Sex, blood, torture.
She considered asking Harry who’d work the floor but thought better of it. Under a compulsion he wouldn’t have an answer. Until she left he’d be oblivious to what he’d done. He’d certainly question why he’d sent her away, but eventually he’d figure out a reason that made some kind of sense to him. Human minds tried to repair themselves in strange ways after they’d been manipulated.
Her gaze swept to the back door. She could run but she didn’t think she’d make it far. The vampire could track her scent. If he wanted her badly enough to come here—for reasons she wasn’t sure she wanted to know—he wasn’t going to let her slide from his grasp easily. The strange sensation she’d experienced when he’d grabbed her wrist warned her things were not as they seemed.
She felt a migraine coming on, likely the tumor in her head preparing to burst.
Wouldn’t that be fitting?
Defeated, she untied her apron and strode from the kitchen.
The blond vampire had wanted her the night he’d appeared at the palace. She’d seen the glimmer of lust in his eyes, noticed with disgust that his light-blue irises had started to change in the centers, becoming red. To her mortification she’d felt a trickle of awareness stir to life. For the first time in years her body reacted to a male.
To a vampire.
Her breasts had tingled, her nipples growing hard. A gush of wetness coated her panties and her clit had started to pulse. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from him. He wasn’t dressed like the others, fully clothed in rich materials without a hint of leather in sight. His long coat had fit his broad shoulders perfectly, his thick blond hair falling past his shoulders.
Stop it!
It didn’t matter if she was attracted to the man or not. There wasn’t enough sexual gratification in the world to be what he’d expect. She didn’t like pain. The others had accepted it but the thought of being bound to objects and lashed with whips terrified her. She also didn’t want to be shared, given to anyone with a passing interest. At the very least she’d been spared that. She’d never taken part in the bloody orgies or been forced to endure the shame of being fucked by strangers.
Conrad. She thought of him fondly, even now. Why did you have to die?
Theirs had been an unlikely union but it had worked.
Now she was left to face the future without him.
Maybe the blond vampire only wanted to take her to his bed. That wouldn’t be so bad. One night and she could pretend she was a normal girl. A sliver of hope surfaced. If he allowed her to drink from him she’d also be given more time. Depending on his age her cancer would either go into remission or would recede all together. Conrad hadn’t been old enough to stop and reverse her malady but maybe this vampire could.
She walked back into the dining room and the iron will she’d tried to create crumbled around her. He was still there, studying her with those all-seeing blue eyes. He didn’t merely look, his gaze almost seemed to devour her. She felt like a deer caught in headlights, unable to turn away as she walked to him. There wasn’t enough distance between them, not nearly enough time to consider what she was doing.
“Are you ready?” he asked, rising from the booth.
So he had done what she’d thought, making Harry send her home. “Ready for what?” she whispered, hoping he wasn’t cruel. Many of the vampires she’d seen enjoyed tormenting their slaves, feasting on misery. “What do you want from me?”
Something crackled in the air, encasing their bodies. Her gaze darted around the small space. Had they been seen? Everyone continued with business as usual, as though she and the vampire weren’t even there.
Magic.
Dear God, help me.
He was much older than Conrad. Only the oldest of vampires could cast spells.
“Shh, luvena,” he murmured, reaching out, placing his hands on her waist. He drew her to his body, standing so tall she had to crane her neck to see his face. “Close your eyes.”
She did as he said, screwing them shut.
The air sizzled, burning her skin. Then the ground felt as though it disappeared, her body tumbling into nothing. Emptiness swirled all around her, the world vanishing into thin air. But she wasn’t alone, captured in his arms.
Everything returned with a jolt.
She opened her eyes, finding her equilibrium off balance.
They weren’t in the diner anymore. He’d taken her to another place.
A fire roared a few feet away, the furnishings were expensive and old.
She started to pull free of his embrace when he lifted her from the ground, her feet dangling inches from the floor. His lips found hers, the touch not painful but tender. She tensed, waiting for his violence to appear. Vampires loved to deceive. It was like a game to them. The instant she relaxed, he’d strike. But she also knew not to fight. That’s what vampires loved—to destroy things and see them fall to pieces.
To her shock he pulled away, his ice-blue eyes full of wonder.
She didn’t understand it. Nothing made sense. He wasn’t acting like any vampire she’d ever met. Was it an act? A way to gain her trust so he could turn around and break it? He seemed so sincere. It couldn’t possibly be all for show.
“Welcome home, Olivia.”
Welcome home? She gasped, thinking he’d lost his mind. What does that mean?
He dipped his head, kissing her again, drawing her close. Her traitorous body responded, heating from the inside. She tried to hold back, telling herself it wasn’t safe to give in. Then his tongue slid past her lips, delving into her mouth. She lifted her hands and clutched his shoulders, holding on tight.
It had been years since she’d felt like this.
Swept into a maelstrom of desire and need.
Stupid as it was, she gave herself over, meeting the soft strokes of his tongue. He groaned, thrusting his hips against her, his thick erection hard and long against her belly. She’d never made love to a vampire before but she had a feeling that was about to change. Just when she thought she was going to die—right as her body had started to fall apart and stop working—she remembered why she desperately wanted to live.
Surrendering to a vampire—an immortal.
Something she’d sworn she’d never do.
Damn it to hell.
She writhed against him, wanting to ease the ache between her legs.
She’d just gotten herself into a lot of trouble.
The End
About Aline Hunter
Aline Hunter is the alias of multi-published author J.A. Saare, who has written stories featured in horror magazines, zombie romance anthologies and flash fiction contests. Her work has a notable dark undertone, which she credits to her love of old eighties horror films, tastes in music and choices in reading, and has been described as “full of sensual promise,” “gritty and sexy” and “a breath of fresh air.”
Currently she is penning multiple projects within the urban fantasy, erotic and contemporary, and paranormal romance categories.
Aline welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.