A Vampire's Claim

Page 29

In return, she rewarded him. Or tormented him further. With her, the line between pleasure and torture was slim.
Opening a window in her mind, she showed him other times, when she’d bedded men to add spice to the blood she took from them. Afterward, she sent them away and let her maid do the cleaning honors with a soft washcloth. The maid she’d used in Brisbane had been young, her fair skin flushed a pretty pink as Danny taught her best how to pleasure her Mistress, to bring her to climax again. Then one night Danny had laid the young woman down on the bed and removed the knickers beneath the short black skirt. Fingering her moist, virginal lips, she had the girl writhing until Danny removed her own knowledgeable hand and made the girl finish herself, enjoying the maid’s discovery of her own sensuality.
He gave her labia a light nip. Could have done without the first part, love, about you and those other blokes. But the rest . . .
Holy God. The visual of her and the maid had his drained cock struggling to rise again. The brainless appendage didn’t realize it would take a miracle for a normal man to get it up after such a fucking, and Dev was a heavyweight.
But when you’re standing behind my chair tonight, you’ll think of it. If you don’t, I’ll send other thoughts your way. I want them to see that erect cock straining and know that it belongs to me. I want them to envy me until it borders on the edge of hatred.
The venom in her mind was alarming. He paused briefly. Love?
Her fingers dug into his scalp again, though her voice gentled. “All the way down the leg to my ankle, Dev. You missed a drop.” He followed the track, suckling with his mouth, and then he realized the appearance of it, as he went lower, lower, his hips necessarily sliding back toward his heels and then having to lift his arse in the air as he bent all the way to the ground, to the foot she had braced on the carpet. Her tiny foot, the precise arch, the fragile bones of the ankle.
Don’t think, Dev. Just do it. Leave your mind out of it and decide what you want to do.
He found her arch with his mouth and dwelled there, feeling her fingers trail down the bridge of his back, the bullet scars and other signposts of his life. She adjusted her stance so the foot shifted under his mouth. Then she lifted her foot off the bed to prop it on the small of his back, right above the curve of his buttocks. It was where Ian had placed his boot, only this was her delicate foot, her toes gripping his skin, teasing the cleft, her cunt positioned over his head, so that he could have turned on his back and stared up at it, the petals of slick flesh. But for now he paid homage to her foot, teasing it with his tongue, his teeth, the suckling of his lips.
Then he heard a soft moan. Remarkably, a drop of moisture fell on his back, anointing him where his hair had slid forward, baring skin at his nape. Lifting his head then, he worked back up the leg, holding on to it to steady her. She shifted the other leg back to the bed so he could work back to her cunt, then across and down to tease that foot as well.
Oh, God, Dev, you are too good at this. A tug of his hair, and she moved away, her foot easing out from beneath his mouth as he sat on his heels again. She moved back another step, studying him. “I intended to teach you a lesson.”
“Consider it taught, my lady.”
She closed her eyes, and he had the fleeting, amused thought she was counting to ten, something his mother had done . . . well, countless times. Then her eyes opened and his amusement shriveled up like a man’s testicles before an icy wind. “You’re in a den of lions here, Dev. If you challenge Lord Charles the way you challenged Ian, he won’t hesitate to rip your throat out.”
“If you wanted a submissive puppy who wets himself if someone scolds him, you brought the wrong escort to this party.” He stayed on his heels as he retorted, because it didn’t matter if he was laid out flat on the floor. He wouldn’t be anyone’s doormat.
Her shoulders lifted in a sigh. “Yes, I did. I’m sorry for that. I’ve brought you into hell, Dev.” She shook her head, turned away.
“You can go now. I’ll tell them I dispatched you on station business, but you can simply go . . . wherever it was you were intending to go before we met.”
He blinked. “Is that a command, my lady?”
Danny stopped, spun around and leveled a glare on him. “Don’t be thickheaded. You don’t belong here, Dev. Which means you’ll die here, and I’ve no desire to see that happen. You’ve played your part in this little drama.”
“You didn’t answer the question.” He watched the irritation flicker through her gaze, a muscle flex in her slim jaw.
“And if it is?”
He rose then, aware she might be stronger and faster than he was, but he’d always be taller. Her eyes narrowed at his matter-of-fact mental taunt as he moved closer.
As far as hell goes, I’ve been there, a long time now.
Putting his hands on her shoulders then, he slid them up under her hair, and forward, to her jaw. She’d gone tense as a snake about to strike. While he expected her to do just that, he simply bent, brushed his lips over her mouth. I’ll try not to let the arrogant bastard—either one of them—get under my skin. A man’s will can’t be taken, and my will, for the time being, is to be here with you.
What about when I no longer give you the choice? When I refuse to let you go, no matter what your will is?
Letting his hands glide back under her hair, he caressed her nape, twining the strands, his thumb teasing the artery in her throat as her gaze went opaque. It might be a moot point. Maybe there’s already nothing I’ll deny you.
For a moment, there was such raw emotion in her face, he knew he’d stepped right into that fragrant garden, past moat, dragon, drawbridge and bailey. Everything about her was within his grasp, only it was so elusive he didn’t dare move at all. It raised an odd, hungry yearning in him, as if he’d walk on hands and knees through scorching sand to touch her foot with his lips again.
Then it was gone, the dragon returned. Clearing her throat, she stepped back and away. “Time for me to get dressed. If you insist on coming along, I need you to dress for dinner as well. Fortunately, you’re of a size with one of Ian’s staff. They’re supposed to bring you a change of clothes. You can wear your gun and knives over them.” She caressed the strap of the scabbard for his hunting knife, her fingers trailing over his bare groin. “I like this look, very much.” Turning and moving toward the tub, she tossed over her shoulder, “So you never said. How do you like my station?”
“Oh, it’s beaut. A real warm and welcoming feel to it. Particularly the part where they offered to break my spine and bugger me.” She chuckled, bending over to test the water, her blond hair falling forward over her shoulders. It was a lovely view, and he forced himself to focus before she laughed or snapped at him. “If a human holds a vampire’s gaze for too long, it’s considered a deliberate sign of disrespect.”
“Hmm.” He grunted, decided to park his bum on the edge of the bed until his legs stopped having that unmanly tremor that accompanied a hard climax. “Well, good. I did something right then.”
When she straightened and turned, he saw more of the Danny in the desert, though there was still enough of the ruthless vampire to make him wary. She came back to him, stood between his splayed knees and settled a firm grip on his shoulder, making him raise his attention from the lovely breasts so close to his chin. “You’ve got a head like a rock, bushman, so let me say it once more. Let me deal with the vampires. Everything Ian said he could do to you, he can do, if I don’t protect you from him. With Lord Charles here, I’m outnumbered. We have to depend as much on diplomacy as strength. I don’t doubt your skills. They’re formidable, but without the element of surprise, you’ve got no chance at all. Even when relying on the unexpected, your margin for error is nonexistent. You miss, you’re done. And no one relishes pain and torment the way a vampire does. It’s a drug all its own.” As her gaze coursed over him, he knew the feral look was intentional, but it still caused a cold shiver to run up his spine. Even as it perversely made his balls ache with desire, because it came from her. Noticing it, her voice dropped an octave, bringing a dangerous purr. “I think you’ve started to realize that for yourself. None of us are immune to it, though some of us keep it on a closer rein than others.”
“You’re the gentle vampire,” he recalled.
When she met his gaze, surprised, her mouth eased back into a smile. “Scoundrel,” she murmured. She moved back toward the tub, speaking over her shoulder again. “There’s a room across the hall with a bath and shaving gear for you, as well as the clothes.
It will be your room while you’re here. So you can be available to my needs.” With an ironic look, she stopped at the doorway, her hair caressing her hips, not a stitch of clothes on her lean, perfect body. It made him think of a water nymph.
“What will Ian have to say about that?”
“This is not his home.” Her expression hardened. “He’ll challenge that eventually, particularly with Lord Charles here, but for tonight he’ll let it go, if for no other reason than we all need to behave for dinner. The two of them are such bloody Brits.” With a roll of her eyes and a toss of her head, she closed the washroom door, apparently done with him for the moment.
Surrounded by Poms and vampires. Bloody hell.
10
IT was peculiar to have danger weighing so heavily over a room set up for a formal dinner. Expensive china, all the forks and spoons in the proper place with napkins folded in an artistic display. A brass candelabra twined with wildflowers, a surprising touch. A subtle welcome?
Danny had suggested he familiarize himself with the house and immediate grounds until he was summoned for dinner, and he’d started in the dining area. A turntable was playing classical music. Mozart, Dev thought. A maverick in his own time, one who had a wildness that suggested a bit of the vampire. Christ, before it was over, he would be seeing monsters everywhere.
Ruskin, as Danny had implied, was solidly seventeenth-century British. Dev caught a brief glimpse of him when the Region Master joined Danny and Ian, already in the library, for before-dinner cocktails. He was tall and kept his hair trimmed short, emphasizing the pale ice of his blue eyes, the chiseled jaw. Everything in his studied manner reminded anyone blessed with his presence that he’d been titled aristocracy as a mortal. From the disdainful veneer that layered all of the comments that wafted outside the library, it was apparent he found it insulting to serve as a Region Master here. Though he allowed that the hunting was exceptional for its lack of restrictions.