Auctioned for Her Blood: The Vampires' Illuminant Book 1

by Mara Leigh

  “Thank you.” My shoulders start to unfurl, and I remember my manners. “Please. Make yourself comfortable. Can I get you a glass of wine?”

  “Only if you are having one.” He nods, with a hint of smile sparkling in his chestnut eyes.

  I head for the kitchen where I have a bottle chilling in the fridge. I picked it up thinking I should have something on hand if Ryker comes in when he picks me up—or when he drops me off…

  Heat bubbles inside me, thinking about how my night might unfold with the uber masculine Ryker, how it might feel to embrace, to kiss, to do even more with such a dangerously sexy man.

  “May I be of assistance?” Zuben asks.

  I jump back from the counter holding the cork screw and bottle to my chest as if they can protect me.

  “I am once again finding myself with the need to apologize.” Zuben bows his head. “I startled you.”

  “No need.” Smiling, I set the bottle and cork screw down on the counter. “I’m just feeling jumpy tonight.” I’m feeling something anyway… “To be honest, I don’t often have company.” I never do.

  And certainly not such handsome company. In spite of how things ended last night, every time I look at Zuben, every time he speaks, my body stirs and my mind is swept off to far away places that I can almost see in his eyes, hear in his voice. But…I shake my head…tonight I am going out with Ryker.

  “Please, let me assist.” Zuben takes the bottle and easily removes the cork, and I turn to grab two glasses from the cupboard.

  “I don’t have proper wine glasses.” I set two juice glasses on the counter. Why didn’t I buy wine glasses?

  “Those will do very nicely.” He pours some wine into each of the glasses, and then he hands one to me and raises his. “To what shall we drink?”

  I shake my head, so foggy with adrenaline and confusion I can’t begin to form an answer.

  “How about: to new friends?”

  I raise my glass to meet his. “New friends.” I swallow some wine, more than I probably should, hoping it will take the edge off my overly active nerves. “Would you like to sit?” I turn to lead him toward the living room.

  “Ember,” he says, stopping me short. “May I first help with something else?”

  I look back over my shoulder. “With what?” Should I have offered him food?

  “With your dress,” he says softly.

  My hand rises to my chest. “My dress?”

  He smiles. “The zipper?”

  “Oh!” Heat rages beneath the skin on my cheeks and I press my back against the broom closet door. “I forgot. I’m so embarrassed.”

  “No need to feel embarrassment.” His expression is understanding, gentle, and he sets his wine down on the edge of the counter. “May I?” He holds his elegant hands toward me.

  Nodding, I slowly turn toward the closet door, and my entire body hums as I feel his approaching. Then the hum’s volume turns up as he slowly sweeps my hair to the side, his fingers barely brushing my neck.

  I reach to hold up my hair for him. “I tried to get the zipper myself, but my arms don’t twist that way.” I laugh awkwardly.

  His hand glides down from the base of my neck, barely grazing my skin as it moves. I’m not even positive he is touching my skin, but it’s as if I can sense the small space between his fingers and my back, as if there’s something connecting us, something warm and unseen and electric.

  One of his hands stays lightly on my lower back, where the zipper starts, while the other takes the tab and raises it slowly, so, so slowly, and as his hand rises, his knuckle brushes along my skin. It’s all I can do to keep still, my body wanting to make involuntary motions under his gentle, barely-there touch.

  The pressure on my lower back grows heavier, his hand there hot and firm as the zipper draws near the top, and then his breath washes over me, hot on the nape of my neck, and then brushing over my ear. He stands still, so close behind me, one hand resting barely above my butt and one at my neck, and the heat of his entire body penetrates mine. I’ve never had sex, but can’t imagine anything better than what I’m feeling right now.

  “Ember.” His voice, barely audible, brushes through me, and my spine arches, pushing my head and butt back. The latter grazes his mid section—I don’t want to guess where.

  “Oh!” I pull my hips forward. “Sorry.”

  He backs away from me, and I take a long breath, my cheeks and body aflame, then slowly turn toward him.

  Cool as a cucumber, he takes a sip of his wine. “Shall we sit?”

  I nod. “Yes.” My voice is hoarse. “Thanks. For the zipper.”

  “My pleasure.” He smiles, and the way he says pleasure bathes me in renewed warmth, like he means so much more, and I feel entirely naked, utterly vulnerable, as if he lowered the zipper instead of raising it.

  But I tell myself that my attraction and adrenaline have joined forces with my overactive imagination to add double meanings to all of his words.

  In the living room, I gesture toward the sofa and then grab the sheer jacket, slipping my arms into it quickly.

  “Are you feeling quite well?” He sits on the sofa. “I hope my actions were not too forward, offering to assist with your dress.”

  “Not at all.” Shaking my head, probably too vehemently, I sit in the chair opposite him. “I appreciated your help.” I drain the rest of my wine, starting to feel its loosening effects. I’m being ridiculous. This man might be rich and unbearably sexy, but he’s just a man—a normal, ordinary person—and there’s no need for me to act like a foolish child around him.

  “More wine?” he asks.

  “No thank you.” I set my glass down on the table next to me. “But…would you like more?” I am the hostess, after all.

  He shakes his head. “When I am around you, Ember, I need no further intoxicants.”

  I draw a shaky breath. Maybe this crazy chemistry between us isn’t just in my head.

  “Have I once again made you uncomfortable?” He looks annoyed with himself. “It seems that I have been too direct.” He grimaces. “But I must risk doing so one more time, because you must let me explain my interest in you.”

  “Explain?” My stomach keeps flipping. I don’t need intoxicants around him either, especially not now that I can feel the wine’s effects.

  “Yes, I must explain why Ryker poses a grave danger to you.”

  My back stiffens. “Look, you’re not going to talk me out of this dinner. Ryker won the bidding fair and square.”

  “Ember, Ryker will use you. He poses a particular danger to you because you are most unique. Very special.”

  “That’s flattering, but—” My insides are squirming and not in a good way. Is Zuben trying to give me a parental sex talk?

  “It is not just flattery,” he says quickly. “While you are comely and charming, that is not the kind of special I mean.”

  Comely? “Then what do you mean?” My exasperation and discomfort are growing.

  “Your blood—”

  “What?” I lean back into the sofa. The way he says blood makes me feel exposed again, unsafe, and the mood shifts, my attraction morphing into fear.

  “I am a scientist,” Zuben says. “And one of my areas of research is rare blood types.”

  I gasp. “My mother—” I clamp my lips together and my heart rate accelerates. All the air vacates my lungs as memories flood in of events I’d forgotten or blocked.

  My mother claimed there was something rare about my blood… In fact, after I turned twelve, she drew vials of it weekly. But her claims were a lie.

  After I moved to Philadelphia, I discovered my mother’s deceit.

  “My blood is totally normal,” I tell him what the Red Cross told me when I went to donate. “It’s O positive. Plus…” I narrow my eyes “…you said you were in finance not science.”

  Zuben draws a long breath as I call out his lies. “I have many interests,” he says calmly, like we haven’t just been discussing my blood. “
At this moment, finance is my official area of work for DEFTA, but for years I have been searching for…

  “The exact details do not matter.” He shakes his head. “I have detected something very rare in your blood, Ember. Something that could hold the key to solving a mystery which I have been studying for cent—for most of my life.”

  “Detected? You mean when you tasted it?” My stomach rises in my throat, remembering how he licked my cut palm.

  He nods.

  Freaked out, I try to sink into the sofa to escape his close scrutiny and my recollection of my reaction that day. I should have been repulsed when he kissed my cut palm, but instead I was…I was turned on.

  What is wrong with me?

  I’m ashamed by my reaction that day, not to mention my intense attraction to him not minutes ago.

  “I sense your discomfort and fear,” he says carefully, “but I assure you that I mean you no harm. My interest in you is not of a sexual nature. It is entirely related to your blood.”

  His blunt words are not only gross, they wipe away the last of my temporary hormonal insanity that made me feel attracted to him. It’s time to get Zuben out of my apartment. “I think you should leave.”

  “I suspect you’re upset,” he says, and he leans forward. “Did you already know that your blood was unique? You mentioned your mother before. Did she know? Do you already know what you are?”

  “What I am?” I stand on shaking legs. “What the hell do you mean?”

  “I most certainly did not mean to offend you.” He stands, shaking his head, clearly regretting his choice of words. “I am referring to my strong suspicions about your rare blood type.”

  “Like I already said, there is nothing rare about my blood.”

  Although he’s made me question my certainty—my sanity. Is there something about my blood the Red Cross didn’t detect? And if so, did my mother know?

  “Ember.” Zuben clears his throat. “How much do you know about vampires?”

  “Vampires?” Blinking, I drop back down to the sofa. This night just keeps getting weirder. “Are you accusing me of being a vampire?”

  “Of course not.” He stands there across from me, calmly waiting for me to say more. His expression’s intense, his eyes trained on mine as if he’s urging me to trust him. And in spite of all this creepy talk, there is something about Zuben I do trust. Why?

  “I don’t know much about vampires,” I answer his question. “I know they’re monsters, vicious killers. But to be honest, I’m not sure I even believe they exist.” Then again, I never go out after dark, and vampires are never out in the light.

  “I can assure you,” he says. “Vampires are real. Very real.”

  My mouth dry, I lick my lips, wishing I’d said yes to more wine but unable to muster the will to get more. “What do vampires have to do with me?”

  “Assuming my hypothesis is correct,” Zuben says, still so calm through this weird conversation. “Your blood, it is very…extremely attractive to vampires.”

  “What, like fairy blood?” I smirk, remembering a plot line from an old TV series I watched.

  He leans forward, his expression serious. “No, not fairy blood, Ember. Something else. Something far more ancient and powerful.”

  “Ancient? I’m in my mid twenties.”

  He leans toward me. “There are myths, legends about a goddess and a coven of witches who hide her.”

  Goddess? “Okay.” I stand again, trying to look confident while my body trembles inside. “This has been fascinating.” Vampires, goddesses, witches, oh my! “But I don’t believe any of it. No offense.”

  He stands. “No offense taken. But your belief in something does not impact its existence.”

  “Look.” I gesture toward the door. “Thanks for stopping by, but I am expecting someone.”

  “Ryker Stone.” His eyes narrow.

  “Yes.” I raise my chin, trying to look confident. “So, if you don’t mind.”

  I walk toward the door. But he beats me there, shifting positions so quickly and gracefully I didn’t detect any movement until he was ahead of me.

  He looks down into my eyes. “Do not go out with Ryker tonight.” His tone is pleading and serious.

  “He won the auction.” I blink, surprised that I’m even arguing about this. “Plus, you can’t tell me what to do.”

  Zuben’s hand slides onto the back of my neck.

  I gasp. He’s completely invaded my personal space, but for some reason nothing about it feels threatening. Instead, his touch is warm and gentle—I could easily pull away from his hold—and it’s so intimate. It’s the first time I’ve had a man hold me this way, and I’m shocked at my body’s reaction, more turned on than frightened, as I struggle to normalize my breathing and heart rate, both soaring.

  “There is something else you should know.” He looks into my eyes. “Ryker, he is a vampire.”

  His words snap the spell, and I pull away, stepping to the side and crossing my arms over my chest. “You really are something.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re nothing but a sore loser.” I raise my chin. “You lost the auction. Deal with it.”

  “But that is what I am doing.” He tips his head to the side. “I am dealing with it. Today, I helped your boss with the gold bars, and now I am helping you—attempting to help you, that is.”

  “I don’t need your help.”

  “Yes you do.’

  Anger and determination rise inside me. This guy is certifiable. And I can’t believe my instincts ever claimed otherwise. I can’t believe I was attracted to him, trusted him.

  “First you claim Ryker’s a pirate,” I snap, “even though he made a generous donation to Sanctuary House, and now you say he’s a vampire? You certainly can come up with original accusations against your rival. I’ll give you that. A-plus for effort.”

  “I have not made accusations,” he says. “I have stated facts.” He swallows, hard, as if he’s trying to tamp something down. “And Ryker will use you, enslave you. He only wants you for—”

  “For sex?” I raise my chin.

  “For your blood.”

  I scowl at him. I can’t begin to understand why these two men have decided to compete over me. I’m no one special, and I refuse to be a pawn in Zuben’s little game, whatever it is. “I think you should leave. Now!”

  “Ember. I am warning you. If Ryker discovers what you are—”

  “What I am?” I shake my head and thump my first against my chest. “I am a woman. A human woman who wants you to get out of her apartment.”

  Taking another step back, I run into a chair, and then grip it to steady myself. “Leave. Now. Please.”

  “But.”

  “Now!”

  Zuben’s head bows. “I will leave, but I implore you: Do not keep your date tonight. Ryker is dangerous.”

  I grab my little silver bag and dig into it for my phone. “You’re the one who’s dangerous, and I’m calling the police. I’ll tell them that you’re a vampire and they’ll stake you!” Who cares if it isn’t true.

  He holds up his hands in a gesture of surrender, then turns to open the door.

  But before closing it, he looks into my eyes. “You might not yet believe that you are special, Ember, but you are, very special, and I vow to protect you—always.”

  I slam shut the door. “Stalker!”

  Chapter Ten

  Ember

  “Champagne?” Ryker uncorks the bottle without waiting for my response, and the cork strikes the roof of the limousine, landing on the shiny black leather of the seat facing ours.

  “Oh!” I giggle at my outburst that revealed my still jagged nerves. This car is like something out of the movies, and while it probably sits eight, the two of us are side by side on the long seat facing the barrier separating us from the driver. Above us, the moonroof is open and streetlights whoosh by, creating a light show inside.

  Ryker showed up about fifteen minutes af
ter Zuben left, and the second glass of wine I downed while waiting did little to soothe the effects of that unsettling discussion, and Ryker brought with him another catalyst for nerves—himself.

  He’s wearing leather again, dark black slacks and what looks like the same long jacket over an off-white shirt without buttons. It’s open at the neck and looks so soft it’s got to be silk. My finger itches to touch it, not to mention his broad chest underneath.

  His shoulder length hair is down tonight, looking wavy and soft and Ryker raises his eyebrows and smiles as he pours me a glass of wine. Then looking at him through the tiny bubbles rising through the liquid to burst at its surface, I feel like I’m about to burst too.

  “To us,” he says.

  “Us?” I peer over my flute.

  “Too early?” He laughs. “Let me try again.” He settles his shoulders as if thinking, then leans forward, reaching his glass toward mine. “To new beginnings.”

  “To new beginnings.” I smile, then tip my head to the side. “Aren’t all beginnings new?”

  Chuckling, he winks. “You’ve got me there.”

  We clink glasses, and then I take a small sip of champagne. The taste bursts on my tongue, a million times nicer than the sparkling wine at the gala.

  Already feeling floaty, I need to make sure I drink this glass slowly. Zuben’s warnings were absurd but I need to keep my wits about me. My first impression of Ryker was, after all, danger, and now that I’m on to second and third impressions I can’t deny that he’s dangerously…hot…and the feelings he’s rousing in side me feel dangerous too. Dangerously exciting.

  The gala may have been my first time out after dark, but this is my first real date, first time in a limo and first time to what I assume will be a fancy restaurant and…while I don’t know what will happen later, I’ve decided, if it feels right I’ll say yes if he wants to have sex.

  Taking another small taste of champagne, I coach my courage to rise, just like the bubbles pricking my nose. I am a grown ass woman! It’s perfectly normal for me to be out on a date with an attractive and charming man—even at night. It’s time that I stop acting like that paranoid teenager, deserted by her mom.