Seductress Seduced (The Embassy Book 4)

OTHER TITLES BY KIRA BARKER

We Kinky Three Series:

Caught in the Middle

Tied Between (forthcoming 2015)

The Embassy Series:

The Girl & The Vampire

One for the Pack

Ghostly Ties

Seductress Seduced

Underwater Love (November 2014)

Opposites Attract (December 2014)

Prey Series:

Hunter & Prey (forthcoming 2014)

Bait (forthcoming 2015)

Seductress Seduced

The Embassy #4

Kira Barker

Seductress Seduced

The Embassy #4

by Kira Barker

Copyright © 2014 by Kira Barker. All rights reserved. 
 

http://www.kirabarker.com

First edition: November 2014

A-1140 Vienna

Edited by Kyla Stein / Missed Period Editing Services

Cover design by
Mayhem Cover Creations
 

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is purely coincidental.
 

Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.
 

The author greatly appreciates you taking the time to read her work. Please consider leaving a review wherever you bought the book, or telling your friends about it, to help spread the word.
 

Thank you for supporting my work.

CONTENT WARNING: This story contains scenes of an explicit, erotic nature and is intended for mature audiences. 18+

To all the lovers who found love later in life.

To Missy and Christina, because without you this wouldn’t have happened the way it did.

Welcome to the Embassy…

The Embassy is a matchmaking service catering to supernatural clients, and those who would love to satisfy their curiosity. Be it vampires, werewolves, demons, or humans, everyone finds the perfect partner to make their fantasies come true!

Seductress Seduced

Sex makes the world go round and round.

Sure, there have always been people who were delusional enough to say that it’s because of money, or power; that war is the father of all things. But just look at the reasons for why they require all that dough and feel the need to throw their weight around. Why the Greeks sailed across the Aegean to raze Troy to the ground. Not that I was there—I’m old, but not that old. Even if sometimes I feel it, when I look at the world nowadays. Back when I was still part of this mortal coil, sex was everything, and things haven’t changed one bit.

But maybe I’m biased. More than two thousand years of fucking can limit your perspective. Sometimes I start to wonder if it’s something else, maybe—compassion, love, whatever makes humans
human
—but a good look around usually discourages me from harboring such silly notions.

That—or something very close—ran through my mind as I stalked out of Emily Taylor’s office. The girl was practically teeming with sexual energy, and I didn’t dare linger much longer than to inform her, in no uncertain terms, that she’d have need of me before the end of the week. Normally not one to screw around, the sudden change in her had taken me aback for a moment. Good for her, if you asked me; she’d gone way too long denying herself what earthly pleasures she sold to her clients day by day.

As usual, her perky assistant was only too happy to give me a snack for the road. Even distracted by the need to converse with her employer, she smiled up at where I remained perched on the edge of her desk until I felt the soft whiff of need turn to more serious registers. That was, as usual, my hint to beat it, which I did presently, after enjoying the girl’s steep blush on a much less visceral level. Too bad that Emily had something against me seducing the girl, but I could understand that training someone new would have been too bothersome when compared to letting me have my way with her. Worked up as she got by my mere presence, chances were good that she’d have given all of herself to me, and we all knew how that ended.
Catatonia, suicide, rehab, whatnot.
 

Outside, the city’s nightlife was only too happy to embrace me. Times had been a little rough during the 1700s, but of late, even a small hicktown in the middle of nowhere was a lush feeding ground for succubi. Your average 21st century city?
An all-you-can-eat buffet.

It had been more than a week since I’d fed properly, long enough to make me linger in a bar or two, but not enough to kick my hunting drive into gear. The fact that it was a weeknight, and there weren’t troves of horny college boys—and girls—out on the town, helped; in a pinch, I would have fed on the average alcoholic, but why put up with the smell and the whining afterward? And suffering through the same old pick-up lines that were as unnecessary as they would have been successful had I not been what I was, got worse with every decade that went by.
 

Really, who did they think I was?
I knew that I was strikingly beautiful, their wet dreams come true; why sully that with hints at sexual prowess that they could never live up to?

So instead of continuing to prowl the night, I sank into the warm comfort of a bubble bath at home, and enjoyed a glass of wine with my latest romance novel. When sex is your job, a little hilarity on the side is required sometimes.

The call I’d been waiting for came earlier than I’d expected. Knowing Emily, I’d figured that she would hold out on me—and the lucky future recipient of my attention—a little longer, but the sun had barely hit the zenith when my phone rang.

“Told you that you’d call me,” I purred into the modern day gimmick that was as entertaining as it was useless. I could have just walked over to the Embassy straight away instead of relying on such knick-knacks.

“You did,” Emily confirmed, surprisingly relaxed.

“When and where?”

“Hold your horses,” she admonished and chuckled—actually chuckled!
Oh my, that new man in her life must be plowing her good.
“You know the protocol—“

“Yes, yes, interview first, assessment last. Take out all of the fun until it’s just about the fucking,” I supplied helpfully.

“Like you’d want it any other way,” she replied and paused. “I’m not even sure I should hand this one over to you. I want to do a preliminary assessment with both of you first.”

Now that made me frown.

“Don’t you trust me? I doubt you have anyone else in your Rolodex who has as much experience under her garters as I do.”

“No one uses a Rolodex anymore. You’re dating yourself,” Emily said offhandedly.

“Sugar, if I did that, I’d have to switch to a language that none of you have ever heard,” I purred, but gave myself a mental shake. As much as I tried to keep up with the current speech patterns, bits and pieces of the past kept filtering through. Then again, eccentricities like suddenly falling back into pre-medieval French were viewed benignly, and not as a sign of demonic possession nowadays. As if that was something I’d ever had to worry about, but this country had come a long way indeed from the Puritan witch trials. Nasty stuff, that. The trials, and the burning that usually followed—particularly when you actually were a demon, and thus a hundred percent fireproof. Now that had been one hilarious discovery, back in, oh, I couldn’t even remember the year anymore.

“Be that as it may, I’d like you to come in for a joint interview, provided you still want this one?”

I gave myself another mental shake at Emily’s soft reprimand.

“Possible sex addict, certain asshat, what’s not to love?” I joked, before turning serious again. “Are you going to make me suffer through the usual precautions again? You know that they are not necessary.”

“Of course I will. Our establishment, our rules. If you can’t abide by them, I’m afraid we will have to terminate our contract.”

We both knew that it was an idle threat, but I couldn’t resist asking each and every time.

“One of these days, you know—“ I began, but Emily cut me short.

“Be here at five. And wear something sexy.”

“As if I’d dare turn up in rags,” I replied, only half-scandalized. At first sight, drab clothes might deter most strong-willed men, but as soon as I ramped it up, all of them were putty in my hands.
A strange idiom
, come to think of it, as said state usually came with delicious hardness, but then verbal language always felt insufficient to me where bodily lust was concerned.

I ended the conversation and took another sip of coffee. As much as the prospect of a good meal was enticing—
after all, weren’t we all hardwired that way?
—I couldn’t quite bring myself to care very much. Emily hadn’t sounded even a bit perturbed by me being right in my assessment earlier this week, taking the last bit of fun out of the gloating I’d been prepared to do for days now.

Really, what was the world coming to?

At a few minutes to five, I swept into the Embassy, dressed to the nines.
Did people still say that, at least?
Getting a whiff of need from Martha as I stalked by her desk and on toward Emily’s office was most gratifying. Strictly speaking, the three hours of primping I’d put myself through hadn’t been necessary; as a sex demon, I had what the poets of old had described, even back then, as ‘beauty not quite of this world.’
Uncannily true, that.
Not that pretty girl thing, or the allure of an aging beauty that was more based on charisma and confidence than looks. No, plain old tits and ass in abundance, my entire body simply oozed sex appeal. Even in a world where perpetual starvation was all the rage, men still flocked to me like moths to the flame.
So why bother with plucking stray hairs and applying liberal amounts of cosmetics of all kinds?

I’d been asking myself that for a long time, and, as usual, I didn’t know the answer today any more than four hundred years ago.

And still, as I stepped into the room, I felt the slightest flutter low in my belly, a hint of excitement. That was strange, and unfamiliar. I could barely remember the last time that had happened.
Maybe in Rome, around 1245?
No.
Florence.
I was sure that it had been in Florence. Must be a case of indigestion, or something.

My faithful watchdog was already in attendance, as was the intended object of my not-quite adoration.

At least from behind he didn’t look bad—tall, trim but on the compact rather than lean side, short, brown hair, perfectly fitting into this century’s standards of what was deemed ‘hot.’ His suit wasn’t tailored, but fit him well enough, and I caught a hint of peppermint, likely stemming from a perpetual gum chewing habit. Might speak for good oral skills if he liked to keep his mouth occupied. That was never a bad thing. But there wasn’t anything particularly remarkable about him. Nothing that would explain the rambunctious imps in my stomach.

As I stepped up to the remaining leather chair on this side of the heavy oak desk, I got a good glimpse of his profile. While most men turned up here looking their best, he seemed to go for the rugged half of handsome, preferring a light scruff over clean-shaved cheeks. The very idea of feeling that light scratching between my thighs made me lick my lips—the taste of lipstick not necessarily contributing favorably to my rising irritation.
 

Light hazel eyes swept in my direction, lingering for a moment, and I watched his full lips curve into a slight smile. Not an enticing smile, but a cocky one, the kind that spoke of either skill or more confidence than was good for any mortal.
Likely the latter
, I admitted to myself, which made me snort.

“You must be Viveca,” he greeted me, hand extended, eyes sparkling. “Emily has told me a lot about you.”

“I bet she has,” I replied, staring at his fingers for a moment. At least he’d cleaned his fingernails beforehand; I might not be as fragile as your average human woman, but there was something fundamentally upsetting about being finger fucked by someone who couldn’t even care to maintain the basics of hygiene. His were clean, yet not that kind of perfectly maintained that spoke of a professional manicure. There were limits to what my age-old mind could take, as far as modern standards went. Tanned skin was visible where his wrist peeked out of his jacket sleeve, letting me glimpse just a hint of vein, pressed to the surface by powerful muscles underneath.
Good for fucking against a wall, upright, if he had enough strength to actually support my weight.

I waited just long enough to make him uncomfortable, but not until the moment turned awkward, before I shook his hand, finding his grip surprisingly strong, the feel of calluses on his fingers making me want to lick my lips all over again. He definitely knew how to use his fingers elsewhere; that boded well for him.