PURPLE MAGIC
LISA RENEE JONES
ONE
Manhattan 's “invitation only” underground clubs held the answers Jolene Morrison sought.
Filled with sins of the flesh and vampire sex games, these clubs represented danger. A smart female, even one like herself—half vampire, half-human—knew entering such a place held extreme risks. Regardless, Jolene Morrison had no option but to take her chances. Her best friend and roommate, Carrie Wright—the closest thing she knew to family—had disappeared, lured into the sensual world of the underground. The police wanted Jolene to believe Carrie had run off with her rich vampire boyfriend. She'd believe that the day she believed in the super heroes she marketed for her employer, BK Comics. Carrie wouldn't leave without telling Jolene. She just wouldn't do it.
To find Carrie, Jolene needed entry into the clubs and to find
the man her friend had been dating.
Alex.
If she found Alex, she'd
find Carrie. For a painful two hundred dollars, the bartender on
Eighty-eighth had directed her to a man he'd said could get her where she needed to go and that was good enough for her. Walking past a line of men standing outside Howard Stern's favorite high-end, topless bar, Scores, Jolene endured whistles and blatant headto-toe inspections from hopefuls who wanted into the club. Limousines lined the side street, the transportation for the rich and famous who were allowed automatic entry into the hotspot. She stared straight ahead, ignoring the attention, determined to reach her destination. Nothing mattered but finding the address written on the torn paper balled in her hand.
A block later, the scenery changed, the crowd thinning to near nothing, the sidewalks empty but for a few pedestrians. Though Bloomingdales and a cluster of high-end shops were a mere four streets away, this area wasn't the best of the best. But then, in New York City, things changed in the blink of an eye. One minute you had high society. The next, high crime.
Jolene stopped in front of an eight-story white building. She blew a long, auburn-brown curl from her eyes. Her feet hurt from the high heels she wore, and the black silk of her blouse clung to her body like a second skin, a product of the humid night air. She was thankful for her bare legs and knee-length skirt. Mid-August brought humidity that seemed to thicken and swell between the buildings. Being Friday, the day before the weekly trash pick up for millions, overflowing barrels lined the walls and street, oozing stench. She thought of the name scribbled on the paper.
Drago.
Just Drago. Nothing more. The name sounded like something out of the comics she marketed. But it wasn't. Her stomach fluttered with apprehension. It was an ancient vampire warrior's name she was certain she'd heard before. A name that both rattled her nerves and delivered a bit of hope. If anyone could help her, it would be one of the warriors. The “Slayers,” as they were called by the vampire council, were deadly warriors cloaked in secrecy. Many of their people feared what they didn't understand, and bedtime
stories of vampires regarding ancient “mya,” or in human language, “monsters,” were often associated with Slayers. But Jolene knew much about these warriors, especially their shielded identities, and they were not monsters. She knew, because her father was one of them. She couldn't even call him if she needed him; when he was undercover, working a job, no one contacted him. Lord only knew, she'd tried. Now and in the past. Seven years before, Jolene had celebrated her eighteenth birthday by burying her mother, unable to reach her father.
Jolene drew a breath, her resolve thickened with the distaste of her thoughts. She'd lost her mother. She wasn't going to lose Carrie, too. Eying the mailboxes on the side of the building, the gold-painted numbers confirmed that Jolene had found her destiny. Now, she hoped she'd found her man. Going to a stranger's apartment didn't seem like a smart move, yet her options were limited. Apprehension tightened her chest. In her sales job, she talked to people she didn't know all the time, but this was different. This was a man's home—a vampire's home. Someone she didn't know and certainly couldn't trust. But she
had
to do this. Like her, Carrie had no family. A tall, bosomy woman exited the controlled entrance into the building and Jolene darted forward. “Hold that door.” The woman tossed her long, blonde hair over her shoulders and eyed Jolene, looking as if she might deny her entry. “Enjoy, sweetheart,” she finally said, and sidestepped to allow Jolene to grab the door.
Jolene murmured a thank you, watching as the woman strutted away, her hips moving in a seductive sway. The comment made her wonder if the woman had just come from Drago's apartment. Considering his involvement with the underground sex clubs, she didn't know
what
to expect inside this building.
Jolene moved through the tiny hallway and made her way to the long, narrow stairs. Great. Her feet wouldn't take much more torture.
Glancing upward, she silently cursed Drago's seventh-floor location.
If she needed to make a quick departure, there wasn't one available.
Not allowing herself time to think, she took the first step. By the time she knocked on Drago's door, the steepness of the stairs had her breathless, despite a regular gym routine. Barely a second passed when the door flew open, exposing a man as broad as he was tall, as sexy as he looked dangerous. Jolene was more than breathless. She was downright speechless.
Long dark hair tied at the back of his neck exposed a strong jaw and eyes as black as a starless night. Eyes that narrowed before sliding downward in a long, far too hot, perusal of her body. Her job in sales had conditioned her to ignore such blatant inspection. But this man's sizzling attention warmed her inside out. How could it not? Everything about him screamed sex. No. Not
just sex.
Hot sex. Wild sex. Burning hot nights filled with acts from the most forbidden fantasies. Forcing her voice from her suddenly dry throat, she said, “Drago?”
His gaze narrowed on hers. “Depends who's asking.” He spoke in a deep, sensual voice laced with a hint of an accent she couldn't quite place.
“My name is Jolene.” She left off her last name, not willing to give this man any more information than she had to. “I'm . . . looking for someone. I heard you might be able to point me in the right direction.” One dark brow inched upward. “Who might that be?” “Are you Drago?” Jolene asked, not willing to play games with this man or anyone. She had to find Carrie. There wasn't room for mistakes.
His boots scraped the wooden floor, drawing her gaze downward, as he eased farther into the apartment. The door creaked as he expanded the opening, and her eyes slid across his faded jeans, which hugged long, muscular legs. She swallowed and forced her gaze back to his. With a wave of his hand, he motioned her inside.
She shook her head. “I'd rather not.”
Drago—or whoever he was—gave her a probing look. “Who is it you seek?” “Seek?” she asked, confused at first but then realizing what he meant. “Oh. A man. A man named Alex.” Vampires were born into clans of numbers, not names. She narrowed her gaze on his. “No last name.” In other words, she knew Alex was a vampire. A stormy expression filled his rugged features. An expression that said he knew the name. “Who sent you here?”
“A bartender. He told me you could help me get into the clubs Alex favors. One in particular—Purple Magic.”
A pregnant silence. “What do you want with him?” Though a vampire could invade a human mind, Jolene's vampire side gave her the ability to shield her thoughts. But an ancient warrior, a Slayer, had powers beyond the average vampire. Lying to him could get her in more trouble than the truth might. Besides, the bartender might have already told him to expect her and that she'd been asking about Carrie.
She had to go with the flow now and shoot straight. “Alex was the last person to see my roommate before she disappeared two weeks ago.” For what felt like an eternity, he studied her, his reaction to her words indiscernible. Finally, he said, “Come inside.” His voice was low, terse.
Instinct told her that refusal to enter would be as good as refusing his help. If he even planned to help. Her hesitation drew a frustrated sound from him. “You come here wanting something of me, yet you cower in the hall?”
Jolene knew a challenge when she heard one, and this was that and more. Without another word, she stepped forward beyond the entrance, inside his home. A quick inspection of her surroundings told Jolene she stood in
the center of one of the ultrasmall, one-room apartments that were
typical of Manhattan. The furnishings consisted of a bed, a student sized corner desk and a leather rolling chair. No table. No television. And nothing but pull-down plastic shades covered the windows. She felt Drago move behind her, his woodsy male scent insinuating its way into her nostrils, making her aware of the intimacy of occupying such a small space together. The door shut behind her and she turned to face the man who still had no name. Their eyes caught and held midair, locking in a heat-filled stare that stole her breath away. She didn't understand the reaction. Human females found themselves susceptible to vampire seductions and mind controls. But Jolene had never found that she reacted in such a way. Her half vampire side had given her a shield. Or it had in the past. Why did this man—this vampire—have her feeling flushed with awareness when no other had before?
“You shouldn't have come here,” he said, finally, breaking the spell that had held them entranced.
His voice held a sensual quality and she barely suppressed a shiver. Good Lord, what was wrong with her? “I had no choice. I have to find my friend.”
One dark brow inched upward. “And what of you? Who will find you?”
Her throat went dry at his words, a bit of fear churning in her gut.
He was testing her. She was sure of it. For what? That was the question. Resolve? True desire to find her friend? Or was he taunting her? Perhaps trying to make her question her decision to come inside his apartment?
“I'm not stupid,” Jolene managed in a strong voice. “People know I'm here.” He took a step toward her. “I don't think so.” She forced herself to keep her feet solidly planted. Not to back away. “I think you're desperate to find your friend. Someone gave you my name, and you rushed over here without considering the consequences.” “You're right about my friend,” she said as he stopped directly in front of her. The man was huge. He towered over her a good foot. With her height at five foot five, she had to tilt her chin upward to make eye contact. “I
am
desperate to find her. She was dating Alex. He . . . made her act out of character. She started going to . . . places she normally wouldn't.”
His response was immediate. “Sex clubs.”
She nodded. “Right. And now she's gone.”
He stared at her. One second. Two. Three. Then he moved away, putting distance between himself and Jolene. She cast him a slanted look, watching him stop in the kitchen area of the rectangular-shaped room. His actions seemed to indicate less aggression. Less intention to cause harm. Relief slid across her body, though her heart still beat like a drum against her chest. “How about a drink?” he asked, as he pulled two glasses and a bottle of bourbon out of the cabinet.
She turned to face him. “ N o . . . thank you.” She swallowed.
“So . . . you know Alex?”
He poured amber-colored liquid into a glass and took a sip. “I know him.”
Hope filled her thoughts. She widened her eyes and took a tentative step forward. “Then you can tell me how to find him?” He leaned against the counter crossing one booted leg over the other. “Nope.”
Disappointment ripped through her gut. “Why?” she demanded, desperation taking hold. “Please. I have to find my friend.” “You have no idea what you are dealing with here. Let the police handle this.”
Frustration roared inside, and her fists balled by her sides. He had to know the police were no help. “You think I haven't tried that route? The police do nothing. We all know vampires like Alex pay them off.
I
need
to find my friend. Get me an invitation into Purple Magic and
I'll pay you.” But she had no more money, and she knew it. She'd find it though. Somehow. For Carrie. For her “sister.” “I know you can get me inside.” She swallowed, debating her next words. “I know what you are. I've heard my father speak your name. And I know your duty to help me.”
Seconds that felt like hours ticked by and she didn't dare breathe.
“Who is your father?”
“Riker.”
Before she could breathe, let alone think, Drago had set his glass down and closed the distance between them. His movements agile and lightning fast—those of a tiger after his prey. He pinned her against the wall, his muscular legs framing hers, pressing against her thighs. That woodsy male scent of his surrounded her, drugging her. And to her disbelief, rather than fear, she felt fire. Her limbs were heavy with desire, her nipples tight with uncontrollable arousal. “Do you know what would happen to you in Alex's world if you said your father's name?”
She swallowed. “I wouldn't do that.”
“You spoke it to me.”
“Because I know you're one of them. One of... the Slayers.”
“Was,
sweetheart. Why didn't you go to Riker?”
“I tried. Carrie could be dead before he surfaces again.” He glared at her, his eyes halfveiled, something remotely like anger glinting in the depths of his stare. “You think you have what it takes to enter Alex's world?” he demanded.
Jolene forced herself to meet his hard gaze, not allowing him to see any fear in her. “I know I do,” she said, meaning it. “I'm only half human. I'm not prey for Alex or any other vampire male.” He was trying to scare her, and if he succeeded, she knew she'd leave here with no more information than she'd had before coming. “I'll do whatever it takes to find my friend. If you refuse your duty and won't help me, then get me inside Purple Magic and I'll do the rest myself.”
If Jolene didn't get inside that club, she'd never find her friend. She could feel it with every ounce of her being. And she'd do what it took to save Carrie. No matter what the price. Even bargain with the devil. And Drago might just be that. She didn't know if he was friend or foe, but then, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered but finding Carrie.
Was Alex using Carrie to get to Jolene?
Drago would bet blood and money that was the case. Months of working undercover, pretending to be a traitor to his council had taught him much about Alex. And without question, Alex would relish the opportunity to claim a Slayer's daughter. He'd need a way to control a vampire female of ancient blood beyond his own mental abilities though. In this case, perhaps Alex was using Jolene's friend as both bait and leverage.
Drago stared at the gorgeous woman who'd taken over more than his temporary apartment— she'd overtaken him. If he didn't know better, and if she wasn't half human, he'd have sworn she was his mate. Which was the last damn thing he needed. A mate meant distraction, and distraction meant death. He'd be sending her on her way and doing it fast. But not until he ensured she wouldn't be visiting Alex. The foolish woman was going to get herself killed—or worse, turned into one of Alex's pool of sex slaves. Alex would relish the chance to claim a Slayer's daughter as his own.
If her friend lived, Drago would find her. Most likely, Carrie had been placed inside the private sex pool Alex kept to sate his appetites for both blood and play. The same one for which Drago had gone undercover trying to locate.
Drago stared into Jolene's emerald green eyes and saw the fear she
tried to hide behind a mental shield—to no avail. Ancient powers and
a unique connection with this woman had him feeling her inside
and out. The front of his pants pulled tight against his hips. He could almost taste her emotions. Just as he could smell her desire, her ripe readiness for him to take her. Whatever this roar she'd evoked inside him was, she felt it, too. Their attraction was real. Her bravado was not. Which meant an erotic preview of the sexual appetites of a male vampire would scare the hell out of her.
He grabbed her leg, lifting it to his hip, shoving her skirt up her thigh in the process, and cupped her ass. He fit his cock to her core, making damn sure she knew this wasn't a game. Not even a dangerous one. Alex was nothing shy of lethal. Drago had a good mind to take Jolene, here and now, to teach her a much-needed lesson in the real world. His mouth lowered to her ear. “You sure you're willing to do anything? Are you willing to fuck me to find your friend?” He inched backward enough to fix her in a hot stare. In her eyes, he saw her confusion mingled with sensual heat. She was scared shitless, yet she could not help wanting him. His cock thickened with the knowledge. Mates or not, they had that kind of chemistry that no two beings could run from. He pressed past the burn in his body, reaching for duty and honor.
This wasn't about how much he wanted to bury himself deep inside this woman, though he sure as hell did. His actions were meant to scare the hell out of her. But it didn't change the satisfaction he felt at feeling her soften beneath his hold, of feeling her melting with his touch. “You want me,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire. “Don't you, little one?”
Her palms pressed against his chest, and one of his hands covered them. With the other hand, he continued to explore her lush backside, his fingers brushing her parted cheeks. She was wearing a thong and he found himself burning to know the color. Better yet, burning to yank it away and discard it. He didn't give a damn what color it was. “Yes,” he murmured, being crass on purpose. This was about scaring her. About sending her home to be a good girl. “You'd fuck me and pretend you did it to find your friend. But we'd both know better. We'd both know you did it because you want to feel my cock buried deep inside you.”
Her lashes fluttered, her hands moving to his arms, squeezing with force, clinging to him rather than pushing him away. “Stop,” she whispered, her words contrasting her actions. “Please stop.” “Who are you talking to, Jolene?” he asked, pressing her with the truth. “Me? Or you?” He didn't give her time to respond, leaning forward and claiming her mouth, feeling the softness of her lips beneath his, tempting him with their sweetness. So much so that he pulled back, not daring to fully taste her, fearful of where it might lead him. Yet he couldn't back away either. He was still close, too close, their breath mingling, teasing, arousing. The thought of Alex touching her, of anyone inside those clubs having her, drew an odd feeling of protectiveness. One of possessiveness. It angered him. Angered him because it tested his well-guarded control. The control that made him the mighty Slayer he'd always been.
He slid one hand into her hair, a bit rougher now, and forced her to look at him. With the other, he squeezed her ass and pulled her tight against his raging cock. “Are you prepared to fuck Alex? And what of his friends? Will you fuck them?”
Drago stared down at her, waiting for her answer, his gut tight. If she didn't answer the way he wanted her to, he'd damn sure do whatever it took to make sure she did.