Seduce (Vampire Erotic Theatre Romance Series #3) (7 page)

“You’re scaring me.”

Sera looked up at him, feeling the weight of his body against hers. His open silver shirt draped over her and tickled her bare sides and his trousers were soft against her legs. He released one wrist and trailed his fingers over her cheek, and her eyes rose to meet his. Her fear of seeing the coldness in them melted under the warmth of his expression and the heat of the hunger in his blue eyes.

She didn’t know how to react when he lowered his head and kissed her, hard and dominant, forcing her mouth open with his tongue. It tangled with hers, cool and teasing, luring her into submission. She surrendered willingly, melting beneath him into the scuffed black stage, letting him lead as the kiss turned heated and passionate, a rough clashing of lips and teeth. Before she could think about what she was doing, she was raising her head off the stage, leaning into the kiss, seeking more from him.

Wasn’t she supposed to be angry with him about something?

It popped back into her head.

He was obviously using her. He was never going to give her what she truly craved from him. He would seek shallow satisfaction from her, an emotionless sexual relationship, and she wouldn’t be able to take it. She wasn’t made for that sort of thing. She couldn’t. The attraction she felt for him would blossom into something terrible, something that would end up killing her when he finally tired of her and cast her aside.

Sera slammed her fist into the side of his head, knocking him off her and into the red velvet couch beside them. She was on her feet before he could react, leaving him sitting on the floor.

“You are driving me crazy,” he whispered, his eyes ringed by red and fixed on her. He touched the bloom of crimson on his cheek where she had struck him and smiled grimly. At least it wasn’t a forced smile. It was as real as they came, if not a little frightening. What was he thinking in there? Did she drive him crazy in a good way, or a really bad way?

Was it wise to anger an aristocrat?

Antoine got to his feet, dusted down his black trousers, frowning at them, and then raised his head and looked straight back into her eyes.

At least the red had gone from his irises.

He raked his fingers through his thick dark brown hair. It was hard not to stare at the strip of body on view between the two sides of his open silver-grey shirt as he moved, his muscles flexing in a symphony so beautiful it would melt the hardest of hearts.

“Sera.” He spoke her name on a sigh, a soft exhalation that made it sound like a prayer to God, a plea for salvation.

She would give it to him if he only asked it of her. She would share the burden that weighed him down. He only had to speak to her and let her in. He only had to give up his fight.

Sera stood her ground as he approached, his steps slow and cautious, as though he feared she would either lash out at him or bolt again should he move any faster. She probably would. When he reached her, he brushed his knuckles across her cheek, curled his fingers around the nape of her neck, tangling them in her blonde hair, and lured her in for the softest kiss she had ever experienced.

It only lasted a bare second before he broke away to press his forehead to hers, their noses touching. He breathed hard, his chest brushing hers with each deep inhalation, and his fingers tightened against the nape of her neck, as though that brief kiss had been too much for him. It had been too much for her. The pleasure of it had been overwhelming, consuming, and devastating. Her heart pounded, the beat as fast as the one in her mind. Antoine’s.

“Sera,” he whispered, supplicating her again, and she wished she knew what he wanted when he said her name that way so she could give it to him. He sighed. “I do not want to hurt you.”

That was good. She didn’t want that either. She could definitely go along with that.

He stroked her cheek with his other hand and pressed his forehead harder against hers. His fingers clutched the back of her neck, his emotions taking a turn for the worse on her senses, so they blared in alarm. Danger. That wasn’t good.

“Antoine?” she said, hoping to bring him back from whatever dark place his thoughts had taken him.

He growled. “I do not want to hurt you... but I do not want to end up hurt, either.”

Sera reacted on instinct the second an immense wave of pain crashed over him and into her. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, pressing one hand against his shoulder blade and the other against the back of his head. He was surprisingly compliant, not fighting her as she moved and pulled him closer, so his head settled in the crook of her neck. His other arm snaked around her, fingers pressing in deeply, clutching her to him.

She frowned.

He was trembling.

What terrible scars did his heart bear?

She wanted to ask him that question but it would only drive him away.

He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, and then another, and worked towards her throat. She tipped her head to one side, letting him have his way, enjoying the softness of his mouth on her. He licked her, pressing his tongue into the line of her vein, and she moaned. Questions burned in her mind, things she needed answers to and was sure would give her clues as to how to unlock his heart. She wasn’t brave enough to stop him and pose them. If she did, she would ruin the moment. He wouldn’t answer them anyway. He wasn’t a man who would do as others ordered. He did everything on his own terms. If he wanted to tell her, then he would, in his own time.

For now, she was satisfied with the knowledge that he didn’t want to hurt her, and that part of his distance was because he too didn’t want to be hurt by someone.

Again.

“Antoine.” It was supposed to have come out as a question but it came out as a moan instead. He nibbled her throat with blunt teeth, froze and swallowed hard, and then pulled aside to drop kisses on her bare shoulder instead. He hooked his fingers into the straps of her navy bra and pulled them down her arms.

Her hands moved to mimic him, pushing at his shirt so it fell away from his shoulders at the same time as he unhooked her bra and cast it aside. She tugged each sleeve off his arms and opened her eyes, intent on kissing her way across his shoulder and running her fingers over his muscled arms, and paused.

The scars continued on his arms, thick and pronounced, some of them so deep that they had pulled the muscle into a strange distorted shape. Sera went to touch one. Antoine growled and pulled away, scooped his shirt off the floor and put it back on, covering his body.

Shielding himself from her inquisitive eyes.

“Antoine,” she whispered, as softly as she could, trying to show him that she hadn’t intended to question him about the scars again and that he didn’t need to hide them from her.

He turned his back on her and hung his head.

“Not quite what you thought I would look like?” he bit out on a dark snarl. “I bet you imagined me perfect, skin as flawless as your own, beautiful... not hideous.”

That had her feet moving. She came up behind him and slowly placed her hands on his shoulders so she didn’t startle him. She swept her palms over them, feeling their strength, and then back again, to his neck. There, she slipped her hands into his collar and started to lower his silver-grey shirt again, revealing inch after inch of scars on his back. He tensed.

Sera tiptoed and kissed each scar, from the ones that were barely a scratch to the ones that had damaged muscle irreparably. He didn’t pull away. He remained motionless, rigid, his breathing shallow and controlled. When her hands reached his, she tugged the cuffs of his shirt over them and then removed it completely. She tossed it away from them, onto one of the red velvet sofas that were part of the stage set, so he couldn’t reach for it and hide from her again.

He began to relax as she continued to kiss and lick his skin, worshipping him, hoping to make him see that she thought he was beautiful, not hideous. While she might have imagined flawless perfection as he had said, this revelation wasn’t one that lessened the ferocity of her attraction to him. Each scar was a story that she wanted to know, a memory that she wanted to hear so she could take away the pain he associated with it and could learn to love himself again.

She had been wrong about him.

He didn’t love himself at all.

Sera slipped her arms under his and settled her hands on his chest at the same time as she rested her cheek against his strong back. She closed her eyes, her bare torso pressed against his cool skin, and held him in silence, hoping that he could feel every emotion that he stirred in her. He was old and powerful enough to sense such things without skin contact. With it, he should be able to read her clearly. He should be able to feel that she still desired him, that she wished she could ease his pain and make him feel loved and beautiful. She ached for him.

Antoine shifted, his right hand settling over hers. She expected him to remove it from his chest but he held it there, pressed against him. He was taking the comfort she was offering. It was a start. Much better than the rejection she had anticipated at least.

She slipped her hands down from his chest to settle on his waist and began to kiss his back again, working her way around him and paying close attention to the deepest scar that had deformed the biceps and deltoid of his left arm. When she reached the groove between the hard slabs of his pectorals, she rested her lips there, feeling his heart beating steadily against them. She breathed him in, liking the subtle fragrance of his strong blood that laced his cologne.

He drew in a deep breath. “Sera.”

Sera lifted her head and met his ice-blue gaze. She had never seen it so soft, or him so vulnerable. Was this what awaited her on the other side of his armour? She was under no illusion that this brief glimpse of the other side would last longer than a few seconds. He was already fighting it, clawing back control over his emotions, seeking to distance himself. Why couldn’t he give in to what he wanted and take what he needed in order to heal at least his emotional pain?

She wouldn’t let him close himself off again. Not before he had surrendered completely to his desire and found some relief, a few brief minutes away from whatever haunted his soul. She wanted to give him that at least. Even if it was all she could give him.

She tiptoed, intent on kissing him. He beat her to it, swooping down and claiming her mouth with his. She opened to him completely, letting him have his way with her, encouraging him with soft moans as he plundered her mouth with his tongue.

His hands clutched her bottom, dragging her against him, and she closed her eyes and surrendered to him. She leaned into him as he lifted her, looping her arms around his neck and never breaking the kiss. His muscles flexed against her, sending a pleasant shiver tripping through her and deepening her desire. She wanted to touch him all over, every inch of him, and put him to memory. She wanted him to do the same to her, to caress and kiss her, to taste her and take her. She wanted to be his.

He settled her down on a red velvet chaise longue and covered her with his body. The weight of him against her was delicious and she couldn’t hold back the flood of desire that swept through her at the thought of him entering her, making love with her on the very set where erotic acts played out each night. She felt wicked and naughty, something she had never experienced before, and she liked it.

Antoine nuzzled her neck, devouring it with wet rough kisses, and leaned on one elbow above her. She moaned and arched into his hand as it covered her right breast, his thumb flicking over her nipple, teasing it to a hard peak. His answering groan against her throat was bliss.

He kissed downwards, palming her right breast as his mouth headed for her left. Sera wrapped her legs around his bare waist and buried her fingers in his thick brown hair, tangling it around them and clutching him to her. The first touch of his tongue on her sensitive nipple caused her to arch into him again, her head tipping up to press into the soft cushioned back of the seat. Her lips parted with her moan, legs tightening around him as he sucked her nipple into his mouth and rolled it between his teeth, adding a bite of pain to her pleasure.

“Antoine,” she breathed, lost to the world, a slave to the sensations he stirred in her. She pushed her breasts up further, eager for more, desperate to encourage him to give it to her. He groaned again and bit harder, sending a spark of pain shooting outwards over her body. The wake of it carried intense pleasure and she found herself silently begging him to do it again. He suckled instead, torturing her with the softness when she wanted it hard.

Before she could consider what she was doing, her hands had left his hair and she was raking her nails down his back.

Antoine growled and bucked against her, and rewarded her wickedness by clamping his teeth down hard on her nipple. Sera moaned so loudly that she was certain the whole theatre would have heard her.

Was it wrong that she wanted more?

Just as Antoine had teased her by being gentle in the aftermath of his first bite, she teased him, lightly running her hands over his back, feeling the soft shifting contours of his muscles and the harsh ridges of scar tissue. He growled again and squeezed her right nipple between his index finger and thumb. The shiver that exploded outwards from the hard bud tore another moan from her throat and she raked her nails down Antoine’s back again, clawing at him and driving him on. He didn’t need to be gentle with her. She enjoyed the pain as much as he did, loved the dark edge it gave to what was playing out between them.

He rocked his hips against her and she mewled, unsatisfied and annoyed by the way her underwear and his trousers dampened the pleasure she gained from his hard movements. She wanted him naked.

Sera brought her hands down, pressed them against his chest, and pushed him upwards.

He paused, breathing hard, gaze following her hands as she skimmed them downwards, heading for his belt. He groaned as she undid it, tackled his trousers, and shoved them down over his bottom. Heaven. She skated her hands over his backside, the twin firm globes too delicious to ignore. The temptation to make him stand and strip so she could see him fully nude and gloriously hard was too fierce to deny.