Vegas Moon

by R. M. Sotera

  A sly half grin kicked up the side of her face. “It’s about time. If holding me prisoner is what you want, there is a place for us downstairs.” She batted long lashes. “Are you game?”

  He should say no. With the mood he was in, he might beat the shit out of her tonight. Perhaps that is what she needed. She may not bleed to help him, but she would bleed to pleasure him. It was obvious with her a completely physical, emotion-free affair was what she wanted. And he was going to give it to her. Yes, if it goddamned killed him he was going to make her wish comes true.

  Without thinking of her reaction, which probably would have been bad had he given her the chance to argue, he grabbed her elbow. “Let’s go. You need a little submission.”

  She winked at him as she reached for his hand. “Yes, caramel candy, I am ready for you to string me up. All of the male testosterone you’re flinging my way can be used in a more constructive manner. Don’t you think?”

  What he thought was how nice it would be to have her put her arms around him and admit she loved him. But reality was brutal and blunt. Those words would never leave Cindi Vera Cruz’s mouth, so he would settle for what she wanted to give him. Obviously she didn’t want him in the way he wanted her, but damn, he was going to enjoy her just the same.

  From this moment on, he would put his dreams of a life with her in the far crevices of his mind. Determined yet not completely resolved to let her go that easily, he clamped down on his emotions, resolute not to make the mistake of letting them surface again, at least not until she wanted them to surface.

  If a plaything was her desire, he would reverse the game. He could use a toy, too, one with shoulder-length, pink hair, big blue eyes, a body made for sin, and a mouth like a truck driver.

  Chapter 2

  Cindi stationed herself in front of the floor-length brass mirror in the room adjacent to the blood play dungeon, wondering why she’d reacted so bitchily to Tristan. How could she say she would never bleed for him? Since the night of Jordan and Mia’s wedding, every weekend since, she bled for that man and, might she add, enjoyed every single solitary moment with him.

  But feeding him would mean he needed her, and she knew from all her years of previous relationships, she would only hurt him. It was inevitable.

  She sucked in a deep breath before grasping the black lace gloves on the metallic bureau. The aroma of spicy cinnamon incense filled her nostrils, pushing her body into a state of calmness. She replayed in her mind Tristan’s anger level when he stormed across the gathering hall toward her. Just thinking about his fluid movements sent her stomach into somersaults, yet she couldn’t find the inner strength to admit that she cared about him more than a casual toy. Why? Couldn’t she change her feeling about relationships for Tristan?

  A knock at the door startled her, and then Lilly’s raspy voice brought her back to reality. “You have about five minutes.”

  She slid the other glove on, splaying her fingers out for a tighter fit. “I’ll be right there. Just finishing up in here.”

  “Okay, I’ll tell Tristan you are on your way. He seems a bit agitated tonight.”

  I bet he does.

  “Good, tell him I’m on my way!” The sharp tone of her own voice startled her. She shrugged. Okay, I need to tone down my bitch level since Lilly is doing her job.

  Cindi scanned the room for the supplies she needed. Everything remained in the locked glass bureau against the wall. Taking one last look in the mirror, she zipped up her thigh-high black leather boots, retrieved a straight razor and Neosporin from the cabinet, and disappeared out the door.

  When she’d reached the blood room, Tristan was sitting with his hands crossed, lounging in a red leather chair, in the far corner. With his eyes lowered, he appeared to be deep in trancelike meditation. Cindi’s heartbeat quickened as she approached simply at the mere sight of him in his snug black leather pants. She slowed down her pace to take in the whole package. His white silk shirt was unbuttoned and fanned opened, displaying his perfectly smooth, tanned chest.

  Saliva filled her mouth, and she swallowed before clearing her throat.

  She cleared her throat a second time, causing his attention to move from the floor to her. The tiger contact lenses were replaced with his normal caramel-colored eyes. Cindi smiled.

  You sexy little devil, you.

  “So I see the animal in you decided to take a break.” She pointed to her own eyes, a reference to his lack of contacts.

  “I wouldn’t say that. I just want to make sure you are well aware when you bleed tonight that I’m the one bringing on the pain…and pleasure.” He ran the palm of his hands down his leather pants, making sure to touch every muscle in his thighs. His expression turned confrontational. “I want you to see that you are bleeding for me, and only me.”

  She placed her hand on her hip. How dare you. “We both know this is a game Tristan. We are playing a game. You bleed for me and I bleed for you, this is true. But it is not the same as me giving you my pranic energy. I’ve told you more times than I care to count that I am not going to bleed for you in that way.”

  The anger in his face contorted momentarily into hurt, and as if someone had hurled knives across the room into her gut, Cindi flinched. She didn’t want to hurt him, but it always came down to her causing him emotional pain. Why did he insist on pushing her buttons?

  Just as quickly as the pain surfaced on his face, it was replaced with a blank expression, and he eased up from the chair. His over-six-foot frame towered over Cindi, even with her five-and-a-half-inch booted feet. Reaching into his pocket he withdrew two small, black nylon ropes and pointed to the area in the room where chains dangled.

  Excitement funneled through her body, even though with the expression on his face, she should be a little scared. “What’s with the ropes, candy man?”

  Without looking at her, he let the ropes caress his fingers as he seductively moved the material from one hand to the other. “I thought I might spice up our playtime a little tonight. Are you game?”

  Cindi swallowed against the bulge in her throat. If she said no, he would think she was afraid. Was she? No, her body was begging her to let him incapacitate her with the restraints. Tonight, a part of her wanted him to dominate. She always played the dominatrix during their blood play, but this could be fun. “Fine, I don’t mind the restraints.”

  “Good.” He reached for her wrists and cupped them quickly before he nudged her toward the plastic-covered black leather chair on the opposite side of the room. Everything in the near vicinity donned a heavy-duty plastic coating.

  When playing with blood, safety was law. Elder Jamison made sure the rules were always followed. One of his pet peeves was blood on the furniture. Once they’d reached the chair, Tristan pushed her onto the cushion without his normal gentleness.

  Cindi was, in short, a little pissed. Binding her did not mean abusing the privilege of submission. How dare he push her around like she was his personal slave. A wave of anger rumbled through her body and tensed every muscle. She harnessed her anger in an attempt to not reach out and slap his face, and instead she clenched her teeth. “Take it easy, De Sade.”

  Completely ignoring her comment, he moved his gaze upward, and of course curiosity got the best of her, and she followed the path of his caramel-colored eyes. At the sight of the hanging metal chains, a strange anticipation clenched the nerves of her stomach, and then the little common sense she possessed turned immediately to fear. With the state of mind that Tristan was in at the moment, perhaps she should instantly change her mind before she found herself in a situation she couldn’t free herself from.

  Without missing a beat, he reached above his head and pulled the thin chain sunken into the ceiling. He glanced at her, a dangerously seductive look crossing his face before his tongue glided across his slightly open lips. She was so busy admiring his beautiful face she didn’t have time to argue when he cupped both her wrists in one hand. While she was busy trying to stop her heart from l
eaping from her chest, he secured the knot. “Is it tight enough?”

  “Actually, it’s a little too tight.” Cindi fidgeted against the nylon only to have him yank the rope. Hold on, caramel candy man. She pulled forward, he pulled back, and a lovely tug-of-war ensued. “Tristan, damnit, you’re hurting me.”

  He snickered only once before he scooped her up in his arms and hooked her bound wrists to the hanging chain. “There, that’s perfect.” Carefully he placed her butt against the slick plastic, giving it a gentle squeeze before releasing it. For the first time since he’d bound her, his eyes settled on her face for longer than a second. “Now let’s have some fun.”

  The strange expression on his face made her wish she didn’t agree to the rope. Tonight wasn’t about fun for Tristan. It was obvious now that control was what motivated him this evening, and that fact sent Cindi into an instant rage. Heat suffused her cheeks as she silently gave a severe tongue-lashing to him for his stupidity.

  You should know better than play the control game with me, little boy.

  With every muscle in Cindi’s body tightened to the point that if someone touched her she might snap like a twig, she pulled on the ropes. “Listen, pretty boy, I don’t think this is such a great idea after all. Release me now.”

  He ignored her and instead moved behind her. Once he’d settled in a spot, he slid both hands around her neck, then slowly across her breasts, and down her torso. Oh, shit. He wasn’t playing fair, and just as quickly as her desire to kick his ass came on, the feeling dissipated. His hands on her body felt outstanding, and she couldn’t help her reaction when she closed her eyes and savored his touch, letting the warmness that his hands brought caress every inch of her body. Why did he dazzle her like this? No other man in her life could make her instantly wet with female need except for Tristan, yet she refused to let him close. Always the age card reared its ugly head.

  Yes, he was twenty-one, but she was still much older than him. Young ones were good for playing with. At least that’s what she’d been leading herself to believe for years.

  Someone had dimmed the lights to an ethereal glow, and the vanilla-cinnamon scent of the candles slowly filled their alcove. Without words he reached into the pocket of Cindi’s black leather miniskirt and pulled out the razor. “I think this is a great idea, my submissive.”

  No, it’s not. I need to be in control, not you. The urge to hurt him traveled through her veins quicker than a moth to a flame, causing her head to jerk backward and then forward, hitting him smack in the face. “Back off, Tristan!”

  He caught his balance before he landed on his ass, letting a string of profanities fly. “Fuck, woman, what the hell is wrong with you? You’re like a goddamned yo-yo. You want me, then you don’t. I’m starting to think you’re more trouble than you’re worth.”

  Cindi watched him regain his balance through narrowed eyes. He knew damn well what was wrong. Rough was all right, but hostility drove Tristan tonight. Not the idea of having fun. Cindi shifted her head to the side just as he knelt beside her. “Let me go. This is going to end badly. We both know it.”

  “I won’t untie you until I am good and ready. You need to come clean with me, woman. Either you like me or you don’t. Your head games are going to stop tonight.”

  Another couple entered into the room and glanced at Cindi and Tristan before they chose a secluded corner. Cindi followed their movements until they disappeared from sight. “I’m not playing any game with you, candy man.”

  Tristan’s expression moved to one of frustration, as if he just might give up this stupid power play, but he didn’t. Instead he eased his body back on his heels and pierced her with his severe brown eyes. “Stop it. We both know you feel a little more than friendship for me. Why can’t you admit it? Am I that repulsive?”

  If she were to break down the hardness around her heart and admit her true feelings for this man in front of her, she would admit that what scared her was how much he was coming to mean to her. But the truth of the matter remained. She would not let another man close to her heart after what happened with Jackson years ago.

  It took what felt like an eternity to pick up the pieces of her broken heart after he left. I’ll be damned if I will let that happen again.

  She made the mistake of meeting Tristan’s eyes and the burn of heat in their deeply shadowed depths made her want to hold him so badly it hurt. But the stark reality remained, and it trampled her daily. He was too young. Not to mention they were completely wrong together. Psychic and sanguine couldn’t mix. In the end, their polar-opposite personalities would end up ripping their relationship to shreds, so regardless of how she may feel about him, it was time to hurt him to the core. “I don’t think of you as anything but a plaything, candy man. That’s it. There isn’t some deep, dark feeling for you lingering in the shadows, Tristan. You and I can never be.”

  All of the animation in Tristan’s face extinguished, and he struggled to speak, but only a groan crossed his lips. “I give up trying to make you admit that you care about me.” He pushed himself up to a standing position and moved in front of her. When he was nice and close, and most likely knew that she was as uncomfortable as all hell, he leaned over and planted a kiss on her cheek. Once he’d shifted the razor from one hand to the other, he whispered, “Let’s play.”

  * * * *

  Cindi’s final words flooded his gut with daggers. How could she deny that there was something between them? He could see it in her actions and reactions that she cared about him. Her demeanor changed like rapid fire when the prospect of them being more than blood-play and sex buddies surfaced. Well, fuck it. Two could play her game. He gripped the razor between clenched fingers, prepared to make the first cut, then stopped. Why didn’t she want him? Every woman he took to bed since Cindi barged into his life, couldn’t hold a candle to her. At nineteen, he’d enjoyed plenty of easy women and still was enjoying them at twenty-one, yet his abundance of able bodies never substituted for the one woman whose presence sent sparks through his body like laser beams shooting across the Las Vegas strip. Why don’t you want me? Why won’t you give me a chance?

  His gaze glided across her black leather vest then down her long, thigh-high-booted legs. How could she admit she didn’t feel the sparks that clearly ran through her veins? Cindi kept her eyes lowered for a half a second before she raised her head and shot him a glare that could have turned Medusa to stone. About now, he was glad he didn’t unbind the ropes. She just might hurt him.

  She exhaled forcefully before a seductive drawl caressed his ears. “Are you going to stand there with that confused look on your face all night? I thought you were preparing for action?”

  Instant fire shot through his veins. A muscle jumped in his jaw. Calm down. Don’t let her rouse you. Yeah, easier said than done. “I’m not confused, pretty lady, just fighting the urge to puncture your jugular.” The words came out quicker than he anticipated, and just as fast he regretted their very meaning. A slow churning erupted in the pit of his stomach and increased in magnitude as he watched her sexy face turn distraught, and all of the blood drained from her face. If she hated him so much, why did her facial expressions contradict her words?

  For the first time since their strange relationship started, Cindi didn’t reply with a stinging comeback. She lowered her pools of blue to the floor and kept a transfixed gaze on the plastic-covered chair beneath her. “You hate me that much, candy man?” Her voice whispered across the space between them, shooting arrows of pain into the heart that beat in his chest, the one she continued to tap dance on.

  Tristan stepped in front of her, eased down on one knee. “You know I don’t hate you. I hate that you won’t admit the feelings that linger between us. That my age is such a hang up for you.”

  A gentle breeze drifted between them, carrying the subtle scent of her floral perfume. Inhaling the essence of the woman who he yearned to make his, Tristan let the words that he’d hidden for so long surface in his throat. “I
want you in my life, Cindi, but you won’t hear of it.” He caressed her shoulder, hoping that he was sending power surging through the tips of his fingers straight to her heart. She felt something, because she flinched. Did she feel the attraction as much as he did? I wish.

  But as usual the next words out of her mouth crushed that idea. “Are you going to start the game any time soon, Romeo, or what?”

  Fuck her. He was more than ready to begin. He cupped her soft neck with his right hand and moved the razor to the exposed flesh peeping out from her Wonderbra and then drew first blood.

  Chapter 3

  “Careful, candy man.” Cindi flinched when the blade pierced her skin. The thick crimson liquid oozed from the small slice in her chest, and made a perfect line across her black lace bra. As soon as Tristan made the first cut, he stood up and moved to the side of her. The soft light against his auburn curls made him resemble a Botticelli angel. Yeah, Cindi knew better.

  Truth of the moment, she couldn’t help but admire the sight of him. He was purely sex on a stick. A gorgeous specimen of humanity.

  “Stand up.” His voice came from behind. As she stood, he pulled the chair away from her, leaving her standing in the middle of the alcove with her hands bound and hanging on a hook above her head. A slight uncomfortable silence pierced the dimness in the room. Her body was stretched a little tighter than was usual this early, but any time they were taking part in blood play, the endorphins released during the slicing and lead-up to the occasional beating made that slight uncomfortable pain seem normal.

  Right now, with Tristan’s severely agitated mood, she wasn’t so sure how this night might end.

  “I have a surprise for you tonight, sweetness.”

  “What kind of surprise?” Cindi had to admit her attention was piqued. Most of his surprises during their blood-playing festivities were exciting and very, very naughty. Just like she liked it.