She prayed the bow would fire correctly when the time came. And hated being left with only one bolt. Only one chance.
Are you ready now, my huntress?
Gentle amusement reached her through the dark.
True, a crossbow and a stake couldn’t match his powers, but she took pride in looking after herself.
Yes.
Then come—
he hesitated on the word
—come with me.
.
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Tombs. Althea had expected more of them—the white marble boxes to contain mortal remains. But the room proved to be another small chamber and it contained only one coffin. An elaborate, not-so-final resting place carved of oak and inlaid with rich, gleaming gold. Candles flickered in tall iron stands, flames wavering. The heady, spiced scent seemed to pour off them like the thick smoke. She’d never seen so much smoke come from a candle, not even cheap ones or dipped rushes. But the scent wasn’t choking. It was drugging, enchanting, and she took deep breaths to drink in as much as she could.
Sex can be addictive as opium…
The scent of these candles was addictive. The more she took in, the more she craved it…And the white smoke hanging in the air lent a dreamlike quality to the room.
Velvet in jewel tones hung about the walls, like draperies, but there were no windows behind, only smooth, tooled stone. Rich, bright carpets bearing intricate oriental patterns covered the floor.
This wasn’t a cold crypt. It wasn’t what she’d expected. She had never walked into such a…a sensual den. Exotic. Dazzling. She almost wanted to run her fingertips along the polished surface of the coffin. Two other doorways led off—giving the sensation that they could travel deeper into sin by going through. Golden doors guarded both, though both doors stood open and more light reflected from within.
She’d never seen such an elaborate mausoleum.
Which way do we choose?
The right. But you must stay behind me, and follow everything I do. There should be some
place for us to hide just beyond the door.
Hide? Aren’t we going to confront Zayan?
There is something I think you will be most interested to watch first.
And what is that?
Silence. Trust me, sweet.
But she couldn’t bear just to sit and wait while he spied around the open right hand door.
More smoke spilled from in there and she wished to inhale the stronger scent. She squirmed between Yannick’s solid body and the wall and peeked into the room.
This room, a large, rectangular room, had also been transformed. On the wall directly opposite, a fire blazed in an enormous marble fireplace, giving warmth and light. Enough light to see the most remarkable things.
What is that?
Shh
, he warned.
Don’t speak, even in my thoughts, until I do first.
She squinted. Indeed, it was a cage, just as she first thought. An oversized bird cage—
large enough to keep a man inside. It was closest to the door. Formed of sturdy iron, the cage stretched as tall as the ceiling of the crypt and was suspended off the floor by a foot. Tasseled cushions of vivid silk surrounded it, piled in decadent splendor. A large door and a padlock faced them. Bars formed the floor, spaced apart so a person inside would have to balance precariously. Chains dangled from several bars and at the ends of the chains…shackles.
Where was Bastien? Zayan?
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A low, throaty groan came from… from somewhere.
But on the way to finding the source of the hoarse sound, Althea’s gaze fell upon a wall hung in crimson velvet.
Whips of every sort hung on the wall. A solid’handled bullwhip. A cat-o’-nine-tails. A long-handled creation with a thin, evil-looking leather strap attached. At least two riding crops.
And goodness—a mace with frightening spikes. Along with coils of rough rope and lengths of what appeared to be thick black velvet ropes.
And then she saw the bed.
Draped entirely in black silk and velvet, it looked like a bed in which Satan might lie. Eight glossy black columns, two at each corner, supported a black silk canopy. Heavy black tassels hung around it and the thick black silk ropes held the drapes open.
Another moan came from the center of the bed. Now she spied a shape there, lifting the raven sheets.
Why did Yannick not do something? What was he waiting for? He cuddled her back against him, arm wrapped around her. The warmth of the room seeped in through her wet clothes and his body lent a heat of its own.
You may speak now, Althea, if you wish. I’ve shielded us from their senses.
How could you do that?
“Because men focus on sex even to the risk of their own deaths,” he murmured.
Sex?
She wanted to speak in his thoughts—it was so intimate.
Do you see that trunk there? The one with the pile of furs on top of it? We can slip behind
that, I believe. You need to be warmed, angel, and the furs will help.
She dropped close to the floor and crept toward the large trunk strapped with beaten gold bands. Only a yard separated the door from the massive box, but her heart lodged in her throat the entire way. Crawling in sodden skirts made covering just three meager feet seem almost impossible.
Triumph flared when she reached their hiding place.
Take off your clothes.
She spun around to Yannick as he crouched beside her.
I will not
.
You are drenched.
Shadows hung over his features but his eyes gleamed, silver discs in the dark. She could sense his expression. Concern and displeasure. He stroked along the lapels of her pelisse and even through the layers of wet clothing, his touch set her damp skin afire. A shiver leapt through her.
I refuse to face the enemy naked.
But she did fumble with the buttons of her pelisse. No reason to wear two sodden layers.
Yannick peeled it from her with expert ease.
Don’t be foolishly stubborn, angel. You can
hide amongst the furs here.
I
refuse to let you develop lung fever—
Then feed me your blood.
He stilled, holding her wet pelisse.
It would protect, Althea, in a small quantity. But are
you prepared to do such a thing?
Fear and excitement burned in her. What would it taste like? What would it be like?
Would she understand him more?
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Yes
.
His smile was pure rogue.
Very well, love. To protect your health
.
At the first welling drop on his wrist, she began to doubt her courage. Rich and dark red, the drop beaded, then ran down his pale wrist.
Don’t waste it, sweet. And it will tempt Zayan if too
much flows.
What was there to fear? She’d licked her own cuts. She knew the taste of blood. With her tongue sticking out, she bent to his wrist and caught the drip. Others followed, and the taste slammed into her like potent brandy. The coppery taste tantalized, intoxicated, made her hunger for more. It heated like fine spirits, burning down her throat. Fiery warmth uncoiled inside her.
Like delectable wine, a sip wasn’t enough.
She pressed her lips to his warm, smooth skin and drank.
“Enough, sweet,” he murmured but she scrambled to hold his wrist in place. She could understand why he craved the taste, the intimacy, the sensuality of this. She had taken his cock into her mouth but suckling his blood was every bit as deliciously intimate.
His low, deep, agonized moan startled her into stopping. Eyes half-closed, he smiled.
It is
very erotic for me, Althea.
She became so much more aware. Of the lush, teasing scent of the candles. Of the fine texture of his skin, the soft hairs on the back of his forearm. The thrumming of her blood. The patter of her heart.
With a nudge of his palm, he stopped her suckling.
I can’t risk giving you more.
Of course, it would weaken him. She gave one last sensuous lick—
The bed creaked.
“Did you keep me imprisoned just because you wanted to fuck me again?” The deep, hoarse voice unmistakably belonged to Bastien. Definitely alive.
Althea’s heart soared with joy and she peered over the top of the trunk.
From here, she had a much better view of the massive bed.
Bastien sat up in the middle of it, bare-chested, with the sheets in a dark band across his hips. His golden hair was a tangle about his face, his eyes heavy lidded and glowing.
The word he’d used slowly sank in.
Fuck.
She knew what it meant. The sex act.
And she saw Bastien wasn’t alone in bed. Another long shape lifted the black sheets. A shape that stirred, leaving the impression of a shadow as it moved. No, not a shadow. A man in dark clothes, a man levered up on his arms.
Bastien had told her, without an ounce of shame or shyness, that he’d been Zayan’s lover.
But to actually see two men in bed stunned her.
Zayan—the gruesome monster who had grabbed her in Father’s room. But the cold malevolence she sensed when he attacked his father was no longer there. His face was turned away from her, his body shrouded in shadow, but he exuded power. A frightening power.
She took her first good look at him. Firelight cast a red glow to midnight-black hair that poured over his shoulders and hung almost to his waist. It was thick and wavy, in the style of Charles II. A dark blue silk robe covered him from shoulder to foot and he possessed shoulders broader than any she’d ever seen—even wider than Yannick’s or Bastien’s.
Zayan half-turned, throwing light up his profile. The fiery glow made his sharp-planed face Blood Red by Sharon Page ©2006 Advance Reader Copy www.SharonPage.com 105
both handsome and demonic. She couldn’t draw her gaze away.
Could staring at him make him aware she was there? Even a mortal could sense a stare.
Was Yannick able to screen it?
She swallowed a gasp as Zayan cradled Bastien’s chin. His touch was gentle. A lover’s touch.
She’d never expected such tenderness in the way a man touched another man, and certainly not in the way a brutal demon touched a vampire. But Zayan’s long fingers stroked and Bastien’s half-closed eyes betrayed his pleasure.
Althea held her breath as she heard Bastien’s low, encouraging moan. Suddenly softness brushed her skin. Warmth and heaviness settled around her. Furs. Yannick had piled the furs around her, burying her almost up to her breasts. While watching Bastien and Zayan, she hadn’t even noticed.
She met Yannick’s hot, suggestive eyes. With a start, she saw he was now bare-chested.
Her throat dried as her gaze slid slower, to the pile of black, white, and brown furs scattered around him. A stretch of trousers showed.
“Why don’t you take off your gown, sweet, beneath the furs?”
Lust, she guessed, made his voice thick and low. Concern for her health had nothing to do with his request.
You are still wearing your trousers and boots,
she chided into his mind.
With a roguish grin, he parted the furs. She caught a glimpse of dusky pink. His falls were unfastened and his cock free. Imagining the feel of the luxurious furs skimming over his sensitive shaft, the swollen head, she shivered. As she drank in air—and that drugging, seductive scent—her nipples tightened against her bodice until they stood up like thimbles.
His cock sprang out of the furry nest. But she heard a low, rumbling growl from the bed and she swung around to see what was happening.
Zayan no longer cradled Bastien’s face like a gentle lover. He caught hold of the golden locks and dragged Bastien forward. She winced, empathizing with Bastien against the brutal treatment. Until Bastien pinched Zayan’s chest through his silken robe. His finger and thumb must be clamping Zayan’s nipple. In return, Zayan wrapped his hand around Bastien’s shaft and jerked it hard.
Bastien’s harsh moan made her body clench in agony.
Goodness…Bastien liked it.
Bastien’s lips collided hard with Zayan’s. Heads tilted to allow the kiss to deepen. Their mouths opened, and they devoured each other. They kissed with the hunger and longing of a man and woman, but far more aggressively. They were competitive males, dueling for superiority even as they pleasured each other, but there was no mistaking the passion in their joining.
“So you like to watch, sweet angel.” Yannick’s soft, teasing tone rippled down her tense spine.
Heaven help her, she did. Yannick’s erection nudged her thigh, and his hand settled over her left breast, but she couldn’t turn away from the two men on the bed. Large male hands gripped nipples and tweaked and tugged. Their hands ran over each other’s broad backs—one cloaked in fine silk, the other only in perfect skin that gleamed with sweat.
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Oh, she did like to watch, but she didn’t dare admit it to Yannick.
Do you like to see a man’s hand on another’s cock?
He must know she did. Against his palm, her heart raced. And her chest was swelling with each panting, shallow breath.
Tell me if it excites you to watch.
Even in her thoughts, Yannick’s voice was deep and compelling.
Why does it excite you to hear me tell you?
Because fantasy and the forbidden enhance the pleasure for men.
Does it excite you, Yannick, to see two men touch each other’s—?
She broke off as Bastien and Zayan began fondling each other. They weren’t merely touching each other’s ramrod-straight cocks. Both Zayan and Bastien clutched the other’s member and manipulated them with long, tight strokes. Zayan’s strokes were obvious, with Bastien’s cock naked and exposed.