The leather-clad man behind the table uttered some words, and then suddenly, the flame stopped, but the man was still twitching. It made sense to Charles. If magic could be used to cause an effect, there was likely to be a spell that undid it. Kent slowed down in his charge at the line of the pentagram as if the air was made of molasses there. The same force that stopped the fiery bolt was slowing Kent down as well. The man behind Doreen was protected by the pentagram, but the rifleman wasn’t, so Charles pointed the wand at him again. But before he could utter a word, Brennan jumped on top of his target and held him down. Brennan had to outweigh him by forty pounds or more of all muscle. He wasn’t going anywhere.
“Good thing I planned an exit,” mocked the man behind the table, grabbing the rack of blood-filled vials behind him. “This usually takes hours to cast, but if it’s already done but for one word, well… acheta!”
Kent’s sword, swinging out over Doreen’s prone body, encountered nothing. The man had simply vanished. Kent grabbed the table for support, looking pale. He’s losing a lot of blood. It’s all up to me, now.
But the two bad guys weren’t moving. He had hit the woman’s arm rather hard, but he hadn’t expected her to faint on him. I’ll worry about that later. Brennan and Kent are hurt, and Doreen may not be any better off.
There was a feeling of absence as if something had left the room with the man. Some power had surrounded Doreen, and now it was gone. Doreen sat up and looked around. She was pale like she had been when he first met her. She stared at Kent’s bleeding shoulder for a moment and then turned away from it with difficulty to face Charles.
“Charles,” she said, her voice soft. “You have talents I didn’t know about.” She moved to him and embraced him.
He hugged her back, quickly, grateful she was still alive. “I think it’s just the wand—and this circle. It radiates power. Can’t you feel it?”
“No,” said Doreen.
“No,” said Kent.
He let her go, and moved away, eyes scanning the room warily. “We’re not done yet.”
“Yes we are,” she said, a smile reaching the corners of her eyes. “Now that John—if that’s his real name—is gone, I can take care of the bad guys for now. You see to your friends.” She slipped past him, her shoulder brushing against his and towered over the woman. Doreen still looked wobbly “Sorry for not helping before. He had me in some kind of spell.”
“I felt it vanish when he left,” Charles assured her.
Doreen knelt down next to the woman. “I’ll only take a little, but it should keep her from waking up for a while.” Her lips touched the woman’s neck, and then, her throat moved as if she were drinking. Charles turned away.
Kent was holding his shoulder, looking weak but conscious. He shook his head when Charles approached him. “Now that I don’t have to move,” he said, “I should be able to slow the blood flow. Make sure Brennan’s okay.”
“I’m fine.” Brennan chuckled. “That spell packed a hell of a wallop. I’ve never felt anything quite that cold. Fortunately, my shifting creates a great deal of heat, and one thing about werewolves, we recover really fast.”
Charles nodded slowly. Vampires. Werewolves. Magic. It was a lot to take in, and he’d always prided himself on being a very scientific thinker. He hadn’t believed in anything outré, because there wasn’t rock solid evidence for it, and it didn’t make sense. Now it was all right in front of his eyes, and he couldn’t deny it without deciding he was going mad. Maybe I am. But one way or the other, I think this madness has its own rules. He idly thumbed the bone wand he still had in his hand.
Doreen walked behind him. He knew the sound of her footsteps already. He glanced up and smiled. There was blood on her lips. She looked steadier. She knelt down in front of the rifleman, who was still unconscious.
“So,” she asked softly, “do we want to keep them alive, or do I drain this one dry?”
Charles gulped. “Uh, alive,” he said.
“Yes.” She paused, looked straight at him. “Yes, Master.”
Then she bent down and sunk her fangs into the man.
Brennan chuckled. “Nice little sub you’ve got there, bro.”
Kent spoke up. “You know it might be more convenient to have them dead. They did try to kill us. All of us. And they might very well do it again.”
“Then do it yourself.”
Kent frowned, and for a moment, Charles thought he might. But then he straightened. “Can you walk, Brennan?”
“Yeah,” Brennan said.
“Good. I need to get to a hospital. There’s nothing supernatural about my ability to heal. As soon as your girlfriend’s done feeding, Charles, let’s get out of here.”
Doreen straightened. “I’m done. And thank you, all of you, for rescuing me.”
From the look on Kent’s and Brennan’s faces, they still weren’t sure rescuing Doreen had been a very good idea.
Chapter Six
“This isn’t Dark Xanadu,” Doreen objected. They had pulled up a long driveway to an old house outside Upper Marlboro.
“No, it isn’t. This is my home.”
“Nice place you’ve got.”
“It’s secluded, and no one can complain if I turn the stereo up loud. The house was my grandma’s, and she let me have it cheap.”
“Where does she live now?”
“She died a few years back.” Charles closed his eyes for a moment and then took the keys out of the ignition.
Nice way to put your foot in it, Doreen. Growing old, dying, she’d never get to do that. Or have grandchildren.
“Hey,” he said, touching under her chin. “None of that. Life is what we make of it, and everything changes and comes to an end eventually.”
“So what do you do for a living?” asked Doreen.
“I make records. Nothing you’ve likely heard of, mixing local bands, making demo CDs, that kind of thing. I have a studio out back. The building used to be a carriage house before Grandma was born, but it’s all fixed up and has excellent acoustics now. Cramped for a big band, but it works.”
Wow, thought Doreen. She hadn’t picked up a bow since Mario had changed her, but there was no reason, she supposed, she couldn’t still play. But she’d have to get a cello somehow, since going back for her own was bound to attract attention. Still, to make a quality recording would be wonderful. Something worth practicing for. Something worth living for, like Charles himself. There has been so little worth living for before she stumbled upon him at Dark Xanadu.
He got out of the car, closed his door, and walked around to the other side to open hers. “Come. You’re spending the night. What’s left of it, anyway.” A light drizzle had started up outside, not hard enough to bother with an umbrella.
“Are you sure that’s wise, Charles? I know I said those guys told me they had all the blood of mine they need for whatever it is they plan to do. But I’m not safe, Char—“
He put his finger to her lips, and she shushed. “I’ve never been one to object to a submissive using my name. But I think this time you’ve simply forgotten our arrangement. You agreed to obey. And I’m ordering you to spend the night. Are we clear?”
Doreen blinked. His steady gaze left no doubt he expected to be obeyed. What will he do to me if I don’t? Yes, I’m physically stronger. But I don’t know where I am, don’t know where I’d find shelter from the dawn. I’m at his mercy. Stranger still, I wouldn’t have it other away.
“What do you say?”
“Yes, Master,” said Doreen meekly. She knew he wouldn’t leave her to the sun. In the end, she had control, but she wanted to give it to him.
“Very good.”
Still, as he led her up the flagstone walkway leading to his porch, she couldn’t resist warning him. “I’m still a vampire, you know, Master. I’d be a bad slave if I didn’t tell you that you’d be best off not inviting me into your home.”
He didn’t answer until they came to the door. He unlocked the deadbol
t and the regular lock, turned the knob, and pushed it open. Then he turned to her.
“I don’t want a slave. Being a slave is a full-time thing, twenty-four hours a day and seven days a week, until released. We have an arrangement for only one week. And now that the violence is behind us, I intend to use this week to remind you that you are a woman as well as a vampire.”
A week had seemed like such a long time when she promised it. To obey every order for an entire week? She’d already blown that by going outside with Carla. That hadn’t worked well at all. But now a week seemed like such a short time. Her whole future stretched out before her, potentially forever, and she only got a week to be with this man?
“Doreen, come inside my home.” Charles walked across the threshold. She followed him.
“You may hang your dress up with the coats in the closet.”
But I’m not wearing anything else, she wanted to protest. But he knew that. That was probably the point. She half-lifted, half-peeled the stretchy fabric off of her body. His gaze felt hot on her body as she smoothed the dress out again and hung it up neatly on one of the hangers. The coat closet was big enough to hold a hundred coats if it had to.
She turned, naked, to face him, but he was already walking across the living room. A chandelier lit the room. No doubt expensive stereo equipment lined the one wall. Another held a collection of decorative china plates, all arranged in neat little rows. On the far side, a large picture window overlooked a spacious back yard. He sat down in a leather chair; she made for the sofa nearby.
“No. No furniture for you, at least not yet.” He tapped the floor with his foot to indicate where she was to go.
Her face felt warm for a moment at the thought of kneeling before him. But kneel she did, ever aware of his eyes on her naked body. The rug was plush and soft beneath her. She wondered if he’d designed it for the purpose and had a pang of jealousy for all the women she imagined had knelt for him before her.
“We have only a couple of hours before the dawn,” he told her. “And with the time so precious, I expect absolute obedience.”
“Yes, Master.”
He leaned forward and stroked her cheek. “Good girl.”
With his hand so close, she could hear the pulse in it. She had drunk well in the basement after having been drained almost to death. She wasn’t hungry, precisely. But his blood called to her and inflamed her with desire. The closeness of the vein in his wrist made her tingle all over and put her nerves on high alert, especially between her legs. His blood is special. Does he know what he’s doing to me?
“Hungry, darling?” he asked.
Her eyes widened. Apparently he did know. “Yes. No. I want a taste.”
“You may not bite me unless I say so.”
“Yes, Master.”
He dragged his hand across her lips. She didn’t know what would happen to her self-control if she kissed it. Her tongue darted out to touch it, tasting a little sweat from it. She closed her eyes, trying to focus on something other than the blood coursing beneath his skin.
She opened them in time to see him smiling. “That’s hard for you, isn’t it?” he asked.
It was, in a way. And yet, she’d no sooner bite him without permission than she would walk out into the sun. She tried to put how she felt into words for him. “I can do it, Master. I think right now, I could do anything.”
He tugged her hair, lightly, and she scooted forward in response. Closer to him. Why does that matter so much? Even as a human, she’d never thought of herself as a submissive. She’d been a no-nonsense student, focusing on her degree and her music. She’d barely had time for boys, and when she did, she wasn’t going to let them get in the way.
“Rip off these slacks, love. Use your teeth for them. And then I’ll have a use for that lovely mouth of yours.”
Oh my god. Does he mean what I think he means?
She stretched forward more, aware of how taut her nipples had gotten as the brushed against his knees. She seized the black cotton between her teeth, careful to get nothing but fabric, and pulled back. She thought he was going to deny her physical strength, but no human woman could have caused the well-made cotton to tear so satisfyingly.
He wasn’t wearing any underwear. His cock jutted towards her. The large vein on the underside pulsed with blood. It was blood filling a man’s penis that made it hard and long, and now she could sense all of it. Alyssa, a vampire who she’d met once at a get-together of Pemberton’s, had bragged once about how she liked to make men think she was going to suck them off, before she sucked the blood from their manhood instead. Of course, they all remembered what they had expected, so what was the harm? Alyssa had laughed, a raspy, harsh sound.
“Suck on it, Doreen. But no biting.”
She slid her lips over the purple head and took as much of him in as she thought she could. She’d done this before, a couple times, when she was mortal. She could feel him pulsing against her tongue, and she could hear the sound of it through her teeth. Her heartbeat matched his in pace as she let him out again.
“That’s wonderful, Doreen.”
She wondered if being blown felt as good for a guy as drinking blood felt to her when she was hungry. As drinking his blood feels. No, I can’t think that. Not now. Not with it so close. The thought of biting him filled her brain, until it was almost all she could think of, but she tried to focus on his pleasure. She could make him feel good. She could make him feel wonderful. And if she made him feel good enough, she could taste him—not his blood, but the next best thing, maybe.
Then it hit her. I don’t have to breathe. Choking comes from not being able to breathe, and the gag reflex exists only to stop choking. She looked up at his eyes, and saw them shining in ecstasy. You ain’t seen nothing yet.
Then she slid the whole delicious length of him all the way down.
His eyes widened. The look on his face gave her something to think about instead of his blood. She leaned back, slowly, letting his cock almost all the way out, and then sucked it all back into her mouth and down her throat.
After the third time, he put his hands on her shoulders and pushed to stop her from doing it again. He pulled back, his hard glistening cock an inch out of reach of her tongue. “You keep doing that and I’m going to come.”
“What’s wrong with that?” asked Doreen, marveling at herself. She’d never wanted to have a man come in her mouth before.
Charles smiled. “I need a hard cock for what I have in mind next. A spent one simply won’t do.”
Doreen grinned. “Well then. Whatever my Master wishes.”
He got out of the chair and moved behind her. “Put your arms on the arms of the chair, Doreen. And spread your legs.”
She did as he requested. The chair was wide enough that putting not only her hands but her forearms on it too was a stretch. He probably knows that. Her breasts pushed against the edge of the chair. As she widened her legs, she sank down and the chair pressed into her more. Keeping her arms up was even more of a stretch. She felt completely vulnerable.
“Don’t move your arms,” he told her. She heard the sound of a foil wrapper crinkling. He probably didn’t need the protection; vampires couldn’t get pregnant, and they couldn’t catch so much as a cold. But she appreciated him being careful for her, taking care of safety so she didn’t need to worry about it. She quit thinking on those lines as he entered her smoothly from behind. His hot, hard cock thrust all the way into her soaking pussy. He didn’t need to check to see if I was ready. He knew.
She looked over her shoulder so she could see him. He’d taken his shirt off. His chest rippled with muscles. His biceps were taut as he gripped her hips. And when he caught sight of her look at him, he smiled like the devil.
“You don’t have to be gentle,” she told him.
The next thrust shook her to her core, but she hung on to the chair somehow. He had told her where to put her arms, and they were staying there. He took her hot and hard, fast and deep. Swe
at rolled from his chest into the crack of her ass. His balls slapped against her clit with each thrust. His thick cock filled her and stretched her, the sensations building ever higher inside her until it felt like she couldn’t take any more.
Then she screamed. Her core tensed and fluttered as she came, shaking in his grip. For a moment, she felt the color rush into her cheeks, but she remembered what he had said about the house being isolated. No one could hear her, which was good, because he kept moving. She was climbing again, each thrust more intense than the one before. She held on to the chair hard, not wanting to break it but not willing to let go.
Another wave of pleasure washed over her, leaving her body quivering, contracting tight around his sweet cock.
She felt him swell inside her, stretching her even more. His breath tightened, as did his grip on her hips. She moved back against him as well as she could without disobeying, knowing he was close. He gasped, and his body tensed, and then he was coming, just where she wanted him. He held her, his cock buried deep inside her pussy.
He pulled out of her and moved to her side, pulling her into his arms. If it weren’t for the condom, and most importantly the fact she was a vampire, they might have made a baby. She cried over what she had lost, her rosy tears mingling with the sweat of his body, the red tint of her tears reminding her of what she was. He had done what he promised and reminded her she was a woman and not merely a vampire. She was both.
“Don’t leave me.”
“I won’t,” he told her. She felt small in his big strong arms. She’d never really enjoyed feeling small, but now it was a comfort. She’d doubted he could take care of her, but he’d saved her life twice.
“I can’t give you children.” The moment she said it she regretted it. What a stupid thing to say. He’s already said he only wants you for a week. But he brushed her hair with his fingers and held her close.
Chilled to the Bone Page 7
