by Debra Dunbar
I wasn’t, but that wasn’t the point. He was the point. This was all about him, and as he built toward his climax, I realized that I actually was on the edge myself. I’d forgotten about the cold and the stone, and his fingers bruising the skin of my hips, and his cock balls-deep in my ass. This was…hot. And kinky. And cool. Wow, what fun.
When Leo shouted out his release, I followed, arching my back. Then I stood, pressing myself against him as he slid from me, wet and limp against my leg, raining kisses down my neck as his hands fondled my breasts and reached down between my legs.
Oh. God bless this sweet guy for wanting me to come again, when he was clearly spent. I edged my legs apart and leaned against him, letting him have his way and losing myself to the enjoyment of his fingers on and in me. I came again, two fingers shoved deep in my pussy, his thumb rubbing my clit while his other hand played with the nipple on my right breast and his tongue licked along my neck and collarbone.
Then I cleaned up as best as I could with my underwear, shoving them into my pocket and shimming into my clothing, well aware that I’d need to spend the rest of the day with that just-been-fucked feeling and smell. Lovely.
Actually it was lovely. I was ablaze with Leo’s energy. I’d had a lot of fun. A dungeon. That totally had to be a bucket-list item.
Leo helped me up the rungs of the dungeon, kissing me in the tower hallway before walking me back to the house. Once inside the room with the harp, we separated with fond words, both of us knowing that we’d never see each other again. It didn’t matter. I’d given him something special. And as for him…well, he’d continue to give me something special for the rest of his life.
Chapter 14
The moment I’d walked back into the dining area, I realized that my absence hadn’t gone unnoticed. A few of the attendees grinned at me. Eva gave me a thumbs up. Celio curled his lip and walked over as if he wanted to spit in my face.
He stopped inches from me and glared. “You can sleep with all the presenters you want, it’s not going to help you win the apprenticeship.”
This was one of the things I hated about being a half-succubus. Here I was trying to save some time and gain some much-needed energy, and humans either saw me as a slut, or someone who was trying to sleep her way to the top.
“That’s not why…” I waved my hand, realizing that he’d never believe me. “If I get this apprenticeship, it’s because of my knowledge and abilities, not because I had some fun in the back room with a presenter.”
“You won’t win. Typical American, come over here with no experience, no background, and think you can attend a few seminars and be better than the rest of us. ‘I read a book on the plane ride over,’” he mocked. “‘And I once drank a Chardonnay. I know all about wine, just ask my friends.’”
I tamped down my anger, realizing that from his view, this seemed to be the case. He didn’t know I was a half-elf, and that brought special skills into the mix. Of course, even with my half-elf side, I was way outclassed here. Maybe with a few years of study I could beat these other guys, but not now. Not even if I seduced every judge in the place.
Well, maybe if I seduced every judge in the place, but that wouldn’t be fair. I was only a half-demon. A full succubus might not have such hesitations about winning through dirty tricks.
Still, I wanted to show this jerk that I wasn’t quite the stereotypical blonde American bimbo he took me for.
We took our seats and sat through an hour of how American oak barrels differed from European ones and how that affected the wine, then we were assigned groups and sent into the kitchen where bottles of wine with the labels covered up sat next to glasses and notecards.
We were in teams of three—and my team was me, Marta, and Celio. Of course I was in a group with Celio. Why couldn’t I have gotten Eva or…or anyone other than Celio? Not about to be the one to complain, I gritted my teeth and headed to our assigned area. Marta had already picked up the notecards and poured two samples.
I picked up two of the glasses of wine and passed Celio one.
“White wine. Clear. Bright,” he commented, swirling the wine in the glass and holding it to the light.
“No shit, Sherlock.” I smirked. “It’s a white wine. He’s brilliant. Just give him the apprenticeship now and send the rest of us home.”
Celio glared at me, but didn’t reply. He stuck his nose in the glass and inhaled. I did the same with far less drama.
“Lime. Apples. A faint melon aroma and a slight tropical note. Floral.”
I nodded in agreement. It smelled like wine. Clean. Crisp. Sweet but not cloying. Not overly alcoholic. I pretty much knew what varietal it was before tasting it. This was where being a half-elf and having spent the summer in a vineyard helped. I knew grapes. It was just all the other stuff that threw me.
We both drank, eyeing each other as we rolled the liquid around in our mouths. Celio spat his into the can provided for such. I didn’t.
Cue all the jokes about how I swallow and don’t spit.
“You’re going to get really drunk by the end of this,” he warned me. Which was actually a nice gesture given that he clearly didn’t like me.
“No, I won’t.” I didn’t go into how as a half-elf/half-demon it was pretty hard for me to get drunk. It happened after a couple of bottles of wine. I’d probably end up spitting it out later in the day if we were going to be sampling a few hundred of these glasses, otherwise, I was going to stick it out.
“No oak flavors. Medium acid. Medium alcohol. Fairly complex. Faint chalky notes. Lilly florals. Very dry.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I rolled my eyes. “It’s a Riesling. Not a German, or another European vineyard. These grapes grew in a temperate climate. I’m thinking it’s a California vineyard, probably Sonoma.”
I was totally pulling the last one out of my ass. I was positive this was a Riesling, and equally positive it wasn’t German. Beyond that, I was blindfolded, throwing a dart at a board.
A flash of doubt crossed Celio’s face, then vanished. He took another sip, swished it around, then spit it out. “No, I’m thinking Australia or New Zealand.”
Ugh. Their wines had a lot in common with the California ones I was more familiar with. Was I right, or Celio? I had spent the whole summer with one of the bigger Riesling producers in California. And this did taste a lot like the grapes from that region.
“So? What is your conclusion?” Marta asked. She’d been writing on her little pad, holding the notecard so we couldn’t see what was written on it.
“It tastes fairly young,” I observed. “Less than three years. I’m going with 2016 Sonoma Valley Riesling.”
Celio squinted at the glass. “2014 Riesling…Southern Australia.”
Fuck, that was specific. I held my breath while Marta consulted the card.
“2014 South Australia Riesling.”
Damn it all to fucking hell! I hated this asshole. Couldn’t I just once beat him at something? I didn’t have to score higher than him on the test. I didn’t have to beat him for the apprenticeship contest. I just wanted to get one of these tastings right and be able to rub his nose in it.
I was glaring at him, trying to think of how I could possibly blast him with lightning and get away with it, when the guy smiled.
It wasn’t smug or condescending, it was a smile of relief. “I wasn’t sure,” he told me. “You know California wines better than I do, and I’m not as confident when it comes to non-German Rieslings. In all honesty, I was going to say Napa Valley, but I hate you and couldn’t bring myself to agree with you on this one, so I went with Australia.”
He hated me. Well, the feeling was mutual, even though for a second there I’d been shocked to feel something very different for this jerk. Just for a second.
“So you went against your instincts and chose something halfway across the world from my conclusion, just to spite me?”
He grinned and I felt that very unwanted jolt of attraction again. Just for a second.
Annnnd it was gone. I set down my wine glass and chewed on a cracker while Marta queued up the next selection.
It was a dark red, almost purple in color but edging toward mahogany. Earthy plum aromas. Smooth finish, but a tannin bite that told me…something. I eyed my notes, but didn’t want to give Celio the satisfaction of having to use a cheat sheet. I sipped it, noting the firm structure of the wine, the rich flavor of plum and blackberry. It was so fruit forward that the plum flavor was the first thing on my tongue, but it wasn’t overly sweet.
“2015 Argentina Malbec,” I announced.
Celio snorted. “Malbec, yes. Argentina, no. It’s French.”
“Fuck you and the horse you rode in on, it’s from Argentina,” I insisted.
He blinked, clearly not understanding the first part of my sentence. “It’s French, you moron.”
“Argentinian, you Eurotrash snob.”
“There is no way that’s from Argentina,” Celio scoffed. “There’s too much sun in Argentina and it gives the wine a weaker structure than the French Malbecs. Then there’s the tannins, not that you’d recognize tannin if it jumped out of the glass and bit your tongue. Southern France has a thinner topsoil. It equates to a deeper wine than what Argentinian wineries can manage with their soil and the climate there.”
In general, yes. But in this case, no.
“You’d be right if all the Malbec wines produced in Argentina came from the Mendoza region. The ones made in Salta are different. There’s a higher degree of limestone in the soil which adds to the tannins, plus the limestone brings calcium into the mix, giving the wine additional structure and acidity. Argentina. I’d bet my life on it.”
Celio snarled. “France. I’d bet my life on it.”
“You’re both dead,” Marta drawled. “It’s a 2015 Malbec, from Chile.”
Damn it. I was so going to lose this apprenticeship. The only bright spot was that Celio seemed unlikely to win at this moment either.
“Amber is right about the soil in that region of Argentina, though,” Marta told my nemesis. “That was a good call on her part.”
I took the notecards while Celio and Marta tasted the next two wines, then Celio had his turn with the cards. I got every single tasting wrong, and Celio was a complete ass about making sure I knew how very wrong I was.
Celio had been right. After tasting four wines, I was slightly buzzed. And I had to pee. The other attendees made their way back to the seminar room to gather up their study materials and head home, while I raced to the bathroom to relieve my very full bladder. As I shimmied my pants down over my hips, I noticed that something was not in my pocket as I’d thought it was.
My underwear. Shit. Fuck. Damn. I could swear I’d stuck them in my pocket after using them to wipe up after my encounter with Leo. Yeah, I know that was kind of gross, but I hadn’t wanted to leave them behind, and I really didn’t want to put them back on. The pocket was the less gross of three gross alternatives, so that’s what I’d gone with.
Gone. The operative word here. I caught my breath, wondering if they’d fallen out in the tower, or somewhere in the courtyard, or even worse, in the middle of the seminar room.
Oh, God. Everyone pretty much knew I’d been banging Leo at lunch, leaving my filthy panties around would be the nail in the coffin for any credibility I still had left. Even if a miracle occurred and I scored perfect on these tests, I’d never get the apprenticeship.
Leaving the bathroom, I retraced my steps through the seminar room, thankful that I didn’t find them there. I spent a moment of panic wondering if someone had found them and picked them up, only to realize that they had to be back at the tower.
I snuck out through the double doors and past the stable, carefully making my way into the tower. Sure enough, there were my underwear, caught on the edge of the dungeon grate. Grimacing, I snatched the piece of lace up and shoved it firmly into my pants pocket. I headed out, back to the house through the room with the harp, but stopped at the kitchen door when I heard voices.
They were angry voices. I recognized one as Catarina Montenegro’s voice, the other an adult male. They were both speaking in Italian. I froze, but before I could back away, I heard the name Guido Montenegro.
That was the man who’d died, Bianca’s uncle and Catarina’s son. She’d survived both of her children—Bianca’s father who had died a long time ago from what I could tell, and Guido. I listened intently, trying to stay silent, then surprised when the conversation suddenly switched to English.
“He was murdered,” the man insisted. “And we cannot let that stand.”
I remembered my conversation with Bianca. She’d insisted that her Uncle Guido had been murdered. I wondered if this had to do with that organized crime feud between the Montenegros and the Sommarivas.
“He was living in their territory,” Catarina countered. “I told him not to buy the villa, but he insisted, saying he’d bonded with it on sight and that it was his treasure. How could I deny him, my beloved son who’d never found his mate, never had children of his own? How could I deny him his treasure? We all knew the risks. I’m just surprised that they hadn’t moved against him before now, or that they did it in such a sneaky, underhanded manner.”
“It is the sneaky underhanded manner I object to the most,” the man countered. “They should have sent a grievance to you or declared war, not killed Guido while he lay sleeping. That is not our way. That is what we should seek vengeance for. Guido should have had the chance to die like the warrior he was, and not be killed in his sleep.”
“And what do you suggest we do?” Catarina asked.
“We declare war. We fight them to the death. We rid ourselves once and for all of these vermin.”
I heard her laugh. “And for what? I do not want their treasures. Marcus, I have survived both my sons and my husband. I only want to rest surrounded by my treasure and wait for the chance to be reunited with my loved ones in death. The only thing in this world beyond my treasure that brings me joy anymore is Bianca. I won’t risk losing her in a war, or losing any more of my family. I think it would be the end of me if Bianca would die, and I would bear the guilt for every cousin who lost their life avenging Guido’s death. No. We will let this go. So far the Sommarivas have not threatened Bianca or Ilaria when they have gone to the villa. My hope is that they will let them enjoy their treasure in peace. If I sense any danger, I will forbid Bianca from going. But until then, I will not act in retaliation for Guido’s death.”
I heard the man make a hissing noise. “You have grown weak in your Melancholy, Catarina. Be careful lest these Sommariva scum try to steal your treasure from you—or take Bianca from you.”
She snarled, a low rumbling sound. “Have you heard anything to support that accusation? Do they plan to move against us? Because if that is so, Marcus, then we will prepare for war.”
“No, I have not heard that,” the man replied. “But I fear for Bianca’s safety, given Guido’s murder. Is Ilaria enough to protect her? Should we send some of our cousins with her when she wishes to go to her villa?”
There was a moment of silence before Catarina responded. “Yes. I’ll tell her that she is to travel only with extra guards until we know the Sommarivas’ intentions. It’s been over a century since they made any move to attack us here, but the villa is technically over the edge of what they consider their territory. I agree, we would be wise to take precautions.”
“I will put together a list of available escorts for Bianca,” the man said, his voice smug.
I heard a rustling of fabric, the shuffling of footsteps. “What would I do without you, Marcus?” Catarina said, her voice somewhat muffled as if she were pressed against his shirt in an embrace. “I was always the stronger one of the two of us, but in my Melancholy, you have grown powerful while I’ve faltered and weakene
d.”
“I’m here for you sister,” he replied. “You rest and mourn, and enjoy the sunset of your life, and know that I’m here for you.”
Why did that statement send a chill down my spine?
Chapter 15
“Someone had a good day,” Irix teased, repeating the words I’d told him yesterday.
“I did. And I’m not as tired as I was last night, so get ready to go out and get our freak on.”
He grinned. “So, was this a competitor? Were you wrecking his concentration to give yourself an advantage?”
My thoughts immediately went to Celio. Ugh. I wouldn’t fuck that guy if he was the last human left on Earth and I was starving to death.
“It was one of the presenters. I thought I was safe because he was leaving today and not presenting again. I’d have sex with him and never see him again, so there wouldn’t be any awkwardness, or him trying to follow me around or anything.”
“But?” Irix raised his eyebrows.
“We got caught.”
“In the act?” Irix smothered a laugh.
“No, but people clearly knew. I don’t know if they saw us head out together, or noticed him making eyes at me during his presentation, or what.” I felt embarrassed all over again. “The sex was great. He wanted to do it in the dungeon, so it was super kinky and I loved it. I got this blast of energy from him, but then everyone was staring at me when I came back. These guys are my competitors who now think I’m trying to screw people to win. They probably all hate me. One hated me before, but now I think they all do.” It was hard enough that I kept getting partnered with Celio. Now that everyone knew, it had turned a fun event into something horrible. I grimaced, dreading tomorrow’s session. If I walked in and everyone shunned me, it was going to be hard to continue attending.
