Enchanting Absinthe (Sex with Strings, Book Four)

by Shona Husk

  No one could love him without becoming a broken toy. His mother hadn’t even been able to love him, and among Vampires children were valued above all because they were so hard to conceive.

  It was easier to not care and drift from lover to lover, never staying long enough to do harm. But he wasn’t young anymore. He was into his fifth century. He couldn’t keep going like this, but he didn’t know how to change. He gazed down at Claire, glad she couldn’t see his thoughts and realize how screwed up he was.

  “Why don’t you let me decide that,” she murmured.

  The car swung around a sharp corner and William braced his arms to keep from tumbling off the seat. He preferred carriages, they moved slower, but no one drove them anymore and he hadn’t bothered to learn how to drive a car. The vehicle came to a stop. He could tell the driver to take her home and be done with it.

  “Last chance, Claire. Do you really want to come up?”

  “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

  “I’m just making sure you know what you’re getting into.”

  “I know what I agreed to. Fucking and biting, right?”

  William stared down at her for a moment longer, then shook his head and moved off her. He was beginning to wonder if the cute guy with the green hair would’ve been a less troublesome choice to enchant. Maybe, but he’d really wanted a woman tonight. However, Claire was proving to be just a little more than he could handle. He opened the door and held it for her as she managed to get out without flashing her panty-less behind. His bad luck.

  Maybe he was just unused to being challenged. They were either awestruck or so easily enchanted they agreed to anything. He smiled as he watched her walk toward the door. Maybe he’d been looking for a little trouble and that was why his magic had settled on her so fast. He shut the car door and followed her to the rear entrance of the hotel. Maybe Claire was just what he needed to shake up his routine and remind him there was more to life than Lucinda’s Lover.

  * * * * *

  Claire’s cheeks ached from the grin that kept creeping up. She was in Absinthe’s hotel room. And not just any hotel, but the most exclusive non-human hotel in Sydney. Her blood fizzed with excitement. She’d got here. She’d not only hooked up with Absinthe, the lead violinist of Lucinda’s Lover, she’d gotten an invite back to his hotel. Thank you, Fate.

  Even in the low lighting, she could see that the hotel room was bigger than her flat. There was even a baby grand piano in the living area. She ran her hand over the back of the plush cream sofa. He walked through as if not noticing the luxury around him; no doubt he was used to it everywhere he went. And he was probably used to girls like her falling all over him, if they weren’t under his spell. Although she had the distinct impression very few made it this far.

  Why her? Did he know she’d faked being enchanted? Or was it because she’d offered blood? She swallowed and touched her neck where he’d kissed.

  Once he bit her, he’d know what she was. He’d know she was immune to his spell and then the game would be up. All Vampires knew Shaman blood tasted of dirt, the same way they knew they couldn’t bite a Were without going insane. It’s what they were taught. The same way she’d been taught that being with a Vampire was wrong because of some ancient battle and archaic ruling.

  A shower started. She glanced toward the bedroom. Well, she’d best make the most of it before he worked out what she was. If she was quick, she could be in Absinthe’s shower. And maybe she could delay the inevitable bite. For a moment she considered being up front and telling him, but then he hadn’t exactly been honest with her. He hadn’t even admitted to using magic. She shrugged. She was here for sex, not the swapping of secrets.

  Claire pulled off the bustier and let it fall to the floor. She put her foot on the piano stool and unlaced her boots, her fingers fumbling in the dimly lit room as she tried to rush. Only the lights from Sydney Harbor broke the darkness.

  Vampires and lights. They didn’t need them and forgot everyone else did.

  She closed her eyes and made herself take a full deep breath to center herself. Absinthe was just a man. His fame wasn’t him. Yet she couldn’t tamp down the nerves that made her stomach tremble as if it was a bag filled with butterflies. She shook her head. You are no better than a groupie, Claire.

  Who was she kidding, she was groupie. And she was living the dream. She grinned and opened her eyes. A vase of white long-stem roses sat primly on the piano. Nature tailored to suit. They were dead without realizing it yet, but she could feel their loss of life with every breath.

  Claire reached out and ran her hand over the flowers. Their fragile velvet petals caressed her palm. Some of the magic she’d absorbed earlier, from the concert and sex, slipped from her fingers and into the roses. To her it was as natural as breathing, part of the circuit that power flowed through her and back into the Earth. The magic would give them another night of life as if they were in the ground. After that, they’d wilt and fade like any other dead plant. She much preferred flowers in the garden.

  The flowers shimmered as if taking a gasp of air, their thanks rippled through her. Smiling, she stripped off her skirt, leaving it just outside the bedroom door. With her eyes adjusted to the dark, she walked past the bed and went into the bathroom. The door was open, so she didn’t wait for an invitation; instead she pressed down any remaining doubts and pushed open the glass shower door.

  “Thought you’d changed your mind.” His voice washed over her, smooth as silk.

  “Admiring…” Her gaze traveled over his body. Water rolled easily over him, following the contours of muscle beneath that caramel skin that begged to be licked. Her eyes trailed down the line of black hair that started at his navel. His cock was hard, jutting forward, waiting for attention. “The room.”

  Absinthe was every part the grunge god he portrayed onstage. But washed clean, no music, no makeup, no magic, she saw the man. So disconnected, having a stranger in his room passed for intimacy. Fingers unraveled the fibers of her heart. She extended a tendril of power, intending only comfort. He ran a hand through his hair and brushed it away as if he could see her concern.

  How well could he sense magic? She hesitated, but he raised an eyebrow in invitation. He was a temptation she couldn’t resist, so she stepped into the shower, closed the glass door and let the damp heat envelope her. Now wasn’t the time to be working out why a Vampire had any kind of magic.

  Not while said Vampire was wet and naked and hard.

  Oh yeah, every inch a god.

  “Why don’t you have a closer look?” It was a dare, not an order and there was no magic behind his words. Curious, she’d half expected him to wrap her up in an enchantment again…maybe he didn’t think he needed to now.

  Claire licked her lower lip slowly, as if considering his suggestion. Her fingers trailed up his thigh and then along his shaft. He waited and watched, his eyes green again instead of white. He was in control of his lust. She didn’t know if his fangs were down or not, but if she was on her knees, he wouldn’t be able to bite her anyway.

  She dropped to the floor of the shower, the tiles reassuringly cold and firm beneath her knees. Water cascaded down her back, between the cheeks of her bottom and down her inner thighs. Teasing, that’s where she wanted his hands—not magic this time. She wanted skin on skin. The real thing. If she had to get the show started, so be it.

  Her fingers wrapped around his thick shaft and she inhaled the scent of sex and soap. She ran her tongue along the underside of his cock and glanced up, knowing he’d be watching. He was and the color in his eyes was fading fast. When was the last time he let someone go down on him?

  She knew the answer; he never let anyone get that close. Her tongue stroked the smooth glistening head of his cock, before she took him in her mouth. Power sparked around them, warming the air and writhing with the steam. She gave his cock a long, slow suck, then went back to letting her tongue and lips tease the sensitive skin of his glans.

  Absi
nthe didn’t hide the grunt as she raked her teeth over his delicate flesh. Vampires loved teeth, he was no exception. Her nails scraped over his tight balls. She gave them a squeeze and felt his power uncurl around her.

  Too easy.

  Absinthe rocked his hips, but kept his hands to himself as if he wasn’t sure what to do. But his magic did, it swelled as if awakening. As if it were organic and fed on high emotion…and sex.

  No, not possible. And yet it mimicked her magic. She could feel them growing warmer with every stroke of her tongue and soft groan from Absinthe. He wasn’t trying to enchant her, whatever was happening he wasn’t aware of, or the magic was so small he couldn’t use it. There was only one way to find out what was going on.

  She lowered her gaze as if concentrating on kissing and nipping along the length of his shaft and risked a glance with her third eye. She didn’t have to open it much to see his magic looked the same as hers. Exactly the same. Her third eye closed, and she drew in a sharp breath laden with lust and impossible magic. He had Shaman magic. What the hell did that mean? He was Vampire. Was he really a banned half-breed?

  Her tongue stroked the slit, hoping for a slight taste of musky cum, but got nothing. She was half tempted to unleash her own magic on him to see how he reacted. If he really was part Shaman, she wouldn’t be able to enchant him…but he’d be able to sense it. He’d already brushed her away once. And she’d seen the way he avoided all other non-humans. Claire released his cock and stood, sliding her body up his.

  “Nice.” He nodded as he spoke.

  The budding smile died on her lips. Nice had never been a word used to describe her technique.

  “Nice?”

  Absinthe pulled her against him. One hand gripped her bottom the other cupped her breast. He rubbed a thumb over her nipple. Every nerve tightened, pulling on the ache in her belly. Liquid heat filled her pussy, but this time there was no magic involved. Without magic, this was personal, pure. She preferred it. Anyone could fuck well with magic.

  The length of his cock pressed tantalizingly close. Only the insult stopped her from pressing her hips hard against him and seeking more.

  “I’m close to twenty times older than you. It was nice.” He kissed the corner of her lips.

  “Twenty times?” He didn’t look a day over thirty. It was always a little confusing being with a Vampire. They didn’t look their age. She scanned his face. His lust-lightened eyes, sharp cheekbones and full lips. She was sure he was of Mediterranean descent. Her gaze flicked to his forehead. In the center was a faint line. Something that could be just a frown line, but to a Shaman it was much more. While it was only light, it was the crease that marked him as having Shaman blood. In a full-blooded Shaman that was where the third eye would be.

  “Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to ask a Vampire’s age?” He pinched the nipple he’d been toying with. Mischief lit his eyes.

  Claire arched toward him but smothered the moan. Magical flames licked along her skin. Power surrounded them like a building thunderhead. Could he feel it? Or did he need a whole room full of people to fuel his magic? There were so many questions she wanted to ask and not one would form. His fingers constantly moved, brushing her skin, teasing and tempting, but never giving her enough. He would play her as he did his violins, drawing out a tune that pleased his ears. He’d had centuries to practice, of course, there was nothing she could do that would be different.

  She shook her head, her body responding to his touch with shudders of pleasure, but her mind reeling. To be able to use magic, he had to be half Shaman, anything less resulted in what humans termed green thumbs and an affinity with nature, plants and animals.

  His lips parted, revealing his fangs. Her heart skipped a beat. Was he going to bite her in the shower—it made sense, that way spilled blood would wash away. The last time she’d been bitten it had been a dare and the Vampire had spat her blood out after finding the taste too musty and dry—like a wine past its drinking date. She bit her lip, knowing the game would be over and he’d be left with a bad taste in his mouth.

  He leaned in and kissed her, slowly. His tongue took the time to learn the shape of her lips, never once cutting her. But what did she expect? He knew what he was doing. The water hammered down around her, drowning out the pounding of her blood. He tilted her head and kissed her throat.

  She held her breath and he laughed.

  “I’m not going to bite you yet, it wouldn’t be worth it. Since you’re here, I want more than a quick bite and fumble. I can stay up all night. Can you?” His teeth raked her earlobe without breaking the skin.

  Her clit throbbed in time with her pulse. “I can try.”

  “Good,” he murmured against her neck and she was sure she felt the tips of fangs against her skin. His tongue lapped the water trickling down her neck.

  Each sweep raised gooseflesh on her skin but heated her blood until she was imagining what it would feel like to be bitten. Magic swept over and into her. It was all around her and they hadn’t even started having sex yet. When he finally got inside her, it would be a burn beyond compare and she’d be able to do some major spell casting…

  His fingers slid along the lips of her pussy. She leaned her forehead on his shoulder, wanting to give in and forget everything but being here with the man she’d secretly fantasized about for years. But she couldn’t. An idea was forming. One that would get her in all kinds of trouble, and yet it would get the Shamanic Council off her back.

  All she’d have to do is use the building magic to make sure she got pregnant and that the baby had the Shaman traits, not the Vampire ones—nothing different from what the Council would do to her in two days’ time—only she’d beat them to it and have a permanent reminder of her night with Absinthe.

  He eased his fingers into her pussy and her knees trembled. What she was planning was wrong. And yet he’d never know, and no doubt wouldn’t care. It wasn’t as if she’d ask him for anything afterward.

  His fingers pumped in her core as his thumb brushed her clit. Tension built, ready for release. Her breath hitched, but before she could come he stopped. She groaned in frustration and raked her nails across his shoulders in retaliation—hard enough to draw blood.

  He threw back his head and grunted. “Do it again.”

  “No. Two can tease.” She’d make him wait for her to break his skin again. Vampires loved to bleed, even if they weren’t bitten during sex. Absinthe was no different, but maybe he’d remember her long after they’d parted. It was all she could hope for.

  He dragged her hips close as if he intended to lift her up and fuck her against the wall. Claire lifted her leg and hooked it around his thigh. She was ready. She’d been ready from the moment she’d set eyes on him, everything else had just been foreplay. His hand smoothed over her butt, then he twisted them around so her back was against the cool tiles. His cock pressed close, she wiggled her hips as if she could tempt him into sliding his shaft into her pussy. But he released her and picked up the soap.

  His cock was harder than he’d ever been. She really did something to him—it was either her or he’d been reliant on quickies and stale blood for so long that the promise of a hot-blooded woman who wasn’t afraid to get bit in his bed was too much for him to handle.

  William drew in a breath that seemed to be made of steam and lust. Around him he could feel the energy building, nothing he could use, but it was there. Part of him wished he could use it so he could slide the enchantment around her and keep his distance. But it was too late for that. The taste of her lips was on his tongue and his fangs were keen to cut. The scratches on his shoulder stung. If it had been a long time since he’d bitten a lover, it had been longer since one had drawn blood. He’d forgotten the sharp-edged pleasure it brought.

  Claire may not be Vampire, but she wasn’t afraid to get her nails dirty. He liked that. He liked it more than he should. More than was safe. One night. He’d give himself that, give her something to remember and talk abou
t long after the band had split up. He lathered the soap between his hands, letting the thick white foam form.

  She watched. Her coppery hair was damp and clinging to her face. Her eyes were wide and dark as she waited for him to do something. Anything. Once he wouldn’t have been wondering about what to do. Now he was so unused to anything with meaning…and what would this mean?

  Nothing. It would mean nothing, because if it was anything more than nothing, she’d lose that spark of life that had attracted him. He’d smother it with magic, not deliberately, but he wouldn’t be able to help it. With slow movements, he began washing her. His hands glided over her skin, paying no more attention to her breasts than her elbow. She trembled and sighed, but didn’t try to rush him. Did she know he was doing this for himself?

  That he needed to remember what it was like to touch someone?

  He smoothed his soapy hands over her stomach and her hips. He saw the faint silvery lines that usually marked a woman’s body after pregnancy, but said nothing. They weren’t here to trade scars and stories. They were here for sex. Sex that was becoming more personal by the moment.

  When he crouched to wash her legs, her breath hitched and her heartbeat raced afresh. He knew what she was waiting for. He leaned a little closer and ran a fingertip up her inner thigh, stopping just short of her pussy. She’d trimmed the hair in to a narrow strip of dark curls, the way so many women did these days.

  He lifted one of her feet so it rested on his thigh. She pressed one hand on the glass wall and one hand on his shoulder for balance. Her eyes were closed and her lip was pinched between her teeth as if she knew what he was going to do.