BLOODLUST

by Phoenix Daniels

  Bishop was standing wide-legged with his hands clasped in front of him. His thick, blond hair hung freely on his shoulders. His striking blues sparkled as they perused her from head to toe. Margo’s gaze lowered, covering every inch of his thirst worthy form. She instantly imagined running her fingers through his hair as he fucked her into insanity. Bishop Delacroix was magnificent indeed.

  “Look at you,” Gideon gushed at Enola when they reached the bottom of the stairs. “You take my breath away, darlin’.”

  Margo moved past them and made a beeline for Bishop, praying that she didn’t trip and fall from the sight of his big body tucked into the stylish black suit.

  “Bishop, I thought I was meeting you there,” she said as she approached.

  “Beautiful,” he whispered. “Blindingly so, ma chéri.”

  Margo’s cheeks heated like a schoolgirl. His sweet compliment blanketed every inch of her.

  “Thank you,” she responded, more bashful than she wanted.

  Margo stiffened her spine and mentally reminded herself of the grown-ass woman she was. There was no way she was about to allow the big, bad vampire to reduce her to a teenybopper. His forehead wrinkled as he looked down at her with a knowing smirk.

  “I asked if I could escort you,” he reminded.

  Margo was more mesmerized by his good looks than she wanted to show. She cleared her throat and forced a smile. Not trusting herself not to say something stupid, she kept her response short and simple.

  “I’mma ride with Bishop,” she announced over her shoulder.

  “Mm-hmm,” Enola mumbled with a chuckle. “See you there.”

  Bishop pressed his large palm to her lower back and urged her toward the door. They exited and made their way to an open rear door of the awaiting G-Wagon. With Bishop’s help, Margo climbed inside. After climbing in behind her, he leaned in and ran his thumb down her cheek.

  “You’re really quite beautiful, Marguerite.”

  “Thank you, Bishop. So are you?”

  The rumble of his laughter sent jolts of desire straight to her sex.

  “Beautiful?”

  “Yep, beautiful,” Margo confirmed with a grin.

  “Okay,” he chuckled. “I’ll take that. But I have to say, I’ve never been called beautiful before.”

  “Not to your face,” Margo amused aloud.

  Bishop moved close enough for her to feel his warm breath on her cheek. She closed her eyes and inhaled the mint on his breath, and the woodsy scent of masculinity on his skin.

  “You’re not the least bit afraid of me,” he marveled.

  Margo shrugged. She was intrigued, definitely attracted. But strangely, not at all afraid. Maybe she should have been. He was a vampire. No... he was the vampire. But Margo subtly watched him on the way to his estate, and all she saw was a thick, sexy man with a rugged, Viking-esque quality about him that made it almost impossible to take her eyes off of him. Margo was still watching him when the vehicle came to a stop.

  She glanced out the window just as a valet approached the door. When he reached for the handle, Bishop held up his hand. Margo turned to face him and halted in his intense, cerulean gaze. For a second, she wondered if he was preparing to use his talent for mind control. But he smiled, a smile so stunning it ignited a spark that warmed her from head to toe.

  “I want you to enjoy yourself tonight, beauty, but please don’t forget that you are here with me. I don’t want to have to drain some poor fool tonight. Please believe me, chéri, when I say that I will.

  Margo laughed at his jealous declaration, and she waited for his laughter in return, but it never came. Without even a grin, Bishop raised a brow. Margo’s smile fell.

  Bishop scooped her hand in his and raised it to his warm lips.

  “I’ll get the door,” he told her before climbing out of the SUV.

  Margo cleared her throat. As he walked around the SUV, she wondered if her lack of fear reflected her naïveté. Yet, when the door opened, and Bishop offered his hand, she found herself excited to be by his side for the rest of the evening.

  Margo placed her hand in his and slid out of the backseat. Soft jazz spilled from the house as they approached the front doors. Basile was waiting by the entrance with Beth, the young brunette, right next to him. She was smiling as if she’d been eagerly awaiting Bishop’s arrival. She was wearing an elegant black gown; low cut and adorned with stones. Her dark hair was pulled back, giving all a full view of beautiful green eyes and Angelina Jolie lips. Beth was undeniably gorgeous.

  Margo forced a smile, disguising the way she really felt about the woman waiting at the door like a puppy for Bishop to arrive. And the way he greeted her didn’t make Margo feel any better. He slipped his hand on her waist and gave her a cheek-to-cheek kiss.

  “You look stunning,” he complimented.

  She nearly swooned.

  “Thank you.”

  Bishop bowed and released the young woman. He returned to Margo’s side and placed his hand at the small of her back.

  “Mademoiselle Roux,” Basile greeted with a slight bow, “You are a vision.”

  “Thank you.”

  Bishop gave her back a slight pat, urging her further inside. Basile and Beth moved in step behind them as they made their way across the foyer. As expected, every eye in the room landed on the two of them. Margo was sure that vamp boss, returning from France, was the talk of their coven. It was certainly the talk of hers.

  As guests moved aside, granting them an unobstructed path, reminding Margo of The Tudors. A television series that depicted the lives of the monarchy during the reign of Henry VIII. The way everyone was glaring at them made her feel like Anne Boleyn,” the royal whore”, on the arm of the ruthless King. Margo leaned closer to Bishop.

  “Well, damn, you do command attention,” she chortled.

  Bishop chuckled.

  “How could I not with such a beauty on my arm?”

  Bishop led them to the parlor. When they entered, cocktails were readily available. A young man with pale skin stood, holding a tray of crystal, filled with assorted liquids. The man pulled a glass from the tray and held it her way.

  “Chilled Grey Goose.”

  His announcement was music to Margo’s ears. The vampires definitely paid attention to detail. She gratefully accepted the drink.

  “Thank you.”

  Margo took a sip and looked around at the well-dressed vampire population of Louisiana. It seemed every supernatural faction was in attendance; wolves, of course, vampires, and a few members of her own tribe whom she acknowledged with a nod. Margo guessed there was even a large human presence, not that she could tell the difference.

  Bishop’s fingers teased the tight muscles in her back. He leaned in close enough for her to relish the alluring aroma that swam in the surrounding air.

  “There are some people I’d like for you to meet before the night is over.”

  Margo agreed with a nod just as her family entered the parlor. She smiled; her face was burning with pride. Her tribe walked over to her with the regality, grace, and power only a Roux could wield.

  “It’s beautiful here, Bishop,” Enola complimented. “I’m glad to see the repairs didn’t take long,” she added, referring to the damage she caused when she blew the door off the hinges.

  “No worries, Madame Roux,” Bishop replied with a grin. “We can be swift and resourceful when need be. But do try to keep the fireballs down to a minimum this evening.”

  “I’ll do my best, Monsieur Delacroix.’

  “Merci.”

  Bishop turned to Margo.

  “Please... eat, drink, and enjoy yourselves,” he told her. “I will return shortly.”

  Margo nodded. Bishop placed his hand to the tiny back of his eager brunette and leaned closer to her ear, making Margo hate the jealousy clawing at her insides.

  “Come with me,” he instructed in a soft, deep tone that demonstrated his affinity toward the young human.

  Margo
exhaled a heavy breath and turn to Enola.

  “What’s that all about?” her cousin asked.

  “Dinner,” Margo muttered with a shrug.

  Nola frowned. “Dinner?”

  “He is a vampire,” her mom reminded.

  Nola’s expression changed from confused to disgusted.

  “Ooh... eww. That’s right.”

  “Eww? Your husband turns into a dog,” Margo quipped.

  “A wolf,” came the correction from behind.

  She didn’t have to turn around to know that it was Gideon.

  “A very big wolf,” Gabriel added.

  “Whatever,” Margo grumbled.

  Enola stepped to her husband and slipped her arm around his waist. She looked up at him with the purity of genuine love and smiled.

  “Don’t mind Margo, babe. She’s just mad because her vampire went to suck on some chick’s... neck?”

  Enola raised her brows inquisitively. “Is that where he gets the blood from?”

  Margo rolled her eyes. She was preparing a rebuttal in her head, but a commotion coming from the other side of the room caused her to take a pause. It appeared to be a very heated argument. And unfortunately, one or two of the voices were familiar.

  Margo turned toward the noise to see that a handful of vampires had gathered around Madame Belfour and her old lady gang, which comprised Madame Bennet and Madame LaRue. Gideon and Gabriel took off in their direction. From across the room, Alvin Boone stormed toward the confrontation. When Nola walked off, Margo and her mom followed closely behind.

  “How dare you!” Madame Belfour was shouting as they walked up.

  Enola placed her hand on the elder woman’s arm.

  “What’s happened?”

  “This... vampire...” she spat with disgust. “... has ordered us to leave.”

  “Damn right!” he barked in a strong southern accent.

  When Margo turned to the vampire, she saw undeniable hatred in his glare. He looked young, but with vampires, one could never tell. He could’ve been 300 years old for all she knew. He had stringy, dark hair that needed to washing and foggy, gray eyes.

  The angry vampire was wearing a dark suit, but his tacky string tie and cowboy hat screamed Louisiana redneck. If Margo were to guess what his problem with Madame Belfour was, it would probably be the fact that she was a practitioner of Voodoo. But Margo, being born and raised in the south, could smell racism a mile away. With no doubt in her mind, the pasty-faced vampire had an issue with her blackness as well. Though she’d seen several black vampires in the coven, Margo could only assume his bigotry was a source of discord within the coven.

  “It’s bad enough he done brought this one around!” he shouted, pointing at Margo. “Now, she done brought her brood of sorceresses. Hopefully, when he’s done fucking her, we won’t have to look at ‘em no more.”

  Margo’s eyes grew wide at his vulgarity. She moved toward him, but Ruby placed a shielding arm in front of her.

  “Excuse me?” Margo fumed.

  When the pissed off vampire moved to close the distance between them, a feral growl came from one of the wolves charged with their protection. The foul-mouthed blood-sucker never flinched. Instead, he glared at Gabriel with a dare in his eyes. Maybe he felt safe since he was wrapped in the protective cocoon of his vampire brethren. He may have been emboldened, but he was definitely not safe when Nola stepped forward.

  “I’m about to cook his ass!” she warned in Margo’s head.

  “Well, that’ll put a damper on the party. Hold on, cuz. Let me have a go at him.”

  To calm her cousin’s rage, Margo squeezed her arm. She stepped closer to the pissed off redneck, but Gideon stepped in front of her. She’d be lying if she said having him and the rest of her family by her side hadn’t given her a bit more confidence.

  Margo parted her lips to compel the unruly vampire. A large arm snaked around her waist, stopping her. The power in his touch and the alluring scent of his virility alerted her to Bishop’s arrival. He leaned in until his lips were distractingly close to her ear.

  “That won’t be necessary, Mon chéri,” he whispered.

  Margo detected a hint of amusement in his voice.

  “This... monster has insulted us!” Madame Belfour bellowed with white-hot anger. The older woman was spitting mad.

  Bishop loosened his hold on Margo’s waist.

  “I am aware, madame,” he assured, glaring at the vampire.

  “And what are you gonna do about it?” the vampire taunted. “We done managed to survive and even run the south while you were busy pussyfoot’n around gay Pari. Hell, buddy, we don’t even know you!”

  The instigator looked around, searching for supporters, but not one vampire cosigned his statement. One could hear a pin drop in the once-bustling room as Bishop moved toward the troublemaker. His approach was smooth and without theatrics. Without raising his voice, he spoke to the vampire.

  “Go to the barn. There, you will patiently wait for me to kill you.”

  His voice was cold and precise, and his powerful abilities left no room for debate. Beads of sweat formed on the lesser vampire’s brow and upper lip. Margo could tell that he struggled to fight the compulsion. Ultimately, he was placing one shaky foot in front of the other and heading to the door.

  Everyone in the room watched in silence as the agitator obediently marched to his death. Once he disappeared out of the door, Margo turned to Bishop with a raised brow.

  “I could have done that.”

  Bishop grinned.

  “Maybe, but that would have caused a greater problem.”

  He turned to the rest of his guests.

  “Please, carry on. Enjoy the party.”

  Bishop waived for the waitstaff to continue service. As instructed, they resumed the task of circulating the room with trays of hors d’oeuvres and champagne.

  Bishop reached for Madame Belfour’s hand. Without resistance, she allowed him to cup her hand in his. He offered her a smile that could easily bring a woman to her knees.

  “Please, accept my apology for Wayland’s behavior. It was unacceptable.”

  Madame Belfour’s lashes fluttered. Her smile was that of a bashful young girl. Bishop’s good looks and alluring masculinity had broken through her defenses.

  “Well, alright, monsieur,” she replied in a soft, coy tone.

  “Merci.”

  Bishop released her hand and placed his hand on Margo’s shoulder.

  “Take a walk with me?” he requested.

  Margo agreed with a nod. The music resumed as they stepped away. Bishop led her through a curious crowd and exited the room to follow a long corridor. They passed several closed doors before Margo asked, “Where are we going?”

  “Not far. I’d like to show you something.”

  Halfway down the passage, they stopped at two large double doors. Bishop opened them and they stepped out onto an elegantly furnished veranda. Since there was still a hint of daylight, rays from the setting sun shone purposely on rows and rows of vibrant floral arrangements. Sweet fragrances of full blooms perfumed the air. Margo smiled as she inhaled the aroma with deep appreciation.

  “Beautiful,” she whispered as she walked across the slate flooring.

  “Merci.” He accepted the compliment with a nod.

  Bishop placed his hand to the center of her back and urged her along. They stepped off the veranda and onto a cobblestone path that led to a large glass, dome-shaped structure. Margo stared up at the dome, thinking just how out of place it was on the large French-inspired estate.

  As soon as they reached the entrance, Bishop grabbed the knob and twisted. He paused just before opening the door and turned to face her. Margo could see a hint of enthusiasm in his expression.

  “Since arriving in the United States, I’ve very much enjoyed the serenity here. So, I’ve claimed it as my domain. Would you like to see inside?”

  Bishop grinned like an excited little boy, and there was no w
ay she could have said no.

  “Yep. Let’s see,” Margo told him. She pushed the door open with her palm.

  She wasn’t prepared for what she saw when she stepped inside the super-humid dome. It was an indoor rainforest. The ground was covered with grass and they were surrounded by trees and tropical plants that she had no idea could survive in the United States. The splash of several waterfalls and the melodic sound of chirping birds echoed throughout the dome.

  Bishop grabbed her hand.

  “Come with me.”

  He led her up a set of stairs that connected to a bridge made of timber, supported by thick rope. Margo followed him across the bridge, trying desperately to ignore the fact that she was terribly afraid of heights. As they ascended a hill made of wooden planks, she held on to the rail with a Kung-fu grip. Bishop’s steps halted. He turned to gaze at her with a puzzled look, then his lips curled into a smirk.

  “What?” Margo flustered, looking away bashfully.

  “I know you’re not afraid of heights,” he teased. “Ha! The fearless Voodoo princess is afraid of heights.”

  Margo tried to snatch her hand from his, but he wouldn’t let go.

  “I’m not-.”

  “Come here,” he said, interrupting the lie she was about to tell. “Look at this.”

  Bishop moved behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist. He held her tightly, making her feel a bit more secure as he moved her closer to the rail.

  Margo took a deep breath and looked down. They were about twenty-five feet above a swamp-like pond, surrounded by the beautiful bushes and vibrant, colorful flowers and plants. Like any tropical jungle, tree frogs and tiny lizards crawled over large, moss-covered rocks.

  “Wow, Bishop, this is incredible.”

  “Oui, I love it here.”

  He tugged her close until they were nearing the other end of the bridge. On the right, just before the stairs that would take them back down to the 1st level of the rainforest, was a door that led to a room, kept private by frosted glass.

  Bishop opened the door and ushered her inside. Immediately, it was like entering another atmosphere. While outside the room was a blanket of humidity, inside, the air was comfortably crisp and air-conditioned.