“What’s that?”
“Do you trust me?”
He looked into her light-brown eyes, dilated and heady with a desire for more sex. Did he trust her? Something inside his chest gave way. “Yes, Claire, I do. Even more than most vampires.”
“That says a lot.” She was tense head-to-foot as she continued, “Do you trust me enough not to go in there right now? To wait until the time is right?”
He moved back in her direction and caught her arms in his hands, gripping her firmly. “What’s in there? Is someone in there?”
She shook her head. The sweet, rich scent of her sex poured off her now. “Just something I want you to do to me, that’s all.”
Something she wanted him to do to her.
His chest seized.
Maybe it was her aroused state, or that he could smell her desire, or the glitter in her eyes, but another tremor went through him, of hunger and blood-need, that lingering blood-madness that had turned into some kind of crazy Claire-madness.
He drew her into his arms and kissed her. He needed this—being with a woman who desired him as fiercely as he wanted her, who even sought his darkness, encouraging him to let go.
She moaned softly as he deepened the kiss and drove his tongue into her mouth. He shifted his right foot and pressed his hips against hers so that she could feel him.
I love how you feel, your cock so hard, right against me. Lucian, I don’t understand this madness between us because all I want you to do is jump me again.
He forced himself to draw back. Eve would return any second and he wasn’t in a state that could be easily hidden. He leaned his forehead against hers, then drew her tight against him.
He just held her. She kept things simple as well. She didn’t rub up against him, or dip her hips into him, or fondle his arms or back.
He felt her thoughts, her feelings, grow very quiet.
When he’d calmed down, he drew her to the side of the room where a bench sat against the wall. Clearly this was one of Eve’s workout suites, where she either brought her private clients or enjoyed her own liaisons.
He supposed in human terms Eve would be considered a high-class escort. But she was so much more than that, a businesswoman in her own right, with a very free lifestyle, who didn’t mind accepting large amounts of cash to entertain her special people. But she always stayed in control, preferring to dominate, which was probably smart in her profession.
He sat directly across from the short, arched hallway and wondered if he’d find one of her tables in there. Probably.
He cleared his throat and crossed his arms over his chest. Like hell was he going to start thinking about something like that, or even doing it. Maybe he should set Claire straight. After all, how wise was it to keep tempting the darkness that lived inside him?
He was about to address the subject when Eve returned with an entire crew, including a rack of clothes that had, yeah, straps and a few narrow bands and some feathers attached. A string of curses flipped through his head. He stood up and paced in front of the bench.
Eve, however, was nothing if not professional. She knew what she was doing. Her makeup team took charge of Claire and whisked her away, taking her into an opposite suite of rooms. Staff kept arriving, including a lighting expert.
Eve approached him. “This shouldn’t take long, but it has to be right to tempt Arsen and Salazar to leave their fortress.” She smiled suddenly, “Your woman’s good people, Lucian. You need to think about keeping her.”
Before he could start arguing the point, however, she disappeared into the makeup room as well.
Lucian wished he smoked, wished he had something to do to occupy his mind.
It got worse.
Claire emerged, surrounded by at least one cross-dressing vampire and two who swung for the other side, proclaiming how fabulous she looked. And she did, like a dream that would wake him up in the middle of the night.
She wore a deep purple bustier that lifted and pushed her breasts into two beautiful swells of flesh divided by a heavy line of cleavage. A small ruffle of lace lay against her creamy skin. He wanted his tongue beneath that lace.
Must gain control.
She wore sheer black thigh-highs, the tops lined with a narrow purple ribbon. At least she had on some kind of underwear that covered her cleft, but even that was sheer and showed the auburn landing strip he knew so well.
She had on black lace, fingerless gloves, with long purple feathers that reached the length of her forearms. His eye was drawn, however, to the small silver chains that looped from finger to finger, the sight of which, maybe more than anything, got him going all over again.
His heart rate increased so that she came to him first and planted a hand on his face.
It’ll be all right. I’m thinking of Zoey and getting that weapon. You need to do that as well.
He nodded, a sort of rapid-fire jerk of his chin. The makeup
artistes
led her in the direction of the photographer, telling Lucian they’d take good care of his woman. But because she walked away from him, he saw that she was bare-assed with the tiniest line of a thong rising to the back of the bustier above. She wore purple stilettos as well, with shiny silver heels.
This was too much, all of it, as though fate had intervened in his life just to tempt the hell out of him. He had to stay focused, had to remember who he was, why he was here, why she was dressed like this. He had a job to do, and once they’d somehow found a way to wrest Zoey from Daniel, Claire could go home for good. He’d be rid of her and he could go back to his life, to battling on behalf of his world.
But right now, he was in pain.
He worked on his breathing, one in, one out. He ordered himself to hold it together.
Eve positioned Claire on the simple stage with a gray background, a dark ladder-back chair, and smoky gray carpet. Eve positioned her with one knee on the chair, encouraging her to lean forward while arching her back.
Lucian experienced a new kind of torture as desire raced through him and new tremors started up.
Suddenly Claire’s voice was in his head.
Lucian, how about you turn the volume down a little. I’m starting to ache for you in a way that will soon be obvious to everyone.
She shifted slightly to catch his eye, but frowned at him.
Lucian had been so lost in his lust that he’d forgotten about the blood-chains and how they communicated everything he was feeling.
Sorry. I’m going to find some cold water.
Good idea.
He turned away from her, grateful that the double-chains gave them a good sixty feet of distance, and headed to the only bathroom in the suite. He took a few more deep breaths, then literally splashed cold water on his face and neck. He was a mess, a hungry, needy mess, and unable to do a damn thing about it.
Did Eve know that she tortured him like this? The woman was devious in unexpected ways. He could easily imagine that she’d suggested this whole operation just to heighten his awareness of Claire. But my God, he was in pain.
He stayed put. He had to, otherwise he’d be punching out part of the cave wall or, worse, hauling Claire away from the photo shoot and taking care of business then and there. He only left the room when someone else needed the facility. But he returned right away each time to splash more water on himself, afterward to sit on the floor, trying like hell to hold it together.
He laughed at himself more than once. He realized he’d never really been in this place before, this connected to a woman, not in all his four centuries. The chains had forced him to it, of course, but now that he was here, being with Claire wasn’t anything like he’d expected. On some level, he now knew what he’d been missing.
At last the shoot ended, and when he returned to the main room, he found Claire covered in a white terry robe, thank God. She chatted quietly with Eve, and because Claire seemed so intense and because Eve looked conspiratorial, he didn’t extend his hearing. He was afraid he’d hear something that would once more put his groin in agony.
That each, more than once, glanced in the direction of the forbidden room told him Eve was probably explaining a few things to her, like how things worked.
A few minutes later Eve and Claire approached him. Eve had a knowing smirk on her face. “Claire did really well, though I know this must have been so
hard
on you.” Of course she emphasized the word
hard.
Of course. She was Eve. “But you can be proud of her. I’ve already shown her the outfits she’ll wear.”
“So what happens next?”
“I’m going to keep working with Claire on the runway part of the show, just a few tricks. We’ve already sent the invitation out.” Eve had a great staff. “Now all we can do is wait and hope. I’ll give Rumy a call and let him know what’s going on.” She stepped away, pulling her phone from her snug leather pants.
Claire drew close. “Hey. How are you holding up?”
She swept her hand up and down his arm so that he felt the small chains hooked to her lace gloves. He repressed yet another groan.
The photographer and her crew passed by, so he spoke quietly. “The gloves you’re wearing are magical.”
She smiled, her light-brown eyes carrying a warm, affectionate light. “You really are in a sad state.”
“I am, especially since all I can do right now is imagine what your costume actually looks like beneath all this terry cloth.” His gaze drifted down the fabric covering her chest.
Claire looked around. Seeing that everyone had left, she slowly pulled apart the upper lapels of her robe.
He groaned softly, his gaze landing on what had tempted him from the moment she’d first walked into the room. She had a beautiful cleavage. He licked his lips, wanting to be licking her.
I can feel your desire. It’s hitting me in waves through the double-chain. I’m not sure anything could be sexier, especially seeing the look on your face right now.
He lifted his gaze back to her lips, then finally her eyes.
This is new for me, desiring a woman like this, repeatedly hungry for you with an intensity I’ve never experienced before. I think what this really means is that we need to get your double-chain off, the sooner the better.
He needed her to remember just how temporary their relationship was.
She smoothed a finger over his cheek.
Well, we definitely need to get something off.
His brows rose. Had he heard her right? Then he laughed all over again, which reminded him of the other side of the coin, the other reason he felt in danger around Claire: She made him laugh. Just when he was getting serious, reminding her why they needed to split up, she made him laugh.
He took her hand and she squeezed his fingers. He squeezed back, smiling.
Thank you for everything, Claire, but especially for the way you tend to lighten things up. Thank you.
I guess that means you owe me.
He met and held her gaze.
Just name it.
Oh, I will, and soon.
He might have asked her to be more specific, but Eve reentered the room and called out, “Salazar said yes. They’ll be here in two hours and they’re ready for us at The Ruby Cave.”
CHAPTER 9
Claire tucked herself against Lucian, grateful all over again for his sheer size, which comforted her when nothing else could. Maybe it was a false sensation, but his powerful, muscular frame made her feel safe. Right now she was nerved up like crazy.
Salazar had said yes.
The fashion show was moving forward. On some level she’d hoped the whole thing would fall apart—that her auburn hair wouldn’t have been enough to tempt the two crime buddies out of their fortified compound. Guess she was wrong. But then again, she no doubt underestimated the typical trafficker’s desire for new product.
After the photo shoot, Eve had talked her through the show. Essentially, she’d don three different outfits, saving the worst for last, and she’d walk down about thirty feet of runway to sexy blues music. In between, Rumy’s carefully selected wait staff would ply Arsen and Salazar with some of her finest whiskey. Eve was pretty sure they’d have one powerful security contingent with them.
But this wouldn’t be her only audience. She’d have to conceal Rumy’s entire team behind one of the largest disguises she had yet to create. Would she even be able to pull it off? She honestly didn’t know, although siphoning Lucian’s Ancestral power helped.
Still, it was her scantily clad body that a whole bunch of vampire-warrior-types would be looking at for three full jaunts down a black tile runway. What flashed through her mind was that her previous wardrobe had been made up of fairly conservative clothes. Her job as a social worker had never required a pair of black lace gloves adorned with feathers and chains.
Or vampires flying her through solid stone walls.