Blood Red (24 page)

A red flash raced from Zayan’s right hand. It exploded against Yannick’s stomach. For an instant, Althea’s heart ceased to beat. But the light vanished and Yannick was still standing and thankfully unhurt. Absorbing the onslaught of power from the twins must have drained Zayan of his strength. Both Yannick and Bastien glowed with new power and their eyes burned with an eerie blue-white glow. Combining their powers had strengthened them—they seemed to be feeding off each other’s magic.

She should feel safe, triumphant, but the sight chilled her. It reminded her of what these men were. She was a mortal amongst demons.

Althea searched the bed and floor for her stakes. They were gone—found by Zayan and tossed aside. She hated to be without a weapon but she could see the twins didn’t need her help.

They drove Zayan back toward the fireplace. Each time he tried to dart to one side or the other, the twins combined their powers and sent fiery blasts to keep forcing him back. Did they mean to force him into the flames?

Zayan’s bare back was almost at the fire now. The flames danced behind him and with his mane of raven hair, his wild, fiery eyes, he looked Satan at the portal to hell.

Bastien threw a triumphant, cocky grin to Yannick, who returned the smile. Their hands lifted.

Whoosh.

The fire vanished, and a fierce wind swept through the room from the doors to the fireplace.

Blood Red by Sharon Page ©2006 Advance Reader Copy www.SharonPage.com 116

The candles extinguished, plunging the room into inky blackness. The air rushed by Althea’s cheeks. It was as though the fire had flown up the chimney and dragged the air in the room in its wake. Zayan’s red eyes no longer glowed by the wall.

Althea strained to see, but dots danced before her eyes. A loud rustle approached the bed, the swirl of turbulent air.

Wings. Something swooped past her, so close that her hair flew back as it passed.

She swung out, blind, determined to defend herself. Hit a warm chest.

It’s all right, love. He’s gone. Flown away.
Bastien.

How amazed she was by Bastien. She would not have had the courage to spare Zayan’s life.

She would have killed him out of fear.

Bastien’s arms slid around her; his lips brushed a kiss on the top of her head. She tumbled happily against his strong, reassuring body, embarrassed to lose her strength and courage.

She hugged him tight. They had saved her life, the Demon Twins. They had fought together for her. Tears threatened, tears of relief, and joy, and thanks.

Yannick rested his hand gently on her shoulders. He kissed her neck and she shivered at the sensation of being caught between the two powerful men.

Now, sweet,
Yannick whispered into her mind,
about your fantasies…

Blood Red by Sharon Page ©2006 Advance Reader Copy www.SharonPage.com 117

“A fitting place for an angel to lose her innocence to two demons.”

Althea gasped as Bastien scooped her up to carry her across the threshold into one of Zayan’s bedchambers. Yannick followed, carrying a bottle of Zayan’s wine, three glasses, and a candelabrum with three long white tapers.

Bastien’s golden brows waggled playfully. “Not Zayan’s candles, alas.”

“Zayan’s candles?” she asked.

“Desire-inducing. They inflame lust.”

She caught the play on words and groaned as Bastien nudged the door open with his bare foot. He crossed to the bed in two long strides. She found herself spinning, then dropping through the air. She bounced upon an enormous bed. Beneath her a cream and ivory silk counterpane bunched where she landed. This bed was the antithesis of Zayan’s black one in his mausoleum. Cream drapery was roped to gilt columns and white silk roses in bunches decorated the gold ropes.

Astonished, she stared at the feminine touches in the room. A white and gilt escritoire and a dainty chair with cream silk upholstery. A chaise of pure white, and white feathers in tall white vases.

Who could this room have been for? Bastien had told her about the submissive courtesans whom Zayan used. Was this lavish room intended for them? Had it been left by the previous family?

“Let us take that sodden dress off you.” Yannick placed the candles on the escritoire.

Althea took an unsteady breath. “Are you certain Zayan won’t return until dawn?”

“A little danger adds spice,” Bastien teased.

“Zayan will be feeding to regain his strength and to heal,” Yannick assured.

Which meant innocent village folk would be prey to him. She scrambled to sit up. Zayan’s house must be filled with secrets, with knowledge she could use to defeat him—

Bastien kissed her, a hot claiming kiss, and began to work at the buttons on her dress. Heat flooded her as his knuckles brushed her damp skin beneath the torn wool. She was a huntress…she couldn’t give in to her desires, she should search Zayan’s house….

But as though the drugging smoke filled her lungs, she gave a languorous sigh of pleasure into Bastien’s mouth. He kissed so beautifully he stole her will to move.

“You are perfect,” he murmured. “A goddess.”

“Exquisite,” Yannick agreed in a soft, coaxing tone.

Blood Red by Sharon Page ©2006 Advance Reader Copy www.SharonPage.com 118

She blushed at the blatant appreciation in both men’s eyes as her naked breasts came into view. Yannick helped her to her feet on the carpeted floor and her dress fell to her ankles. How wonderful to be free of its cold weight. How suddenly self-conscious she felt in the midst of her dream come to life. At least both men were naked now too, but they
were
exquisitely perfect.

But truly, they did look at her as though she were too.

Both men sat down onto the bed and patted their laps with matching devilish smiles. But she couldn’t choose. Simply couldn’t. Yannick watched her with intense silvery eyes, a vulnerable look on his gorgeous face. He had rescued her father, saved her life, made love to her in her dreams, had wanted to protect her. A demon and a hero—two things she’d never believed could coexist.

And naughty Bastien. The wild, wicked rogue who had refused to kill Zayan but had attacked the more powerful vampire to save her. Her heart thumped just as loudly for Bastien as it did for Yannick. Her heart and her nipples and her quim were blissfully unaware it was utterly wrong to fall in love with two men.

She sat on the bed between them and they laughed, throaty, gravelly laughs that vibrated in her aching quim. Yannick reached for the bottle, poured a glass and handed it to her. A sip for courage, she decided, but Bastien flopped back, pulling her with him, and before she could catch herself, she sprawled against him. To her relief, she balanced the glass, but wine sloshed over her breasts and droplets sprayed them both.

A delicious treat.
Bastien licked the wine running down her naked breasts.
Zayan has other
bedchambers filled with many toys we could use on you.

“I will not be whipped,” she declared, but not as forcefully as she should. Bastien’s tongue played such magic on her nipples, he left her breathless.

Yannick’s hand coasted over the small of her back as he drank. “Drink your wine, love.

You must thirst.” His palm followed the curves of her bottom. Cupped. Squeezed. Parted the cheeks and made her quiver. She had to grasp Bastien’s shoulder to steady herself.

She didn’t thirst. She hungered. Hungered for sin.

And as though they could read her mind, the Demon Twins delivered her into temptation.

To her shock, Bastien dipped his fingers into her wine, then delved between her thighs and rubbed wine over her hard clit. She laughed, filled with a wild madness.

Intense spikes of pleasure washed over her from behind. She half-turned to watch Yannick.

He coasted his tongue all over her plump bottom, teasing and tickling, and his finger gently stroked her puckered entrance until her feet tingled. He must have known, the rogue, for he skimmed his bare toes along them. She squealed. Wine spilled. They didn’t care, the demons, they thrust and sawed their fingers and licked until she screamed. Until she dropped her wine glass and it hit the floor. Until her back arched and her head fell back and she tensed like a drawn bow.

Twang!

It hit her like that. Screamed through her like a crossbow bolt. She bucked so wildly with her orgasm, she hit them both, and they both hugged her tight.

I do love watching her come.
Bastien kissed her damp forehead.

Yannick merely gave a lusty laugh, stroked her sensitive bottom, and bent to suckle her neck.

Blood Red by Sharon Page ©2006 Advance Reader Copy www.SharonPage.com 119

Her lids cracked open and she hazily saw Bastien’s mirror-like eyes.
I would love to taste
your blood, sweeting, and it would enhance the pleasure for you.

“No.” Yannick’s simple statement held the sharp authority of a warning.

Bastien merely smiled and retrieved her glass. He poured her more wine. Yannick stretched out along the bed behind her and teased her feet with his as she took a gulp of the fine French wine. The rich, deep red of blood, of course.

She stroked Yannick’s soles with her toes to tease him. His feet were rougher than hers and his toes very long. Her feet were soft and smooth, his were bony, crisscrossed with veins, so different. Men, she decided, had the most beautiful feet. They aroused her—but everything about these men aroused her.

“I like that,” Yannick murmured. He guided her hand between his legs. At her touch, he grew harder, longer, and she stroked his length.

God, but it is wonderful torture to have you make me hard again.

Althea stilled. He had been erect at least twice before and had been on the brink of making love to her. His cock appeared even larger this time and harder, which she hadn’t believed possible, and his ballocks had mysteriously vanished. Instead of dangling between his legs, the sack was a tight bulge and she could only feel one of the delicate eggs.

“My turn,” Bastien whispered and rolled her to him. Warmth engulfed her from behind as Yannick pressed close and his hot length slid between her thighs. Instinctively, she parted them and moaned as the thickness of Yannick’s cock pushed against her nether lips. She was slick, ready, and he used the tip to spread her fluid over her. But the thought of taking him in from behind as she kissed Bastien’s mouth—

But Yannick only let his member rest between her legs. Bastien released her from the kiss, reluctantly, and Yannick took his turn. His lips slid over her with confidence, almost with arrogance. He kissed her until heat rushed down to her toes and she soared in heaven, moaning with desire. She heard Yannick’s throaty chuckle. He was showing off in front of his brother!

At least, in this infantile competition, she was the true victor, she decided.

Bastien covered her bare shoulder with kisses. Althea felt hot, teased, tickled, as though she were still beneath one of the furs. She gave a sumptuous sigh and arched in pleasure. In her dream, she’d been a brazen bit of goods and had taken hold of each man’s cock at the same time.

She knew they would delight in it, but shyness kept her hands in more innocent places.

Barely innocent. Each of her hands was caught in the middle of a broad, naked chest.

Bastien’s mouth enveloped her nipple. The tug of his lips, the heat of his tongue, the tingle radiating from her nipple and spiraling down to her quim were familiar now, but no less enthralling.

She brushed kisses down Yannick’s throat. Eyes closed, she dipped her tongue into the hollow at the base of his neck, trailed her tongue across his collarbones. She loved the sweetness of his skin, the tang of his sweat. She moved lower and Bastien shifted to accommodate, his tongue twined around her hard nipple.

Opening her mouth wide, she took Yannick’s nipple into her mouth, delighting in his moan.

But to tease, she pushed Bastien away, forced him to stop suckling.

“Your turn,” she whispered and kissed Bastien’s nipple. She laved first the right then the left, pressing her lips over his heart.

Blood Red by Sharon Page ©2006 Advance Reader Copy www.SharonPage.com 120

“Sweet dove,” he whispered.

But would Yannick be hurt because she’d kissed both of Bastien’s nipples but only one of his? That wouldn’t do. She returned to him and snuggled in to reach his right nipple. Pressure of hands increased. Kneading her buttocks, stroking her breasts, drawing up the inside of her thighs. Fingers delved between her legs, and she should care whose, but she no longer could.

Fingers, sticky with her juices, caressed her bottom, her thighs, her navel, her breasts. Both men growled, low in their throats like dangerous wolves, as her potent scent filled the room.

Bastien gently tugged her away from Yannick’s nipple.

Voice husky, she chided, “I can’t ensure each man receives equal treatment! You must learn generosity of spirit and put aside competition and comparisons. You will have to be satisfied with what I choose to do.”

“Will I indeed?”

Which man had posed that challenge?

Yannick, she realized, as he rolled her onto her back. In his fire-bright eyes, she knew exactly what he meant to do. “Do you want this, angel?”

“Yes,” she urged. And she did. Desire overpowered nerves. “Now.”

Braced on his strong arms, Yannick lowered his hips between her legs. She spread them wide, knowing it was the position she should take, but with no idea of whether her legs should be parted just a little, or as wide as she could stretch.

But the instant the tip of his cock slid between her lips, she knew where she wanted her legs.

Wrapped around his hips.

“Patience, sweet angel,” Yannick admonished. “We will take our time.”

He lowered his mouth to her breast. To her surprise, Bastien took her other nipple in his mouth, lavishing loving caresses on it. He touched her everywhere Yannick did not, and she burned with need. She was so slippery, so wet, Yannick easily slid in further. Spreading her.