The Invitation

Scarlett Sanderson

Every Christmas, Evie dreams of attending the glamorous masquerade ball at Longthorn, home of the reclusive Gabriel. She watches from afar, wishing she could be near him. Gabriel, the man in her most erotic fantasies. Then the invitation arrives, along with a beautiful mask and dress. Her presence is requested.

Gabriel needs Evie. As king of the Shadow world, he knows only one woman can complete him, can sate both his infinite carnal lust and the ache in his lonely heart. He’s spent years waiting for Evie, and he plans to claim her, body and soul.

A Romantica®
paranormal erotic romance
from Ellora’s Cave

Acknowledgements

I’d really like to thank my awesome editor, Carrie. She took a chance on this story and helped it blossom into something magical. Thank you, CJ!

Standing on the steps, Evie stared up at the gothic manor house. The stone structure loomed over her like a towering god. Lights blazed from every window, casting eerie shadows on the crisp snow blanketing the vast expanse of lawn. Christmas garlands of holly and ivy hung from the archways. Strains of moody classical music wafted from brightly lit rooms. People in decadent clothing milled around inside.

She clutched the golden invitation and once again read the masculine script.

Miss Evelyn Ward,

Everything you can imagine is real.

Forever yours,

G.

The “G” belonged to Gabriel Longthorn. Ruthless businessman. Heir to the Longthorn fortune. The most eligible bachelor in America since John F. Kennedy Jr. Recluse. Star of her deepest fantasies and inspiration for all the erotic heroes she wrote about in her novels.

The invitation had been hand delivered earlier in the day by a stern aide. His thinning gray hair and pinched face made him appear severe. At first she had felt intimidated by him. Why was Gabriel Longthorn sending an aide to her door? Panic fluttered in her gut until he handed her the invite.

Accompanying the invitation was a majestic black medieval gown, tapered at the waist with a long, flowing skirt. Down the center ran a wine-colored velvet panel. She’d never seen anything so exquisite.

A beautifully painted fae mask completed the package.

“My duty is finished, ma’am. I will be back later. Eight thirty, precisely, to drive you to Longthorn,” the aide had said.

Now here she was, staring up at the towering beauty of Longthorn manor. Her feet wouldn’t move. Fear and trepidation danced in her stomach. Why couldn’t she walk up to the door?

Her overanalytical mind kicked into gear.
You’re afraid.

Of course she was afraid. As a powerful man, Gabriel could easily find out her dirty little secret and crush her. He could sue her for defamation of character. If he’d read her books, he would know who provided the inspiration.

She gathered her strength.

Courage, Evie.
If this were a novel what would the heroine do?

She picked up her skirt and strode toward the opulent mahogany doors. Two ushers dressed as seventeenth-century footmen flanked the entrance. They bowed as she entered.

Evie blushed and fumbled with her invitation. “Do you need this?” She wasn’t used to this kind of service. It made her a little twitchy.

A footman met her gaze. “Thank you. Mr. Longthorn is in the throne room, madam. That would be to your left, through the ballroom.”

She nodded a gesture of thanks and moved into the house. As she glanced around, she recognized a string of senators, socialites and Hollywood starlets. The Longthorn Christmas Ball was notorious. It provided a chance to mingle with the reclusive Gabriel. Only the richest and brightest society stars were invited. It was so exclusive he never asked the same people twice.

It was during one of these Christmas balls that Evie had first caught a glimpse of the handsome businessman. She’d hidden in the trees as a child one Christmas Eve. He’d taken her breath away. Every Christmas until she was eighteen, she sneaked up to the house to catch a glimpse of him.

Now she was here. Inside the house. No longer on the outside looking in.

Large trees sparkled in gold and red. Garlands hung from portraits that adorned the walls. The air smelled of cinnamon and something hot, spicy.

Sensory overload.

Evie filed every tiny detail in her imagination. This would make a great setting for a novel. A gothic manor. A gorgeous rake. Maybe a Victorian setting.

“Champagne, ma’am?”

She lifted a glass from the waiter’s tray. “Thank you.”

The bubbles burst on her tongue as she savored her very first taste of expensive alcohol. She almost moaned with pleasure. The bottle must have cost a small fortune. Probably more than her monthly rent.

Her stomach lurched. She didn’t belong here. This wasn’t her world. It was a fairytale. Something from one of the books she’d written.

Why the hell was she here?

A rich laugh drew her attention. She turned toward the sound. The laughter emanated from a sultry brunette in a dress that barely covered any skin. Evie guessed it was fashionable on the catwalks of Milan and Rome but for a Christmas ball it looked slutty.

The brunette leaned over a man who sat in a Louis XIV chair. One of his legs was thrown over the arm. On his other side stood a petite blonde woman. She was a startling contrast to the brunette but her dress covered even less.

Evie knew who sat in the chair.

Her blood thickened. Desire punched through her fear. Her breasts swelled and her nipples tightened. Moisture slicked her thighs as if she’d inhaled a potent drug that made her instantly pliant and aroused.

Her drug had a name. Gabriel Longthorn.

The man of her childhood dreams. The man of her womanly fantasies.

Time slowed and the music became a distant echo as his gaze met hers. A predatory smile spread across his chiseled face and her heart almost beat out of her chest. Christ, he was beautiful. Devastating. And she wanted to fling herself on him.

Her strong physical reaction defied explanation. She’d been around handsome men before and never felt this sexual.

Both women scowled when they realized Gabriel no longer cared what they had to say. Evie resisted the urge to glance over her shoulder. Was he really looking at her and not some stunning redhead standing behind her?

He unfolded himself from the chair in a way that was much too graceful for a man his size before moving through the crowd.

She stared. He was hypnotic. Mesmerizing. The crowd parted. All eyes watched as he purposefully strode toward her. A smile curled the edges of his lips.

Dressed in a white ruched shirt and a frock coat of the finest dark-blue velvet, he was the epitome of an old-fashioned mystical being. His white breeches pulled across his groin as he walked, leaving nothing to the imagination. Black knee-high boots completed the outfit.

He stopped inches away from her. She could smell his spicy scent as he took the champagne from her grasp and handed it to a passing guest. His ice-blue eyes stared intently into hers.

“Miss Ward. Thank you for the pleasure of your company this delightful Christmas Eve.” He bowed and took her hand. He brushed his lips gently across her skin. His breath caressed the tiny hairs and she felt that caress between her thighs, as if he’d pressed his lips against her clit.

Her breathing hitched. She chided herself for being so enthralled. He was just a man. Granted, he was unlike any man she’d ever seen—charismatic, charming, gentlemanly, not to mention studly.

Good and evil warred inside her mind. She wanted to slide her body against his, run her hand across his groin and test the weight of his cock. Would it be as impressive and thick as the outline in his breeches promised?

Pervert
, the voice inside her head cried.

She gathered her wits from the gutter. “The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Longthorn. I do wonder why I received an invitation.”

He stroked the pulse point at her wrist, rubbing slow circles and stoking her arousal. “Because, Miss Ward, you have a very fertile imagination. Sometimes we all need to take a little time to dream.”

Another footman brought out a chair to match Gabriel’s. The staff was amazing, anticipating the guests’ every need. Where did he find these people?

Gabriel turned to the crowd and walked toward the raised dais. Everyone stared at them as if she were a specimen under a microscope.

As if sensing her discomfort, Gabriel smiled and addressed the guests. “Please, my honored and most noble guests, continue with the ball! There is champagne to be enjoyed, food to be savored and decadent pleasures to be tasted…”

His speech brought roaring laughter from the crowd.

Evie raised her eyebrow. What did he mean by “decadent pleasures”? She’d seen the movie
Eyes Wide Shut
. Was he into that kind of stuff?

An image of her dressed in a revealing piece of lace, strapped to a banquet table and surrounded by guests flashed into her mind. Gabriel stood over her, commanding her. Her pussy spasmed. She really needed to stop the erotic fantasies.

Gabriel gestured to the smaller but no less ornate Louise XIV chair the footman had brought out and silently bade her to sit. She was glad of the reprieve. Her feet were blistering. She usually wore slippers, clogs or flat boots. She owned one pair of heeled satin shoes, which she was wearing now. They pinched her toes and rubbed her heels.

“Are you okay?”

She turned her attention to him and gave a wistful smile. “Apart from being dazzled, overwhelmed and a little out of my depth, I’m peachy.”

“My apologies. It was never my intention to make you uncomfortable.”

Why was he being nice? Did he intend to publicly humiliate her in some way? Get revenge for her using him as inspiration? She’d put him in some sexy scenarios. Was he pissed off enough to do that?

“What do you want, Mr. Longthorn?” She tilted her head to the side and studied him.

“Call me Gabriel. We should be on first-name terms.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, you have imagined me in some rather…provocative situations.”

Her cheeks heated. Oh god, he had read her books.

“I particularly liked the one where I punished a woman by taking her over my knee.”

She remembered writing that scene. She remembered how turned-on and horny she’d been imagining Gabriel’s hand on her ass, spanking her until the flesh heated.

The music continued a slow, steady, sensual beat in the background. His gaze held her enthralled. The glow of the firelight and gas-lit torches reflected in his eyes. Danger and seduction bled from every pore. The pull from his aura was intoxicating to her.

A shiver of desire, of longing, passed through her. Her teeth ached with need.

“Are you cold? Perhaps you would permit me to warm you?” He ran a fingertip across her shoulder, dallied at her neckline.

Arousal spiked. Sweat beaded on her spine.

Warm her? She could think of numerous ways he could warm her and none of them were fit for public display. Most of them involved entwined limbs and a lot less clothing. All of them ended with him pinning her down and fucking her until she screamed.

She tried to give him her best stern look. “Thank you, but I can warm myself.”

His husky, masculine laughter drew the attention of nearby guests. “I have no doubt you can but it would be much more interesting if you allowed me.”

A tall blond man approached the dais. Where Gabriel was lean, he was broad. His green eyes glistened like leaves in the morning rain. He bowed at Gabriel before addressing Evie. “Would the fair maiden care to dance?”

More old-fashioned charm. It must be some kind of ritual role-playing they did every year. Surely they didn’t act like this every day?

Did she want to dance? She glanced at Gabriel and then chided herself. Although he’d invited her here, she didn’t need his permission. Or approval. She could do what she wanted. One dance wouldn’t hurt. And she could calm her raging lust. Some distance would do her good.

She rose from her chair and beamed at the blond. “I’d love to, Mr…”

He returned her smile and Evie noticed a row of dazzling white teeth. Definitely a movie star. “Call me Lucian.”

“I’d love to dance, Lucian.”

She stepped off the dais and into Lucian’s arms. He swirled her away, swaying to the slow beat of the music. They made idle chitchat about the ball, the setting, the food. He was a striking man but his beauty paled in comparison to Gabriel’s. Lucian didn’t have the effect on her that Gabriel did. Gabriel made her think of sex and afternoons filled with sweaty nakedness.

“So do you know Gabriel?”

“I’m his guard.”

She frowned. “Like a bodyguard?”

Lucian winked. “Something like that.”

Was she missing something? How odd that a guard be allowed to indulge in the pleasures of the ball. All the guards she’d seen in the past stood on the periphery, lurking, alert for trouble.

She mentioned it to Lucian.

“Gabriel is unconventional in many ways.”

Evie snorted. “Tell me about it. I’ve still got no idea what I’m doing here.”

“Don’t you?” he asked in a puzzled tone. “I’m sure he’ll reveal all soon.”

Why did that sound so ominous?

As they danced she could feel Gabriel’s eyes on her. Her intense awareness of him was startling. Her violent attraction to him, unnerving. All those years of fantasizing about him from afar played havoc with her senses.

She tried to push the dark-haired devil from her mind and concentrate on the man she danced with. There were many things to immerse herself in. So why couldn’t she stop thinking about marching over to Gabriel, grabbing him by the lapels of his jacket and kissing him?