Elusive Hero: Invitation to Eden (Vampire Queen Series Book 12) (3 page)

She’d hung up on him as if the phone had grown tentacles to reach out and strangle her. She’d even found herself all the way across the room, staring at it.

The one rule in the vampire world that never changed was “might made right”. She had been satisfied being just one vampire in a territory, paying feudal tithes to its overlord as part of her business costs, but the overlord had overstepped his authority in a variety of brutal, unacceptable ways. It had been second nature to her, trying to protect other vampires as best she could, and then fortunately the Vampire Council had removed him. Kaela had waited like the others with the hope of a better overlord being appointed, then Lady Lyssa had summoned her to fly to Georgia and stand in her presence.

“Kaela, you took exceptional measures to protect others from Graham’s misbehavior. Ten of the most influential vampires in your territory agree you would make a suitable temporary overlord. We agree. Should you be able to hold the position a year favorably, then it would become permanent.” While Kaela was dealing with the shock of that, Lyssa had met her gaze. The last royal member of the Far East clan had jade eyes as piercing as the tip of a spear. “Settling things in your territory will not be easy. Should lethal measures be necessary, you have our permission to circumvent the usual approval process. You will contact my direct line, make your case, and I will endorse your decision during that call, if warranted. Should it have to be after the fact,” those jade eyes glittered, “make sure your case is well supported.”

Soon after, Kaela had held a gathering of her territory vampires at her home, a meet-and-greet-the-new-overlord sort of gesture. While the vampires she’d protected were clearly supportive, her purpose had been to determine who was going to be a problem. Peter Ailsworth, a vampire a hundred and fifty years old, had been the first to challenge her. When she’d taken him to the ground, she was willing to grant mercy, but he’d kept fighting. So she’d staked him and instructed two of the watching vampires to burn the body. She’d gone to her bedroom, thrown up and cried. Then returned to the dining room to share dinner with the remaining vampires and view sexual entertainment performed by their servants.

Just a normal day in the vampire world. Except for the throwing up and crying. She doubted Lady Lyssa had ever done either of those things. If a vampire showed weakness or surrender, she might as well just accept being the slave of other vampires for all her long, long life. Yes, there was a hierarchy among vampires, and there were plenty of vampires stronger than she was, but she’d learned how to play the game to demand the proper amount of respect and carve out her boundaries.

She hadn’t called Vardalos back that night. Or for weeks afterward. She’d hung that crystal sphere in her window, thought about the way the sunlight would sparkle through it during the daylight hours when she couldn’t see it. But at night she’d hold it up in front of a lamp and let it spin, watching it until it hypnotized her with all the possibilities it represented. At the end of week five, she’d sent back the RSVP in the envelope, indicating the dates she would be coming. Within three days, she received another “for your eyes only” missive that gave her the travel arrangements and the plane ticket from Miami to the island that Fran didn’t know about. So here she was.

Worst case scenario, she’d have a vacation on an island paradise that offered every amenity. Spas, casino, five star restaurants, breathtaking views from many winding hiking paths… The booklet about the island’s offerings was nearly fifty pages. On the last page it indicated what Vardalos had.
These are only some of the pleasures Eden can offer you. We invite you to come explore the ones that are right for you.

Around the middle of the brochure, the sexual amenities were discussed. Club Sin was a fully equipped and staffed BDSM club inside the castle. There was also a section of the island for 24/7 Dom/sub play in an open air environment that included pools, gardens, wait staff to bring around drinks, hors d’oeuvres, toys…

She imagined herself there, the touch of the night air on her body, naked because that was the way her Master wanted to display her. His strong, capable hand would rest on the small of her back. The silver collar around her throat would pull against her jugular when he tugged at the attached leash. He’d bid her kneel at his feet as he ordered a drink and watched the others play around them. Sliding the toe of his shoe beneath her buttocks, he’d press the hard leather against her pussy, chide her for how wet she was, making the surface of the shoe shine with her shameless arousal.

The hunger that rose inside her at the image was the same hunger that populated her world. Not in vampires but in their servants, offering up their submissive desires to their fanged Masters and Mistresses. She saw it so often, those feelings should seem banal, stereotypical to her. Instead, every drop of their desire she witnessed was a hazardous addiction.

As if that wasn’t insane enough, she was surrounded by male vampires who were all sexual Dominants. The trait was a given for all vampires, male or female, an unmistakable part of their genetic makeup. Because of that, male vampires had always provided a temptation she knew was a death trap with her name written on it. She’d shut herself down to it years ago, erecting a wall so thick and strong none of it reached her vulnerable core. That—in addition to the possible need to kill him—was part of what had made her immune to Greg’s self-perceived charms.

Yet even when she fantasized in the early dawn hours before sleep claimed her, it wasn’t a vampire master she desired.

It was a human one.

A human male for whom sexual Dominance was about mutual pleasure, not political gain or a chance to declare open season on her vulnerabilities. If any vampire knew she harbored an abiding desire to be restrained, forced to submit, all choices taken away so she could serve the pleasure of a Master, she’d stake herself rather than face the horror her life would become. The kind of mastery she hungered to have had nothing in common with the brutal domination vampires imposed in their political machinations upon one another.

Because of that, a vampire’s closest relationship—though none would admit it—was with their third marked human servant, because in their world that was often the only person a vampire could fully trust. But Kaela expected vampires believed that was because they also fully controlled their servants.

Yet not all servants were natural submissives. Lyssa’s own servant, Jacob, might well emerge as a Dominant if he wasn’t bound to the vampire queen, for she’d sensed that vibe from him more than once. But his desire to serve his queen overrode everything, a delicious dichotomy.

Knowing her preferences, Kaela had deliberately requested a female InhServ, grateful Lyssa gave her that choice. How dangerous would it have been for her, if Lyssa had assigned her a male InhServ who had a personality like Jacob? He’d have certainly sensed her desire for a Master during those ten years, no matter how much she’d kept her desires locked away.

Yet Fran came with her own hazards. Giving a submissive servant to a submissive vampire? It would be amusing if it wasn’t so fraught with peril. How often had she had to check her actions because she found herself trying to make sure Fran was happy in ways that would clearly indicate she was trying to serve her InhServ, as much as Fran was trying to do the same for her?

She was a freak of nature. This was madness. A mad desire she could no longer contain. For over a century and three-quarters, she’d been everything she needed to be, not only to survive but to thrive. She took nothing for herself, even though it appeared she’d acquired everything a vampire could want. Reputation, respect, even fear, God help her. But all she wanted was the bliss of…surrender.

Perhaps it would be easier if she hadn’t once had the pleasure of surrender. A long, long time ago, when she was human. With Jared.

The plane bumped the dock, jolting that thought out of the forefront of her mind. Two men in khaki shorts and black polo shirts bearing the Eden logo were hooking lines to the plane. Joely twisted around. “Ma’am? You’re free to disembark. The porters will get your luggage.”

Kaela remained seated. She could tell Joely to turn around, take her back. They’d make it before sunrise. She knew places she could go to ground in Miami until sunset, when she could take a plane back to California.

Instead, she rose at last and made her way past the other sets of seats to that opening.

The two men offered their hands to help her safely to the dock. While she didn’t need any assistance balancing, and they wouldn’t know she was a vampire overlord, she knew what kind of behavior was expected from someone with her demeanor, her obvious aura of authority and importance. She always knew what was expected. Giving them a cursory nod after she was firmly on the dock, she left them to deal with her two suitcases. She held onto the carry-on which had a couple of blood packs on ice, just in case.

She was aware of their lingering gazes. She’d been a beautiful mortal, which had helped her be a successful spy. Becoming a vampire had only enhanced that beauty. Now when people saw her, they saw long red hair rippling like silk to her narrow waist, pale skin like cream and a body made for pleasure. If they looked into her oddly vibrant golden-brown eyes, which were rimmed with a dark ring around the iris and fringed with reddish-gold lashes, they lost their tongues entirely. But their lust, their mindless reaction that could drive them to their knees before her, wasn’t what she wanted.

Then she saw what she did.

A half-moon scattered lightning bolt patterns along the water lapping against the dock. As her gaze followed the wooden boards with the same zigzagging path to the shore, she saw a man standing at the end. Even with her enhanced senses, she couldn’t penetrate the darkness to see his face, as if the island intended to cloak him, intrigue her, make her want to draw closer. She moved silently by instinct, despite her usual caution about revealing her vampire nature among humans. But Vardalos knew what she was, didn’t he? Everything about this place suggested it held so many secrets, one vampire was going to be a drop in the bucket.

He was tall, broad-shouldered. He had that way of standing that powerful, military-trained men or large animals did, aware of their strength and carrying the confidence that went with knowing how to deal with threat, crisis or…anything.

Was she going to unleash her fantasies here on the docks? Maybe. She had over a century’s worth of self-discipline, yes, but she was here because that restraint had grown thin enough for her to take an incredible risk. So she kept moving toward him, even as she recovered herself enough to school her expression to impassivity, and her body language to that of someone who expected nothing for herself, but who was prepared to deal with…anything.

Her steps slowed at that. God, if this was going to be same-shit-different-day, she’d rather just turn around and get back on the plane. At least in her real life, she was in an environment that reinforced that discipline.

He had his head cocked and though his face was shadowed, she could feel his attention. Most humans in her own world didn’t meet her eyes unless invited to do so. Even in the oblivious mundane world, most humans wouldn’t hold her gaze for more than a second, but when she drew close enough to see his eyes, they were on hers. The angle of darkness kept her from knowing what color they were, but they were piercing. As startling as a gunshot in the darkness.

A flutter went through her breast. It had been decades since she’d had the luxury to consider whether or not the power of a man’s gaze would compel her to lower her own. She knew just how important a message that was. Life changing.

But her life couldn’t be changed. No matter what happened here, she had to get back on that plane in ten days. Because of that, she resisted the compulsion, unsettled enough by it to be defensive. She redirected her attention to absorb other things about him instead.

His head was shaved, the broad skull matching his strong, square cut features. Yet what caught her eye, as soon as she was close enough to see them, were the scars. One jagged line ran diagonally from his cheekbone to cross his nose, which would have been straight and fine as an aristocrat’s if not for that bisecting groove. The scar ended at the hinge of his jaw. As if that hadn’t come close enough, another scar started under the left ear, taking an equally harrowing route across his throat, making her question how he’d survived a wound so deep around the vital jugular and carotid pathways. The scar disappeared into the collar of his black polo shirt. Combined, the two marks made a crooked pattern not unlike the dock.

She thought his head was shaved because of the additional scars there. She couldn’t imagine hair being able to grow in smoothly over the gouges and short slashes that reminded her of a map. Perhaps made by some form of shrapnel, an explosion of metal.

His brows were thick black silk matching the sprinkling of hair on his forearms and the signs of chest hair curling out of the throat of his shirt, suggesting he would have had black hair on his head.

She wondered why he hadn’t had the damage minimized with cosmetic surgery, but maybe he couldn’t afford it. Despite the mantle of authority he bore, she was sure this wasn’t the Master of Eden. He wore a black T-shirt with the same embroidered logo as the porters’ polo shirts, suggesting he was staff. Instead of shorts, he wore black jeans and athletic shoes.

She had no objection to the difference in wardrobe. The shirt stretched over his chest with admirable effort, and the jeans hugged strong thighs, accenting a noticeably well-packaged groin area. She expected he had a similarly excellent ass. But she dealt with male vampires all the time, so seeing a powerful, fit male wasn’t what made him so appealing. Heat rolled off of him, as well as power…control. Her body tightened in so many ways, instinctively recognizing what he was, what she wanted.

Her blood hunger surged to the surface, because with vampires it was pretty much coupled with physical lust. Feeding was an erotic exercise unless one had to rush it for survival, and she could almost taste the virility that would infuse this man’s red blood. He could nourish a girl for a good, long time.