Her Vampire Husband

by Michele Hauf

  The spike-heel boots were her favorite. So kinky. They were fashioned entirely of black leather buckles from knee to ankle, à la the gladiator look. It took her ten minutes to fasten them all.

  She examined her reflection in the floor-length mirror. “All I need is a whip to complete the look. Wonder if Mr. Decadence is into kink?”

  She admonished her image. “Nah. Fangs to flesh is kinky enough.”

  Thank the gods she had seen no flash of fang since arriving here. Blu had always thought when a vampire kissed someone that the fangs came down automatically. It was good to learn her assumptions weren’t all true.

  She’d surprised herself with this request to watch Creed take blood. Blu couldn’t bear to watch if the victim were female. It would be too intimate, and she would feel jealous.

  But to watch two men embrace? Even if it did merely serve a need for Creed, she took a thrill from knowing he would be uncomfortable with this. And that was worth giving up contact with Bree.

  Besides, if she got desperate, she could sneak into his office and use the phone.

  “The vampire so didn’t think this one through. One point for the girl in the red wig.”

  The BMW honking out front clued her he waited.

  Impatient? Well, then, she’d have to recheck her lipstick before she left. Another coat of the glossy red appropriately named Bite Me would finish her Watch My Husband Suck Another Man’s Neck look.

  “Now I just need to get beyond the bloodsucking part.”

  Because if anything would turn her stomach, that would.

  “HOLY CHRIST ON THE CROSS,” Creed said as Blu slid into the front seat. “That getup…”

  “Turns you on?” she wondered sweetly.

  Instantly aroused, Creed could but gape. Parts of him were getting hard so fast he feared an injury.

  The glossy red lipstick emphasized her thick lips, but Creed couldn’t take his eyes from her cleavage, pushed high and exposed to the rosy areolas. The tight corset looked as though it offered her little breathing room. About as much room as he had in his pants right now—which was less than nothing.

  And those boots. What he’d like to do with those buckles and his teeth. Sacrebleu. How long before they returned home? He could not conceive of allowing the woman to get by without tugging a few of those buckles free.

  “Where we headed?” she asked.

  “There’s a club in Minneapolis I know you’ll like.”

  “I thought you didn’t do noise?”

  “I don’t. But with all the visual stimulation you’re sending my way right now I’ll need the noise to distract me.”

  She wiggled on the seat. “You like the look? I call it steampunk vampire.”

  Crass, but somehow not ridiculous. And, oh, so sexy. Her lips were the color of fresh blood. Mercy.

  “You would make a lovely vampire, Blu. Fangs would become you.”

  She smiled, revealing pointed fangs.

  “Fuck. Put them back up or you’ll make me come right now.” He’d forgotten werewolves could bring out the fangs at will. “Do you know what that does to me?”

  “That turns you on? When I let down my fangs? I suppose so. What if I bit you?”

  He breathed in and out, concentrating on driving. Focus, man. It’s just another tease.

  “Wow.” She put a foot on the dashboard, the pointy black toe scraping the windshield. “I thought it would take another vampire to get you off that way. But seriously? If I bit you?”

  “Being bitten ranks right up there with orgasm.”

  With her one leg up, he could see all the way up her thigh. But from this angle he couldn’t determine if she wore panties or not.

  No panties, please.

  “But that’s not going to happen, is it?” he said. “If you won’t take my bite, then I shouldn’t in turn take yours.”

  “Yeah, but sounds like it’d be more fun for you if you did let me nibble on you. Not that I’m into blood.”

  “Please, Blu, I’m unsettled enough about this night. Don’t give me more to run through my thoughts. I want to get this done with.”

  “I don’t want you to think of it as a task.”

  “All challenges require focus and careful strategy.”

  “Have fun with it, Creed. Save the strategizing for the tribe. Haven’t you ever had someone watch?”

  The things she would see if she could browse through his past catalog of sexual depravation. Of course he’d been watched. Had watched. Had participated in orgies of fangs, orgasms and wild climactic moans. Ah, that decadent eighteenth century.

  But he’d never cared about those random limbs, breasts and necks before. Blu he cared about.

  Yes, it wasn’t so hard to admit—he did care for her. The werewolf princess had pierced his armor and tickled his humanity as much as his desires. How remarkable was that?

  Fool. You know how this will end. If you care even the slightest for her you won’t be able to pull it off.

  Yes, he would. He must. For the sake of the entire vampire nation.

  BLU HAD BEEN INSIDE the club Violet before but not for any length of time. Ryan hadn’t liked the feel of it. He preferred pool tables, baskets of week-old peanuts and NASCAR playing on half-a-dozen big-screen TVs in his bars.

  She loved the atmosphere. Trance music pulsed through her veins. The purple lighting and violet fabric walls murmured all things sensuous and decadent. The lights turned her hair and lips a strange bruised color. All eyes followed as she sashayed down the hallway toward the purple dance floor lit from below.

  Yeah, she could so work a crowd.

  Before she gained the crowd’s edge, Creed’s hand slipped in hers and tugged her right.

  “Dude, I was working it,” she sputtered, but not loud enough for him to hear over the growly music creeping through the air. It was a heavy metal remake of “Send Me An Angel.” She loved that song.

  Hand in hand, they wandered the labyrinth of hallways and rooms designed for dark and dangerous liaisons. Slick violet satin coated the walls. The floors glittered with pinpoints of purple light illuminating no higher than her ankles.

  Creed navigated the darkness with ease. He wore a crisp black shirt and pants and, with his dark hair, he blended into the shadows. But the diamonds at his cuffs glittered intermittently, giving away his position like a flashing GPS sensor.

  At each corner, more purple beams of light shimmered up the walls. The entire hallway sparkled as if a violet Milky Way. Musty incense perfumed the air. Blu suspected Creed had been here before because he did not pause at any turns, merely walked with purpose.

  A man with a dark destination. She did get off on that.

  An amethyst crystal chandelier topped the large but private room just off the dance floor. The space wasn’t lit enough for the average human to see more than shadows and shapes of bodies, but she and Creed had excellent night vision.

  He curled an arm around her waist, and she clasped her fingers in his hand over her hip. Warm breath spilled down her neck. Whisky. Had he needed a loosen-up drink?

  His nose nudged her hair and prickles of desire raced up Blu’s neck—until she imagined him nudging about for her vein. She flinched from the heat of him.

  “You nervous?” she asked.

  “Not much.”

  “Listen to the music. ‘Send me an angel…’” she sang. “‘Right now.’ You want me to be your angel, Creed?”

  “An angel? You? The heavens must have pushed you out.”

  “That’s me. I didn’t fall. I was pushed. But you like me still?”

  His breath warmed her lips. “I do.”

  His close regard tickled her dangerously. The brush of his crisp shirt along her bare arm heightened her sense of touch. His deep voice mastered the noise and rumbled in her bones. And he smelled darkly wicked. It all worked for her right now.

  Bobbing her head to the music, she scanned the room.

  A couple clad in black leather passed. The man, not seeing B
lu clearly but obviously drawn toward her, brushed the back of his hand across her cheek. The sensual touch switched her sensitivity from Creed’s voice to the sounds of moans and kissing in the room.

  “Why don’t you select the one?” her husband whispered.

  “Really? Cool. Any dislikes?”

  “No drunks.”

  “Definitely not. No drugs, either. I can smell an addict, and they’re all over this room. Would you get drunk or high from their blood?”

  “Yes. And it would not be pleasant.”

  Prowling forward, she took in the room. Faces moved in and out of the shadows. Violet light flashed on body parts, skin brushing skin, mouths open in surrender. The whole scene enchanted her darkly.

  “Something tall, dark and ripped will fit the bill,” she said.

  Creed’s fingers still entwined in hers, he caressed her hip and slid his hand along the side of her torso, toying with the buckles on the corset. They were just for show, but she wouldn’t spoil his curiosity.

  She paused to observe a couple kissing on a chaise. Half-naked, they cared little if anyone watched. That was the room’s purpose—to be watched.

  Blu wondered now if it would be dark enough to conceal her husband’s wicked needs. They’d acclimated to the subtle light, and she guessed even the mortals could make out faces and body parts. Could Creed drink from a mortal without allowing others to know what he was doing?

  “Is this safe?” she asked over her shoulder. “For you?”

  “Never. But isn’t that what you desire, my fallen one?”

  “Don’t forget, I was pushed.”

  His other hand slid around across her stomach to caress her breasts. The leather did not allow much sensation, but when he skimmed her nipples, Blu sucked in a breath. She arched her back to signal she wanted more of his touch.

  “You like to push beyond boundaries,” he said. “Challenge the norm.”

  “I’m sensing this isn’t so much a challenge for you,” she replied. “You’ve been here before.”

  “Only with women.”

  She nodded toward the short blonde with one breast exposed. Her tattooed lover with a chain streaming from nose to ear kissed her deeply, their tongues lashing out to taste lips, flesh and the incensed air. “Do you think she’s pretty?”

  “When compared to you?” Creed answered. “Simply plain. But why are you looking at the women?”

  “Just wanted to get an idea of your type. We can’t include me because I don’t fall on the correct species list.”

  “I don’t discern by species.”

  “Liar.”

  “Assumption.”

  “True,” she said.

  “Very well.”

  “Kiss me, Creed.”

  His mouth skimmed her bare shoulder. A tickle of tongue. A gentle suck at the base of her neck. If he were to bite her, it would feel amazing, she knew that. But the wound would scar and she would be shunned by her pack—all werewolves, actually—for allowing a longtooth such intimacy with her. As well, she’d develop a blood hunger no werewolf would ever desire.

  How dare her father force her into this situation.

  The peace pact was a dream. Only a dream.

  “I like the ones who have been pushed,” he said at her ear. A kiss at the base of her jaw scurried luscious tickles up her scalp. Thoughts of nasty and admonishing paternal figures fluttered away. “Remind me to check you for wings sometime soon.”

  “No wings,” she cooed. “Even lost the halo on the way down.”

  “Goodie for me.”

  “Did you say goodie?”

  “Hell. I do believe you’re starting to rub off on me.”

  A strong arm brushed her shoulder and Blu followed the man’s lingering gaze. He wasn’t looking exclusively at her, but taking in both her and Creed. Dark hair, shaved military short. Lots of muscles. He didn’t wear a shirt. Probably bi, she figured. And he smelled like Old Spice.

  Unoriginal.

  “His cologne is too strong,” Creed said. “I would be sick from it.”

  “Me too.” The music changed to Madonna’s “Frozen,” and Blu swayed to the beat, shimmying her shoulder against her husband’s buff chest. “How about the one sitting on the velvet chair at the back? He’s watching everything. Handsome.”

  “Handsome isn’t a requirement. Clean is.”

  “He’s got a Guy Pearce thing going on. I like him.”

  “I don’t know that name.”

  “He’s a movie star. Sexy in a gaunt, muscled kind of way. I pick him. You going to go for it, or do I get my phone back?”

  He smiled against her jaw and nipped gently. “Your wish is my command, Princess.”

  “Goodie.”

  VAMPIRES ENTHRALL THEIR victims to believe they want the dark stranger approaching them to touch them, hold them, kiss their neck. Blu knew that much. So she wasn’t surprised when the man rose to meet Creed and, without a word, allowed her husband to slide an arm around his back.

  She couldn’t hear what the vampire whispered as he slid his fingers up the man’s bare chest and tilted his chin aside. Her husband was as tall as the stranger but his broad shoulders gave him the advantage.

  He was quick, as she expected he would be, but that didn’t keep her from enjoying every small detail of the embrace.

  The stranger shivered as Creed’s fingers stroked up the center of his chest. Blu took it all in: the murmur of Creed’s mouth so close to the man’s skin, the spill of the vampire’s dark hair over his ear to dust his jaw, the scent of arousal sweetening the salted, sweaty air.

  The stranger’s shiver manifested as her own. Watching Creed’s fingers slip under the man’s chin, moving his head as if a lover putting the flesh before him. Here. Here is where I want to touch you. Lick you. Taste you.

  Enter you.

  Blu hushed out a sigh. Yes, to be entered by him. Invaded and filled by a part of him he kept concealed from the world. She traced fingertips over her breasts. Arousal both hardened and softened her flesh.

  Creed leaned into the man’s neck, his nose venturing along his stubbled jaw. For a moment, he lingered, as if drawing in his scent, deciding where he’d like to place his lips.

  Kiss him, Blu thought. On the mouth. Pretend it’s me. Or don’t pretend and make me jealous.

  Creed looked to her, his mouth slightly parted to reveal the tips of white fangs. He silently asked her permission.

  Blu stepped closer, fitting her hip against the victim’s thigh. The man groaned, a wanting sound that pleaded for connection, and he muttered, “Please.”

  She stroked the side of his neck, and the vein but inches from Creed’s mouth bulged like a bruise under the wicked purple lights. Creed’s breath hissed across her fingers. She traced her husband’s lips, avoiding the slick white fang that stirred a chill in her breast even while their proximity made her wet with desire.

  “Kiss him,” she whispered.

  His reply entered her pores like a lover’s hot tongue. “As you command.”

  Creed kissed the man’s neck, softly but sure as he swept the tip of his tongue over the vein. The man’s gasp hushed over Blu’s lips like a stolen prayer.

  Creed held the man by the chest. Blu wanted him to move his hand lower, to brush it over the erection she knew the stranger had. Imagining the erotic act was exquisite enough. Any minute now her vampire husband would take the hard, pulsing vein with a different type of penetration.

  “Do it,” she whispered. “For me.”

  Mastering the stranger, Creed clenched his grip and locked his mouth over the victim’s straining neck muscles. The man cried out, but it was desirous and blended with the moans and hushed climaxes around the room.

  The scent of blood tinted the air. Blu pressed her cheek beside the man’s open mouth, intent on her husband’s exploits. Fangs pulled from the flesh, rising into his gums, and he began to suck. To draw out the man’s life and revitalize his own.

  The man moaned loudly at h
er ear. Blu cupped her palm over his mouth, unconcerned for his pleasure now and a little irritated with his display. It was all about Creed taking sustenance. Her husband’s eyes were closed and his mouth sucked at the stranger’s flesh.

  Make it her flesh, she wished. Not her neck, and with no fangs. Just Creed suckling at her breast like that, feeding, needing the connection, the aliveness, the exquisite pain and pleasure.

  It mattered little they were so different, not supposed to be getting along, much less married. The sensual experience was not prejudice.

  The stranger shuddered and climaxed. His gasp heated Blu’s palm. The swoon was always good to the victim.

  Creed pulled his head back, parting from the flesh and blood—the life. He dropped the stranger onto the chair and stumbled backward against the satin wall, struck by a scintillating thrill.

  Blu followed, fitting herself against him, studying his swoon.

  His entire body was tense, as if at the peak of climax, but he made no sound. Eyes closed, he parted his mouth, the fangs down and glistening, but showing no blood; he’d licked them clean.

  She traced his arm, feeling minute shudders strafe the hard muscle. The blood must be rushing through his system, she assumed. She didn’t understand the mechanics of it, but it didn’t matter. Extreme pleasure held him captive in darkly glamorous surrender.

  She glanced her palm down his taut chest, and over his pants, expecting to find him hard there, as well. He was not. Good. The bite hadn’t turned him on sexually.

  But then he did become hard, quickly growing firm beneath her touch.

  He pressed her palm to his erection. “Good enough for you, Princess?”

  “That was so erotic.” She kissed his jaw, but would avoid his mouth. A squeeze of her hand and his body tensed in reaction. “Turned me on. Did you come?”

  “No,” he gasped, then chuckled softly. “Something close, but never like that. Not with a man. But you. You cannot touch me like this and expect we’ll walk out of here unchanged.”

  “We’ll never be the same,” she agreed. “I desire you, Creed. Watching you take blood was a gift. Thank you.”

  “Christ, Blu, harder,” he said, directing her hand over his cock.