Bloodlust Denied (3 page)

He loosened his grip on her and wrapped his arms around her waist, savoring her warmth and softness. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d held a woman in his arms this way. Couldn’t recall the last time he’d wanted to.

Lies
.

He could remember. He chose not to. Because remembering brought nothing but futile fury and impotent heartache and he was beyond that now. It no longer mattered.

More lies.

Yet still he held her, the contact oddly satisfying despite the rabid hunger rampaging through his veins, clamoring at the gates of his resistance. His head dropped and he buried his face into her soft hair, relishing its silky fineness, its fresh fragrance.

Her blood would surely be the sweetest in creation. He closed his eyes against temptation, but temptation throbbed in every beat of her heart, every rise and fall of her breasts.

A thought strayed into his sex-soaked mind. Perhaps he would keep this woman for a while, enjoy her lush body. Use her until she no longer amused him and only then claim his bloodlust.

Could he possibly exercise such restraint? When had he ever denied himself?

It had been an eternity since he’d set himself a challenge, and what greater challenge could there be but to deny himself the orgasmic oblivion drinking her blood promised?

His cock, still buried in her wet heat, stirred. There was time for another quick fuck before he clouded her mind and sequestered her at his country estate.

She levered herself upright, folded arms braced against his chest as she stared at him. Confused disbelief mingled with remnants of desire flickered across her face.

He shifted, silently cursing the rough stone wall that dug into his buttocks. On second thought, he’d take her directly back to his country home. Comfort was always a bonus.

“That was unexpected.” Her breathless whisper drew him back to the present.

Amusement bubbled deep in his chest at her obvious surprise.

“Have you always faked fulfillment until now?” He knew her orgasm had been genuine. Women had no need to pretend with him. The danger he exuded subconsciously enhanced their arousal. Besides, the second he sank his fangs into their trembling flesh the mingling fluids ensured climax was inevitable.

But he hadn’t sunk his fangs into this woman’s flesh.

“No.” A swift frown marred her flawless brow. “But I didn’t expect it with
you
.”

Shock stabbed through him, an emotion he’d long since thought himself incapable of experiencing.

“Should I be offended?” His thickening erection certainly wasn’t.

If she noticed his increasing arousal—
and how could she not?—
she chose to ignore it.

“If you wish.” She sounded indifferent to his feelings.

He didn’t possess feelings. Except, strangely, her indifference intrigued him.

“I didn’t expect such pleasure either.” He offered her a smile, which never failed to melt the most frigid of women. And this woman was far from frigid.

Her eyes glittered. She didn’t smile back.

“I didn’t say I found pleasure in this coupling.” Disgust tinged her words. “It was simply physical release.”

His cock jerked with renewed need and her jaw clenched. She obviously resented his continued intrusion. He angled his hips so she felt his swollen length invade her farther.

“You excel in your profession.” He tilted his head in mock respect. “You delivered and I willingly pay your price.”

The tip of her tongue slid between her lips, an oddly innocent gesture that inexplicably entranced him.

“I doubt that.” Her voice was low, husky, and her lashes fluttered over her eyes concealing their expression.

“Try me.” His whisper promised her delights she could scarcely imagine. His wealth, accrued over centuries, could buy her whatever she desired for as long as she continued to entertain him with her contradictory tongue.

“I have tried you.” Her gaze clashed with his. “And I find you wanting.”

Silence shivered in the warm night air as he stared into her defiant eyes. An odd sensation snaked through his chest. Incredulity, disbelief,
amazement
at her sheer audacity for daring to suggest his technique was somehow lacking.

It even dampened the keening bloodlust. But enhanced the need to ride her again, to show her more surely than words ever could how miserably she lied.

“You have a unique way of interacting with your clients. Aren’t you concerned one of them might object to your,” he paused for a telling moment, “candid manner?”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

Strange, yet he believed her. And it served to heighten his intention to keep her for his own. Until he tired of her and finished this encounter the way he finished all his nameless encounters.

Holding her securely against his groin with one arm, he brushed damp curls from her cheek and then traced the outline of her face with his finger. He knew she objected to his touch by the way she clenched her jaw and thinned her lips, but she didn’t protest verbally or by trying to pull away.

“What’s your name?” The question was idle. Yet it was a question he rarely asked of his victims. Why did he care what they called themselves? He would never use their name.

But he would call this one’s name.

For a moment, he didn’t think she was going to respond. Disappointment flickered through him. He didn’t want to inflict his powers of persuasion upon her. Somehow it wouldn’t be the same, although he wasn’t sure why he believed that.

She puffed out an impatient breath. “Morana.”

“Morana.” He tasted her name and found it pleasing. “I have a proposition for you, Morana.”

She unfolded her arms and shoved at his shoulders. It got her nowhere. “I don’t want to hear your proposition.”

He twirled an errant curl around his finger. “I haven’t given you the choice.”

Her naked breast rose and fell, her erect nipple a succulent temptation. Reluctant curiosity gleamed in her eyes and her pussy rippled around his length, a lover’s caress.

And then the cursed violinist intruded, the urgent vibrato hammering through his brain, shattering the moment. Morana blinked rapidly as though awakening from a dream.

“Unhand me.” Her demand was a sultry whisper, and her now gentle hands caressed his jaw. “And I will listen to your proposition.”

A smile tugged his lips. She knew as well as he, she had no option but to hear him, whether he released her or not. He held her unflinching gaze long enough to convey that knowledge before slowly relaxing his hold.

It didn’t matter if she ran. She could never escape him.

She braced her weight on his shoulders and flicked him a barely concealed glance of resentment for her inability to rise from their embrace without support. He offered her a sardonic smile in return, and a shudder of dark pleasure ripped through his groin as she lifted herself from his erection.

He wrapped his hand around his shaft, wet from her juices and his come. His eyes never left her as she sensuously arched her back, black hair cascading to the filth-strewn gutter. And then she writhed, arms above her head, hips undulating, and her fluidity was mesmeric, unearthly. As if she was a part of the haunting notes that filled the air and obliterated all sensation save that of the need to possess her once again.

Faster she swirled, her silken gown molded to her waist and hips and legs. Her naked breast taunted him, her luscious nipple a dark invitation. Yet she appeared unaware of her state of dishabille, unaware of her surroundings. Unaware of anything but the sensual manipulation of her body as a physical counterpoint to the haunting strains of the cursed violin.

Blood thudded in his temples, thudded along his thickening cock. He should halt this exhibition instantly, eliminate the pimp and take Morana back to his estate. But he couldn’t tear his gaze from her, couldn’t summon the will to rise to his feet and wring the virtuoso’s scrawny neck.

Harder he pumped his slick cock. Imagined it was Morana’s small hand holding him. He gripped his balls, squeezed his sac. Pressure built from the base of his spine and arrowed through his root. He tried to hold back, tried to prevent the inevitable but for once, his control eluded him. His thigh muscles tensed and with a guttural roar, he came, violently, inexcusably, his body convulsing, his mind screaming denial.

Panting, he glared through the gathering blackness. The lantern had gone out, the music ceased and Morana had vanished.

Concealed in her carriage Morana stared blindly into the night as the faceless driver negotiated the dark streets. Her heart still pounded against her breasts and it had little to do with her dance and everything to do with the dark stranger she’d just inexplicably fucked.

“Interesting.” Thanatos, her only companion for years without number, sounded intrigued. She looked at him, watched him tenderly smooth one pale hand over his beloved violin before returning her gaze. “We’ve never miscalculated before, Morana.”

She tugged her bodice more securely over her breast. Her flesh was raw from where the stranger had manhandled her. Heat flooded her cheeks and pooled between her thighs as she recalled how his lips had felt as he tasted her throat and suckled her nipple.

“There’s a first time for everything.” The trite words hung heavy in the carriage, as a thread of terror wound through her heart, chilling her blood with unsavory possibilities.

She had mistaken a mortal for a vampire. Did that mean her perception was clouding?

Thanatos took her hand, brushed her knuckles briefly across his lips. His touch was as comforting as that of the brother she had once loved and lost. “One misjudgment is nothing to concern ourselves with.”

It concerned her. How could she continue with her crusade if she could no longer trust her judgment?

“Do you think there’s something that might explain this in the contract?”

Thanatos’ smile vanished at the thought of the contract they had made with Death.

“You want to consult the contract?” His tone conveyed how little he relished that thought. “Surely there’s no need for that, Morana. Take tonight for what it was.” His long elegant fingers caressed the gleaming maple of his violin. “You desired the man and decided to take him.” Then he shot her an inappropriate grin. “Thank you for the erotic show. It was fascinating.”

She gripped her blood-smeared fingers together. “I was merely attempting to get the creature to expose himself.”

It was the truth. And yet it was another lie because the only reason she had allowed him such liberties with her body was because his touch had incinerated her inhibitions and vaporized her innate repugnance for all his kind.

Want throbbed between her thighs, trembled through her tender slit. She’d ridden him as if her life depended on it, and perhaps it had because she’d never been so mesmerized by a physical entity before. Only Thanatos’ hypnotic notes could raise her from the drudgery of this existence. Only her dancing shimmered orgasmic delight through every atom of her incorporeal self.

Yet tonight, physical orgasm had shattered her corporeal being. A climax so intense she could still feel the aftereffects spiraling through her blood, could still feel
his
hands on her body,
his
lips on her skin,
his
cock buried deep inside her clenching pussy.

“Morana, beloved.” Thanatos flashed a sardonic smile that was at odds with his boyishly handsome face. “He exposed himself most admirably.” He ran a finger along her bare arm and she shivered, recalling the way
he
had touched her. “What was it about him that captured you?”

“I don’t know.” She closed her eyes and sank back against the luxuriously upholstered seat. It had never happened before. “Something inside me seemed drawn to him.”

Thanatos was silent for a moment. “If I hadn’t called you, would you have agreed to his proposition?”

Would she? What kind of proposition would a creature—a man—
whatever
he
was
—like that make to a woman he had just fucked in a filthy back alley?

“Quite likely.” There was no point lying to Thanatos. The dark stranger had captivated her despite the way she’d tried to escape his clutches, and only the urgent strains of the violin had shaken her bemused senses awake.

“Morana.” He glided his fingertips over her silk clad thigh. “Such a liaison is fraught with danger, but if you wish to indulge then I’m only too willing to accompany you on a short sabbatical.”

Hot visions of spending endless nights in the stranger’s arms assaulted her heated mind. A strange ache whispered through her heart for everything she had lost, had forgotten and could never again recapture.

It was tempting madness to even imagine such an encounter wouldn’t end in bloodshed, real or metaphysical or both.

She pushed aside insanity and embraced the starkness of her reality. It was the only way she could survive.

“I’ve no intention of seeing him again.” Man or creature, what did it matter? She could be nothing to either. “We’ll bring forward our plans to visit eastern Europe.”