Without answering, she pushed him back onto the floor and slid down his body. Her lips covered his cock and whatever fear he'd thought she'd felt vanished as she took him into her mouth and sucked gently as her tongue flicked the head. Zings of pleasure raced through his cock and balls, exciting him even more. Her mouth made him forget he was surrounded by a dozen or so others and he let himself go, reveling in the delight of being satisfied by another.
Each stroke up and down inched him closer to release, and this human woman he'd just met moments earlier and would probably never see again became the center of his world for those few minutes she was between his legs. Her tongue worshipped his cock expertly, taking his body to heights he had forgotten existed in his loneliness. As his desire raced toward the finish line, she grasped the base of his cock and milked him as her cunt would have if he were inside her as she sucked him to that final moment of ecstasy. He pulled her to him, holding the back of her head, as she took everything he had without a whimper. Exhausted, but wanting to give something back to the one who'd given him so much, he pulled her up so her face was level with his and kissed her softly on the lips.
"Thank you, Violet, for making me forget."
Silently, she turned her head and moved her hair aside, exposing her neck to him. After giving him such pleasure, she wanted to give him even more.
"No, that's not necessary," he said as he gently turned her to face him.
Big blue eyes stared back at him with a look of hurt in them. "Vasilije said you would like that. You don't?"
"I do, but let me give you something."
Violet put her hand on his chest and shook her head. "No. I'm only allowed to give you what you need. He was quite clear about that."
"Why are you here? Is he forcing you?"
"No. I want to become one of you, but he says I'm not ready. So I wait until he says I am."
Brandon felt a sickening feeling come over him. Vasilije was just stringing this girl along, no doubt. He had no intentions of giving her what she wanted, but he'd let her perform for his friends.
"You don't want to be one of us, Violet. Leave here and go home."
Hanging her head, she whispered, "You don't want me any more than he does."
Brandon lifted her chin and cradling her face in his hands, he said quietly, "Stay here."
Brandon dressed and began to search for his sire, ready to leave and not see him for another month. No matter how hard he tried, Vasilije would never be able to make him into the kind of vampire he thought he should be. The less he saw of him and the life he lived the better.
Sounds coming from his bedroom told him that Vasilije wasn't far. Brandon stormed down the hallway, intending to tell him how much he disapproved of his treatment of Violet, among other things. He flung open the bedroom door to find his sire in the middle of Delilah, literally.
She lifted her head and shot him a look of pure hatred, but Vasilije merely smiled as he continued to pump into her from behind. "Did you need something, Brandon? I'm a little preoccupied right now."
"I'm leaving and I'm taking Violet with me."
"Like her? Good. But what do you plan to do with her? I won't let you sire her."
"You don't plan to sire her and she wants that, so why not let me?"
Vasilije never missed a beat and continued thrusting into Delilah, but she quickly became enraged at the conversation taking place around her. "Do you fucking mind? Can't you save the world after we're done?"
Something in Brandon snapped. Maybe it was Violet's innocence. Maybe it was Delilah's jaded callousness. Whatever it was, he wanted to kill her as much as she had always wanted to kill him, and in seconds his fangs shot into his mouth. Delilah's did the same, and she hissed a threat at him. She'd barely gotten the words out of her mouth and Vasilije had her on her back, his hands squeezing her thin neck.
"Never threaten him like that again or I'll make sure your life isn't worth living. Do you understand me?"
Delilah grunted and when he let go of her throat, she rolled off the bed and pushed past Brandon as he stood in the doorway. Vasilije calmly slid into his clothes and sat down at a table on the other side of the room to eat from a plate of fruit and cheese.
"I'm sorry, Vasilije. I didn't mean to ruin that for you."
He shrugged and popped another square of cheese into his mouth. "Don't worry. I wasn't enjoying myself anyway. Now about Violet."
"Let her go. She's too nice for you to string along and then simply drain."
Vasilije turned to face him, and Brandon saw an uncharacteristic look of hurt on his face. "Do you think so little of your sire that you believe me to be a mere murderer of young women?"
"I think you will make her as lonely as you've made me if you turn her."
Taking a deep breath, Vasilije said, "First you believe Violet will be used and discarded, and then you believe she'll be too taken care of for the rest of her life. Which is it, Brandon?"
He didn't know which it was, but he didn't want to see those blue eyes sad again, which he was sure would happen if she remained around Vasilije. "I don't want to get into this now. I need to go home."
"And poor Violet?"
One more time he'd try to convince his sire to let him do as all his other vampires had. "Will you allow me to sire her if you insist she become a vampire?"
"No. She'll be mine."
Crestfallen, Brandon nodded his understanding and turned to leave.
"But I know how much that means to you, Brandon, so someday I may say yes."
Without turning around, Brandon walked silently to the front door, nodding at Stanton as he left. He wanted to cling to the words his sire had just uttered, but the words someday and may rang in his ears.
That he didn't understand why the one who preferred him over all others wanted to see him lonely for the rest of his existence meant nothing. He was alone and would remain alone as long as Vasilije saw fit to keep him that way.
Chapter Two
The dark streets of the city lay sprawled out in front of her, filled with both possible danger and salvation. As she ran, her feet pounding against the stones beneath them, her breathing came in pants that stole the moisture from her mouth. Her eyes frantically scanned for someplace to hide as she pushed her legs to run faster.
She could hear his feet as each one solidly hit the ground behind her. His stride much longer than hers, he was coming closer with each step.
If he caught her...
The pounding of her heart hammered in her ears as the blood pushed faster and faster through her body. Up ahead, she saw a door ajar in a rundown building. If it was empty, she might be able to find a place to hide and hopefully escape from the pain of what awaited her if he captured her.
She slipped through the doorway, but her cape caught on the doorknob, costing her precious moments. As she worked to free herself, she heard his footsteps slow down to a walk, a sign he was as sure as she that he’d won.
Finally, in desperation, she tore the fabric from the knob, and free to run once more, she turned and ran headlong into the chest of a man who stood silently watching her.
“Please save me! He’s coming for me!”
In the dim light, she saw his emotionless expression. Would he help her? Or would he hand her over to him?
Without a word, the stranger took her roughly by the arm and led her to a table near the far wall. With his hands on her shoulders, he hesitated a moment and then spun her around.
His voice deep, he commanded, “Place your hands on the table and bend over.”
Fear raced through her as she questioned whether she’d chosen a fate as horrific as the one she’d fled from. But she did as she’d been told and waited in terror for what was to come.
The noise of her stalker entering the building caused her to turn her head, but the voice behind her sternly warned, “Face forward.”
She felt hands lift her cloak and dress, allowing the cool night air to hit the bare skin of her thighs. The fee
ling at once thrilled and shocked her, and she instinctively stood up to cover herself.
The man behind her forcibly pushed her back down toward the table and leaned over her. Whispering low in her ear, he said in a kind voice, “Trust me,” as he pushed his body firmly against her backside.
“Hey you! Where’s the girl who came in here?”
With his hands on her hips, the man who gave her no choice but to trust him pushed his hips toward hers and thrust toward her still clothed body to simulate sex. In her ear, he let out a throaty groan unlike anything she'd ever heard before.
“Hey! I asked you about the girl who came in here!”
Never looking back, Arden squeezed her eyes closed, shutting out the moonlight that streamed in through the window above, and waited for the attack she dreaded. Instead, she heard the man whose body continued to meet hers bark, “Go away! This whore’s mine!”
Indignant at the use of the word whore to describe her, she started to push herself up but his hand held her by the neck and forced her to remain still on the table. A sound like a hiss came from her protector and the other man hurriedly ran out of the building.
A hardness brushed past her thighs and she realized while she’d escaped death, she now faced being raped by this stranger who had asked her to trust him. Over and over, his erection teased her. Fear turned to arousal as she felt his stiff cock press toward her, and her body begin to want him. His hand on her neck eased almost to a caress as he continued to hold her down.
Noises behind them told her the original attacker had been chased off, and when the thrusts stopped, she pushed back against him, forcing him off her. Spinning around, she smoothed her dress and snapped, “You are no gentleman! Whore?”
The man stood looking at her, a small grin creeping onto his lips. In a voice far silkier than she’d heard from him before, he said, “You didn’t need a gentleman.”
Realizing he had no intention of apologizing for calling her a whore, she stubbornly tried to push past him, unsure where she would go, but he blocked her path solid as a stone.
“Let me go! I demand you step aside.”
“I wouldn’t be that gentleman you expect if I simply let you walk back out into a potentially dangerous situation, Miss...”
It was no use. He wasn't going to let her past until she told him her name. After a few moments, she saw the sense in his words and relented. “Miss Stephens,” and then added, “Arden Stephens.”
“Well, Miss Stephens, I feel responsible for seeing you safely home, so if you’ll just give me the address, we’ll be on our way.”
Sighing deeply, she dropped her gaze to the ground. Now he’d realize just what kind of person she was. Homeless. He’d probably think she’d deserved being chased as a thief or pickpocket.
“Miss Stephens?”
Arden looked up into the brown eyes that seemed to search her face and felt the warmth of humiliation grow in her cheeks. Her gaze drifted over the fine cut of his clothes and his expensive coat, and she wrestled with how to explain that although she had no home, she was no street trollop to be looked down upon. She was just one of the unfortunate few whose father had died before his daughter had been blessed by a husband and whose mother had died of cholera in the last great outbreak.
“I don’t have a home,” she said quietly as she looked directly into his eyes.
For a long moment, he remained silent. Arden waited for the pity or disgust, the two emotions her statement generally elicited.
“Well, dear lady, the gentleman in me feels compelled to remedy that situation. You’ll come to my home, and although I expect it’s beneath your station and gifts, I can offer you the position as my maid as my previous one has recently left my employ.”
Arden looked up and studied the face of the person who’d been the kindest to her since her father had died nearly a month ago. His deep brown eyes appeared kind, but his face possessed a darkness that seemed contrary to them. She guessed he could be a few years older than her twenty years but noted how strong he’d proven himself. Correcting herself, she realized she couldn’t place his age even as he stood no more than a foot away.
“I couldn’t do that. I don’t even know your name,” she halfheartedly protested.
“Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Brandon Ridley, and you seem to have few options better than my offer.”
As he spoke, she paid special attention to his mouth. How beautiful his teeth looked! In fact, as she studied him closely now, he appeared thoroughly handsome and quite a gentleman.
With a nod of resignation, she agreed with his assessment of her present situation and accepted his offer adding, “But I should inform you, sir, that I have no experience as a maid, other than to take care of my late father.”
She was pleased when he didn’t express his sympathy at her father’s passing. Her emotions were still quite raw and became impossible to control when people gave their condolences. She’d said her goodbyes and accepted the loss but truly wished she’d never have to think of it again.
“I’m quite sure you’ll do just fine.”
For the first time in weeks, Arden allowed herself to smile and actually chuckled when he confided, “Just keep an eye on the housekeeper. She’s a spiteful old one.”
As they walked, she congratulated herself on her apparent good fortune and then asked, “You have a maid and housekeeper? Isn’t that superfluous?”
A surprised look crossed his face. “Superfluous? Definitely beneath your gifts,” he mumbled to himself. Turning to look at her, he said, “No, Miss Stephens, I require both a housekeeper and maid. The housekeeper takes care of the house, and the maid takes care of me.”
The way he said this struck her, but then she realized the house must mean the rest of his family. “How will your wife take to you bringing home a new maid? I know women prefer to run household staffs.”
Casually, he answered, “I have no wife or children.”
No wife or children but he requires a housekeeper and maid?
Arden stopped as he unlocked the front gate and began walking to the door of his home. Awestruck, she realized they’d walked blocks away from where they’d been into an exclusive part of London. His house, an enormous Georgian, stood before her, a sign of his obvious wealth, and the shame of the recent events of her life washed over her.
Brandon stopped at the base of the steps and turned toward her. Beckoning her, he stood obviously confused by her reluctance.
“Miss Stephens?”
Looking up, Arden straightened her back to stand tall. She knew she was more than the homeless girl Brandon Ridley was being charitable toward with a job as a maid. Whatever he thought didn't matter. He offered a place to stay and a job. She may not be on his level, but pride was no reason to remain homeless.
Bowing to her own common sense, she entered through the gate and locked it behind her. As she joined him on the stairs, he smiled his beautiful smile again. “I hope you find my house everything you desire.”
An hour later, she’d met the housekeeper, Mrs. Benson, and had seen instantly her new employer had spoken the truth. The rest of the staff had seemed pleasant, and Arden believed she had found somewhere she could stay, at least for the time being.
As he escorted her out of the servants' area, he said, “I’ll show you to your room, Miss Stephens.”
Arden followed him up the stairs to a second floor of bedrooms and a hallway that led to servants’ quarters at the back of the house. When he stopped at a bedroom door, she stood confused.
“This will be your room. My room is at the end of the hall near the front of the house and that leads to the servants’ area.”
“Sir?”
“Good night, Miss Stephens.”
Before she could ask if it would be better if she stayed with the rest of the help in the servants’ quarters, he turned and left her. As she watched him descend the stairs, Arden wondered just what exactly she’d agreed to.
***
> Brandon leaned back in his chair in his study and considered the evening’s events. Saving Arden from her attacker had been a fortunate happenstance indeed. Although he’d been at that building for an entirely different reason, the potent scent of one like himself in pursuit of prey had encouraged him to stay to watch. He'd even considered joining in, particularly after his conversation with Vasilije. A little diversion was definitely in order.
However, just the sight of Arden had made him interrupt the chase. Innocent, with a gentleness that touched him, she couldn't be left to suffer the fate the vampire chasing her had planned. Her brown eyes staring up at him in desperation and her hands pressed to his chest as she pleaded for his help had ignited something in him making him want her for himself.
As he finished the last of his port, he remembered with pleasure the feel of her bent over in front of him. The feel of her hips under his hands. The softness of her body pressed against his. With no effort, she’d aroused him, even though the act had been entirely pretend. And if his acute sense of smell wasn’t mistaken, she’d wanted him.
As he fantasized about her, he wondered what had happened to make her one of London’s many homeless. Why had no one taken her for his wife? He thought of her wit combined with her obvious beauty and imagined many a young man vying for her hand. Young men like himself.
No. Not like me.
It didn't matter. No, he wasn't a young suitor who would court her and hope she'd graciously say yes to his offer of marriage someday. He was a vampire hundreds of years old, but that didn't mean he couldn't have love. He was more than the dissolute soul who'd accepted a stranger's touch simply to feel something just hours earlier.
Arden was more than just some homeless wretch he'd saved from an unknown assailant. She was someone he could keep safe in his house as his maid. And even if he couldn’t be the kind of man she deserved, he would make her his.
Vampire Dreams Revamped (A Sons of Navarus Prequel) Page 2
