Lust Immortal (Immortal Series Book 1)

Lust Immortal

Carrie Kelly

Copyright 2014 by Carrie
Kelly

Published by Carrie
Kelly

Cover Art:

© Can Stock Photo Inc. /konradbak

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter
One

“Isabel!”

She’d hardly
had the chance to clean the dirt and sweat from her skin when she heard the
familiar call. Rising from the water, Isabel grabbed her thin linen towel and
dried off as quickly as possible before pulling on her chemise and robe. She
didn’t have time to tie up her long, chestnut colored hair, so she left it
hanging down her back, the wetness soaking through the material and clinging to
her skin.

“Master
wants you,” Tabby said, a lit candle in her hand as she peaked in the room.

“Have the
rest of the bath,” Isabel said and hurried out. Her slippers slapped against
the flagstone floors of the mansion. When she reached the door to the sitting
room, she took a deep breath and stepped inside.

The fire in
the hearth provided the only light in the room, throwing shadows over
everything. Master Charles and Master William both lounged in leather chairs.
While Master William’s navy blue suit and cravat were both immaculate, Master
Charles had untied his so it hung loose around his neck. Both men had the
perfect bone structure and smooth, pale skin of their kind, although Charles
had plain brown hair while William’s shone as black as a night without stars. Charles,
she knew, was hungry as he eyed her stepping into the room. William’s eyes, green
as an emerald, gave nothing away. They never had- not in the ten years she’d
known him.

“How may I
help my Masters?” she asked and curtsied. Isabel knew what Charles wanted, but
part of being a good servant involved asking.

A smile
twisted Charles’ perfect mouth. “I’m famished, but I believe my dear brother
also has something to speak to you about.”

William stared
at the fire, not raising his eyes to hers.

Isabel
stepped closer, and her heart pounded in her chest. In all the years she’d
known him, William hadn’t ever touched her- not once, even though his hunger
led him to other servants in the house. To him she was simply an indentured
servant working until she paid off her debt. They’d rescued her from a life of
misery on the streets of London as a girl and taken her all the way to the New
World, asking only for her service in return.

“I wish to
discuss that matter in private,” William said, annoyance coming through in his
rich voice.

Charles
shrugged. “I’ll just have a sip before I leave,” he said and pulled Isabel on
his lap with startling speed.

She braced
herself for the bite, the sudden pierce of the fangs entering her neck and drawing
out her blood. Charles hands wrapped around Isabel’s waist, gripping onto the
flat of her stomach and traveling up toward her adequate breasts.

“No corset?”
Charles whispered as his hands cupped her bosoms.

Isabel bit
her lip to keep from moaning. If she closed her eyes she could pretend the
strong hands holding her belonged to William and not Charles, but at the moment
she didn’t want to look away from the devastatingly handsome man in front of
her- even if she was in such a shameful position.

“You know
how the council feels about such relationships,” William said, his voice
neutral, but his eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.

“Do you
think I give a damn what the council thinks?”

“If you like
your life the way it is you would,” William said and sighed.

Charles
snorted and his soft lips pressed into the delicate skin on Isabel’s neck. “She
smells divine. I can’t believe you’ve never even tasted her, dear brother.”

William took
a deep breath and brought his eyes to Isabel’s for the first time since she’d
entered the room. She met his gaze, the intensity of his stare making the
butterflies flutter in her stomach and the longing for him burned across her
skin. Why did he avoid her? When she was a girl he’d been kind but always
distant. Always just out of reach. Now that she’d grown and he’d stayed the
same, like his kind was prone to do, she wondered what she’d done wrong to
incite such disinterest.

Slowly,
Charles fangs sunk into her neck, and Isabel gasped as they entered her flesh.
The bite had a painful twinge but only just. Once he started sucking the sensations
evened out and heat pooled between her thighs. The beating of her heart sped up
and her breathing increased to ragged gasps with each draw of blood from her
body.

“Enough!”
William shouted and stood.

Charles
chuckled as he pulled out his fangs and licked at the tiny puncture wounds. “I
didn’t take much.”

“Get out. I
need her sensible.”

“Whatever
you say, dear brother,” Charles said got up after lifting Isabel from his lap. “I
do hope Tabitha’s still awake.”

Once Charles
shut the door and his footsteps faded deeper into the house, William handed
Isabel a handkerchief from his pocket. Reaching out, she took it from him,
hoping one of his long fingers would brush against hers, but he withdrew them
too quickly.

“Sit down,”
he said.

“Master?”

“I said sit
down, Isabel.”

She lifted
the handkerchief to her neck, although she knew the marks were too small to
bleed much, and sat on the edge of the chair. Sitting back felt wrong.

“Did we
interrupt you?” he asked as his eyes traveled over her damp, unkempt state.

The heat
rose to Isabel’s cheeks and she hoped the dim light of the fire would conceal
her blush. “I was in the bath.”

“Well, I
hope you forgive the disturbance.”

 “Of
course, Master,” Isabel said and shifted in her seat. Her hair still clung to her
back and she felt a mess sitting across from William in his fine eveningwear.

“Do you know
why I wished to speak with you?” he asked, his eyes burning into hers.

Isabel’s
breath caught in her throat as she nodded. She’d counted down the days, crossed
them off her little hand drawn calendar for years. At first she couldn’t wait
until the far off time when she’d be free. Now that the prospect loomed in
front of her, she wasn’t sure what to do with it. Yes, she could pursue her
dreams, but she’d also be apart from William. Not that he probably cared about
the latter. She was young and pretty. Perhaps she’d find a husband and build a
modest home with him. That would be acceptable.

He kept his
eyes on the fire. The shadows danced across his straight nose and high
cheekbones, making him look more dangerous than beautiful. “Your servitude will
be up in a week’s time. As the contract states, we will provide you with a tidy
sum, I believe we agreed on twenty pounds but we’ll have to give you pieces of
eight instead. Does that sound fair?”

The thought
of twenty silver coins, more money than Isabel had ever seen, made her eyes
widen. “That much?”

“Your
service these past ten years has been worth it,” William said, and the shadow
of a smile spread across his lips.

With that
much money she’d be able to find room and board with no problem. She could even
travel to a different city, like New York or Boston, and start her new life.
“Thank you.”

William
nodded and cleared his throat. “What do you plan to do with your freedom?”

Isabel
looked at her small, slender hands. She was a good seamstress- she’d even made
the suit William wore at the moment. Perhaps she could do something along those
lines. “Work in a dress shop, perhaps.”

“In Philadelphia?”
he asked and looked at her. A flicker of sadness crossed his eyes.

“If I can
find work.”

William
nodded and looked away suddenly, taking a deep breath. “How does your neck
feel?”

Isabel
touched it. The familiar soreness spread from the wound, but it would be gone
by morning. “It’s fine, Master.”

William’s
hands dug into the chair’s smooth leather and set his jaw. “You can also stay
on as a servant in our care, if you desire. You’ll no longer be indentured,
Isabel, so you’ll receive a salary and more freedom than you now know- such as
the ability to marry, if you choose.”

The offer
took her off guard, and she stared at him for a long time before she spoke. She
could stay and serve him, the man she’d longed after for years- or she could go
out on her own and find a new life. The choice seemed so obvious, so why did it
feel like it wasn’t? No matter how much she wanted William, he had no desire
for her. That much was clear. Leaving him would hurt at first, but she’d be
able to meet someone new. A man who cared about her like he never had. Perhaps
she could even be happy.

“I’m not
sure that’s a good idea, Master.”

William sat
still for a long moment before turning to look at her. “Why not? Have we not
accommodated you? Been kind to you? Most of my brethren are not so.”

Isabel stared
at him, the gentle curve of his ears, the way his dark hair came loose from the
ribbon holding it back, and sighed. “Yes. Both you and Master Charles have been
kind. But I’m not sure I can find happiness here.”

William
moved back, as if he’d been physically struck. “You’ve been unhappy?”

Tears filled
her eyes unbidden. She hadn’t realized until she spoke the words aloud how
lonely she’d been. Yes, she had Tabby and John the stable hand, but she didn’t
have love. She hadn’t had love since the sickness claimed both her mother and
father. And although her heart filled with passion for him- William didn’t
believe humans and vampires should intermingle. He’d said so himself that very
evening.

“Isabel,”
William said, his voice softening like it hadn’t in years.

Wiping away
the tears, she looked at him. “No. I’ve been alone for the past ten years. I
have no companionship and no love, Master, although that’s all I want. I- I’m
not sure why you dislike me so. Have I ever wronged you? Is my work
unacceptable?”

“Of course not!”

Isabel
stood, her slender frame trembling as the words she’d bottled up for years
tumbled out of her mouth. “As I child I idolized you, and as I grew into a
woman I wished you would notice me, but you never have. Do you realize you’ve
never once touched me? Not even on my hand? I’m your servant, yet you’ve never
once tried to drink of my blood! Tabby and Sarah and all the girls that came
and went must have satisfied you in a way I never could.”

William
looked at the fire again, his skin taut against his bones and paler than
moonlight. “I have good reasons.”

Isabel stood
her ground and went on. Caution was for girls, and she was a woman. “Reasons
enough to let your friends feast on me as they see fit while you watch on? I
would rather die than have Mr. Moorish touch me again. I would rather die than
watch you drink from other woman, wrap your arms around them in an embrace I’ll
never have. If you want me to stay, you’ve given me no reason!”

William said
nothing, and the silence stretched between them broken only by the crackling of
the fire. Tears fell down Isabel’s cheeks, but she didn’t bother to wipe them
away. Absently, she wondered if she’d get lashed for speaking out. Servants in
other households had.

“Is that all
you have to say?” William finally asked.

The words
pierced Isabel’s heart like a knife, but they also gave her a new resolve. She
stepped in front of him, the heat of the fire warming her back, and bent down.

“Isabel,
what are you doing?” William breathed, his green eyes wide and almost fearful.

Strange. He
never seemed to be afraid of anything. She took his hand and brought it to her
cheek. “I wish you loved me the way I love you.”

William’s
fingers trembled as they made contact with the smoothness of her skin, the
dampness of her fresh tears, but he didn’t move away.

Slowly, she let
him go and turned to leave, but his hand gripped on to her wrist. Her heart
sped up as his fingers dug into her flesh. Without a word, he stood up and
pressed his body against her back- his coolness seeping warmth from her. Isabel
didn’t dare breath for fear he might stop- might step away and never touch her
again.

Without a
word, he wrapped his hands around her waist and untied the robe, pulling it
down over her shoulders and letting it fall into a lifeless heap on the floor. Underneath
the sheer cotton of the chemise, she trembled, knowing he could full well make
out the outline of her naked body beneath it.

“Are you
scared of me, Isabel?” he asked, his breath brushing her ear.

“No,” she
whispered.

“Perhaps you
should be.”

He ran his
cool fingers over her shoulders and down the front of her chemise, rubbing his
fingers over the pink nipples until they stood erect in his hands. “You respond
to my touch so well.”

“Yes,” she
whispered, and leaned back into him.

His lips met
the undamaged side of her neck and spread into a slow smile.

Each touch,
each caress left Isabel wanting more. Her mind fogged with a mixture of
disbelief and passion as his hands explored her. They traveled out of her
chemise and over the flimsy material to grip her small waist and stroke the
roundness of her hips. Heat rushed between her legs as her beasts heaved. The
cotton scraped against her flesh, guided by his knowing hands. The chill of his
touch left her skin burning as his fingers trailed away.