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Authors: Selena Illyria

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Draven's Crossing: Tempestuous Crossings

BOOK: Draven's Crossing: Tempestuous Crossings
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Draven’s Crossing:

Tempestuous Crossings

Selena Illyria

 

Published by Purple Sword Publications, LLC

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

 

DRAVEN’S CROSSING: TEMPESTUOUS CROSSINGS

Copyright © 2010 SELENA ILLYRIA

ISBN 978-1-936165-68-1

Cover Art Designed by Anastasia Rabiyah

Photograph © Jimmy Thomas, RomanceNovelCovers.com

Edited by D. Thomas Jerlo and Stephanie Taylor

 

 

To Diana, Cyn, H and Michelle.

 

 

 

Chapter One

 

His blood burned. Arousal slid up and down his spine, hardening his balls and causing his stomach to clench. Draven’s cock pressed against the zipper of his slacks, making him uncomfortable. He wanted to adjust his position, but had no desire to draw attention to himself. Eyeing the woman doing the presentation, he remained with his ass pressed against the ledge of the desk and prayed for relief soon. Her nervousness tinged the air with wisps of a sour perfume.

“As you can see, this charity ball will not only be good for our image, but also allow you some leverage with the parties involved in the negotiation for equal rights.” She licked her lips, making her already glossy mouth shine. He nearly groaned aloud; slick, puffy, red lips.
That mouth would look so fucking sweet around my cock.

Unable to resist, he shifted his position, hoping to alleviate some of the pressure he felt. Just as he thought, her gaze darted toward him and then back at the group sitting around his board table. In an act of nervousness, she smoothed down the plain tan jacket of her suit, which only drew attention to the outline of her breasts. Full, ripe mounds that he was sure would fit perfectly in his hands. He shifted again from one foot to the other. The pressure inside of him ratcheted up another notch.

Licking her lips again, she bent over, ducking her head as she rifled through some papers on the table. Corkscrew curls bounced and shook at the small movement. Draven wanted to thread his fingers through those silken strands, grab a handful, and pound into her from behind. His cock jumped. Desire sizzled along his nerve endings and created a wildfire through his veins.

“Miss Andrews, your idea is a good one, but charity balls don’t exactly raise the revenue we’re hoping for,” one of his advisors pointed out. “The fetes always seem more for the haves rather than the have-nots. How are we supposed to make this accessible to everyone?”

Switching to business mode, Draven nodded in agreement and watched her reaction through narrowed eyes. Her nervousness increased, drawing out the predator in him. He wanted that reaction; he wanted her to fear and want him. An image of chasing her down a long, dark corridor danced before him. Her fear mingled with desire as he chased her. He loved it.

The woman, whose name he hadn’t caught when the meeting had started, smoothed her hands over a tight skirt that hugged her hips. A groan began in his chest. He squashed it, refusing to lose control, even though every cell in his body wanted to go to her, pull her out of the room and trace her figure with his hands before ripping off every stitch of clothing she wore. She licked her lips again. The groan returned, and he ignored it.
Not yet
, he admonished himself.

“That’s why the ticket price will only be five dollars, affordable to everyone,” she answered.

“And the ad campaign?” another of his advisors asked.

“We’ll have ads in every area of the city and on television,” she replied. She held her head high meeting his gaze. Confidence pushed away the earlier fear.

“As you can see, Rose has thought this plan through. If you read the information we passed out at the start of the meeting, you’ll have all the ways we intend to reach our target audiences and what we hope to accomplish with the charity ball. We look forward to your call.” Rose’s partner pushed back his chair and stood. It was clear that the meeting was over for him.

Rose, such a delicate name. I bet she has thorns to go with that beauty.
Draven watched the scene play out. As usual, his advisors looked to him for guidance. He straightened, running his hands over his jacket, thankful that it was long enough to cover his erection. Focused on Rose, he stalked to the front of room.

“I’ll say when this is over. After all, I’m the mayor of this town.” Allowing a bit of power to roll over the room, he watched her nostrils flare. The fear was back in the air, and he drank it in. Standing close to her, but not quite touching, he watched her body stiffen. Something sweet and musky joined in the sour aroma wafting off of her. He almost smiled.
My little flower finds me attractive.

“It was a good presentation, and you certainly answered the questions. Rose was it?” He allowed her name to come out in a gruff purr. Pausing, he watched her reaction. Her pupils dilated. She moved nearer, but only a millimeter or so. Disappointment twined with satisfaction. He wanted her closer, but knew that wouldn’t be possible. They were in a business setting, and there were people in the room with them. “Rose, you still haven’t guaranteed me that any of the money put into this venture would be returned to us and then some. I need to show that I can make money for this town. Elections are coming up. I may be in the lead, but my opponent makes a good point: out-of-towners don’t consider this a vacation spot. I need the hotels and motels booked up and the inns full. I need to cast a wider net with this, and all you’ve given me is local color.”

Draven invaded her personal space. If she allowed her fear to control her actions, she’d step back, and he would be disappointed. Rose didn’t disappoint him. Tilting her head on a slim neck, she looked right into his eyes.
No fear. Fuck, she’s perfect.
Very few people looked a vampire in the eyes. Especially not one as old as he was.

“That’s why there will be commercials and internet ads placed on high traffic sites. Ones directed at the type of clientele we want coming to our fair city,” she responded with challenge in her eyes and tone. Holding her head higher, she looked like a queen instead of a simple mortal.

Waving away her words with his hand, he countered her argument. “People will fast forward through it with their DVRs and use ad blocker, so they won’t see it. Give me something else.” He leaned down and pressed his size upon her short height. Draven guessed her to be about five feet, three inches to his six feet, five inches. Bringing his face closer, he inhaled her scent. Musky desire joined with the heat of challenge along with the soft mix of the jasmine, roses, lavender, vanilla that made up her perfume, and something else.

“So, we’ll do flyers.”

“Fodder for the recycle bin.” He held back a smile as thoughts flitted across her face like lightning.

Her lips thinned, and she refused to break eye contact. “We’ll form a street team like musicians do.”

“They’ll want perks. What can we give them? I need more ideas,” he pressed.

“Celebrity endorsements,” she shot back.

“Who could we possibly get? They’d demand pay.” He leaned his head closer, taking in more of her heady perfume. Her fragrance, her presence, everything she was seeped into him and went straight to his head. It had been centuries since someone had intrigued him like this.

“We’ll say it’s for charity, because you’re supposed to be the grandson of Dracula.” The gasps from around the room told him that his advisors felt she’d gone too far.

Draven had never spoken about his heritage, nor did he like to discuss his relationship with one of the world’s most notorious vampires. He hated his great-grandfather, which was very well known. Instead of dismissing her, he rose to her challenge.

“I loathe the spotlight. I may love this town, but I won’t whore myself for it.” Draven waited for her response, sensing she wasn’t done.

“And yet you’re the mayor. Doesn’t that mean you whore yourself anyway?” She blinked. Spice infused her essence as embarrassment appeared on her face. He smelled the blood rushing to the surface of her skin, hot, metallic heaven.

“Miss Andrews that’s uncalled for,” someone admonished.

“Rose, apologize. Sir, I’m so sorry, she didn’t mean that,” her associated started.

“Yes, she did.” Draven murmured.
If we were alone, I’d be balls deep inside of her, fucking both our brains out. Damn, she’s glorious.
His incisors throbbed. Saliva pooled in his mouth, and his dick pressed more persistently against his fly as yearning flared hot enough to burn inside of him. Rose stepped back. He almost brought his hand to reach out and draw her into his orbit again. Instead, he let her go, tasting her need for distance. The hunter in him hated to put anything between them, even if it was air. He continued to look at her, wanting her more with each second that passed.

“And she’s right.” He gave her a smile. “But that doesn’t excuse her not having any ideas for how to reach those outside of our town. I want this ball to be on par with Carnevale di Venice.”

Turning his back on her was hard, but he had to. He walked across the room, settled down behind his desk and allowed his gaze to wander over everyone in the room before settling back on Rose.

“I have a challenge for you, Ms. Andrews. Give me what I want, and if I win this election, I’ll put you in charge of my P.R.”
And I’ll make sure that we’ll be using every inch of this office to fuck on. You will be mine, Rose Andrews.

BOOK: Draven's Crossing: Tempestuous Crossings
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