by Jo Carlisle
His heart tugged, but the beast intervened. Do not feel sorry for her, and do not soften. She will be yours to fuck and let others fuck, as is your right. Even the law is on your side, and your brothers cannot refute that.
He shook his head, trying with minimal success to clear the seductive voice. Beside him, Leila placed a possessive hand on his thigh, and he let it stay. He was more interested in the auctioneer, who had stepped up to the podium that was positioned off to the side and was ready to start the bidding. Soren didn’t want to miss his chance.
The portly man began his pitch. “That was quite a show, wasn’t it? Nowhere else are you going to find a slave of such fine quality to warm your bed! What a lovely creature, and so responsive. Let’s start the bidding at fifty thousand credits!”
And so it began. But no bastard in this room was going to outbid Soren, no matter how hard he tried. One black-haired, black-winged demon across the room did try, though Soren could swear by the twinkle in the demon’s eyes that he was driving up the price on purpose, with no intention of winning. Why the hell would he do that?
In the end, it didn’t matter. Soren finally placed a bid the demon wouldn’t top.
“Sold! To the gentleman in the booth there for one hundred fifty thousand credits! Sir, if you’ll come see my assistant about settling up.”
With a nod, Soren slid from the booth and went to do business. Honest elation warred with that darker side of him that was quickly taking over, merging with his old self. How long until the Soren he and everyone else knew and loved disappeared? The idea scared him to death, as did the idea of his hurting the woman, his brothers, or anyone else. He’d have to talk to Aldric tomorrow. And, luckily, the beast didn’t respond to that last thought or attempt to dissuade him. Hopefully, it hadn’t heard.
While Leila waited in the club, the assistant led Soren to his office, where the credits were paid. For the first time, he wondered what had landed this woman in circumstances dire enough to be sold on the block. Yes, she was incredibly responsive, but was she happy about her new circumstances? Or afraid? He was ashamed he hadn’t considered her feelings before now.
Transaction completed, the assistant pointed. “You can take possession of your slave now. Just go right and continue down the hall to the second-to-last door on the left. That’s where she’s being held for transport.”
“Thank you.”
With every step down the hall, he felt as dirty as if he’d rolled on the ground. People shouldn’t be possessions. He and his brothers had always believed that, and the only reason he was doing this was to rescue his mate, if Leila was telling the truth and that’s who she turned out to be. Except the witch called herself his mate, and the other woman a toy.
Leila is your mate, and the woman our toy, the beast reminded him.
“Shut up,” he muttered.
Somehow, he wasn’t surprised to see the big demon that had participated in the bidding war standing outside the door to where the woman was being held. He halted a few feet from the other male and held out a hand, cautious.
“I’m Soren Fontaine,” he said in greeting. Now that the demon was close, he believed the male looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place him.
The demon shook hands with him. “I’ve heard of you and your brothers and I’ve seen you around. But, then, who hasn’t? Your eldest brother sits on the Council, and the three of you run the infamous resort.”
The demon’s tone was cordial, allowing him to relax some. “That’s right. And you are?”
“Valafar. My clan lives just outside the city limits.”
Valafar. He stared at the demon as the name formed meaning. By the gods, it can’t be. But it was, and from the wry curve of the male’s lips, he saw the exact moment when Soren figured it out.
“Prince Valafar,” he said, giving a slight bow. “It’s good to meet you. You certainly keep to yourself and your clan these days, refusing to reclaim your seat on the Council.”
A flash of sadness darkened his eyes, then vanished behind a mask of indifference. “Obscurity is often a necessity and a relief in a world like ours. There is nothing public life has to offer that I want any part of, and there hasn’t been for many eons.”
“To the disappointment of many in the Southern Coalition,” Soren informed him seriously. Prince Valafar was an anomaly among demons, a worthy male who ruled his clan with strength and fairness. And if the long-standing rumors were true, his magic was extremely powerful, making him the most sought after of allies.
“They seemed to have managed just fine in my absence.”
That tone said closed subject in no uncertain terms, but Soren had a different question. “Does the woman know who you really are?”
“Her name is Harley, and I saw no reason why she should. My friend Zenon and I found her stranded on the road a few nights ago. We took her home, and naturally had some fun together before bringing her here.”
“Naturally,” he replied, his tone stiff. It burned that the demons had enjoyed her first, but there was not a damned thing he could do about it. Knowing demons, especially that particular clan, the woman had no doubt been more than willing and had the time of her life. And, yeah, Valafar had deftly changed the subject.
“Just yanking your chain. Though I’m not involved in politics any longer, I pay attention and recognized you when you began bidding. Couldn’t resist a bit of fun there at the end, after the others had given up.” His eyes twinkled with mirth.
“Yeah, thanks for that,” he drawled sarcastically. He was starting to like the prince, though he didn’t want to. “You cost me a bundle.”
Valafar looked unperturbed. “You can afford it, Lord Soren.”
“I can.” He paused, curious. “So, you and your friend are what? Her captors?”
“That’s the way things began, yes. But the female burrowed under our skin, and before we knew it, we’d become . . . fond of her.”
Soren took notice. Forming any sort of emotional attachment wasn’t something a demon admitted lightly. “Then why not keep her? Though I’m glad you didn’t.”
“She’s not my destiny or Zen’s. She’s not our mate, nor is she the mate of anyone in our clan, and although we could have kept her for our pleasure, I had the strong sense that she belonged somewhere else. That if I brought her here and cast her fate to the winds, her destiny would be fulfilled. Perhaps it has been.” He eyed Soren in speculation.
“Maybe it has,” he allowed. “I scented her, and she called to me. I believe she might be my mate.”
No! Lies! Leila is our mate!
With an effort, he forced down his unwelcome hitchhiker. But what if his beast was right? How did he know this stranger was his true love? It seemed he was surrounded by lies, and picking through them would take some time.
“From your reaction to her, I suspect as much, also.” Frowning, Valafar leaned closer and peered into the depths of Soren’s eyes for a long moment. Slowly, he straightened, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet enough that it couldn’t be heard by anyone else. “What sickens you, vampire?”
Shit. “What do you mean?”
The demon hesitated, then shook his head. “I think you know. There is something wrong inside you. A presence that is something . . . other than vampire.”
“So what if there is? I can’t imagine how that’s your business.”
“Normally I would agree, but Harley makes it my business,” the demon prince said, his tone cool.
His fists clenched at his sides. “She’s bought and paid for, and therefore no longer your concern. Why this interest in a slave?” That sounded so horrible, so unfeeling, he cringed inwardly.
“Is that what you think?” Valafar looked upon Soren as though he were a particularly disgusting bug. “That the purchase of this human makes her less?”
“Isn’t that what demons believe?” he snapped. “You sold her.”
“Ah, but it isn’t a question of what my kind believes, is it?” Valafar said
quietly. “And I’m not the one who bought her.”
Touché. Soren felt about an inch tall. Who was the monster here?
He looked away, fighting the sudden urge to lunge and rip out the demon’s throat and show him. Not his urge, but that of the interloper that had taken up residence in his soul. “The woman, Harley. What is she to you?”
“In truth? A capture that turned into more of a rescue. I can’t say that I’ve ever had a mere human affect me the way she has.” Valafar took a step closer. “If something terrible were to happen to Harley, I’d take it personally.”
“She’s under my protection now, and I’ll do my best to make sure she’s safe.”
“But?”
After glancing behind him to ensure they were still alone, he returned his attention to Valafar. “I can’t put a name to the darkness inside me,” he admitted. “It appeared shortly after I made a bargain with a priestess, then fed from her.”
Valafar flinched at this news. “What was the bargain?”
“To return my dead mate to me.”
“And you think this deceased mate is Harley?”
Did he, really? Their physical differences were great, and so was their scent. “I don’t know,” he said in frustration.
“Who is this priestess? Was she the one in the booth with you?”
Soren carefully watched his reaction. “Yes. Her name is Leila Doucet.”
“Satan’s balls,” the demon muttered with disgust. “Even my clan won’t fuck with that rank whore. Stupid vampire, what were you thinking? That witch is a pestilence, always hanging around the Council and draining her opponents of their lives.”
“Wait. What do you mean, their lives? I’ve heard only of the one Fae she was accused of killing.”
Valafar gave a dark laugh and shook his head. “He wasn’t the first, nor will he be the last.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Don’t you know she is not what she seems?”
Anxiety tightened his gut. “Tell me what you know. Please.”
The demon opened his mouth but then flicked a glance over Soren’s shoulder. “Not now. Your black widow crouches at the end of the hallway like the venomous thing she is. Wouldn’t do for her to overhear.”
“Later, then?” Dammit!
“You can count on it. I’ll pay you a call in the next few days to check on Harley.” He grinned. “And perhaps partake of your resort’s infamous offerings, since I’ve never had the pleasure.”
“Consider yourself invited. Your friend, too.”
“Until then.”
The big demon prince strode away with a brush of raven wings, but in the opposite direction of the club’s main room, and disappeared around the corner. Soren guessed there was a back entrance. If so, that was the route he’d be taking.
Steeling himself, he walked to the door of the room containing the woman who would no doubt change him completely. Pushed it open.
And stepped inside to meet his destiny.
5
Harley stood shaking in her shoes. Well, her bare feet, since she was still as naked as the day she’d entered the world.
She was cold, but that wasn’t the only reason for the attack of shivers. All she’d been through in the past few days had finally caught up with her. And out there tonight . . .
Blazing Hades, she’d been a total slut in front of all those people. Creatures. Whatever. They’d reacted in kind, hurling all sorts of lewd comments and suggestions, and she couldn’t even blame them. Part of her had been freaked out. But the other part had loved the attention and the control the handler possessed over her body. He’d played her like a master does a fine instrument, making her sing.
The trembling was a culmination of everything. Her old life gone in the blink of an eye. And good riddance, anyway, because it had mostly been for shit. But would the future that lay in wait be any better?
The door to the dressing room opened, and she jumped. Beside her, she was vaguely aware of Kai doing the same with a gasp. All her focus was on the male filling the doorway.
Oh. My. She stared, and he returned her regard with a heated look.
He wasn’t as big in muscle mass as Valafar, but he commanded the room all the same. He was tall and broad shouldered, with just the right amount of muscle on his lean frame, from what she could tell with him fully clothed. His legs, hugged by black dress pants, went on forever and showed off a nice package at the front. Long, straight, silky, dark brown hair brushed the shoulders of his tailored blue shirt and contrasted with his piercing amber eyes fringed with dark lashes. Eagle’s eyes, she thought. And his face.
Beautiful. Whereas the demons were sexy in their brutal, primitive way, this man was simply the most gorgeous creature she’d ever seen. Bar none. Full lips, high, arched brows, cheekbones to die for. He could have been the signature model for one of those art exhibits she used to write about. What artist wouldn’t long to immortalize that face?
His eyes flicked from hers momentarily to pin the assistant to the floor. “What’s your name, boy?”
The kid swallowed. “Kai, sir.”
“Where are her clothes, Kai? She can’t leave like that,” he said, gesturing to her nakedness.
“She didn’t arrive with anything but this wrap.” Quickly, the boy fetched the lacy scrap and held it up.
“That won’t do. Get her something decent to wear, and make it fast.”
“Right away, sir!” He fled.
Which left her alone with this man she had no idea how to address. She opted for keeping it simple. “Thank you.”
He nodded. “You’re welcome, Harley. But there’s no reason for thanks. Clothing is a simple, basic need.”
“Some wouldn’t think so where a slave is concerned.” She wondered how he’d known her name, but decided one of the club’s workers must’ve told him.
“True. But I have no intention of keeping you as my slave.”
“Oh.” That news should’ve given her vast relief. But it didn’t. All she felt was sharp disappointment. “So you bought me for someone else? Where will I go?”
Stepping up to her, he reached out and ran his fingers down her cheek. “Oh, you’re going home with me, just not as my slave. My brothers and I don’t believe in that practice. We’re much more into . . . willing captives.”
Her drooping spirits lifted again. “Really? That sounds rather tempting,” she said, her voice husky. Am I let down? Do I actually need to be an official slave in order to be dominated? No, she decided. A strong male wouldn’t need that distinction between them. “How does it work for me, then? Legally, I mean.”
“Easy. You go home with me and we light a bonfire with your papers before my oldest brother shoves them up my ass.”
She laughed softly. “Well, we can’t have that. Can I ask . . . I don’t know what I should call you.”
“How rude of me. I’m Lord Soren Fontaine.”
A vampire lord! Soren. The name sent a skitter through her, and her pulse fluttered. For a moment she couldn’t catch her breath, and he took her arm.
“Are you all right?” he asked in concern.
“I think so. Just felt a little strange for a second. I’m okay now.”
“You’re sure?” He didn’t sound convinced.
“Positive. Your name sounded familiar,” she said, changing the subject. “I could swear I’ve seen or heard it before.”
A flash of very real pain was there in his golden eyes, gone in an instant to be replaced by a neutral expression. “We’re in the society pages quite a bit. My brothers and I run La Petite Mort, an adult pleasure resort outside the city. Aldric is the oldest, then me, and then Luc. You might have seen any of our names in the paper, recounting our legendary carousing.” He winked. “Or, more likely, you’ve read about Aldric and his battles on the Council. He’s the leader of all the vampires in the Southern Coalition. The ancient ones would call him king, but he hates that term and refuses to be addressed as such.”
“I might have read of yo
u all. I’m from St. Louis and I wrote society articles at the paper there. Sometimes we’d catch news from the south, so it’s possible.”
Just then, Kai returned with a pair of sweat pants and a T-shirt, and handed them over to her with an apologetic smile. “Sorry there’s no underwear. These aren’t the greatest, but you’ll be covered.”
“A little late for that,” she said wryly. Still, she took them gratefully, yanking on the sweats and then the shirt with relief. Nothing stranger than being naked among clothed people.
“Here’s your slave’s papers, sir.” Kai handed them over. “The manager sends his regards.”
Soren took the documents, a faint look of distaste crossing his face. “Thanks.”
“Good-bye, Kai,” she added.
“Take care,” the assistant said cheerfully. Satisfied with his night’s work, he left.
She eyed Soren curiously as he tucked away the papers. “Tell me something.”
“If I can.”
“Why go to the trouble of coming here, going against your own policy to buy me, only to free me five minutes later? Especially when I’m sure you have willing captives, as you put it, at your beck and call.”
The vampire hesitated, appearing unsettled. “I’m not sure I have a good answer for you just yet, other than ‘I have my reasons.’ But in the meantime, I plan to keep you busy.”
“Doing what, exactly?” At least she’d have a purpose.
“Do you know what it means to be a vampire’s Chosen?”
A jolt of excitement went through her every cell, but she tried to contain it. He might be leading up to something else for her rather than an offer that many men and women would give their souls to obtain. “It means being available to the vampire any time of day for feedings and sex. It’s a symbiotic relationship, because while the Chosen provides those two essential things to the vampires of his or her coven, the Chosen’s life is naturally extended by the contact.”
