by Jackie Ivie
“I’m trying to open negotiations here. I’m working on finding a baseline. Number one, you’re an Eskimo.”
“What makes you so certain?”
“Who else brings up sealskin boats? Oh. Wait a moment. That means you’re Eska the Eskimo.” He snorted. “That’s rad.”
Eska sucked in a gasp and stared at him. “What did you just say?”
“Oh, damn. You’re offended, aren’t you? I apologize. I do. And while I’m at it, I apologize for my language. I rarely swear. Honest. I believe there are so many words available in the English language, that it’s a mark of laziness to resort to profanity.”
“Repeat that.”
“I apologize for any offense. Truly. And for my use of profanity. I rarely—.”
“No. Not that. The ‘Eska the Eskimo’ comment. And the rad part.”
His brows rose. “May I ask why?”
“Someone I know said that exact thing to me. And he sounded just like you as he said it.”
“I have been told everyone has a doppelganger. Some swear they’ve met mine. He’s like an evil twin. Maybe you’ve also met him.”
“I doubt it.” She mentally shook herself. She must have misheard. He was the farthest thing from her viewpoint of Nigel she could imagine.
“Dare I hope this means you are still open for negotiations?”
“Maybe.”
“Look. Eska. Name a price. I’ll pay whatever you want. Pounds. Euros. Yen. Bullion. Whatever you want.”
“I don’t want money.”
“Everybody wants money.”
“Money is meaningless. A bunch of numbers.”
“That is not what I’ve been told. But I always had it, so I am the last person for a debate. What do you want, then?”
“For your freedom?”
“I’ll do anything! Please?”
“Anything?” Eska took a final step toward him, and stood looking down at his outstretched form.
“Yes. Anything. Come on. Want do you want?”
She reached a hand toward him. She heard him inhale a breath. His chest expanded with it, while his belly went concave. Her index finger hovered above his abdomen for a moment before she lowered it. Muscles immediately responded, clenching beneath her finger. A spark shot outward. She saw it, and the next moment she experienced it. Electricity raced up her arm and smacked into her bosom. Her nipples reacted with an urgency that scraped them against the silk.
All of it new.
And supremely wondrous.
“Do all the rowers look like you?”
She added more fingers to her touch, thrilled as a pulse of heat arced through each digit to join the morass of energy gathering at her breast. And as she watched, his skin beneath her hand darkened.
“What?” His voice was hesitant. And really deep.
“The other men on your rowing team. Are they as fit...as you?”
He didn’t have much chest hair, but he did have a definite line starting mid-belly to disappear beneath the waistband of his undergarment. She started moving her touch toward it. Forward an inch. Back. All manner of bronzed skin shifted with her progress, while he jumped slightly each time.
Oh!
This was fun!
He cleared his throat. It didn’t seem to help. The words were difficult to decipher, and carried a touch of vibrato to the bass tone. “I am...not certain about—uh.”
“Not certain? Don’t you have locker rooms?”
“What?”
“Locker rooms. So you can shower together...or something along that line?”
Speaking of a line...
Eska skimmed her touch along him, drawing an imaginary line, fingers lifting and sinking as rope-like muscles bunched and moved. His response was a rush of words. Rough-toned. Abrupt.
“That wasn’t what I meant! And, uh. Yes! There are showers...but I don’t look. I’m a guy! I assume the others are as fit. Some of them, anyway. I don’t really know. But, I—.”
She’d reached the start to his line of hair. His voice stopped dead. A whisper of sound drew her glance. The bit of cloth he wore at his hips had disappeared, but he still wore his undergarment. The front was distorted and bulged outward at an odd angle. Eska’s eyes widened, and then her lids lowered as she considered it. A tremor scored her. Another followed on its heels. He began inhaling small breaths and pushing them out with a force that sent air onto her upper arms. Throat. Cheeks. It didn’t cool her skin. It did the complete opposite.
“What did you mean, then?” Eska prompted.
“When?”
It sounded like he had his teeth pressed together. That was a far cry from her. Her lips were gapped open, allowing room for the fang tips, as well as her pants of breath.
“You said you were uncertain.”
“Oh. Yes. I am. Extremely uncertain...as to where this is going. Like...exactly.”
In answer, Eska lowered her mouth to one of his nipples and licked it. He lurched upward, breaking that contact. She heard a sizzle. Felt a hint of mist touch her arm where she still touched him. Stinging accompanied it, while his groans filled the space. They reverberated in waves around them. He dropped back onto the pad, shook in place. Her hand moved with it. And when he spoke, it was with a rough, loud tone.
“Time out! All right? We need a time out! Right now!”
She took her hand from him. He had his head lifted to glare at her. He was breathing extremely hard. His jaw was clenched, his lips drawn in a snarl. And his eyes resembled sky-blue London topaz. Just as vibrant. And just as hard.
“How long do you need for this time-out?” she asked.
“Long enough that I can figure out if what I’m hearing is really what you might be meaning me to hear. And think.”
“What are you hearing?”
“A powerful amount of ringing at the moment.”
She giggled. Every portion of him went rigid. And then he swore. Her brows rose, and she couldn’t resist teasing. “I thought you rarely used profanity.”
“Fuck that! I am in hell. My life turned upside down! I even got called a cold fish! And you are crazy!”
With an aura of fury about him, he stunned. The room temperature pulsated with heat. The very air carried an electric charge. Every cell on her body fought her effort to pull the response back. Eska crossed her arms defensively as she worked to control a runaway heartbeat. Rapid pulse. Reactionary breaths. And all sorts of other ills that came from arousal. And when she spoke, she used a bland tone. Aloof. Distant. Her voice sounded strange in her own hearing.
“Does that mean you are turning me down?”
“Oh, no. You are not getting out of this that easily.”
“Out...of what?”
“You want it in words? Very well. I may be off the mark, but you can only kill me once.” He paused. Took a breath. Moved his chin a little to one side and then back. “It appears you want sexual favors...in exchange for my freedom.”
“No. I want you to make love to me.”
He stared at her unblinkingly, his eyes intensely blue. “How about...I label it sexual satisfaction? Will that suffice?”
She considered it. Then nodded.
“I can’t—. I mean...whoa.”
“You can’t?”
“Oh, no. I didn’t mean that. I sure as hell can. But I don’t know why. And I can’t fathom how you plan on enjoying anything...but you got it. I accept.”
“All night?” she asked.
“If you can handle it.”
She gasped.
“But we are setting ground rules first. Hold it right there, lady.”
Eska had leapt and was almost atop him. She lowered slowly back to the floor to regard him with what she hoped was the same baleful look he gave her.
“Ground rule one. No biting. Rule two. No sucking. Got that?”
“No sucking?”
“Or biting.”
He wore his blond hair shoulder-length. There were a lot of sun-kissed strands above a darker
gold shade. He watched unblinkingly as Eska reached out and tucked a lock behind his ear. He was trembling as she lowered her mouth to it.
“But I like sucking,” she whispered.
And then she touched her lips to his throat.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Paul Henry had been born into a position of power, raised with that in mind. Always. Not only was he heir to a global enterprise worth billions, but he was destined to continue a legacy of vengeance and retribution against the most evil creatures spawned: Vampires. His ability to command seemed a gift from birth. He was known for leadership authority, an ability to direct, and a propensity to dominate. He didn’t lose control. Ever. And yet, right now. With Eska?
All of that might as well be a description of another person.
It wasn’t possible. And he couldn’t figure out why.
Eska didn’t just possess vampiric allure. She was danger and enticement and magnetic force all neatly packaged into the sexiest woman imaginable. It went beyond her beauty, which was considerable. A billboard graced with her face would snarl traffic. Her figure was exactly what he liked. Supple. Strong. But there was something more happening here. Something he’d never run across. It must have to do with vampirism. Nothing else made sense. Everything she did sent a blizzard of impressions. Waves of fire-touched heat. Flickers of lightning-charged surges. Paul Henry scrunched his eyes shut and tightened muscles. He hadn’t another choice. He had to withstand an onslaught of gut-clenching sensation that defied description.
Focus, Paul Henry!
Maintain focus.
It wasn’t just a mental exercise. Right now it was absolutely essential. He also needed to stay on task. Avoid anything to do with sensory experience and emotion. This wasn’t an experience he’d been trained for, but it wasn’t fatal. He needed caution. Vigilance. Alertness. And a massive dose of endurance.
So sanity would prevail.
At some point.
Facts. He needed facts here.
Paul Henry began mentally listing them, assembling a defense. Nothing was as it appeared. Eska was not young and lithe and gorgeous. She couldn’t be. He knew what she really was. He’d spent years going over that lesson. Eska was a dead being. Dusty. Dry. It didn’t matter that the shell was a luscious siren. No one should desire her. The possibility shouldn’t even arise.
Wait.
He needed to consciously force his mind to change the description. It was not desire. His body was demonstrating lust. They may have termed this sexual satisfaction, but that was splitting hairs. He was providing sexual service. Why she wanted him was unfathomable. It hadn’t made any sense when she’d proposed it, and it still didn’t. But it was not pleasure.
The sentence flashed through his mind. Became a chant. Not pleasure.
Not pleasure.
Tonight was an assignment. A chore. Once completed, he’d move on. Forget. Bury the memory. And never dredge it up. Anything else was self-destructive.
His brain hammered directives. His body was another issue. He was going to have to force the issue.
Paul Henry pulled in muscles that already burned with effort. Grunted as non-rhythmic shudders wracked him. Eska might be every undesirable thing he’d just listed, but it didn’t help. This woman possessed wicked enticement atop sensual skill. She raised craving beyond comprehension. Locking gazes with her had been a heart-pounding event, but whatever she did to his neck opened up a well of erogenous splendor. With his eyes shut, it was inescapable.
Warm.
Wet.
Totally erotic.
His mind went on complete hiatus. Grumbles of disagreement turned to waves of appreciative growls. They filled the area, showcasing his enjoyment. This woman not only aroused. She tantalized. Enticed. And sent all kinds of erotic provocation. Resistance didn’t just sound unfeasible. It wasn’t even in the range of possibilities.
But he had too much to lose.
And somehow he remembered that.
Paul Henry struggled against an unseen fog of allure. Somehow he spoke, but the words were as contradictory as his tone. “Eska...wait. You have...to stop! I can’t...go back if—oh. That is so nice.” His voice lowered with appreciation, but then came rushing back with a spate of frantic words. “I mean, no! You have to stop! I’m not fully changed! Eska!”
She giggled. His heart contracted. His body jerked.
“I haven’t done anything yet,” she told him.
Oh, yes she had.
He was abuzz with a morass of electrically charged surges. And then she licked him again. Paul Henry shot up from the padded surface. The chains stopped his lunge. Liquid spewed onto him. He dropped with a thud. Droplets scorched and burned, while he writhed and swore. But then everything stopped, altered instantly by whatever she started doing to his throat again. Sensation ratcheted to another level, and a blast of heat shot clear through him, sent with fire-hose efficiency.
His heart got slammed first, then his gut. But his groin was the real target. He hadn’t any defense against it, although his briefs tried. He wore the best, not simply because he could afford it, but because they were worth it. Constructed from a light-weight, breathable spandex and cotton blend. Extremely comfortable. Easy to move about in. Looked great, virtually invisible beneath the slimmest-fitting trousers. But right now, they created all manner of discomfort because of how they restrained. And restricted. And his words only made it worse.
“You are so...sexy. And so—. This is—wow. Just wow.” Reason returned from somewhere, changing his words and tone. “Oh, no. No! Stop! You have to stop. Now.”
“Hmmm?”
She murmured against his neck, sending vibrations his body had no trouble interpreting. His dick strained with renewed fervor against the confines of his undergarment.
“Oh...woman. That is so good...but no! We mustn’t! We can’t! No blood! You have to stop!”
“Such fuss.”
The words were whispered, sending another subliminal message. His dick telegraphed it instantly, taking the constraint of the briefs past discomfort and into the realm of physical tenderness, and even that was unsuccessful at fending off her arsenal of arousal.
“Eska...please?”
She lifted her mouth from him with a sigh, halting the magical flow of wonder. The instant loss was tangible. He barely halted a groan that announced it.
“Such a worrier.”
“You bit me. In violation. Of our agreement. Already.” He separated the wording, mostly due to being out of breath, but they sounded authoritative. Harsh.
“I did not. See?”
Her fingers touched his neck before she lifted them for his inspection. There wasn’t a speck of blood anywhere.
“But what? How?”
She licked her lips. Gave him an air kiss. “Are you sure you want to know?”
“I’m not sure of my own name at the moment.”
“About that...I have changed my mind. You’re not a Hank. You are definitely Henry.”
Oh. Balls.
He had never heard the name spoken in such a suggestive undertone. His heart reacted with a heavy thump. His throat closed off. His body pulsed spasmodically. He was in luck that it wasn’t far enough to send water showering onto him again.
“Henry?”
He barely heard her say his name again, but it registered that she wasn’t intoning it with sensual vibes this time.
“This is not working,” he announced.
“I think it’s working rather well,” she replied.
“I need mobility. I can’t possibly—Eska.”
Shock filled the name. It was also higher pitched than his normal auditory range. He didn’t know how he got his voice to work at all. Shock wasn’t even accurate. Eska didn’t act like she heard him as she proceeded hiking her dress to her hips, revealing legs that belonged on a super model. And she wore lace-topped thigh-high stockings too, their presence skimming her legs with a silken mist.
This wasn’t just shock. It was
awe.
And then she put a knee beside him, climbed up, and straddled him.
Paul Henry fought for air. His eyes and mouth went wide. Her thighs gripped his hips. She arched her back. Slid down...
Oh.
It didn’t feel like she wore anything beneath her gown except stockings, but his briefs were working overtime. Thankfully, something was. Cotton and spandex seized his groin and were not surrendering despite how he attempted to drill through them. Emotions flooded him. He recognized frustration. And then anger.
Paul Henry grabbed for her waist, stopping her.
Oh, hell.
That was stupid.
He tensed. Sucked in a breath. Grit his teeth. And still grunted as a shower of water misted them. He’d prepared to withstand it. She hadn’t. She gave a sharp cry. Her weight disappeared. Moments passed filled with his ragged breathing. There was an odd echo to it that he couldn’t quite place.
He turned his head and located her. She’d flown to the center of the room. Golden light framed her, haloing her mass of dark hair. Her eyes were wide and dark. As he watched, her dress slowly slid over her hips and down her legs. His heart thumped raggedly. Heavy beats filled both ears. They also had a reverberation, as if two drummers beat at bass drums in tandem. It was difficult to hear. Harder to think.
“This won’t do, Eska. You need to get me loose. Now. Right now.”
“Don’t move.”
“What? Don’t you dare leave me! Don’t you—!”
“I can’t break your cuffs if you bring the water.”
Paul Henry glared at her for a moment longer before nodding. “I won’t move.”
She skimmed the floor toward the end of his platform. Orange silk clung to the curve of her buttocks, the material moving with her. Paul Henry didn’t stay completely still. He followed her progress, swiveling his neck to keep her in sight. She reached his feet. Hooked a finger beneath one ankle cuff. Twisted her wrist. And snapped the iron shackle apart like it was a celery stalk.
His heart skipped a beat. He swallowed.
One down.
Paul Henry lifted his leg and shook it. The broken band fell off with a clank. She put her finger beneath his other ankle shackle. He shifted his head just enough to watch her around the obstruction of his arousal. His dick was alert, hard, and scrunched in place. It was impossible to overlook. Or ignore.
