Julian murmured something vague about some coven or other and she seemed satisfied with his answer. He realized she was already rather drunk and he offered an arm as she hoisted herself onto a tall stool. He noticed that she lifted her long black skirt as she sat, so that her bare skin was against the leather. The image appealed to him, even if the girl didn’t.
Amy and Marguerite were happy to stand, with Marguerite edging closer and closer to Julian until her large breasts pressed against his arm. She kept her eyes leveled at his face as if completely unaware of the proximity of their bodies. Julian could smell her sweat, but it wasn’t unpleasant. It mingled with baby powder and cheap perfume. He found her endearing in her earnest attempts to act innocent as she rubbed against him like a cat in heat.
They chatted about online vampire role-playing sites. Amy confided to the others that she knew of several “real” vampires here tonight. This was just a cover for the real gathering of the true creatures of the night.
“Oh, really?” Julian said, feigning an interest more casual than he felt. Might that presence, that other, be part of the gathering? It wasn’t unheard of for actual vampires to infiltrate these clubs. He had done it himself over the years. What better place to find humans eager to share their blood, without the need for subterfuge and stolen kisses?
“And where do these real creatures of the night meet, Amy?”
“Well, no one knows for sure. I mean, it’s a carefully guarded secret, of course. They can’t have just anyone waltzing in on their secret affairs, now can they? I’ve heard though—” she leaned forward conspiratorially, “—that Jason’s Blood Bar is a favorite haunt.” She paused expectantly. “Get it? Haunt!” Her shrill laughter rang out, making Julian wince slightly.
“Of course, no one knows exactly where the blood bar is, or if it even exists! All very hush-hush, only for those real vampires in the know.”
“Oh, it’s real all right. I know someone who goes there regularly.” Marguerite spoke, for the first time, and her voice was low and gravely in a pleasing, sexy sort of way. The other two girls whipped their faces toward her expectantly.
Marguerite smiled slightly, pleased with the attention of the group, but her eyes were only on Julian. She smiled a lazy, slow smile and said, “Yes, Becky Donovan is a donor there. She told me. It’s for members only and very secretive. They serve stored blood there, and they also have willing donors, like Becky, on hand. Of course, it’s completely illegal. The place doesn’t have a sign, but I’m pretty sure it’s in the French Quarter. Becky won’t say exactly—she’s sworn to secrecy.” The other two young women nodded sagely. This was all such a delicious game!
“I think it’s somewhere near Bourbon and Canal. I followed her once, but she saw me and wouldn’t go any further until I went away.” Marguerite was warming to her topic. “She was mortified that I had figured out what she was doing. She’s a known donor among the various covens in the area. She gets off on it, sexually, you know?” Marguerite turned toward Julian, as if to gauge his reaction. He smiled and pressed very lightly back against her breasts still nestled at his arm. Marguerite flushed slightly but continued, “She says she can orgasm from someone sucking the blood from her arm or shoulder. She says it’s this amazing sexual high for her. And at the blood bar, she gets paid, too. Pretty good gig, if you like that sort of thing.”
She gazed at Julian through lowered lashes. He felt her desire like a tangible thing. He would have her tonight, if he wished. “And you, Marguerite. Are you a donor?”
“I guess that all depends on what I’m being asked to donate.” She laughed a low, seductive laugh, her meaning clear, her nipples now erect against his arm. She was definitely the best looking of the three and clearly willing. He liked the way she licked her full lips, running her tongue in a circle over the top and then bottom lip in a sexy little arc. He liked her smell, something vanilla and her own animal scent.
The other two girls were pressing in now, too, showing no signs of disappearing. But Julian had picked his mate for the night. He would take her back to his lavish suite at the Worthington. Though he wasn’t averse to the occasional ménage, these other two specimens held little allure. As they preened in front of him, he decided to take matters discreetly into his own hands.
Look at those two handsome men over there. They are for you. They want you. You are the chosen ones tonight. They are real vampires. They are sending telepathic messages to you. You are falling under their control. Look at them. They want you. They long for you. Julian sent these thoughts into the minds of the impressionable young women. With one accord, their heads swiveled toward the two young men Julian had chosen on a whim to be their partners.
Reasonably good-looking, the guys were gesturing toward one another, sloshing their beers as they spoke animatedly about something. They didn’t seem the slightest bit interested in or even aware of Amy and Tina.
Julian turned his thoughts toward them—easily penetrating their simple and somewhat inebriated minds. After a moment both men turned toward Tina and Amy, smiles curving their lips, lust lighting their eyes. They want to fuck you. Their names are Amy and Tina. They’ve been waiting all night for you to notice them. They want you. They will approach you if you just give them a signal. Raise your hands and wave them over. Take them home and they will spread their legs for you.
Both men raised their hands, uncertainly at first, then in eager waves as Tina and Amy smiled widely at them. “Tina! They’ve seen us! They’re real vampires!”
“Oh, my God! Amy! They’re waving to us! They want us to come over! Oh, my God! Wait’ll they hear about this on my site!”
Completely forgetting Julian and Marguerite, the two girls drifted away, breathlessly whispering to one another as they approached the two chosen ones. Chosen by Julian, and then forgotten as he now turned his full attention to the third young woman.
“Wow. That was weird. Tina and Amy just went off with those two guys!”
“How convenient for us, hmm?” Julian said, pressing his strong forearm against her breasts and locking eyes with her.
“Oh,” Marguerite said. She licked her lips, and Julian noticed they were chapped, the red flecks of her lipstick spread unevenly against the dry mouth. He resisted a sudden impulse to bite those plump lips.
You want to leave with him. He sent the thought to her mind but really, he needn’t have. Marguerite seemed quite eager of her own accord to leave the ball with a man she’d only met a few minutes before. With barely a wave to her girlfriends, Marguerite turned toward Julian and said, “So, Mr. Vampire. Do you want to suck my blood?”
“Pardon?” Julian glanced sharply at her, but saw she was merely offering what she thought was expected, as this was, after all, a party of vampires.
Marguerite giggled and said, “I’m just teasing, silly! Unless you really do? I mean, I don’t do that. I just play online, you know, for fun. I don’t get into that blood-play stuff.”
“Of course, of course,” Julian nodded, his tone soothing. “Don’t worry, Marguerite, it’s not your blood I want.” He slipped his arm around her, leading her out into the foyer of the ballroom. As they approached the exit, a doorman hurried over, opening the large door, letting in the wet night air.
“Taxi, sir?”
“Yes, thank you.” As the man hailed a cab from the waiting line of taxis, Julian turned toward the young woman. “I’m staying at the Worthington. Would you like to come to my rooms?” He’d found with women like Marguerite a direct approach was best. He didn’t send her any telepathic messages encouraging a positive response. He wanted to see if she would come of her own accord.
She didn’t disappoint. “Rooms! Oooh, how fancy! Does that mean like a whole suite? What are you, some kind of millionaire businessman or something?”
“No, no, just a traveler, passing through.” He opened the taxi door for her, and Marguerite slipped in, revealing a long smooth thigh, as her black dress slit was pulled apart. Julian slid in next to
her and said, “The Worthington.” The drive was a short one, but Marguerite lost no time, placing her hand on Julian’s leg and letting her red-tipped fingers trail up his strongly muscled thigh. Julian didn’t stop her.
When her hand came to a rest on his crotch, he felt the responding swell of his manhood. She was leaning against his shoulder, and her cleavage presented itself alluringly to his gaze. Her breasts were large and he imagined the nipples would be generous. She would do very nicely, he thought.
Once in the suite, Marguerite suddenly seemed almost shy. She stood uncertainly in the middle of the sunken living room, looking around her with her arms clutched protectively around her midriff. Julian realized she must be rather young, perhaps younger than he had thought.
“How old are you?” he asked, his voice gentle.
“Nineteen.” Marguerite tossed her dark hair, staring at Julian with a belligerent expression. “Plenty old enough, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Indeed,” Julian smiled, thinking her remark revealed just the opposite. But who was he to argue? He needed some pussy and here it was. She was only a little younger than he had been when Adrienne had bestowed her fatal kiss.
“Would you care for a drink? I have a nice bottle of champagne chilling.”
“Yes. Yes, I would like that.” Marguerite giggled and twirled around, still hugging herself. “That would be grand, monsieur.”
“Ah, parlez vous Français, mademoiselle?” Julian gestured toward the large sofa and Marguerite flopped down upon it.
“Uh, oui, un peu, bien sûr!” Marguerite grinned, clearly pleased with herself as Julian handed her a glass of bubbly dry wine. “I knew you were French! I told the girls!” Marguerite quickly downed the glass and held it out for more. Julian obliged and she drained the second glass as well. Gently, Julian eased the goblet from her hand and set in on the side table next to the couch. Marguerite giggled, finding her courage in the alcohol. She pressed her arms against her breasts, creating an even more marked cleavage. As Julian’s gaze shifted to her chest, she smiled slyly—no doubt aware of the effect she was creating.
Pretending to be unaware, she went on, “You don’t have much of an accent, but there’s something about you. Something European. Something exotic. Something,” she paused, cocking her head slightly as she eyed the vampire, “something dangerous.”
Julian’s eyes darkened as she spoke. He felt his bloodlust rise. If she had any idea of the potential danger she was in, she would probably faint away on the spot, or more likely, run screaming from the room. Just one kiss with his sharp teeth against her supple throat, and he could kill her, sucking enough blood from her to leave her lifeless in a matter of minutes.
The room seemed to close in on Julian for a moment. He felt dizzy with need, an aching, palpable need for human blood. Swallowing, he took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he willed himself to resist the call of her blood.
The room seemed to recede back to normal proportions. His head cleared, and he shook his long hair away from his face. He stared at the young woman who had helped herself to a third glass of champagne. Her legs were crossed so that her broad thigh was fully revealed to his gaze. She wore no stockings.
So young! So ripe for the taking. And yet, he had promised himself he would bide his time in this sultry town. He would not use her for her blood. No, he would wait, and instead take his fill of her round and willing young body.
He settled next to Marguerite on the couch. Placing his arm around her, he let his hand fall to her ample right breast, which was already mostly exposed by her closefitting, low-cut gown. His long fingers slipped easily past the black material and lifted the breast from her dress.
“Hey,” Marguerite protested, but weakly, as he found a large nipple and rolled it between thumb and finger, quickly bringing it to an engorged state so that it resembled a fat little pencil eraser.
Bending over her, Julian licked her neck, tasting her sweat and young sweetness. Marguerite shivered and said, “Hey,” again, as he began to kiss her throat while his hand sought the other breast, pulling it free as well.
“So are you like a real vampire?” she murmured against his hair. Julian barely heard her. He was intent upon slipping her dress from her body. Marguerite said again, “Hey, Julian, are you like a real vampire? You know, that sucks blood? I said before I wasn’t into it? But you know I’m awfully curious. I’ve thought about being a donor, you know. Letting someone do it to me.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Julian knelt down in front of the young woman, whose face was flushed. She’d had three glasses of the champagne in quick succession, on top of whatever she had been drinking at the party.
Julian had no intention of doing the gallant thing and taking her home. He was going to fuck her. He was going to use her until he used her up. He felt his balls tighten as he leaned over her bared breasts and bit her nipples. Marguerite moaned and let her head fall back, revealing her plump white throat. To distract himself from that offering, Julian again focused on her breasts, biting her nipple harder this time, so that Marguerite yelped a little. He pulled at the nipple, forcing it to distend even further.
“Ouch!” Marguerite squealed, trying to sit up. “Hey, you’re hurting me.”
Julian was breathing hard. He released her nipple but only to bite the other one, just as hard. The young woman pushed against his broad shoulders with her hands, trying to push him off her.
He yielded, standing up. Leaning down Julian pulled at Marguerite’s arms, forcing her to stand. “Look at you,” he said, his eyes flashing. “You look like a slut, Marguerite. Your breasts exposed, your hair wild about your face. I must have you, girl. Now.”
Without waiting for her reaction, indeed not caring how she reacted, Julian swept the girl up and tossed her easily over his shoulder. Marguerite pummeled his back halfheartedly, but to no avail.
Walking into the bedroom, he threw the girl down on the king-sized bed. “Don’t move,” he commanded, his voice no longer gentle.
“Hey, listen, you’re scaring me, cut it out,” Marguerite said, half sitting up. Julian cocked his head toward her. He could feel her fear. She wasn’t lying. But he could also smell her lust. She was redolent with it, and he knew if he put his hand on her sex, it would come away wet with her desire.
He pulled off his pants and stripped off his shirt, revealing his hard, smooth body. His cock was so erect it was peeking over the top of his silk bikini briefs. His head was pounding with lust now. If only he could have it all! If only he could suck her blood while he fucked her! How sublime that would be. And yet, he knew she couldn’t withstand it. Whatever silly fantasies she entertained about being a “donor”, she had no idea what she was offering.
Only another vampire could withstand that kind of lovemaking. Julian’s thoughts flitted to the last time he was with another vampire. Many years had passed since that sharing of the blood, that dance on the edge of oblivion. The mere act of making love could turn dangerous between vampires. Too often, they were seized with a bloodlust so fierce that they were unable to stop the exchange. With their mouths on each other’s throats and their bodies locked together, their blood would flow between them until they finally fell apart, exhausted and wasted. Uncontrolled, the event took a huge toll, even on the strongest vampire. The sacred sharing of the blood was not for the weak.
Marguerite was only a fragile human who would surely die from a vampire’s kiss. Tonight she would only taste his lips and his cock. Even this was a sweet temptation, and Julian smiled a wolf’s grin as he contemplated the waiting girl lying helpless on the bed before him, her breasts still lewdly exposed over the top of her low-cut gown.
He would try not to hurt her, but his lust was rising, and Julian was not gentle by nature. He liked to take his wenches by force. He liked the thrill of fear in their eyes when he revealed his huge cock, which he did now, stripping off his underwear and letting his sizable endowment spring free.
Marguerite gasped and shifted on the bed, but Julian was upon her, pulling at the zipper at the back of her dress, and then pulling it over her head in a tumble of hair and arms. With one strong hand, he pulled off her little panties, which were indeed wet at the crotch.
“Please! This is too fast! Please! I’m not on the pill!”
“Hush,” Julian tried to control his raging desire. All he wanted was to plunge himself into her—to rip her in half with his cock, and use her until she cried. But while he liked a little fear, he also wanted desire. A rape without mutual lust and attraction held no appeal, and so he forced himself to slow down, and calm the young woman trembling naked on the bed in front of him.
“Marguerite, my love. You are so beautiful. I can barely contain my desire for you. Ma chère. Ma petite belle chère. You know you need this. I’ll be gentle. I must have you! And don’t worry about getting with child. I, alas, am sterile. I cannot make a baby, even if I wished to. So calm your fears. Spread your beautiful legs and let me taste you.”
Kneeling at the edge of the bed, he nuzzled his face near her spread pussy. The heady musk of her sex filled his nostrils, and he licked at the delicate folds, stilling at last her protests. Marguerite moaned, thrusting herself up against his mouth. Not all women were so eager for this kiss, and from a veritable stranger at that. Julian was pleased that he had pegged this woman as the slut she clearly was.
He licked and teased her until she was crying the words he wanted to hear. “Fuck me! Fuck me! Do it!” Marguerite grunted, pulling Julian up by his thick dark hair. He lifted himself over her and plunged his rock-hard cock into her slick opening, not caring now if he hurt her, only wanting to be enveloped in her hot, tight warmth.
Grabbing her soft breasts, he kneaded and pinched her flesh, biting his own lips to keep from biting her throat. How he longed to bury his fangs along that sweet pulse in her neck, to taste the rich, delicious offering that coursed through her veins.
Sacred Circle Page 5
