She opened the door, and gasped.
The entire loft was filled with candles. On the floor, up the stairs, around the kitchen…
“Welcome back,” Fitz said leaning his hands on the railing upstairs and looking down.
She tilted her head back. “What’s all this?”
“What did you get at the store?” he countered.
Keeping her gaze locked with his, smiled, untied her coat and opened it.
He blurred down so fast, one second he was upstairs, the next she was on the floor, held down by her wrists, his face above hers. Finally.
He brushed his nose along hers. “Just who is seducing who here?”
“Feeling better?”
“No.” He traced his tongue behind his teeth, his canines growing. “Feeling ravenous.”
Their mouths met hungrily, but he kept her held down. When he moved his mouth from her chin to her throat, he felt his teeth cutting at her skin. Her eyes widened at the pleasure and pain eclipsing from injury to healing. He made animalistic growls, still holding her down, licking down her chest and making small bites on her breasts. To her shock, he tore apart her pretty new bra, doing the same to her panties and garters, giving more bites and shallow sucks along her skin, licking the beads of blood left behind.
In between he whispered how much he loved her, needed her, and would show her.
Gaelen had never seen him like that before. That carnal, that desperate. Seeing her body scattered with dried blood should’ve frightened her, but it didn’t.
It fueled her. The ferocious heat building within was like nothing she’d ever felt, though they’d made love dozens of times, this was different. A total vampiric kind of lovemaking, tenacious and concupiscent, levels above basic sexual desire. His eyes glowed like emerald fire, his fingers dug in, scratched, then slid down her skin soothingly.
Her teeth descended, sinful lust choking her inhibition as she spread her legs and pushed him toward her sex.
With a raw moan, he delved on her center. Gaelen’s back bowed, and she cried out at the contact of his tongue on her sensitive flesh. Within seconds of him sucking and laving on her clit she was screaming his name.
He licked from her pussy over her navel, between her breasts, and captured her scream on his mouth. “I want so much more of that,” he uttered, helping her off the floor and sending over the arm of the sheet-covered sofa on her stomach. “Hold still.”
Aroused by his domination, she dug her forehead in the cushion, stretching her arms in front of her, waiting. He eased part of his cock inside her, then she felt a hot drip on her lower back. She gasped. He groaned, entered her more, dripped more hot wax that formed a river down her spine, and when he plunged in, poured the rest from the candle. Gaelen fisted the sheet as the wax snaked to her neck and curved down her shoulder, Fitz plunging into her from behind. The combination of the white-hot heat and his thrusts made her come again.
He was nowhere near finished. All that night and into the next day he used her, loved her, worshipped her, until she thought she might have to beg him for a break. Every time he came, she thought he was done, but within minutes would be hard again, finding a new position for them to reach bombastic ecstasy.
Later on, she would conclude his sexual needs being neglected would result in an insatiable creature of wicked lust and very dark passion, and that she would endure it—and enjoy it—until he was spent. By the end of the following evening, after the candles had melted to piles of wax and smoke, with half the furniture in disarray, some of the boxes tipped over, it seemed he’d finally been satisfied. They were on the floor, heaving for breath, as the automatic curtains started to lift.
The New York skyline twinkled around them. Gaelen hoped it wouldn’t be too long before they returned. She sat up, staring at what had been her home for the past five years, knowing it was the blink of an eye for someone like Fitzgerald.
He brushed his fingertips along her spine. “Do I feel melancholy coming on?”
She looked at him over her shoulder, starting to smile. “There’s no place like New York.”
Coming up, he wrapped her in his arms. “I always come back.”
“I think that was the gods trying to lead you to me.”
“I wish they would’ve tried harder.” He squeezed her tight. “What we do at the Centurias is going to change lives, Gaelen. Ours. Others. And it could end in disaster. By standing at Marex’s side, we will more than likely lose allies and money. But if we don’t—”
“We’ve already lost.”
He kissed her shoulder. “Exactly. His success depends on many factors. Family names like mine, and supporters who are backed by royals, like Huxford, need to be next to him in order to be heard.”
“I imagine most of the underworld has heard about Marex and his mission by now, if he’s truly been working toward his goal for this long.”
“There’s a reason he didn’t make much progress until now. The UCC never looked his way to my knowledge. Not until he was framed for slaying a Vesser.” He huffed. “Funny. By the humans setting him up to be executed by his own kind, and him escaping, they started this revolution. Marex was nominally known before that. Then a shifter leader came forward and offered him sanctuary, and now they’re practically brothers-in-arms. That’s unprecedented. And now he has numerous backers, shifter and vampire.”
“Why all this ancient hate between them and us?”
“Why is there hate between any two groups? Ignorance. Intolerance. Ego.”
“So if we accomplish peace, we’ll be making history.” To think, there’d been a silent but violent war going on for centuries, and most of mankind was unaware. Now, she was not only aware, but immersed in it. “What if he comes after us?”
“White Suit?” At her nod, he said, “No one knows where we’re going except Marex. Not even our allies. You shouldn’t give him another thought. He’s nothing.”
“A nothing that needs to pay for what he did to you and Spencer. To Marex.” Those who got off on the torture of others who were innocent of doing harm—whether they were immortal or not—made Gaelen sick. He deserved a taste of his own medicine. “Why aren’t you more upset with what he did to you?”
“I’m enraged. But I’ve also lived long enough to know revenge rarely solves anything.”
“So he just gets to live his life in luxury, free to possibly torture and frame more of Marex’s supporters?”
He paused. “You have a point.”
“I’m not talking about taking his life. I’d never want to kill someone, Fitz. To hurt a man like that you need to hit his pocketbook. Humiliate him in front of his peers. Strip him of his dignity.”
Fitz’s hand came around to move her gaze to his. “By the gods, you really are upset.”
“Wouldn’t you be if it’d been me?”
His eyes flashed green. “More so.”
She dropped her gaze. “When I was afraid of something, I’d meet it head-on. Especially after I was diagnosed with my so-called disease.”
“The night we met you told me you weren’t afraid of much anymore.”
“I lied. I was terrified when I saw you step on the ledge. But I swallowed my fright and walked up to you anyway. I’d thought, this man’s despair is greater than my fear, and if I don’t say something, I might have to witness him fall, when some kind words could stop him.” She fully turned around in his arms. “So you see, I am afraid of Mr. Lyle, and I always will be, until I face him. Until he gets what he deserves.”
Fitz gazed at her with reverence. “Oh, my fated. Until we face him. It’s a good century to be fearless.”
She softly smiled, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. As they embraced, she didn’t let Fitz see her smile fade. Even with her strong ability to seduce others to her will, the insecurity remained, sensing what they were about to embark on would have more twists and turns than she could imagine. And if they didn’t succeed at the Centurias, she’d have to prepare for her new d
ark life with Fitz to turn even more precarious.
They showered, dressed, and a few hours later the bellman came up to take their suitcases down to the car.
He stepped in with wide eyes, looking around. “Whoa. I don’t even want to know what went down in here,” Larry facetiously remarked, glancing at the burned out the candles, the smell of smoke lingering.
“What can I say, old friend? I’m not a halfway romantic,” Fitz declared, shrugging on a dark gray military jacket and grabbing one of the bags.
Gaelen winked at her fated and kissed his cheek, before he passed by her to the hallway. “Don’t worry, Larry, we’re sending in a cleaning crew tomorrow morning.”
Larry whistled, shaking his head and picking up two suitcases. “They have their work cut out for them. Just enjoy every minute of it while you can, Mrs. McEvoy. The honeymoon can’t last forever.”
She gave the loft once last glance before pulling the door closed.
Yes, it can.
The Centurias Newsletter
*A CENTURY IN THE MAKING*
Greetings & salutations from Frostwythe Tower!
Everything seems so trifle in the months leading up to the Centurias, no? The once-a-century event where we are privileged enough to imagine humans and their brightest, deadliest star do not exist. Before the Light, dear readers. Before the Light. I’m coming up on my 5th century birthday and have experienced most of what life on this plane has to offer, as some of you can claim the same in even a fraction of that time.
But only in January will we get to be the kings and queens of our own dominion, and play and feed and seduce to our hearts’ content. Yes, we are able to do all of that without it, but not without so many restrictions. Only at the Centurias will all of us feel truly free…
Moving on.
One of the most intriguing phases of the Centurias are the unavowed royal daughters and sons who will be matched with other eligible royals. While a few will be no surprise, there is one or two I’m anxious to hear all about. The others who are not so predictable! Garrick Jacoby, for instance. Handsome as he is aloof, he will no doubt be at the top of many families’ list. I think half the excitement of seeing who he’ll avow to is due to his previous refusals to avow at the last Centurias, making him all the more enticing to chase.
Just know that if you’re hoping for a chance, you’ll have to go through his father first, and it’d take a dragon and a castle to impress that royal. I wish I was joking.
The following events are confirmed:
Scent of a Vampiress
A new show I’m excited to see. Complimentary custom perfume to every attendant.
Hosted by the Chesterfield Sisters.
Recollections: A Victorian Ball.
A party not to be missed! Authentic costume a must. Hosted by Countess Evelune.
Eternal Luck
Remember Whist? Gleek? Speculation? Bring your money and play them all here.
Hosted by the Larkadian Family.
Your letters are stuffing my mailbox to the seams, and yes, I read each and every one of them! The majority are asking if it’s true about Marex Daulton – has he really escaped the UCC? Well, with their permission, I’m allowed to speak briefly on this. Yes, he’s no longer in their custody, and if anyone has information, they should contact the council immediately. For those of you out of the loop, that fateblood has been accused of murdering Lionel Rothwaite, a beloved Vesser, so his re-capture is a top priority. That’s all I’ll say on that for now.
Immortal Forsaken Series #4
Coming August 2018
Subscribe to my VIP Newsletter
A vampire and a gentleman, Rhemy Carrington is content with his quiet, cozy life in the Big Easy, shunned from proper underworld society. Adored by his customers, he owns a jazz and gambling club, and prefers to leave the risk-taking to them. The dark life is good.
That doesn’t mean he doesn’t like to be a little bad now and then. Every month he hosts a secret gathering for vampires and shifters, knowing that getting caught will certainly damn him permanently...
It’s another busy night when a new face walks in his place with a VIP card that doesn't belong to her. The last thing he needs is trouble in his club. Who is she? Why is she there? And why is he so obsessed with her?
Taelour has one goal: the Centurias. When the elegant, sexy club owner with the silken drawl says he can help, she wants so badly to turn him and his offer down, but she can't. Desire like this is irresistible, and by the gods, so is he. One touch from Rhemy and she trembles from head to toe, aching to give him what she's given no other: her heart. To surrender to him would mean surrendering secrets that would be dangerous to reveal.
In this world sometimes what is dangerous, is what is necessary.
He is an immortal forsaken…
Turn the page for a sample of Chapter One!
Rhemy
Vol 4
“Sugar. In the end, I always get what I want.”
Rhemy leaned back in his chair and gave Tara a slow smile, twirling the signet ring on his finger.
Tara owned a popular bar on Canal Street, and didn’t much like that he, well, acquired her coveted jazz musician. She kept saying the word “stole”, but one can’t steal what comes to one’s door.
Granted, Rhemy had spent the better part of a year persuading Jim—a gifted artist with countless fans Rhemy could turn into paying members—to switch loyalties, but the trumpet player wouldn’t have done so unless he’d wanted to.
“You’re the devil, Rhemy Carrington.” Tara glared at him with her otherwordly dark eyes, although there was a glimmer of amusement behind the fire. She enjoyed these games they played.
He tsked. “Now, now. You know it only turns me on when you call me wicked names. If I was the devil, I’d have you workin’ for me.”
She stomped her foot. “You know I can’t match what you’re paying Jim!”
“You’ve had him plenty long now. There must be a thousand trumpet players in a one-mile radius. It’s time to find fresh talent. Jim is much more suited to my place than yours. Old souls and all.” He winked.
A smile started to twitch, but the fairy raised her chin and crossed her chubby arms. “Gimme something in return or I’ll have a hex put on your place.”
“Done. A crate of my own customized moonshine.”
“Four crates,” she countered.
“Fine. Six.”
That made her smile. Without a word, she spun around and left his doorway.
That’s what I thought. He smiled and turned his broken-in chair to the two-way mirror looking down at the jazz club, which sat above the gambling room that was also exclusively his in the three-story building he owned.
Early projections said it was going to be another busy night, and it was time to make his rounds. He poured a short glass of bourbon, and went down to the main floor, stopping by the surveillance room. His staff watched the gaming tables from the cameras, observing like hawks for which players were on a roll, who was losing, who was new, and of course, who could be cheating. Not that many had tried at his place, but there were always one or two morons who dared.
His gambling establishment couldn’t accommodate many, and he liked it like that. Some asked why he didn’t move the business to a larger venue, but he had his reasons, and one of them was keeping in mind that bigger wasn’t necessarily better. Because the space was compact, it got crowded quick, and because it was so challenging to become a member, it’s limited capacity gave it an air of distinction.
He came around Hank’s back, watching the monitor for a few seconds, sipping his bourbon. “How it’s goin’ so far?”
“Not much action to note. Baker is back.”
“You’re jokin’. He lost forty grand less than a month ago.”
Hank looked up at him. “Came in with ten large.”
“Wonder what fool gave him that.” Shaking his head, Rhemy turned around to the blackjack table cameras that Johnny manned.
They watched the dealer fling out card after card. One player tapped their finger down for card, another waved their hand to stay. The pile of chips wasn’t very high, so it appeared the house had been winning so far. The players didn’t look pleased as the dealer scored a twenty-one.
Moving on, he looked over the poker game and roulette table. It was early in the evening and no one was quite inebriated yet for them to predict any problems. In any case, the real excitement wouldn’t come until nine.
He checked his watch. It was just after seven, two more hours to go. Every month he hosted the meeting in the building next door for vampires and shifters near and far to commence. His nerves were always a little more on edge because of it, but he rather enjoyed the continual hum of adrenaline. Each gathering invited danger, more so now than ever with Marex Daulton at the helm of bringing the two underworld species together in some underworld kum-ba-yah.
Eventually—inevitably—details about his “club” would trickle in the wrong ears and his world would be no more. He’d either be dead or have to start over, which was another form of death itself.
He’d already been there, done that.
“Hey, boss.”
Rhemy turned to Ernie, whose job was to watch the entrance cameras. “What is it?”
“The new chairs is here. Want me to go git ‘em?”
Ordinarily he wouldn’t want his men away from the cameras, but they were short-staffed with two of his best guarding the alley for the meeting. “Sure thing. Be quick.”
Ernest shuffled out, and Rhemy took his seat.
One by one, two by two, customers came through the door after being screened by his doormen. A male with a gut so large Rhemy couldn’t see his feet appeared on screen, followed by a thin young female in a wisp of a dress. Rhemy buzzed them in.
Fitz Page 11
