We will do that too, love—later.” Why hadn’t he trimmed his nails this morning? He wasn’t about to hurt her sensitive anal tissue by probing her now, when he didn’t have a glove or a condom handy. “Right now I have to fuck you.”
“Oh, yesss.”
Sam knelt between Alina’s legs and rubbed his cock head along her slit before plunging up to his balls into her warm, wet sheath. “Squeeze me,” he rasped, nearly overcome when she did by her quick, unquestioning cooperation as well as by the pressure of tightening flesh around his cock. She lifted her hips, wanting…
Wanting him. The knowledge enflamed him. He wasn’t going to last long. Bending over her, he took one of her nipples in his mouth and suckled. Slow. He had to go slow, make her come as she’d never come before. Give her what she so obviously needed. His muscles tensed with the need to pound into her, fuck her, claim her. Still, he withdrew almost completely and sank back into her slowly, deliberately. Had to fuel her flames.
She raised her hips to meet his thrusts, each time with more force, more demand. She grew hotter, wetter. He was so hard now he was about to burst. Stretching out above her, he took her lips, fucked her mouth with his tongue. He felt the rasp of her fangs when they grazed his lip. Her tongue darted out to taste the salty drop of blood that flowed.
For a moment he pulled back, stilled his hips. “I told you I don’t want to provide your next meal. Don’t make me stop and get out my belt.” He made the admonishment as stern as he could, because admitting the streak of fear that had momentarily paralyzed him wasn’t an option.
Nor was letting her know his first reaction, not when he didn’t understand it himself. He understood the fear, that was easy. No mortal could fail to worry a little that his vampire lover might unleash the predatory side of her nature, feeding on his body. His blood. Oddly, the thought of feeding her, providing her sustenance, called to the Dominant in him. His balls tightened and his cock throbbed against her cunt when he imagined holding her head to his throat as he pounded into her. Had he lost his mind?
She misread his hesitation. “Do not fear, love. I can control my need for sustenance, but not my carnal need for you.”
He gripped her face, his thumbs brushing her fangs. He watched her eyes darken in response. “Maybe it’s you who needs to fear me, vampire.”
“Oh, yesss,” she hissed when he slammed into her again—hard this time. He fucked her harder. Faster. The slapping sound of flesh on wet flesh when he went in, of her flesh sucking his when he withdrew had him crazy. He had to come.
“Come now. Come for me.” If she didn’t, it would be too late.
Her cunt tightened around his cock. Her mouth went slack. He stared into her striking green eyes and saw fire there. Her scream of pleasure stole the last of his control, and he let go, his cock jerking as each hot spurt shot out into her convulsing sheath.
* * * * *
“Thank you, my love.” Alina stretched when Sam loosened her bonds and pulled her to her feet. The rough feel of his big hands on her, the knowledge that he’d claimed her surged through her body, made her want to throw her arms around him as though she were a young girl with no worries other than how best to please her master. If only the specter of Reynard weren’t hanging over her…reminding her she commanded the clansmen she had dispatched to destroy him, that if it weren’t for her none of them would have been at risk. The men of her clan had made it clear such feelings were nonsense. Stefan
had bluntly told her that she wasn’t responsible for the evil of Reynard—that only Reynard could answer for that. But when she thought of the possibility of losing more of her clansmen…Stefan, Alex…Claude…those who’d already been lost…
“My pleasure. Come, I want to see you in moonlight, feast on every inch of your beauty.” Sam hesitated, as if he sensed her concern. “No mortal would dare bother us in the courtyard.”
“I know. And Philippe and Jacques are never far away.” Not that the eight-foot, jasmine-draped brick walls would stop a determined killer vampire, but… When she saw his jaw flex, she put her hand up, not needing her ability to read minds in order to understand his reaction. “Just think. Having them out there means you can focus entirely on commanding your slave to serve your pleasure.”
“Do they…watch?”
She lifted a shoulder, her expression deliberately teasing. “I’m sure they do, sometimes. Does that bother you?”
“Of course not. Does it please you to imagine your kinsmen watching a mortal pleasuring their queen?”
Sam answered quickly. Too quickly. Like most mortals she’d met, Alina imagined he might balk at joining one of the vampire orgies her clansmen enjoyed from time to time. “Do you not take part in group scenes at your club, my darling?”
“I have.” He had a shamefaced look when she gazed up at him. “But I prefer my ménages not to be quite as spontaneous as just dropping in and watching me taking my lover.”
“All right. Philippe and Jacques are more interested in each other than in taking voyeurs’ pleasure from our love play.” The two would certainly enjoy watching Sam, fantasizing about him joining them, but somehow Alina didn’t think knowing that would reassure her gorgeous, very masculine lover. “Besides, I would feel another vampire’s presence. And my clansmen would tell me immediately if Louis Reynard should venture from his lair. Please. For now, I am your loving slave.” Alina squeezed Sam’s hand and forced back more serious concerns.
“That’s what I wanted to hear.” Firmly yet gently, Sam led her through the French doors. Warm moist air kept her from shivering, and feeling his body heat behind her lent a sense of safety. A crescent moon hung in the deep-blue night sky dappled with ageless stars.
Alina dug her toes into the moss growing between stones of a pathway made smooth by time and the elements. Sighing, she leaned against Sam’s broad chest, inhaled the fragrance of gardenias and the jasmine that climbed the walls, its tendrils tumbling over the top as if overburdened by an abundance of sweet white flowers. “You have a beautiful home, Sam.”
“It’s more house than I need, but I’m glad I’ve resisted selling it. Julie would have been heartbroken if we couldn’t have celebrated her wedding here.” He sat on a wrought iron bench and pulled her onto his lap. “And I wouldn’t have had the chance to be with you like this.”
“Surely you entertain customers here from time to time.” It would be a shame if he didn’t make use of a home that seemed to epitomize the charm of New Orleans.
“I haven’t, not since Katrina hit. My importing company’s warehouses were over in the Ninth Ward. After the levees broke, they were twenty feet underwater. Insurance covered most of my losses—I’m not complaining, I got off much better than the poor people who lived down there—but I haven’t rebuilt them. Probably won’t. Hindsight tells me it was lousy judgment that made me buy land that by all rights should have been underwater. Besides, I’ve made enough to keep me going the rest of my life. Starting the business over from scratch doesn’t seem like all that great an idea. At least not here.”
“I don’t understand. Your warehouses flooded during the storm, but this house did not?” Alina glanced about, saw no evidence of damage.
“No. This part of New Orleans is several feet above sea level. We were without power for a while, and we lost a few trees and a roof here and there. But there was no significant damage from the storm, and more important, no flooding. The problem that made me seriously consider selling was looting. Can’t say I blame the looters all that much, particularly the ones who were only looking for food and shelter.”
Her first impression had been correct. This was a good man. Alina laid her head on his shoulder while she ran her fingers through the soft hair on his chest, finding a nipple and circling it with the tip of one fingernail. “As you told Julie at the wedding, you could do your business anywhere. But yes, I know. You love it here, just as I love Paris.”
“I can’t deny that. I was born and raised in New Orleans. Got married, had Julie, made a success of my business.” His breathing slowed, and he tunneled a hand into her hair, holding her closer. “You know, love, no woman’s attracted me the way you do, not since Julie’s mother died.” It’s been twenty-five years now. Over half my life.
Twenty-five years. Forever for a mortal, yet a mere drop in time for a vampire. For her. Still his words rang with sincerity, made Alina wish for more than this short interlude with Sam. “I am glad.” His heart beat strongly beneath her ear, its rhythmic pattern underscoring the differences between them. He stroked her arm, his work-hardened fingers abrading her skin, heating her passion and raising her curiosity. “How is it that a man who works with his mind has calluses on his hands?”
“I work out with weights to keep in shape. Have for years. I don’t usually bother with putting on gloves before I start lifting.”
“I like the roughness. It stirs my senses.” Everything about him stirred her, made her want to keep him. But no. Sam loved his life, his business, the many friends who had come to help him celebrate his daughter’s marriage. She had no business even fantasizing over a life together—a life of eternal surrender for her, eternal life in her world for him.
Chapter Three
“Have you spoken with Louis, obtained his approval for your scheme?”
Wim smiled at the clan elder, a timid soul to his way of thinking. “I do not need his approval, only yours.” Gesturing toward all the elders in the room, he included not only the man who’d spoken but all the members of the Council. “You do realize, of course, the losses our clan has suffered because of our leader’s obsession with destroying the d’Argent queen. Of him playing a cat-and-mouse game with her by seeking out and killing her mortal look-alikes as a lead-in to her own destruction.”
Another old vampire spoke, his voice heavy with the accent of an eastern European. A crony of Louis, Wim imagined. “We could hardly have missed noticing the economic impact. Still, Louis has been the leader of Clan Reynard since long before you were turned…before you were born, young one. I believe your ambition overreaches reason.”
“Ambition? I merely want our clan to prosper. I wish for Louis to recover, once again to be the leader he was before he became fixated with the idea of tormenting and ultimately destroying Alina d’Argent. I propose we see to her destruction now, while Louis recovers from his wounds.” Wim paused, gauging the expressions on the elders’ faces. “That way, we will have accomplished what he sought, and he will have no reason to continue ignoring clan business by further pursuing his vendetta against mortal women—or the remaining ones of the d’Argent clan.”
The timid elder who had wanted assurance that Wim had Louis’ approval cleared his throat. Then he looked Wim in the eye and spoke. “What makes you think you can succeed where Louis has failed?”
Yes! At least Wim had planted the seed of possibility in one elder’s mind. Now was not the time to remind him Louis had never targeted Alina directly. “Timing. As we speak, the d’Argent queen is enjoying a holiday in New Orleans with the father of Stefan d’Argent’s bride. A mortal. Her usual contingent of bodyguards has dwindled to two, and they must watch her surreptitiously as she has ordered them to keep their distance. The mortal who is fucking her can be no match for even the weakest among us.”
“What about Stefan d’Argent? And the other two who came very close to destroying our leader?” The Reynard elder with the eastern European accent rubbed his chin, as though considering t
he feasibility of what Wim had just proposed. “Are they not always within shouting distance of their queen?”
Wim stood and strode over to the flattened globe where Louis had marked each of his kills. He pointed toward a point on the Normandy coast. “Stefan and his bride are honeymooning here, in his ancestral castle. Alexandre is sampling Paris nightlife, as is his habit when not on assignment. According to my spies, Claude is honeymooning with his own bride in Paris while he recovers from his wounds.
“My friends, the time is ripe. I have seen with my own eyes how Alina’s attentions are focused on the mortal, Sam Quill. She must believe herself safe for the moment, since Louis is temporarily incapacitated. If she had doubts, she would not have ordered her bodyguards to give her space. Give me your leave, and I will rid the earth of the d’Argent queen. Handed her destruction as fait accompli, Louis will have no choice but to cease this blood feud and get back to the business of making Clan Reynard profitable once more.”
Wim sat back and watched the elders counsel among themselves. The longer they discussed his plan, the more confident he felt that they’d approve it. After all, they were all businessmen of sorts, and Louis had been neglecting clan business for too long while pursuing his senseless quest. When the eldest of the elders cleared his throat, Wim straightened and listened.
“We will not stop you from destroying the d’Argent queen. However, we will not give permission, either. This deed will be on your shoulders.”
So cowards that they were, they would not stop him—but they would not stand behind him, either. Wim didn’t care. Clan Reynard was long overdue for new leadership. Not only Louis but the elders as well. “Have it as you will. There is no need for us to discuss this further. I will apprise you all when the job is done.” Wim stood, nodded to the elders around the table, and left the room. He’d do what needed doing, but first…
A wave of nostalgia came over him, compelled him to walk down the rutted roadway, toward the small community the Reynard clan called home. For a moment Wim paused before the thatched-roof hut where his blood mother had lived and died. How would she have dealt with the d’Argents? His throat suddenly became itchy when he thought of how the old vampire had cared for him, a mortal child turned vampire…and of the torture Louis had put her through after she’d tried and failed to conjure up a way for Louis to seduce Alina. Torture Wim had tried and failed to prevent.
