A Novel Seduction

by Gwyn Cready

  “Would you like to try my tongue instead?”

  He didn’t wait for an answer. He pulled her toward him and began a practiced exploration that made her cry out, back arched hard. He was nothing like the boys she’d bedded before, and when he added his thumbs in a swirling, heat-inducing complement to his mouth, she felt she would die.

  She braced her knees, pressing her palms against her forehead, too dizzy to think. Those twinkling eyes were as potent as any drug, and trying to ignore the danger they represented was impossible. She was falling over the edge, for him and for this. The quake began in her thighs, rising through her belly and chest, and he plied her until she called out, shamefaced, for him to stop.

  He gave a rumbling laugh that tickled her skin, then rolled her over.

  “Now I can proceed at my pace,” he said, kissing his way up her stomach and pausing to suckle each nipple.

  He lowered himself between her thighs and entered. The smell of their joining hung on him, making her woozy with desire. He moved with care, pleasing himself with each stroke. He gazed into her eyes as he moved, and she found she had no barrier to raise.

  “Would you like this each night?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “I would too.”

  He worked slowly, moving when she did and smiling at her throaty gurgles. The aftershocks were quickening, and she could feel her still-tingling flesh tighten around him. She stretched her arms as far as they would go, wiggling her fingers as he plucked her nipples. The earth was moving again, and, sensing the shift, he lifted her knee and changed his gentle thrusts to a hammering.

  Lava bubbled deep within her, and she flung her head back. The silvery clouds wheeled and turned in the private heaven they’d created, and her fingers stretched along the bench’s length to reach them, as if the magic they’d conjured would allow her to command the sky. Then his measured blows unleashed her. He bucked hard, driving the liquid fire from her belly to the top of her head, and she jerked wildly under his shuddering weight.

  “Oh, Axel.”

  He settled against her and held out his hand. “Friends?” She laughed. “Better.”

  Looking into her eyes, he made a low, contented noise. “Indeed.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Offices of Vanity Place magazine, Present Day

  Axel sat in an empty cube, gazing at the LCD of his camera and fast-forwarding through the shots still carefully preserved even after all these years. The edge of the bench just protruded into the lower left of the frame, and the first four hundred or so shots were nothing but a montage of slowly tumbling flashes of Mylar, beautiful in themselves but nothing compared to the last thirty. He’d set the automatic repeat on the shutter for ten seconds that night and forgotten it. It wasn’t until they finished the shoot and retired to his place that he’d even thought to look at what he’d gotten. He still remembered sitting at his desk, listening to the sound of her soft, sleepy exhalations and gasping when he’d realized what he had.

  He looked at the shot numbers. Three ninety-three, three ninety-four, three ninety-five. This is where it began, though the sequence ran for hundreds of pictures. He let the memory slip over him like an old sweater. There they were. Her hands. Stretching into view, palms up, fingers flexing and curling as the clouds of silver danced overhead.

  He watched the shots roll by, thinking about that wonderful joining and the time that followed. He’d felt like a vampire himself, his veins infused with this heady new life force. God, he and Ellery had barely left the bed the first few months. It was a wonder City Sill, the name she’d given her paper, had ever launched at all. But it had. In fact, it had sold quite well its rookie year—that is, until the end, when everything that had been magic between them died.

  He opened another album in his camera’s memory, the one entitled “Ellery Before.” It held only a dozen pictures, random shots of her those last couple of months they were together. In one she held her hair up in a knot, vogueing for the camera; in another, taken in the stands at a hockey game, she frowned as one of the Penguins missed a shot; in a third she gazed into a mirror, unaware he’d had the camera pointed at her.

  As he always did when he looked at these pictures, he examined her face for signs of a change. How had she hidden it from him? And why? Had there been another man? How had Axel—who, after photographing it thousands of times, knew her face far better than he knew his own—missed it? He’d been a fool, and in his foolishness he’d failed her at a time when she’d needed him most. But why, why, why hadn’t she told him?

  He shook off the regret and smiled instead, thinking of the lunch. There was something thrilling about being on assignment with her again, even if, knowing Ellery, it was going to be equal parts adventure and agitation.

  She wheeled into the cube, and he nearly dropped the camera.

  Ellery shook her head. “Always lost in the shots, aren’t you?”

  Axel powered the camera down surreptitiously. “You know me.”

  “Good stuff?”

  “very.”

  “My admin dropped off the trip information.” She slid a copy in his direction. “Everything is set.”

  He kept his face neutral as he scanned the arrangements. Looked like she was traveling with him to Pittsburgh. “Great. Thanks. Are you looking at those books?”

  She gave him a dubious look. “Not often you get to see the word ‘lave’ in the back cover copy.”

  “Pittsburgh, you’ve been hanging with the wrong crowd.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Chelsea, Manhattan

  Ellery gazed at the contents of her dresser drawer. Exactly what sort of clothes did one wear to the gates of vampire hell? She held up a pale pink twin set. Jill, who was sprawled on the bed with a textbook, shook her head violently. Kate, who had offered to keep Jill company in Ellery’s absence, stopped paging through Vamp long enough to say, “Honestly, have you ever been to a bar?”

  Jill gave her sister a sympathetic smile. “Think edgier.”

  Ellery frowned. There was that black turtleneck. Black was always edgy. She dug down to the bottom of the drawer and pulled it out.

  Kate sighed. She wheeled over to the chest, dug around and drew out a length of lace-edged silk.

  “That’s a slip,” Ellery said.

  “A slip dress,” Kate corrected. “Very cutting-edge.”

  “Yes,” Jill agreed. “Exactly right.”

  Ellery held it up. The silk was the color of coffee au lait, with a see-through black lace panel running down the seam on both sides. She had purchased it before her third date with a slightly self-centered corporate attorney, who’d given her a potted Meyer lemon tree to mark the occasion. She’d dumped the attorney and kept the tree. When life gives you lemons…

  “It seems to be a tad, er, air-conditioned for public consumption.”

  “Nonsense,” Jill said. “Nothing a little thong won’t fix. Guys love ’em.”

  Ellery winced. Did her sister have to grow up so loudly? Would it have killed her to pretend she still liked Dora the Explorer and That’s So Raven?

  “I know this is going to surprise you, but I’m actually not that comfortable having my underthings show through my clothes.”

  “Gosh, I didn’t think about going with no panties, but I guess that’s an option too.”

  Ellery opened her mouth, but her sister forestalled her. “Jeggings,” she said calmly. “I can lend you a pair.”

  Ellery hmmed, throwing the slip into the suitcase and tossing in a nice pair of sweatpants to counterbalance the blow to her psyche.

  “Ahem.” Kate fished them out.

  “I’m not trying to impress anyone,” Ellery said pointedly. “Just hoping to bury myself in my piece.”

  “Sounds like romance novels are going to be the perfect inspiration, then,” Kate said. Jill laughed.

  If Ellery was going to wear a slip dress, she was going to need a strapless bra. She threw in her wonderful Slapz brand “Ha
nds of God” convertible bra, lingerie’s equivalent of a Swiss Army knife, a bra that boosted, padded, anchored and smoothed, while adjusting its straps for up to nine kinds of top styles. It had cost her almost a hundred dollars, but it had never failed her. Control for her breasts was critical, and she bet she could clear a dozen half twists on a trampoline in it and those babies would move less than a glacier.

  Her cell rang, and the number was from out of state. Since she thought it might relate to the rescheduling of the Irving interview, she dashed into the hallway for some privacy, but it was only an exceedingly long-winded recorded call telling her the scheduled departure time of her flight had been changed from 8:18 p.m. to 8:21 p.m. When she hung up, she could hear Kate and Jill talking and paused.

  “Gosh, I hope she has fun,” Kate said.

  “Ellery? Isn’t that sort of wishing zebras had TiVo? I mean, what’s the point?”

  They both laughed, and Ellery felt like she’d had the wind knocked out of her. She knew she was more serious than most people, but surely she didn’t give the impression she didn’t have fun?

  “Sometimes I wonder if the fun gene was flushed out of her after our mom died,” Jill said quietly. “Actually, what I wonder is, was it me—taking care of me, you know?”

  “I’m not surprised. You guys went through a lot.”

  “I know,” Jill said. “I just worry.”

  “Well, she’ll certainly have fun on this assignment, right? I mean, it’s practically a requirement.”

  “Yeah, nothing like getting paid for one-handed reading—Oh my God, speaking of that, did you love that scene with Harold and Ynez on the platform or what?”

  Their conversation turned into a giggling exchange of favorite moments in the book. Ellery collapsed against the hallway wall. Part of her mourned for the fun she had let go of in her life. Part of her was upset that Jill was worried about her. And part of her longed for the easy connection Jill and Kate had formed over Vamp. What did Ellery lack that made a sisterhood on such a topic so hard for her? But she could no more crack open a romance than she could a chest for bypass surgery. It just wasn’t in her.

  She was just about to reenter the room when another snippet floated out: “… the whole Axel thing is very curious,” Kate was saying with obvious interest. “What exactly happened there, do you know?”

  Ellery froze.

  “He, ah… he lived with us, you know. That was after Mom died. I really liked him, but he was out most nights, photographing, I guess, or with his friends. I’m sure it was trying for Ellery. She was working so hard to get her career off the ground. She… she doesn’t know I know this, but she went to the hospital once in the middle of the night. I saw her doubled over, but she straightened up and told me Aunt Janet was coming over to watch me so she could go to work. Later that night, though, I overheard Aunt Janet talking to her on the phone, asking her if everything was okay and if she should come to visit the next day.”

  Ellery put a hand on her chest, feeling her heart pounding, remembering the night vividly and despairing for the tumult she’d caused her sister.

  “What happened?” Kate asked.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know if it was stress or something else. Ellery never told me. She was back at home when I woke up, and I asked if she was okay. She said yes. She looked fine, I guess. But that afternoon when Axel came home they had a huge fight. She told him she wanted him to leave, and she told me their breakup had been brewing a long time. Which might be true,” Jill added softly, “but she closed herself in her room and cried the rest of the night.”

  Kate tsked sadly. “Poor Jill. Poor Ellery.”

  Ellery cleared her throat loudly and walked down the hall into the bedroom. “Just a call from work,” she said. “Where were we?”

  Kate and Jill had been packing for her while they chatted, and while Ellery couldn’t determine everything they’d put into her suitcase, two lacy bras and a handful of thong underwear were scattered across the top, which gave her a general feel for the rest.

  “Hmm.” She picked up the flimsiest thong—a red-sequined one she’d gotten as a joke at a bachelorette party—and twirled it on her finger. “This will keep me nice and toasty in the Scottish Highlands.”

  “I thought that’s what the sweatpants were for,” Kate said.

  Jill grinned. “I believe you can use them to signal for help if there’s an avalanche.”

  “If you don’t mind, I think I may pack just a few black cotton briefs.” She bent to reach into the drawer and heard the sound of the zipper closing on the suitcase and the click of the little travel lock.

  “All ready for tomorrow,” Jill said with an air of finality. “Honestly, Ellery, I don’t know why you have all these wonderful sexy things if you don’t wear them.”

  “I do wear them!” she cried. “Just not on assignments! Now, please. How about just a couple of nice, comfortable work outfits?”

  Jill looked at her sister.

  “You’re going to the gates of hell,” she said. “You need to make an impression.”

  “But one little sweater and a skirt can’t hurt, right?” Ellery said plaintively. “And a pair of nice cotton briefs?”

  The gatekeepers narrowed their eyes.

  Kate shook her head firmly. “C’mon, Ellery. You know as well as I do: Nobody goes to hell in a pair of nice cotton briefs.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Flight from New York City to Pittsburgh

  Axel stopped fiddling with the locking device on the plane’s tray table long enough to say, “I know it’s ungentlemanly for me to have even noticed, but if I apologize for that up front, can I ask why you’re wearing three pairs of underpants?”

  Ellery, who had managed to get her bag out of the stuffed-to-the-gills overhead bin and onto the floor of the aisle and was now trying to extract the laptop from it, looked at him over her shoulder. “It’s a long story.”

  The plane hit a bump and Axel grabbed her belt to keep her from falling. She could feel the warmth of his hand on her back.

  “Thanks,” she said, flushing. She squeezed by his legs, dropped into the window seat and began to boot up.

  “Already working on a draft?” he said.

  “I’m thinking about one.”

  “Great. So you’ve started reading Vamp?”

  “Gonna look at it on the plane.”

  He glanced at his watch. “It’s a forty-minute flight.”

  “How hard can it be? It’s a romance, for God’s sake. When we land, are we going directly to the bar?” He had no hotel listed on his itinerary, and she was curious about where he was planning to stay, but she’d be damned if she’d ask.

  “I will. I’ve got to set up the shots.”

  No answer there. She pulled the book out of her bag and settled back with the laptop.

  He inclined his seat. “Looking forward to seeing the old town again?”

  “Not really.”

  “C’mon, Ellery, you used to love it.”

  “Pittsburgh is no Manhattan.”

  “I’ll drink to that.”

  She almost said he’d drink to anything, but he’d limited himself to black coffee so far, so she held her tongue. “Not a fan of the Big Apple anymore?”

  He made a noncommittal noise, adding after a moment, “I’ve always loved Pittsburgh. Great sports. Great food. Great neighborhoods. It actually reminds me of Toronto, but on a smaller scale. And the vision of that skyline when you first emerge from the Fort Pitt tunnel…” He smiled, remembering. “It’s the only city I know that actually makes an entrance.”

  She knew he was trying to be companionable and taking a risk doing it, since it would be easy for her to make a biting comment about why she’d felt like she needed to leave, so she dug into her arsenal of polite responses, coming up with the fairly benign and entirely honest, “I feel like I’ve left Pittsburgh behind.”

  He gazed at her, his eyes unreadable. “Funny,” he said, “I feel like I’m stil
l stuck there.”

  She waited for a barb, but none came. He settled back into his seat, rolled his jacket into a ball on his shoulder and closed his eyes.

  Ellery reviewed the stuff she’d printed out before she left, though she’d already read through it once. She hoped going through the motions of preparation would eventually help her find a way to get the story on paper without destroying her credibility. Axel had said he had a friend in London with access to a romance book club. She wasn’t quite sure what that meant, and she generally was nervous about anything that began with a friend of Axel, but they were going to attend a meeting of the club after the London College visit. Now, if she could only get through Pittsburgh and the damn Monkey Bar.…

  She looked at Axel, who was sleeping blissfully. If ever there was a man whose conscience should bother him, it was Axel Mackenzie, but his chest rose and fell like a baby’s.

  That was an image she wished she hadn’t conjured up, she thought, and reluctantly reached for Vamp.

  She opened it with care, as if the flames of hell—or, more likely, the stink of mass-market prose—might start rising from the pages, and began to read.

  Harold, it seemed, had been recruited into the vampire world because he carried the mark of Odelon, rare in humans, which gave him the occasional power to see what might be. He was weaker than most vampires because his transformation had been incomplete, and he had to battle his way to Romgar, the guardian of the underworld and head of the elite Vampturi organization, to either be returned to his human state or become a full-fledged vampire. Because of his vampy disadvantage, he had to rely on his wits and the help of a rogue she-devil, Ynez—she of the Monkey Bar and Ellery’s passport delay—to help him along the way. Complicating his journey was the appearance of Britta, the young woman he had loved from afar in the human world.