Seized by the Vampire Lord (Dark Lords)

Dark Lords 2:

SEIZED BY THE VAMPIRE LORD

By

Jaide Fox

© copyright by Jaide Fox, December 2012

Cover art by Eliza Black © copyright December 2012

www.jaidefoxbooks.com

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

Other titles by Jaide Fox:

Shadowmere Book One: Marked by the Beast

Dark Lords 1: Captured by the Dark Lord

Dark Lords 2: Seized by the Vampire Lord

Dark Lords 3: Ensnared by the Dream Lord

Intergalactic Mayhem: Intergalactic Bad Boys

Intergalactic Mayhem: Intergalactic Pain in the Ass

Demon Huntress Book One: Sacrificed

Summoner’s Captive

Earth Girls Aren’t Easy

His Forbidden Fruit

Night Shade

Sexdroids

The Sky Fox

Archangel

Captured by Aliens: Alien Captive

Chapter One

“Trespassers, especially beautiful ones, are violated.  Survivors are lunch.”

Cerise Bordeaux stared at the man who had abruptly appeared before her on the forest path.  There was humor in his voice, but his eyes gleamed with intent.  She felt her heart flutter with a combination of fright and, god help her, excitement.  He was as beautiful as the devil himself, and just as clearly a minion.  There was no doubt in her mind that he was the vampire lord of legend, Daegon Erlansson.

Cerise had anticipated encountering problems when she made the decision to go in search of her sister, who had been taken by some demon and held captive.  It wasn’t as if she actually knew where to look for her sister.  Then too, she had the worst sense of direction. 

She hadn’t expected to encounter this sort of problem, however.  She’d been lost for hours.  It seemed to her that fate had laden her with enough problems without adding the accursed vampire lord to her troubles.  Misfortune piled upon misfortune.  First a wolf had startled her mare, whom she’d depended upon to show her the way.  The frightened mare had swept her from the saddle with the aid of a low-hanging limb, and she had been trying ever since to catch up to the horse.  Now this.

“I saw no signs,” Cerise said carefully, casting about for a weapon.  There was nothing within reach but dirt and dried brush, and thinking realistically, she didn’t have much hope of fending off a vampire should he choose to attack.

“Perhaps because there are none?”

Cerise gave him an indignant look and crossed her arms over her chest.  “Well, if that is the case, I fail to see how you can accuse me of trespassing.”

Daegon gave her an odd sort of look.  “My dear child, have you no notion of who these wood belong to?”

Cerise considered lying, but it was likely, being a son of the devil, that he could read minds.  With alarm, she wondered if he could manipulate them too.  ‘Twas best not to think on that route.  “Obviously you,” she retorted, opting somewhat for the truth, “But how was I to know that?”

Daegon tilted his head to one side, studying her as if he had just discovered a rare find.  Something lit in his eyes, and she was certain it boded ill.  “And now that you do know?” he asked curiously.

“I shall leave, of course.  Only point the way to me, for I am lost in these accursed woods and have been half the day.”

A thin smile curled the vampire lord’s lips.  He was really quite handsome, Cerise thought vaguely.  Not so handsome that she was willing to allow him to violate her, but far more handsome than any
living
man she knew.  Or dead either, for that matter.

A thin beard cut across the line of his jaw, and along with the mustache, lent him a dastardly look, more akin to a wicked rogue than some demon spawn.  Hair like the night parted on his high forehead, curling over his shoulders in wanton disarray.  His face was haunted angles; a distinctly squared jaw line; blade of a nose; thick brows that arched high and pulled deep when he frowned; hollow cheeks and sharply high cheekbones.  But it was his eyes that were so arresting.  They seemed to stare straight through her, into the chaos of her mind.  Color indistinguishable with the night, she could only guess what hue they were, but she rather imagined a soulless black, or perhaps red as the blood of his victims.

She shuddered at the thought, unable to consider the mental image of feeding, but the vision of him suckling a woman’s neck toyed with her imagination.  Would it be painful, or the ecstasy others believed?  She liked that line of thought even less, and half wondered if he’d planted the image in her mind merely to toy with her.

“I do believe I am going to enjoy this,” he murmured, taking a step toward her.

Her eyes widened.  She took a step back.  “There’s no need to be nasty about this.  I am perfectly willing to leave.”

He moved a step closer.  “Ah, but you’re assuming that I would allow it.”

Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, Cerise whirled and fled back down the path, in the direction from which she had come.  She was certain if she just followed the path, she could at least find her way back to where her horse had thrown her and perhaps the damnable beast had returned by now.  A wicked laugh echoed through the forest around her, raising the hair on the back of her neck like a shock.  It sounded unnervingly close.  She didn’t dare risk a look behind her.  Instead, throwing caution to the wind, she leapt from the path and tore off through the woods.

Her breath was coming so hard and fast, she felt dizzy from it, but she didn’t dare slow her steps.  She plowed through the frost-killed brush, still thick enough to hamper her speed, but she hoped it would disguise her path through the wood.  Leaping a low tangle of vines, she jumped behind the broad trunk of a tree and paused, trying to steady her breath, trying to listen for sounds of pursuit.

“You are flushed, my dear,” murmured a voice directly in her ear.

Cerise spun around with a startled gasp and gaped at the man who had appeared seemingly from out of nowhere.

“The color becomes you.”

Cerise screamed and stomped his foot, shoving his chest at the same moment.  She wasn’t certain whether she’d actually managed to knock him from his feet, or if he’d merely vanished again, but she didn’t wait around to find out.  She turned toward the path once more, or at least the direction she thought which the path layed.  The trees seemed to reach out to grab her, tearing at her clothing as she fled as fast as her feet could carry her.  A briar caught her bodice, ripping it from neckline almost to her waist.  Gasping, she grasped the edges of her torn bodice and ran faster.

Before she quite knew what had happened, she stumbled into a tiny brook.  She gaped at the water swirling around her feet.  Her legs immediately began going numb with the cold.  She didn’t think she could feel much more miserable, unless someone tipped a bucket of the water over her head.

Cerise searched her mind, grasping for bearings.  She didn’t remember crossing a brook before.  Where was that twice damned path she’d followed?

As she turned, wondering how she’d gotten her sense of direction so twisted around, she saw the vampire lounging on a flat rock that bordered the bank, a half smile curling his lips.  Her heart flip-flopped in her chest and she froze.

He trailed a hand in the water, his smile inviting, as if they were on a picnic together.  “You seem a little breathless, sweeting.  Shall I remove that tiresome corset as well?”

Cerise stared at him, trying to cover herself with little success.  She tucked the edges of her bodice into her corset as she gave him an evil eye.  “You villain!  It was
you
who ripped my bodice!”

He looked pleased with himself.  Cerise wanted to slap him.  “A paltry trick.”

“A low trick,” she retorted, putting every ounce of disgust she held into her voice.  Her reaction served only to amuse him more.  Seeing he was no imminent threat at that moment, Cerise looked around a little desperately as she tried to get her bearings.

He pointed over his shoulder.  “The path is that way, my love.”

Cerise glared at him indignantly.  As if she would believe him.  She wasn’t about to fall for that one.

Hiking her wet skirts to her knees, she slogged through the creek and up the other side.  She developed a stitch in her ribs as she ran, and she clutched the pain, forcing herself onward.  Her heart leapt with relief when she stumbled from the woods and onto a brightly lit meadow.  She knew she could put more distance between her and that wicked man if she left the woods and crossed the clearing.

She had almost made it halfway across when she stumbled over something and felt herself rushing toward the ground.  She shrieked and threw up her hands to catch herself.  Two arms encircled her before she could strike the ground, a firm body surprisingly muscled cushioning her fall.  Half stunned, Cerise looked up at the man who held her.

Him
.  As if it could be anyone else.

He lifted his brows.  “And I had thought you were playing hard to get.  You are a wanton, my love, to throw yourself in my arms this way.”  His arms tightened around her, plumping her breasts to the top of her corset until she thought they would burst from the encasement.  He smiled as he looked from her breasts and into her eyes.  There was something decidedly the lady killer in gaze.

“You tripped me,” she accused.  “Unhand me.  Now, my lord.”

“Daegon,” he corrected, confirming her worst suspicions, “And cease this fun?  My love, you know not what you ask.”

Something had crept down to one buttock cheek.  It felt like a hand.  When she squirmed to look back, it
squeezed
.  Cerise jumped in surprise, shocked to her toes.  She pushed at his chest, glaring at him, wishing he’d remove that offensive palm from her backside.  “I am no wanton,
my lord
.  It is you and your vile games that put me in this position.”

His smile turned devilish, making her heart flutter.  “You prefer another?”  He rolled suddenly, landing atop her as he bore her against the soft earth of the meadow.  His hands slipped from her back and came down on either side of her head, holding her hands trapped between their melded bodies.

Cerise began to lose feeling in her fingertips.  He felt as heavy as solid muscle.  She couldn’t locate an ounce of fat to pinch, no soft spot upon his body she could strike from her position.  Her heart pounded from her exertion.  Her lungs fought to drag in air.  She felt a little faint.

“You know … that … is not … what … I meant,” she gritted out, struggling beneath him.

His mouth quirked with amusement.  He lifted slightly, decreasing his weight enough she could breathe without heaving and crushing her breasts against his chest with every breath.  “Think you I read minds?”

“I would not be surprised.  I’ve heard stories of your ilk.  What is your intent now?” she asked, not particularly wanting to know the answer, but she rather thought it would behoove her to be prepared.  He might actually tell her the truth and give her fair warning.

He arched a brow.  “What manner of stories?  Perhaps the vampire’s kiss?”  His voice dropped an octave, slipping to a sensual purr that rubbed along her nerves like a cat.  “Have you an interest to know the touch of a vampire?”

Alarm flared through her combining with an odd sort of thrill that she didn’t want to examine at the moment.  Of course, it could be only fright, for she was not in the best position to fight him off.