Carnal Appetite cd-1

by Celeste Anwar

  The sudden stillness of the night was broken by his voice, startling her.

  “Danior,” he said, speaking into the yawning cavity of darkness before him, a single word that sent chills traveling up her spine despite its simplicity, for she’d thought them alone.

  There was such depth of hatred in his voice--she would have had to be deaf to miss it. She never expected he would get a response.

  “Am I interrupting?”

  Chapter Two

  The man stepped from the shadows like a cliché from a bad horror movie. Only nothing about this scene made Clara feel like laughing. An immense feeling of terror pervaded her senses, brought on by the man who’d seemingly come from nowhere. It was an unreasonable reaction, but something about him struck her as frighteningly familiar. The memory of the strange wounds she’d discovered while showering inexplicably came back to her, flashing in her mind’s eye like a haunting vision.

  A long, black cape concealed his body, making him appear to almost glide toward them. Equally strange, it took her a minute to realize the wind did not stir his hair or clothes. A chill ran down her spine at the sudden insight. She shook it off, determined not to allow her imagination to run wild.

  The scope of her sight began clearing as he neared them, but her breathing was harsh in the ensuing quiet. She had to fight for every breath she took and could only stare in mesmerized horror as the two of them faced off.

  A struggle for dominance, for power, was taking place between them, she knew, though neither uttered a word. Unseen energy fairly crackled in the air. She half expected them to lunge at each other’s throats, but after a few minutes of tense waiting, something gave and the cloud of morbidity lessened enough to breathe and think once more.

  Clara gasped as a rush of air entered her lungs. Attracted to the sound, the man glanced directly at her for the first time. Darkly beautiful, inky hair framed a face of sharp angles, but his full lips softened masculine edges. His skin was pale enough she wondered if he had an allergy to the sun like a child she’d once known.

  A buzzing began in her ears as he stared at her, creeping through her brain like spider webs. Unconsciously, she took a step forward from the shelter of the door frame, releasing the edges of her blouse as she dropped her arms. Air struck her exposed skin. Becoming aware of what she was doing, she shook her head, trying to dismiss the probes tickling her mind.

  He smiled, sensuously chilling, and the humming stopped. Clara hastily buttoned her blouse, uncaring if it was straight or not. She swallowed hard. What just happened? she wondered.

  “You’ve taken my cherry, Raoul. I admit I hadn’t expected such audacity near my abode,” the stranger said suddenly in a softly seductive voice, returning his attention to the man who had so lately ravished her with pleasure.

  Raoul. It sounded archaic. Clara didn’t wonder at the strangeness of his words, rather that she now knew her mystery man’s name. The knowledge had barely settled in her mind before she was caught off guard by Raoul’s response to the man.

  Hands clenched as hard and tense as his body, he looked capable of rending a man to pieces. Harsh, almost feral, he said, “I’ve given her the first mark, Danior. There’s nothing you can do.”

  The finality of his words made Clara shudder. This confrontation should have struck her as ridiculous, but there was nothing farcical about the two men squaring off. Reaching up, she tenderly touched the bite Raoul had left on her neck in the throws of passion, so close to the wound she’d discovered yesterday. She’d ignored the small pain then, but did he think it entitled him to something more?

  “I have only to drain her life’s blood to cancel your marks,” Danior responded.

  Enough of that! “What the hell are you two talking about?” she demanded, anger and fear mingling as one.

  “A small matter, nothing more, my pet,” Danior said, keeping his eyes trained on Raoul.

  “I’m not your ... anything. Or his either.” Her brief insanity had landed her in a hell of a mess. It was past time she got out of here. Scraping through a confrontation was better than sticking around and being murdered. The proximity of the club wasn’t enough of a safety net to suit her nerves, even if there was a chance others could come out the back exit as they had.

  Clara straightened her resolve and pushed past the both of them, giving wide berth but exposing her back as she walked by. It couldn’t be helped--it wasn’t so bright that she couldn’t not watch where she was going. Spraining an ankle wouldn’t help her out run them if they gave chase.

  Air rushed through the alley as it had earlier, and someone--Danior--laughed harshly behind her. Clara glanced over her shoulder as she quickened her pace. Only she and Raoul remained in the alley. Oh shit. Breathe. Just breathe. She ran. This was too freaky. She half wondered if she’d somehow been drugged and hallucinated the entire episode.

  Heels clicking rapidly with hollow sound on the pavement, she raced through the remainder of the alley, looking wildly around as she dug her keys out of her pocket. She just wanted the safety of her car--to go home. Dashing through the floodlight at the end of the alley, past the club’s entrance, she headed for the packed lot where she’d parked.

  Raoul caught her at her car. Clara gasped in surprise when he grabbed her. She hadn’t heard him over the deafening thump of her heart, hadn’t expected him to be so fast, so close. One minute she was alone, and the next, he’d spun her around and trapped her against the closed door. Her keys clattered as they struck the ground, knocked from her hand in the tussle.

  Raoul closed his large hands around her biceps in a vice grip and pressed his hard body tight to hers, caging her so that she couldn’t move ... unless he willed it. She struggled a minute, realized it was less than useless to fight someone so much larger, and relaxed her back against the cool metal door.

  “What do you want?” she asked belligerently, forcing herself to breathe deeply to calm her racing heart. She could act brave when she needed to. She’d talked her way out of worse situations, and she was eager to put this night behind her.

  “I’m afraid I can’t allow you to leave,” he said with soft menace.

  “I’ll scream.”

  He leaned in close, until his mouth was inches from her own, teasing with his nearness. His breath warmed her skin, making her lips tingle with awareness. She thought he would kiss her, but when he did nothing, she was strangely disappointed. He was close enough she caught that wild scent that drove her insides into turmoil and filled her with instant lust. She couldn’t remember ever being so ... animalistic before.

  “You would have screamed already if you’d planned to, chere.”

  What? She’d been so focused on his mouth, she forgot she’d said anything. “I still could.”

  “But you won’t.” He rubbed his thumbs against the soft sides of her breasts in a manner that soothed as much as it teased. Her nipples tightened inside her lacy bra, and she suddenly had too much clothing on. She squirmed under the touch, and he pressed his hips harder against her as a warning. Any closer, and he’d be inside her. She bit her bottom lip, hating her responsiveness to him.

  “There’s over a hundred people inside that club. Someone will come,” she said softly, unwilling to concede defeat.

  “You know very well no one would hear you over the music. Besides,” He paused a moment, his smile feral as he pulled back slightly. He passed a lingering look over her breasts, exposed by the hastily fastened blouse and her position. “No one heard your cries of pleasure.”

  Heat suffused her body, flushing her skin pink under his gaze. Her breasts felt heavy, swollen. She longed for him to massage the ache away. “Don’t look at me like that,” she said, attempting to bolster her anger.

  “Tell me you don’t enjoy it....” He smiled knowingly. “You can’t lie to me ... I can smell it.”

  His voice was soft, almost apologetic in tone. But the look in his eyes belied that impression, dared her to contradict him. Clara remained silent. It was the
truth. She swallowed hard as the realization hit home.

  “What are you going to do with me?” she asked softly, almost afraid of the answer. There was a dangerous allure, a restrained savageness, about him that had captivated her from the moment she first saw him. She wanted him to brand her, to take her god only knew where. And that was the most frightening realization of all--even if he was mixed up with some lunatic.

  As an answer, he shifted against her, almost nestling between her legs, as if he knew exactly how much she wanted him. And damn the consequences. The thin, silk skirt she wore was little barrier to the bulge of his arousal pressed hard into her. Moisture gathered in her sex with the insistent contact, tickling her swollen labia. She tilted her head back, closing her eyes, resisting the urge to moan, and suddenly remembered she hadn’t put her panties back on. A flick of his wrist, and he could release his erection, take her there on the car. She shuddered.

  “I want you to come with me.”

  She looked at him, and her clit throbbed at the look in his eyes. Her mouth was instantly dry. Clara swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I ... can’t. This is crazy. I don’t even know your full name, who you are....”

  “It’s Etienne. Raoul Etienne.”

  “Clara Falkner. I thought you sounded French.” It seemed ridiculous to have this conversation now, after all they’d shared, after the strange confrontation the two men had had. Jeez, could she be any more inane?

  Clara wanted to dig a hole and cover herself with a rock. This man had had his tongue and cock inside her, and she’d not even had the grace to discover his name first. Her family would be so ashamed at her behavior. She hadn’t decided if she would bury the memory yet. It was hard to think past the fog of lust he inspired in her, with his scent still on her skin, with his erection pressed intimately against her and her own body begging to be filled by his cock once more.

  “Cajun,” he said succinctly, bringing her back to the present. “Danior still wants you. You will be safe at my place, Clara. Allow me to take care of you.”

  Staring into his eyes, she felt her willpower wavering. She was just about ready to say yes to anything he proposed. She’d begun the night with insanity. Shouldn’t it end that way as well? Instinctively, she knew he would not hurt her, so what was the harm in living out her fantasies?

  Lost in thought, she said nothing. When she didn’t answer him, his face grew serious. His eyes darkened and his brow furrowed. In a voice chill with certainty, he said, “If you do not come, you will die tonight.”

  * * * *

  Raoul saw his words had provoked the appropriate response in her. Her face paled, and her eyes grew wide with dawning fear. Danior had scared her--he had reminded her of that fact. If she’d known the truth about Danior, about what he himself was, she would likely be terrified. He wanted her to be afraid. Fear was the ultimate survival tool.

  She seemed to remember herself after a moment and clenched her jaw tightly.

  Raoul’s face darkened with irritation. He tightened his hands on her arms but she continued to look at him unafraid. She had him to thank for her ease of mind, though she didn’t realize it. Had he not broken the vampire’s mind marking, she would have willingly gone wherever the bloodsucker asked and been completely susceptible to his every suggestion.

  He had made a mistake not taking her from this place to start with, to goad the vampire so near his lair. But when she’d begged him to take her and wrapped those sweet thighs around his waist, he’d been unable to resist sinking into her depths. And still he’d not had his fill of her. A mere human woman had tempted him and clouded his reason. It angered him to lose his control ... and it was deadly.

  Danior had given them a brief respite for some unknown reason. Raoul couldn’t risk that he would not return with back up. He could only fight so many before succumbing. Clara wouldn’t have a chance in hell. He wanted to shake her, make her realize the danger.

  If he’d had time to place the remaining marks on her, she would not be so foolishly defiant now. She would be bound to him, would crave his touch as she would no other. His cock hardened unbearably at the thought of laying his claim to her.

  Beneath her bravado, she was still anxious, still afraid, and the heady mix only increased his hunger for her. She couldn’t know her heightened adrenaline was as enticing to him as the musky perfume of her desire. Couldn’t know that he was dangerously close to losing his chained beast after confronting Danior. He could not afford her fear right now, and did not want to fight her. “I am the only one who can protect you. I swear, on the blood of my heart, I will not harm you.”

  His sincerity pierced her stubbornness. “I’m regretting this already.” She sighed and closed her eyes, shaking her head once before looking at him again. “I’ll go with you. But you have to explain everything to me.”

  He nodded once and released her. “You’ll learn more tonight than you ever wanted to know.”

  * * * *

  Clara was surprised when they reached his car, not expecting that he would drive such a costly vehicle. He was a large man, well over six feet tall, and the black viper fit as though made for him. A custom job on an already expensive car. Luckily, wealth had never impressed her like it did some people, and she was able to be at ease in the luxury vehicle.

  Lights flashed as other cars drove past them on the lighted streets, busy with late night traffic.

  She hadn’t noticed before, given all that had happened, but now that she had some leisure and at least dim lighting, she could see he was covered with scars. Deep gashes rent his forearms and exposed shoulders, pulling toward his back to disappear under his mesh shirt. They were old enough to have healed completely and faded into the color of the surrounding skin. She wondered just how extensive the damage was.

  “What happened to your arms?” she blurted out without thinking and cringed at her callousness. She touched a gentle fingertip to him, fascinated, traveling along one long scar that curled around his biceps. It was smooth and felt no different than his whole skin. “It looks like an animal got hold of you.”

  He glanced at her then back at the road, his look unreadable. “Something like that.”

  He didn’t seem a man to talk much, but she sensed she’d struck a nerve, and with good reason. She shivered, thinking of what he must have gone through. Her heart ached with empathy for his suffering. “It must have been painful.”

  “Yes.”

  She burned to ask more but fell quiet when she saw where he was taking her.

  They headed to an expensive residential neighborhood, enclosed in the city for convenience, where she knew the lots cost in the tens of thousands due to their location and illusory seclusion. For the first time, she wondered what he did for a living.

  He pulled into the only road in or out and stopped at the gate briefly before a guard waved them through. Old fashioned street lamps lit the way through the heavy woods, and they passed several immense houses before he pulled into the drive of an old style Tudor.

  The tension was thick in the intimate space.

  She’d remained silent as long as she could bear it. She still wasn’t ready to drop his accident. She knew instinctively that it was something she needed to know. “Would you like to talk about it? About the accident?”

  He parked in the front and turned off the car. “Some things should be forgotten.” Palming his keys, he got out of the car and opened the door for her.

  “And some things you can never forget.”

  He gave her an angry look, then headed up the path to his front door. She had to practically run to keep up with him. He took so long to respond, she’d begun to think he wouldn’t even bother answering. “You wouldn’t understand,” he said finally.

  “Try me,” she said, a little breathless as they stopped in front of the door.

  “You don’t belong in my world,” he said gruffly as he unlocked the door and held it wide for her to enter.

  “You’ve just invited me inside....
”

  Chapter Three

  Could he risk telling her the truth? That the monsters of the world’s nightmares actually existed in a shadowy, secret society? She wouldn’t believe him. No one did until it was too late to listen to the warnings. He’d never worried about people heeding him before, but he found he wanted her to believe him--not just think he was some psycho.

  Had he not been attacked, all those years ago, he himself would still be ignorant and deny their existence.

  He could warn her, tell her what had happened to him ... and what Danior had done to her. But that wouldn’t mean she would listen.

  Clara waited in the foyer, watching him expectantly with her soft, hazel eyes. She perceived too much. There was a vibrancy about her spirit that was difficult to resist ... or deny. That, and she was too damn beautiful by half, a woman built for loving. Being so close to her incited him to a raging lust he was hard pressed to control. Small wonder that Danior wanted her for his own.

  “Follow me,” he said finally, resigned, leading her into the living area that opened off the front entryway. A two story cathedral ceiling stretched above them, the hewn wood warm and inviting in the soft yellow light of a central chandelier. Here was as good a place as any to divulge his secrets.

  He picked up a remote and hit a button. Instant fire roared to life in the fireplace.

  Sitting near the blaze in an overstuffed chair, he stretched out his legs and bade her sit across from him. He stared at the fire, waiting until she was settled before beginning.