Temptation at Twilight: Lords of Pleasure

by Jo Carlisle

  “Extended by a few decades, but it doesn’t make the Chosen immortal or keep them from aging,” he clarified.

  “Right. But it’s still good job security,” she said.

  Soren laughed, and she liked the deep rumble. “That’s one way to look at it. Anyway, you will be one of my Chosen, for my exclusive use.”

  Oh yes! Inside she did the victory dance, but common sense demanded more answers. Outwardly, she remained collected. “How is that any different from being a vampire’s slave?”

  “Very. Acting as my Chosen is a job offer. Yes, I’m requiring you to try it out for a few weeks before I grant your freedom. But should you find that you dislike the duties, or me in particular, you have the option to leave and seek other employment. Unlike a slave.”

  A thrill went through her body at the prospect of belonging to this man—in every way. Staring at him, taking in the determined set of his jaw, the heat in his eyes, she knew that no piece of paper, or lack thereof, would stand in his way when it came to owning her.

  He stepped close, reached out to brush a strand of hair from her face. That golden gaze mesmerized her, drawing her into the flames. Her skin burned from the mere graze of his fingers, and she wanted more. “Is this acceptable to you?”

  “Yes,” she breathed. “I want to know what it’s like to be Chosen.”

  He gave her a sexy half smile. “It’s pure pleasure, like nothing you’ve felt before.” Cupping the back of her head, he brought his lips to hers, whispering against them. “It’s addictive, a little dangerous. Complete ecstasy. I’ll show you.”

  “Please.”

  He captured her mouth and thrust his tongue inside, exploring. The vampire tasted so good, and felt even better with his hard chest pressed against her, holding her close. He surrounded her totally, and while she knew the very real dangers of succumbing to such a cunning predator, she’d never had the sense of peace that swamped her now. There was freedom in allowing him to have his way, a sense of rightness. She wanted him to take everything.

  As he ate her mouth, one big hand slipped under her T-shirt to palm a breast, and he squeezed firmly but not hard enough to hurt. Two fingers pinched a taut nipple, then the other, sending wonderful little shocks through her nerve endings. Then his palm skimmed down her stomach, his hand dipping inside the waistband of the sweats to brush through the curls between her thighs, and on to rub the moist folds of her sex.

  “Spread for me, sweetheart,” he murmured.

  Widening her stance, she locked her arms around his neck, breath hitching. “I need . . .” She didn’t know how to verbalize it. She’d never been with a vampire.

  “I know what you need. Trust me.”

  His fingers caressed her pussy, parted the slick flesh to enter her channel. He pumped them in and out, slowly finger-fucking her, taking care to rub against her throbbing clit.

  “Ohh, it’s so good,” she rasped.

  “It gets better, baby. Much better.”

  The hand at the back of her head burrowed in her hair, pulled back her head to expose her neck.

  His voice was low, hypnotic. “You’re mine. I’m going to feast on you, do whatever I want, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me. And you’re so fucking hot and ready for me, I think you love that idea.”

  She couldn’t deny it. At the moment she was helpless against his power, and that knowledge was such a huge turn-on, she could hardly stand the anticipation of what he’d do next. Her pussy was wet, his fingers gliding, spreading her arousal. But when he bent and grazed her vulnerable neck with his fangs, she almost came.

  So this was what it meant to be under a vampire’s thrall! Every cell in her body screamed to be claimed. Used.

  “Do it, please,” she begged.

  He nibbled kisses along her neck, teased with lips and tongue. Then he lingered at a spot near her jugular, hesitated—

  And struck. The pain was indescribable, a jolt of agony that shot straight to her heart and limbs as she cried out. But it was over just as quickly as it began, and in its wake was a slow pulse. It started like ripples in a pond, deep in her womb, flowing to her aching sex, to her toes and fingertips. The pleasure grew with every draw he took of her life’s blood, became so big it couldn’t be contained.

  “Oh, gods, yes. Yes! Please don’t stop.”

  She plastered herself to his front, clinging desperately, babbling. So close.

  Her orgasm exploded and she cried out again, riding the waves crashing into her over and over. Just as she thought her body would shake apart from the sheer intensity, the pleasure began to ebb, gradually bringing her down from the awesome high to leave her sated. And so tired.

  She slumped against his chest, and he withdrew his fangs, licking the wounds to close them. “Thank you, Harley.” He kissed her temple. “You taste like the sweetest wine. I didn’t want to stop.”

  “I’ve never felt anything like that. It’s incredible.”

  Pulling back, he held her cheeks in his hands. “How are you feeling?”

  “A bit tired, but good.” She paused. “It was painful at first, and then . . . wow. What a high.”

  He nodded. “That’s what you can expect as my Chosen, and the initial pain of my bite will become less with every feeding, until it has faded to mere discomfort. Or so the other Chosen tell me.”

  Others? she wanted to ask, but the details could wait.

  “I’m taking you home. Are you ready?”

  “I am.” The word home chimed in her head, and she tried to imagine what having an actual home, not simply a place to sleep, would be like. Obviously Soren wanted her there. But it was much too early to pin her hopes on this new relationship, whatever his motivation.

  Soren took her hand and led her out into the hallway, where Harley was met with another surprise—and this one nowhere near as pleasant as the introduction to Soren had been.

  “Finally fetch our little slut, darling? Took you long enough.”

  Harley stopped in her tracks, processing what the woman in front of her had said as she assessed what was clearly an opponent. The woman was pale and slender, with long black hair and pointy features. Like an elf. Or a witch. She had on a gauzy black tank top with no bra underneath. But, then, why bother when all you had were two little bumps?

  One corner of Harley’s mouth quirked at the uncharitable thought.

  “Find something funny, slave?”

  Ooh, the bitch is displeased. “I’m not a slave,” she declared, hoping Soren had her back on this. She hitched a thumb at the man. “Soren said so.”

  “Did he?” The woman shot a glare at him that was full of venom, promising a not-so-fun conversation later on.

  “Yes, I did,” he said, his tone uncompromising. “We don’t keep slaves, and you know it. We don’t need to and never have, and procuring one wasn’t part of our bargain.”

  Looked like the sexy vamp could handle her, though. But what was this about a bargain? She had a feeling any deal the vampire had made with this unpleasant woman couldn’t be good.

  “Are you sure?” The witch leaned closer to Soren and looked intently into his eyes.

  Something flashed across his expression before he steeled his gaze. “Yes, and I won’t have any argument from you. It’s her choice whether to come with us or not.” He looked at Harley.

  Harley realized what he was doing, and her opinion of him rose a notch. Despite his earlier firm resolve that she would leave with him and would try out her position as his Chosen, he was establishing Harley’s place as an equal in his household, and she liked that. A choice and a place to be. It was more than she’d had to her name in a very long time.

  “I’d like to go with you,” she replied in a strong, sure voice. “I have nowhere else to stay, no living family, and I’m intrigued by what you’ve told me about your resort.”

  And I can’t wait to serve you again, next time with you fucking me. Best to leave that unsaid for now.

  “Then let’s get out of h
ere. Shall we?” He smiled and gestured toward the back entrance, where she’d come in.

  Outside, the vampire waved, and a limo pulled up. She couldn’t help but notice that he was solicitous and helped her into the car before climbing in after her, leaving the other woman to fend for herself. She fought back the urge to gloat in the bitch’s face. Barely.

  The woman sat across from her and Soren, glaring hard. Harley gave it right back to her, not willing to cower. She’d faced meaner, nastier people and survived. She didn’t intimidate easily.

  “Harley, this is Leila Doucet,” the vampire lord told her. He glanced between them. “And this is Harley . . . I’m sorry, I didn’t get your last name.”

  “Oh, it’s Vaughn.”

  The vampire paled to the color of ash. “Vaughn?” he repeated in a tight voice.

  “Yes. Why?”

  After staring at her for a moment, he sort of shook himself and pasted on a strained smile. “I used to know someone with that last name, that’s all.”

  “Oh.” Obviously, there was more to it, but she let it go. For now. She shouldn’t nose into his business at all, but once her curiosity was piqued, she couldn’t rest until it was satisfied. Must be the journalist in her.

  “Indulge me by telling us how you ended up in your predicament, captured by Valafar and Zenon, and placed on the auction block?” he prodded.

  “That’s a short, sad tale. Things ended badly between me and my last boyfriend. He got me fired, I hit the road, and here I am. The end.”

  Soren chuckled. “I have a feeling there’s a lot more to the story. Like how your demon, Valafar, seems to have developed quite a soft spot for you and then gave you up anyway.”

  They both ignored Leila’s rude snort.

  “He’s not my demon, and I’m not their mate. I guess that’s reason enough.”

  Intrigued, he studied her thoughtfully. “So he told me. Still, two virile demons giving up such a lovely prize? I’m sure that almost never happens.”

  “I wouldn’t know.” She flushed at the compliment and cast about for another subject. “From what you’ve told me, La Petite Mort sounds wonderful. What do you do there, specifically?”

  “Very little, from what I can see,” Leila interrupted in a snotty tone. “Besides lie about and sex up the guests when he’s not out spending Aldric’s money.”

  Soren’s expression darkened and he glanced at the other woman, clearly annoyed. “It’s my job to make certain the guests receive the good time they’ve paid for and leave relaxed and happy at the end of their stay, but I don’t ‘lie about,’ as you put it. And the income we make from the resort is one-third mine. I do not, and never would, sponge off either of my brothers.”

  The tension between the vampire and the woman was a trip wire pulled taut and ready to set off an explosion. Again, Harley wondered what the connection was between these two. Why did the vampire tolerate her?

  Harley decided to continue as if Leila hadn’t spoken. “You and your brothers are hands-on hosts, then?” she teased.

  He eyed her, the slow burn returning to his gaze. “We take our clients’ needs very seriously. And, yes, sometimes that means seeing to their desires personally. I hope that doesn’t bother you.”

  “No, not at all,” she said, not quite disguising the tiny thrill of intrigue in her voice. Then she remembered that he was her master. “Of course, what I think about it doesn’t matter.” In truth, the image of this delicious man pleasing his guests conjured all sorts of images that made her pussy tingle.

  “It’s about to become your home, too. I want you to be comfortable there.”

  “Do you treat all your captives so well?” The question burst out before she could stop it.

  Instead of taking offense at her bluntness, he smiled. “Remember, you’re not really my captive and can leave after you’ve given your new position a shot. I’m not a complete bastard, in spite of the fact that I’m a vampire who gets to have my cake and eat it, too. Besides . . . I have reason to believe my path and yours were destined to cross.”

  At this, he exchanged a quick, indecipherable look with Leila, who sat across from them, gloating like a cat with a mouthful of feathers. Harley felt the silent current running between the two and shivered a little. Was it her imagination, or was there a cold, dark presence that had suddenly manifested in the small confines of the limo? The drop in temperature in the vehicle was real enough, and she crossed her arms, rubbing at the chill bumps.

  “And you have reason to think that why?”

  The vampire returned his attention to Harley. “The details aren’t important right now. What matters is that you’re going home with me, where you’ll spend a day or so getting your bearings before assuming your new duties.”

  She liked this prospect a lot. Not that she envisioned wanting to leave so soon, but that once again, she’s been given a choice. “Okay, this sounds good. I just want to get a few more things straight. Before, you said I’d belong to you exclusively. Does that mean that I won’t serve your brothers as a Chosen?”

  He frowned, his expression darkening. An internal struggle seemed to rage in his golden eyes before he said, “Never. I may ask that you participate in entertaining our guests with me, but you’ll not service Aldric or Luc. Even my proclivities don’t extend to the incestuous, and I forbid it.”

  “Fine by me,” she affirmed. “I suppose I could’ve dealt with that particular kink, though I’m glad I don’t have to.” She paused. “You said I’ll be one of your Chosen. . . .”

  “Yes. I must have sustenance every day, same as any other creature, and my appetites are great. That means using several Chosen per week,” he said, almost apologetically. “It’s much too dangerous and, in fact, would eventually be fatal for a single human to serve a vampire every day. We value our Chosen too highly to tax their bodies to the point of complete exhaustion. Unfortunately, not every coven believes as we do, and some Chosen are discarded like broken toys once they’re drained.”

  “That’s horrible!”

  “Yes, it is,” he replied gravely.

  “So, I’ll get days off?”

  “Same as any other employee at the resort,” he assured her. “Our Chosen are the highest in rank of any employee, and each one works only three days per week—though some occasionally volunteer to work four, which is the absolute limit. One of Aldric’s no-bullshit rules.”

  “Sounds smart and more than fair. What’s the pay?”

  “Other than room and board?” He named a number of credits per month that made her eyes widen in amazement.

  “Wow. Sign me up!”

  “Just be sure you read the contract first,” Leila drawled.

  Damn, she’d almost managed to forget the skinny ghoul parked across from her and the vampire. She managed to affect an innocent look. “Oh? Is that how Lord Soren got stuck with you? By not reading the fine print?”

  The woman’s eyes flashed, and for a split second Harley saw something truly frightening in her gaze. Something not quite . . . human. Or thought she did, because the vision passed so quickly, she might have imagined that the other woman’s irises had totally disappeared into a pool of inky black. She could not possibly have seen her raven hair crawling, writhing like a nest of snakes.

  And for a mere second, Leila’s teeth appeared razor sharp when she smiled. “My mate and I have no need of paper. Our deal is sealed in blood.”

  Mates? Soren and that horrible woman? Proof that men were truly ruled by their dicks. Why did that knowledge hurt far more than picturing the vampire feeding from and fucking all of his Chosen?

  Harley turned her attention back to the vampire, who was looking away from both of them, his eyes a reflection of pure misery. Ah, so this was no love match, but indeed some kind of business deal. That lifted a weight from her heart, though she couldn’t say why. Maybe it was simply that Soren didn’t seem to deserve to be unhappy.

  After that downer, conversation lagged, and the drive seemed end
less. Finally, the limo turned down a long driveway and crawled at a sedate pace toward the most beautiful, sprawling mansion she’d ever laid eyes on. Illuminated by floodlights, the house seemed like a palace out of a childhood fairy tale, with nothing missing but the tower and moat.

  This house, however, wasn’t a castle but a white, plantation-style home with black shutters, three stories high, with soaring columns supporting a covered front driveway and a multitude of steps leading up to the front veranda. She couldn’t see the guest cottages from here, but guessed they could be spotted by wandering the paths behind the main house and peering among the tall trees. Tomorrow she’d do some exploring.

  The limo pulled to a stop in front of the mansion. Soren got out first and again gave Harley a hand out of the vehicle, leaving his mate to her own devices. Harley knew it was wrong of her to feel good about that, but Leila didn’t exactly inspire waves of sympathy. There was something really off about the woman’s relationship with Soren, but she’d have to be patient to learn what was going on.

  Harley let the vampire guide her up the steps, grateful for the warmth of his hand at the small of her back. This adventure suddenly seemed scarier than it had an hour ago, but perhaps her attack of nerves had been brought on by being tired.

  A handsome young blond-haired man wearing brown leather pants and a snug black shirt met them at the door and ushered them inside, exclaiming at their arrival with enthusiasm, despite the lateness of the hour.

  “Lord Soren, you’re back! Super! And I see you’ve brought us a guest? Hello,” he greeted her with an infectious smile. “I’m Jordan. And you are?”

  “I’m Harley Vaughn,” she answered, returning his friendliness. “Nice to meet you.”

  “The pleasure is mine, Harley. My, you must be dead on your feet! With Lord Soren’s permission, I’ll see you to a guest room.” He glanced at the vampire, who nodded but made one correction.

  “Yes, but show her to a suite close to mine. Harley is my newest Chosen, and I expect her to be treated with the proper respect.” His direction brooked no argument.