Ensnared: A Vampire Blood Courtesans Romance

by Rebecca Rivard

  We walked down the hall to Oakley’s lair. And it was a lair—dark green ceiling, rich cherry walls, expensive leather furniture—and Oakley at the center like a spider in his web.

  The door was open. Antoine jerked his head, indicating I should go first.

  Oakley was at his big-ass black-and-cherry wood desk. He never looked up from his computer screen. He was average size, with light brown skin and a tough, lean frame, but the man gave off power like some kind of human generator. He glared at his keyboard and typed something, then swore under his breath and unleashed an attack on the keys.

  I chewed my lower lip and tried not to shift from foot to foot as I waited for him to notice me.

  Never let them see you’re scared. I’d learned that a long time ago, after my mom died and my dad tried the same shit on me that he had on her. He was bigger and faster than me, so the only way to avoid a beating was to stand up to him. Sometimes it even worked.

  “So, Star.” Oakley set his elbows on the desk and tapped his long fingers together. “I understand you have something of mine.” His voice was calm and so cold I felt the chill from two yards away.

  My stomach twisted. Stay cool. Don’t admit anything.

  “I beg your pardon, sir?” I hated that I sounded scared. But damn it, I was scared.

  Suddenly Antoine was right behind me. My spine crawled. I drew in my shoulders and edged forward. Hands clamped onto my arms, holding me where I was.

  “What’s up?” I asked Oakley. “I swear I didn’t do anything.”

  He regarded me over tented fingers. “The only thing I like less than a thief is a liar. Even a pretty liar like you.” His eyes raked my body.

  Thick panic clogged my throat. I swallowed hard. “What do you mean, a thief? Why would I take anything? I want this job. I need it, bad.”

  Oakley glanced at Antoine, who spun me around and backhanded me across the face so hard a white flash exploded in my head. The next blow knocked me to my knees. I curled myself into a ball, but Antoine grabbed my hair and yanked me up. This time, the blow split my lip.

  Antoine raised his hand and I broke, cowering at his feet. “Stop it, please. I swear I didn’t—”

  “That’s enough,” Oakley said in a bored voice.

  Antoine jerked me upright and wrenched me around to face Oakley. My face was throbbing, and when I touched my tongue to my lower lip, I tasted blood. My breath was shuddering in and out, but I stood as tall as I could and tried to face him calmly. I had a feeling my life depended on it.

  “Well?” Oakley demanded. “What did you do with it?”

  “I told you,” I said as forcefully as I could, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You’re good.” Oakley leaned back and kept my gaze. “I almost believe you. But we caught you on camera.”

  He spun his screen to face me and tapped an icon. I stared, dumbfounded, as a woman turned her head, scanned the corridor, and shoved something into her backpack before slipping out the club’s back door. A woman who looked exactly like me.

  Oakley paused the video to show me the time stamp. It was dated last night, a little after four a.m. The same time I’d been leaving through the front door with Janelle and Zeke.

  I swallowed sickly. “That’s not me. I swear it’s not me. I didn’t even come into this hall last night.”

  Oakley slammed his open palm onto the desk and I flinched.

  “Enough.” He rose from the chair, his expression dangerous. “I don’t know how you did it, but nobody fucks with Mark Oakley. I want that cash on my desk by the time the club opens tomorrow night. Or we’re going to have another talk—and the next time I won’t be so nice.”

  I twisted my hands together. “But I swear, that’s not me. I don’t care what it looks like, I never went near the back door last night. Ask Janelle. Ask Zeke. I went out with them. That has to be on video too, right?”

  “We did ask them. Neither of them knows for sure. Janelle says you went to the bathroom around then. And the video of you leaving is ten minutes later. It proves nothing.”

  “No.” I shook my head slowly from side to side. “It’s a setup. It has to be. Why would’ve I come back tonight?”

  “Because you would’ve been the number one suspect if you didn’t.”

  God, what a nightmare. I met Oakley’s eyes. “All I can say is that it’s not me. I swear it’s not. You have to believe me.”

  His mouth twisted. “You’re still saying you don’t have the money?”

  “Because. I. Don’t.”

  Antoine grabbed my arm and jerked it behind my back. Pain shot to my shoulder. I whimpered and came up on my toes to try and relieve the pressure.

  “The truth,” he growled. “No more lies.”

  A sob escaped my lips. “Okay, okay. I’ll tell you anything you want. Just let me go.”

  He eased the pressure slightly.

  “How much?” I asked Oakley.

  His eyes narrowed. “All of it, bitch. But let’s say a hundred thou. That covers the interest, too.”

  My stomach dropped. “A hundred thousand? You mean dollars?”

  “What else would I mean?” he growled. “And I want it by tomorrow night—or you’re a dead woman. Now get the fuck out of here. I’m a busy man.” He turned back to his computer.

  I stared at him, dazed, until Antoine grabbed my upper arms and frog-marched me toward the door.

  “And Star?” Oakley asked in a soft voice.

  I stilled. “Yes?”

  “Don’t even think about running. Because I’ll track you down—and you don’t want to find out what happens to people who rip me off.”

  CHAPTER FOUR: Star

  “Fucking little thief.”

  Antoine threw me into the alley behind the club. I landed on my hands and knees. A few seconds later, my backpack hit the asphalt beside me.

  I pushed my way back to my feet, grabbed the backpack and wobbled down the alley as fast as I could on those frigging high heels.

  One hundred thousand dollars.

  I had only gone a few yards when my ankle twisted. It was too much. Hot tears pricked my eyes. I dropped the backpack, leaned against the chain link fence that ran down one side of the alley and pressed my balled fists into my stomach.

  WhatamIgoingtodo? WhatamIgoingtodo?

  A hundred thousand dollars? I couldn’t raise that much money in ten years, let alone by tomorrow. And the hell of it was, the money was nothing to Oakley. He took in four or five times that every night.

  One thing was sure: I had to get the hell out of Baltimore. They might think they could catch me, but I was good at hiding. And I’d be damned if I’d make it easy for them.

  But God, I’d have to leave my paintings behind. And the last of my art supplies.

  Tears dripped down my face. I gulped and wrapped my arms around my abdomen.

  Deep breath, Star. Now another.

  I was so focused on holding it together that I didn’t hear anything until a shadow fell across my feet.

  I jerked and snapped upright. It was him. The watcher from the club.

  “What the—?” I looked around, wild-eyed. “How did you know I was out here?”

  “I followed you.”

  I blinked. “Yeah? Well, good for you. Now get the hell out of here.” Without taking my gaze from him, I bent down and felt for my pepper spray in the front pocket of my backpack.

  He raised a hand. “Star. Calm down—I want only to help.”

  I palmed the canister. “I don’t need your kind of help.”

  His gaze went to the pepper spray. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  I froze. Something in his voice made me want to obey.

  I shook myself. The hell with that. I turned the nozzle, unlocking the spray. “Go. Away.” I held the cannister out with a shaking hand. “Or I’ll spray this in your fucking eyes. I swear I will.”

  He stepped back and considered me like I was an interesting puzzle. “Calm you
rself,” he said in a low tone that stroked over my nerves like velvet. “I want only to speak with you. You’re upset. Calm down and listen to me. I promise, I mean you no harm.”

  I brought the pepper spray down to my side. I might as well hear the man out. Even if I sprayed him, he had me cornered, because a silver limo had stopped at the end of the alley, blocking the entrance.

  “Okay.” I gulped in a breath. “Talk.”

  He stepped a little closer and examined my face. His black eyes flashed. “The bastards damaged you.”

  I moved a shoulder.

  “Was it Oakley?”

  I pressed my lips together. Snitching would just make it worse. Besides, what could he do?

  “Tell me.” A cold, hard voice.

  Our gazes snagged. His eyes bored into mine. Once again, I felt that strange urge to obey him.

  I wrenched my gaze from his and rested my throbbing cheek against the fence’s chilly metal circles. “Just go away. Please.”

  The hiss of breath made my nape tighten. He touched my face with a single finger, but somehow my head turned so I was looking right into his eyes. “Tell me.”

  “Antoine. There, are you happy?” I pushed his hand away. “It was fucking Antoine.”

  “And Oakley? Does he know?”

  A bark of laughter escaped my throat. “Who do you think gave the order? He was right there watching.”

  “I see.” His elegant jaw worked. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll give you the money, ma petite.”

  “Who said anything about money?”

  “I heard what happened. I know you need money—right away.”

  “Why?” I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t care if you’re rich as God. Why the hell would you give me money?”

  His gaze went to my cheek. “Let’s say I hate to see marks on such a pretty little thing.”

  “Thanks, but no thanks. I’d never be able to—”

  He sliced a hand, cutting me off. “How much?”

  I pressed my lips together and then shrugged. “A hundred thousand.” Like he would give me that much.

  “Very well.” He whipped out a cell phone and I listened, open-mouthed, as he directed that a hundred thousand dollars be sent to Oakley’s account in my name. He ended the call and looked at me. “There. He will have the money within an hour.”

  “Jesus.” I gaped at him. “I can’t let you do that. There’s no way I can pay you back.”

  “It is done.”

  “You’re serious.”

  “You will learn I’m not a joking man.”

  “I—.” I shook my head. “I don’t know what to say. Except I’ll pay you back. I swear I will. I don’t know how, but I will.”

  His gaze fastened on my mouth. He inhaled slowly. “You’re bleeding.”

  I swiped my free hand over my mouth and looked at the smear of blood, then back at him. My heart pounded: slow, hard beats. Suspicion sprouted, grew roots. He was staring so intently at that faint red smear.

  Without taking my gaze from his, I rubbed my hand on my skirt.

  “I have a way for you to pay me back,” he murmured. “And it will only take you a month.”

  My mouth twisted. I should’ve known there was a catch. “I’ll bet you do. Thanks, but no thanks.”

  “Would it be so bad?” He stepped closer.

  My heart kicked into high gear. I tightened my grip on the pepper spray at my side.

  “Become a courtesan.” That deep, velvety tone again. “My courtesan.”

  “Your what?”

  “My courtesan. I promise, I’ll treat you like a princess.”

  I shook my head. Nobody talked like that anymore. Except—oh, Lord. Those eyes, the way I’d never seen him in full daylight.

  The interest in my blood.

  His tongue swiped over his lips and I caught the glint of sharp white teeth.

  The pepper spray fell to the pavement with a small thunk. “You’re a vampire,” I said flatly.

  I don’t know why it took me so long to figure it out. But people like me don’t run into vampires. They’re dark, dangerous, rich—and I mean Bill-Gates-rich. Give someone hundreds of years to invest, and pretty much anyone can get wealthy. But vamps are reclusive, and most of them could care less about humans.

  Except when they need to feed.

  He inclined his head. “I am.”

  “And you mean a blood courtesan.” The shadow world of vampires existed alongside the humans, but mostly we left each other alone. Except the vamps needed blood—and they loved sex. Combine the two, and it gave them a high like drugs for a human. “Me.”

  “Oui.” He took my hand and brought it to his lips. “I’ll make it good for you, Star. I swear. All you have to give me is one month. Is that so bad?”

  He brushed his mouth over the inside of my wrist. His lips were firm and cool. A zing went straight up my arm.

  I tugged my hand from his, but damn, I was tempted. Because vampire or no, he was the hottest man I’d ever met. And a month wasn’t so long…

  But a blood courtesan? I shook my head. “No.”

  To my surprise, he didn’t argue. “It is your choice, Star. You can pay me the cash if you prefer. I’ll give you a year, and I won’t charge interest. No one can say I’m not a fair man.”

  Like hell. This was anything but fair, and we both knew it.

  I dragged a hand through my hair, trying to see a way out of this.

  But there wasn’t. I couldn’t come up with a hundred thousand dollars in a year. Probably not even ten years.

  It was either a month with this man—this vampire—or I’d have to leave Baltimore for good. Even with the money I’d made the past week, I’d have less than five hundred dollars to travel on—and in a year, the vampire would come looking for me.

  And somehow I had a feeling he’d find me.

  I moistened my lips. The vampire’s gaze went to my mouth, lingered.

  “I’ll throw in a bonus,” he added.

  I shook my head, but I was weakening. “I don’t even know your name.”

  “I beg your pardon.” He gave a small, courtly bow. “I am called Remy de la Lune.”

  Remy of the Moon. How appropriate. I wondered when he’d last seen the sunlight. I had a feeling it hadn’t been for a long, long time.

  “And I’m Star Salazar. But you know that.”

  He inclined his head. “Enchanté, mademoiselle.”

  We stared at each other. A few yards away an alley cat snarled, and on a nearby street a car accelerated with a roar, but here in the alley it was quiet, the two of us illuminated by a single streetlight.

  “So?” the vampire prompted. “What is your decision?”

  “A month? You swear that’s it? No tricks or hidden clauses?”

  His eyes flashed in the gloom. “You doubt my word?”

  “Not exactly”—well I was, actually, but it seemed smart not to insult him—“but I need to know what I’m agreeing to.” I was damned if I was going to let a vampire railroad me into a lifetime in thrall to him.

  He stepped closer and set a hand on the fence beside my head. With the other, he stroked the side of my throat. My pulse jumped, and his smile deepened. The S.O.B. knew I was a lot more uncertain—and afraid—than I was letting on.

  His face was just inches from mine. I inhaled shakily and was surprised to find he smelled good: dark, earthy male.

  “One month,” he said. “I swear on my mother’s grave.”

  I swallowed. “Thirty days?”

  “Thirty days,” he agreed. “We will sign a contract.”

  “And you’ll throw in a bonus?”

  He inclined his head. “At the end of that time, if you satisfy me, you’ll receive a bonus of fifty thousand dollars.”

  My eyes widened. Fifty thousand? I’d been thinking more along the lines of five thousand, if that much.

  “But during that month, you will be completely mine. You will live in my home, obey me in all things. Cater only to me.
”

  His mouth was against my throat now. I felt the scrape of fangs. My head swam with a dark mixture of fear and excitement.

  “Is that clear?”

  I gripped the fence. “I’m not sure about that ‘obey me’ thing.”

  Remy stilled—and then he laughed. It was an odd, rusty sound, as if it had been years since his vocal cords had known amusement.

  “All right,” he said. “That one is negotiable. Now enough. Say yes.” His hard body pressed against mine, and God help me, it was exciting in a primal way.

  My fingers tightened on the chain links. “Yes,” I whispered, and then again in a stronger voice, “Yes.”

  CHAPTER FIVE: Star

  Fangs pricked my throat.

  I swallowed hard, but made myself stay frozen in place.

  “So sweet,” Remy murmured. “So very sweet.”

  I closed my eyes and waited tensely for him to feed. But he just pressed a kiss to the soft underside of my jaw. His lips were cool and firm. A tiny zing went through me. My nipples pricked and heat pooled in my lower belly.

  “Not here,” he said against my skin. “But soon.”

  I shivered, and he squeezed my shoulders. “Don’t be so scared. It will be good for you, I promise.”

  “I’m not scared,” I replied automatically. Because I wasn’t—or at least, it wasn’t just fear. I was wary and aroused and curious, too.

  “Non?” He scrutinized me and then with a small shrug, said, “Of course you aren’t.” He held out his hand. “Let’s go then.”

  I got my backpack and gave him my hand. He kissed the back of it, a light butterfly touch, and then led me down the alley to the limo. A man in a dark suit who looked like an escapee from an MMA ring got out on the passenger side and opened the back door for us.

  I set one foot in the limo and halted, hand on the doorframe, looking from the chauffeur to the MMA look-alike to Remy. Three men—all of whom looked like they could snap my neck without breaking a sweat—and me.