Beloved Vampire (44 page)

“You know I do. You overwhelm me, Jessica.”

She turned then, those gray eyes full of intriguing shadows. The crystal sparkled. “Are you . . . do you have to tell me tonight?”

He didn’t have to ask her what she meant. Mason pressed his lips together. “Not if you don’t wish me to. I should have taken off the collar,” he added gruffly, reaching up to touch it. “The bracelets will be sufficient, and it won’t detract from the necklace.”

Her hand fluttered up, alighting on his. “Leave it?” she asked. Her words were somewhere between a request and a plea.
I feel
better
. . .
knowing I’m clearly marked as yours here. Safer.

She was going to test his resolve until something broke inside of him; he was sure of it. He already felt like a wild animal in a dangerously flimsy cage. But he nodded.

She let out a small sigh, her chest rising beneath his palm. “Are you ready to go in, my lord?”

For a second, he entertained a fleeting thought to drop her at the door with Amara and Enrique and wait for them back at the plane. She’d certainly be safer. But at the question, the direct lock with his gaze, he discarded that idea like smoke. For one thing, there was no way in hell she was going in there without him. Yes, part of it was possessiveness; he couldn’t deny that. But he remembered what she’d said about the tattoo.
Would you feel better if I was there,
habiba
? Yes, I would, but, no, I don’t want
you there.

When he was in Berlin, he’d known he should have been there, despite her answer. Tonight he wasn’t going to make her answer the question. He was going to be at her side. At her beautiful back, that design taunting him with a message that he wanted to answer, fiercely.

“Yes. But first, you need to wear this.”

When he removed the item from his other pocket, Jessica recognized a mask. Instantly, she recalled the full head masks Raithe often made her wear, closing all the holes so she could barely breathe. Or sometimes just the eyes and ears, so she’d be forced to stumble about as they taunted her in a masochistic version of Marco Polo. They’d make her think she was about to fall down stairs, or prod and poke her with things she couldn’t identify, things that hurt. Though knowing what the items were wouldn’t have changed anything, she knew that any knowledge helped. Managing fear when you lost all vestiges of control, even of your mind and body, was impossible. It was the ultimate victory for a master torturer.

“Jessica.” Mason cradled her face, bringing her eyes up to him. Now he was very close, his body vibrating against hers where she’d retreated into the corner created by the open car door. “Jess, stay here with me. Like the bracelets and collar, this is for you.

Be easy. Trust me.”

Slipping a long arm around her waist, he brought her forward again. Jessica welcomed the distraction of his arm against her bare back, the heat that filled the small space between their bodies. “It’s for your protection. To hide your identity.”

Closing her eyes, she pushed back the roar of memories. “I want to enjoy tonight, Mason. I don’t want to be afraid.”

“You won’t be. You’re here with me.”
You should feel safe under your Master’s protection. That’s the way it’s meant to be.

If you will trust me, I will give you that gift tonight.

At her bare nod, he brought the mask up. It wasn’t a stiff leather head mask that could suffocate and chafe. The black velvet eye mask had a froth of dangling onyx, pink and silver gems sewn along the lower edge, so that the various lengths of strands tickled her cheeks and the corners of her mouth. Sequins were sewn in a tapestry around the eyes to enhance them like exotic makeup.

The mask was soft, the long string ties fanning out on either side of her head but coming together in a point in the back, where he laced them together, the mask slowly tightening, molding to her features like her own skin, giving her a shortness of breath that wasn’t entirely unpleasant, reminding her of when he’d locked the collar on her neck. The long tie ends that drifted like ribbons over her shoulders were also sewn with glittering sequins. The curls on her forehead now fell over black velvet, glittering with traces of silver and pink gems and sequins.

Mason traced the edge of the mask, then teased her lips open with his thumb, making her mouth that much more sensitive. His voice was sensual velvet, like the fabric. “As much as I love your beautiful face, you cannot imagine how provocative this makes your mysterious gray eyes and that tempting mouth. But this mask may also help you deal with your fears, ease your inhibitions.

You can be whatever you wish to be tonight, safely.”

Her gaze flickered up to him, startled. Mason squeezed her hand. “I will not make any demands of you related to the preferences of this club,
habiba
. That has not changed. But this night is for you, your pleasure and enjoyment. I am encouraging you to take full advantage of it. Now go join Amara and Enrique. They’re waiting at the door. I’ll be there in a moment.”

The curve of her pink lips beneath that mask had the potency of an experienced seductress. But the way she’d turned and let him put on the necklace and then the mask, trembling but trusting at once, wasn’t calculated at all. He had to remember how fragile she truly was. Yet when he looked into her mind, he realized she
wanted
him to forget, putting a further strain on his floundering control.

Those gray eyes were watching his face. “You’re shutting the gate again, aren’t you?” she asked. “You tell me to seek pleasure for myself tonight, but you put yourself out of bounds.”
Does that mean another male should touch my body, tease my flesh with
his tongue—

He’d closed his hands on her shoulders before he thought. She gasped at the bruising power of it, but her lips parted, her eyes seeking his, alight with something that wasn’t all fear. With a mental oath, he released her and took a step back. “Don’t push on that gate, Jessica,” he warned. “There’s no such thing as a housebroken vampire.”

Studying him for another long moment, she surprised him with a cool nod. “We will wait for you at the entrance, then, Lord Mason.” But then she closed that step, and her fingertips slid up the thin fabric of his shirt, two fingers briefly caressing a strand of his hair. He closed his hand on her wrist, a warning, but she merely held his gaze, her body leaned into his.

Maybe I want you off the chain. In case you haven’t noticed, my lord, this outfit suggests I have left the gate wide-open.

With a fiery toss of her head, she slid past him. The gauntlet she’d thrown down, as provocative as it was, was nearly eclipsed by the impact of her departure. In the spike heels, the short, formfitting dress and with that tantalizing tattoo, she was erotic art in motion, the mask adding the perfect touch of mystery. It was impossible not to be tempted by her. One man walked into a parked car. Another hit a Mercedes as he parked his Escalade, setting off a security alarm. She was going to cause a riot before she reached the door.

But as he struggled past his own reaction, Mason detected something else. She was holding the connection to him, her consciousness reaching out to him. A human servant was often not aware they were doing it, but the vampire could feel it. Like reaching through the darkness of dreams, trying to find his hand, the reassurance that he was still there.

The damnable woman goaded him past all sense. Damn it, damn it,
damn it
. Lyssa was right. He needed to pull his head out of his ass. She was both, irresistible temptress and damaged girl. She was surrounded by noise, people. Men. Lots of them, and many here with their submissive slaves, chained in a variety of ways, from elegantly sensual to hard-core bondage. The thread between them was helping reassure her. As she drew closer to that door, her trepidation was increasing. When she saw even more graphic displays inside, she would recall what he had the power to demand from her. She’d remember all the things Raithe had done to her.

And Mason wouldn’t be at her back.

Taking the risk of unwelcome attention, he used vampire speed. Before she was halfway across the parking lot, he was beside her.

He put his hand on the small of her back, just above the tiger’s paw. Both of them a sign of protective possession he hoped would reassure her, even if it didn’t do a damn thing for him but goad his own savage nature.

23

T
HE easing in her chest at his reappearance, the heat at her back, didn’t entirely dispel her irritation with him, but it helped. To be honest, she’d wanted to jump him when she got out of the limo. As he’d shifted to hand her out of the vehicle, she’d noted the polished boots beneath the slacks had silver buckles at the ankle. He’d brushed his hair severely from his face and clasped the tail at his nape with a silver buckle as well, emphasizing the relentless sculpting of cheekbones and straight, aristocratic nose.

She assumed his choice of shirt was a nod to the environment, and while she was nervous about the club, she was willing to be thankful to it for this reason at least. The shirt was a black silk T-shirt that showed off his impressive biceps, the broadness of his shoulders. However, the fabric was a tight mesh, showing the tiger to good advantage in back, but providing a thin screen from touch. If she ran her fingers beneath it, she could imagine the mesh sliding over her knuckles as she explored the musculature of his pectorals, the flat nipples and sectioned stomach, down to the waistband of the slacks.

Yes, he was always a feast for the eyes. Unfortunately, he kept resisting her, throwing her own emotions and fears up to block her.

As he reached Amara and Enrique, waiting at the door, he nodded to them, relaxed and in control. It made her want to choke him.

Mason wanted to laugh at the thought. If she only knew. Amara was admiring the decorative mask, but Enrique’s intent gaze told him his servant was picking up his agitation. Mason forced his shoulders to ease, his fingers to open so they wouldn’t threaten to smash into the faces of the nearest men openly gawking at her. They were still outside the club. Inside, rules were far more stringent about approaching claimed property. It made him glad he hadn’t removed the collar. But it would be removed eventually, wouldn’t it?

He knew his thought came through as a snarl, from the slight widening of Enrique’s gaze.
Show her around and take her to the
dance floor,
he ordered.
I won’t be far.

He was going to get a drink. While alcohol had no effect on vampires, the psychological benefit of downing a bottle of ninety-proof something might be distracting. At least give him something to grip other than the soft body he truly wanted to grasp.

Amara lifted her brow but slid her arm through Jess’s without comment, shepherding her forward. Enrique followed them, Mason approving of his male servant’s strategic flanking. It was more crowded tonight than Mason liked, but the few vampires who came were much younger and more provincial. They likely weren’t apprised of Jessica’s disappearance, let alone that she was now under his protection.

Inside the club it was crowded, noisy and dark. The pounding music made Jessica feel as though they’d stepped inside the body of a living animal, the bass line of the music its heartbeat, the people the rushing tide of blood cells. It was a familiar scene to her, and yet it wasn’t. While some of the trappings were the same, there was a different tone she managed to identify, enough to latch on to it and use it to bolster her courage.

“Everything you are seeing is consensual.” Amara’s reminder, spoken loudly in her ear, was as if the woman had read her mind, and maybe she had.

Past the foyer, they stepped into a wide corridor, lined with St. Andrew’s crosses. It reminded her of a life-sized paper doll chain, like the ones she’d cut in grade school, trying to remember where to make the snips so she didn’t cut the chain apart. The crosses were in use, a place for Masters and Mistresses to restrain their slaves and display them for the touch of others if they chose.

Amara’s fingers stroked hers, soothing and anticipating.

Jessica did feel the fear rising, held by the thinnest of leashes. But Amara and Enrique were here with her, and somewhere in the crowd was Mason, his presence as much a thrum through her body as the pounding music.

She’d been the kind of child who hated to be afraid. She was the first to climb the too-tall tree, run her bike up the makeshift ramp to do the wheelie that could crack her skull. She’d take any schoolyard dare, not because the dare was issued, but because if it caused her a scrap of fear, she was determined to eradicate it. Facing the fear let her see past it, to what mattered.

Whenever too much of the animal in Mason came to the surface, he denied himself to bring it in check. While there was wisdom to that, because she did understand the savagery in his nature, she wanted to face his beast. She needed to know the unique nature of it. Otherwise, she was back in the schoolyard again, denying herself a wondrous mystery if she didn’t stand before it, slay her fear and embrace that beast.

The thought gave her the courage to plant her feet and stare down her fear, hovering over this corridor. She held the word
consensual
in both hands, willing herself to believe what Mason and his servants had been telling her for over two months. After all, it was the primary rule of the club, posted clearly in each section, illuminated by black light.
Consensual play only. Guests who
violate this rule, in the opinion of management, will be escorted from the premises and their membership revoked. No
exceptions.

So bolstered by internal and external reassurances, she gave herself permission to look. Really look. On the first St. Andrew’s cross a woman had been stripped naked and spread wide, facing the crowd. Her Master was teasing her sex with fingers glistening with her juices while her head thrashed. Her mouth opened, releasing cries lost in the noise, but that didn’t make them any less potent. Her fingers clutched against her bonds, and when he stepped onto the dais provided to reach her face, she sought his mouth eagerly, taking the kiss he awarded her, his hand cupping the back of her head.