by Mara Leigh
Am I falling in love? I wonder as I look into his worried eyes.
That’s ridiculous. It’s too fast for that.
But even if this isn’t love, whatever it is is strong and wonderful—the most I’ve ever felt for another person. I couldn’t go on if he left me and I would do anything for him.
Tipping my head to the side, I bare my throat.
His breath is hot on my skin and my heart quickens. My blood gathers beneath his attention, rising to my throat as if it’s eager to give itself to him too.
But instead of biting, he lifts me in his arms and carries me into my bedroom. He pulls back the duvet, lies me down on the bed, then slides in to lie beside me, gently cupping my head as he looks into my eyes.
Even though he did all the work, I’m exhausted from the sex and my body sinks into the mattress, my skin so sensitive that the sheets feel like velvet. The first time we fucked, I felt energized after, and wonder if the difference was like he said—either because he fed from me, or because he ejaculated inside me.
Lying on his side, he bends to kiss me, softly, tenderly, and it takes nearly all my remaining energy to react to his kiss, to even breathe as we lie in bed together, skin to skin, heart to heart.
I raise my hand to his chest, his soft hairs tickling my palm.
Pressing down, I feel his heartbeat. I made the gesture without thinking, but realize that my subconscious wanted proof of his beating heart. He was right. Most of what I knew about vampires was wrong.
My hand slides up from his chest to his ropey neck and caresses him there, but then remembering what he asked, I turn away from his kisses to once again offer my throat.
“Not yet,” he says, so softly I almost don’t hear him. “I want to devour every other part of you first.”
Devour? A shiver of fear traces through me, but quickly evaporates. He doesn’t mean that literally, I don’t think, but even if he did I’d be happy to die for him right now, happy for him to consume me piece by piece as I lie here content.
“Are you cold?” he asks as his hand sweeps down my side.
I shake my head. “Just tired.”
“I want to touch you, Ember. Touch you everywhere. I want to know every inch of your body, to worship you.”
My eyes flutter shut as his hand traces down my throat then down the middle of my chest, so slowly, so softly, until it reaches low on my belly.
His fingers circle there and then trace back up. Soft moans escape my lips, beyond my control, as his hands carry out their explorations, touching every part of me so gently, almost reverently, and it’s both relaxing and arousing.
I wish I had the energy to reciprocate, to explore his body in the same way, but I suppose, I hope, that there will be time to do that in the future. I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve so much pleasure, but I decide it’s okay to be selfish right now, to lie here absorbing his touch, his gaze, his gentle kisses that make me feel like a work of art, like a goddess or object of worship.
And each kiss, each lick, each touch, makes the wetness between my legs increase. I might not have the energy to move, but even with my soreness, I ache to have him inside me again, to have him use my near-lifeless body for his pleasure, and endlessly for the rest of my life.
But as much as my desire grows, as much as my need to have him inside me again increases, his caresses avoid where I most want him to touch, exploring every inch of me except that hot damp place.
Sliding down the bed, his tongue laps the inside of my upper thigh, and I cry out, caught up in the agony of desire, but still he doesn’t offer me relief.
Instead, his mouth returns to my throat, his tongue rigid, as the point of it traces over my skin, stroking, up and down, as if he can detect my veins and arteries, taste the capillaries beneath my skin, and then his tongue circles, spiraling everywhere, until I’m just as anxious for his bite as I am for his cock.
“Turn over,” he whispers against my ear.
I mumble something unintelligible, meaning to tell him that I don’t have the strength to roll, but he gently guides me onto my front, my face turned to the side on the pillow as he renews his inspection of my body, treating the back of me with as much interest and reverence as the front, kissing and touching me everywhere, the soles of my feet, the small of my back, the space between my ass cheeks, but still he avoids the places where I most want to feel his tongue, his fingers, his cock.
I am almost unconscious with pleasure when he turns me onto my back again. With sleepy eyes, I look into his, filled with so much need his gaze sears me, heating me as much as his hands have.
He strokes my throat. “I need to—” he stops short “—may I take your vein?”
“Yesss.” The word hisses out of me, and it turns into a gasp as his fangs pierce my throat even before my word’s fully out.
A surge of pleasure and joy races through me. My blood instantly catches on fire, like it’s spiked with hot peppers, and my eager blood rushes through my body toward his lips.
But as he gulps down my blood, instead of draining me further, my energy returns, like a switch inside me was flipped. And the burning soreness between my legs changes too, transforming into an even more desperate ache. I can’t even imagine how I’d feel if he drank while moving inside me.
With a gasp, he pulls his mouth from my neck, and his body goes limp as he falls asleep, one arm and one leg draped across me.
Chapter Seventeen
Zuben
“The CEO will see you now.” A tall, slender vampire nods and gestures toward a large, ornately carved door. This floor of the DEFTA offices looks like something out of an Italian villa, not something you’d find on the top floor of most office towers, all audacious marble and showy antiques. The current CEO’s taste.
Octavia took over DEFTA more than eighty years ago in what could only be referred to as a coup. Her interest in my personal research, which predated her rise to power, was flattering at first, but since that fiasco with the shifters, I’ve hidden what little progress I have made, and will most definitely hide my suspicions about Ember. I won’t let Ember suffer a similar fate to those shifters.
I reach for the gold doorknob, but the door swings open before I can touch it, revealing her large office, decorated in rich reds of varying shades and textures, a strong emphasis on plush velvets and shimmering satins. It’s not dark enough for my night vision to kick in, but the lighting is soft for an office and draws my focus toward the CEO herself, sitting behind a desk that seems to have been hewn from a single slab of white marble, intricately carved like Michelangelo or Bernini had done it.
Octavia stands and my heart skips a few beats. Objectively, beauty is a word that falls miles short of describing her physically, even though I have seen the ugliness in her heart. Her short, dark hair, almost black, wraps softly around her delicate features, in the flapper style so popular when she was human, and her olive-toned skin and flashing brown eyes seem to radiate light from within.
“Zuben.” Her voice is soft, but somehow commanding. “So nice to see you again.”
I nod and step forward tentatively. Involving her more than I have already is a risky move, but the stakes are too high. I must get Ryker away from Ember.
“I assume you have made progress on your research?” she says.
I step forward. “Nothing definitive.” I choose the word carefully to disclose little without lying.
“Then why are you here?” Her voice has changed completely, her anger building. I must proceed carefully.
“I am here because I have discovered a thief, a pirate. One who has stolen from you—many times.”
“You’re bothering me with a thief?” She leans back in her chair and sighs. “I have a security department to handle such matters.”
She flicks her wrist and five vampires emerge from the shadows, each of them massive and intimidating. Her personal security team members are also her mates, and rumor has it that at least one of them was Made by one of the Ancients, and possesses
special powers beyond those of most vampires.
Something has to explain how such a young vampire as Octavia rose to such power in the syndicate, seducing the former CEO and then taking his place when he died, less than thirty years after she was turned in the 1920’s. I met Octavia before she was CEO, and found her interest in my work charming and flattering.
Many of us question her rise to power, but few dare disobey her, and there is no doubt she has transformed DEFTA, made us all richer, and protected our members from the stakes of the overly zealous human police who now slay vampires on sight.
“I have previously brought this matter to the head of security,” I tell her, “but he seemed unconcerned.”
“Then why should I be concerned?” she asks.
“Because he has stolen from us—from you—and I cannot abide any vampire who insults you in this fashion.”
She shifts, confirming I have taken the correct angle, making this personal.
“This vampire has stolen bonds, gold, countless millions of dollars, and now he dares show himself in your city—inside your syndicate’s territory—flaunting the success of his crimes.”
The door behind me opens, letting in a stream of cooler light, and I turn.
“You called for me?” Diederik strides into the room, bumping my shoulder on his way past, and then stands, legs spread, hands clasped behind his back, a few feet ahead of me—closer to the CEO.
“Zuben has discovered a thief,” she says, sounding bored.
Diederik turns toward me and glares, a look so full of hatred I can feel it, but I look past him toward the CEO. If making an enemy of Diederik is the cost of freeing Ember from Ryker’s clutches, so be it.
“I brought in his so-called pirate,” Diederik says. “But Zuben lacked proof, and I think you’ll agree that I was right to let this particular vampire go.”
“Who is it?” she asks.
“Ryker Stone.”
Octavia’s eyes widen visibly.
“Ryker Stone is a pirate,” I tell her. “And what Diederik does not yet know is that I have additional proof of this villain’s crimes. He has—had—four gold bars in his possession, two with unique markings I can trace to our goldmine. And I am certain the others were also taken from—you.” Even if she has a soft spot for Ryker, he is a thief and I need to make this personal, like he’s insulted her.
The CEO steps around the side of her desk, her five mates continuing to flank her, as if they’re attached and moving in tandem. There is no way Octavia could defend herself in her low cut shiny blouse, her tight black leather skirt and extremely high heels, but with her mates’ presence she has no need. And her mates are beyond loyal and obedient, never leaving her side.
“Why come to me with this new evidence?” she asks. “Why not bring this proof to Diederik’s attention?”
“I…” I raise my chin. “Diederik seemed unwilling to arrest Ryker. I suspect they have made some personal arrangement.”
Her eyes narrow, and she directs her gaze toward the vampire beside me. “Is this true, Diederik? Is the head of my security force a traitor? Have you taken a bribe?”
He widens his stance. “Of course not, but—”
“But what?” She glares at Diederik and his entire body is shaking.
“I knew of your personal relationship with this vampire, that he was your…friend—”
She steps even closer to us, so close that her alluring scent, sandalwood and frankincense, fills my head and scrambles my thoughts. “And you believe I let my friends steal from DEFTA?”
Diederik shakes his head stiffly, as if it’s hard for him to move. “I didn’t want to bother you with trivial matters. If the new evidence merits attention I’ll make an arrest.”
Frustration bubbles inside me. I can’t take the risk that Diederik won’t act on this. I need Ryker out of the picture—now—so that I can protect Ember.
“Madam CEO,” I say.
“Zuben, are we not old friends?” She turns toward me with a seductive smile. “Are you not one of the few here at DEFTA who knew me before my promotion? Call me Octavia, please.”
I nod as her attention fills me with warmth and unmistakable arousal. This is how she gets so many vampires onto to her side—her seductive power that makes others desperate to obey her. I am immune to such matters of the flesh.
“There is more,” I tell her.
“Such as?”
I glance toward Diederik, then back to her. “It is a highly sensitive matter regarding a particular area of my research. I would prefer to discuss this in private.”
Diederik grunts, but Octavia studies me, her gaze so penetrating and intense I can almost imagine that she is seeing inside my soul. “I thought you had not made any progress in that area?”
“Nothing definitive.” I repeat my earlier words so I cannot be called a liar. “I didn’t want to waste your time with my inadequately tested hypothesis, but if I had more time to study this vampire—”
“Diederik,” she says sharply, her attention staying on me. “Leave us. Now. I wish to speak to Zuben alone.”
He grunts again, but backs up a few steps, stiffly as if he’s resisting the movements, and soon the light in the room changes as the door opens and he exits.
“Now.” Octavia’s hand slides lightly up my arm to my shoulder, and then her eyes meet mine. “Please confirm which area of your research we’re talking about.”
I swallow, hard, unsure of how much to share. I’d hoped to keep this about the gold, but Diederik has complicated that.
“My research into the Illuminator.”
Her eyes widen. “Last we spoke of this, you claimed you had concluded that was a myth.”
I shake my head slowly. “It is true that no Illuminator has been identified for over five hundred years, but I believe one is walking amongst us now, and in Philadelphia.”
“And you think Ryker is the Illuminator?”
My breath catches in my chest. If I am strategic, I can use her incorrect assumption to my advantage.
“Ryker’s arrest and detention will greatly aid my investigation.” I smile inwardly. I have managed to keep to the truth, without fully revealing it.
“Well, Zuben.” Her hand grazes my cheek. “This changes everything.” The way she draws out the word everything makes it sound like a seduction, and for a moment I think she might kiss me, but she steps back and returns to her place behind the desk, her five mates moving seamlessly to take their places behind her.
“I will order Ryker’s arrest,” she says. “And instruct Diederik to detain any other vampires found in his company in case they are already using his blood to their advantage. Let’s keep this quiet for now.” She leans toward me. “Just between you and me.”
I nod, not wanting to point out that her mates are standing behind her. Clearly she considers them part of her and trusts them completely. I cannot imagine feeling that way about another.
Taking a mate, never mind multiple mates, is not in my future. I have walked this earth long enough to know that love is a foolish emotion, an illusion even more fraudulent than those of a human magician—all smoke and mirrors and sleight of hand. I am too smart, far too logical to fall for such trickery.
Octavia returns to her chair, and the door behind me opens. My audience is over and was most successful. I back up a few steps, bowing before I turn to exit the room.
Chapter Eighteen
Ember
After hours of gently stroking Ryker’s hair, exploring his muscled back and arms and everywhere else I can reach as he lies sprawled across me, I finally fall asleep, but I’m the first to wake too, as a thin line of sunlight streams through the crack at the edge of my heavy bedroom curtains.
Speaking of heavy, Ryker’s body is warm and thick, like the most comforting quilt but so much better as he breathes slowly and deeply against me. The hairs on his broad chest softly tease my skin, and my hands delight at the textures of his muscled back, the scars there seeming to
me like purposeful decoration, even though I know whatever caused the many raised streaks must have been painful.
I can’t have slept much, but I feel so awake, so energized. I’m still processing everything he told me last night, all that happened, and while I’m full of questions, I’m no longer afraid. Not of him. If he’s a vampire, then mankind is definitely wrong about his species. Ryker is nothing like the monsters we’ve been taught to fear. Although I suppose he is a bit of a monster in bed.
His eyes flicker open and he bolts upright. “Fuck.”
“Good morning to you too.” I pull myself from under him and lean back against the headboard.
“Now that’s a welcome sight.” Taking me in his arms, he kisses me.
But I pull back and cross my arms over my naked chest. “You really know how to make a girl feel special.”
“What did I do?”
“Swearing as you wake up next to me?”
He leans against the headboard beside me. “Believe me, that curse was not about you.” Cupping my cheek, he turns me to face him. “It was about that.” He tips his head toward the window.
“Oh!” I nod at the stream of light at the edge of my blackout curtains. “So the sunlight part is true?”
“Afraid so.” He grins. “Looks like you’re stuck with me till sunset.”
I laugh.
“What’s funny?”
“I’ve always been afraid of the dark, but you’re afraid of the light.”
“It’s more than just fear, little dove. Sunlight is one of the few things that can kill me.” Rising, he steps beside the window. His body braces, every muscle tightening, and then he swipes his index finger through the beam of light.
His head jerks to the side in shock. Then he flicks his finger through the sunlight again. “Strange.”
I step up to his side. “What’s strange?”
“The sunlight. It didn’t burn me.”
I stretch my hand toward the beam, and yelp, pulling it back in pain.
