Temptation at Twilight: Lords of Pleasure (20 page)

Sharp voices, raised in argument.

Crude laughter rang in his ears, and Soren could feel Arron’s anguish as clearly as his own. The guy may have been blackmailed by the bitch queen to beat the hell out of him, play subservient to her every desire, but he hated every minute of it. Arron’s loathing of her thickened the air between them, dark and palpable. That, at least, gave Soren some comfort.

Cool air rushed over his naked body as he was whisked away, floating. In moments he was lowered and rolled onto his stomach. His cheek rested against cool silk, and his battered body cried out in relief at the heavenly softness of the mattress. Even through his blurred vision, he could sense they were in Soren’s quarters, and that gave him some relief.

Leila came to sit near his head, running her slender fingers through his hair. “There, my mate. All is as it should be, and you will soon take your rightful place beside me as ruler of the Southern Coalition. We will kill Aldric, place our own followers in the Council seats, and ascend the throne together, you and I.”

What?
He knew she lusted after power, but if she thought for one second he intended to help her murder his remaining brother, she was truly deranged.

She gave a low, throaty laugh of amusement as if he’d spoken aloud. “Darling, not to worry. By the time your transformation is complete, you’ll possess the power and strength to bring Aldric to his knees.”

“Impossible.” he managed. “I cannot defeat my brother any more than you can.” Had he offended her? He hoped so.

“You’re wrong.” Her voice tightened. “I don’t know why your parents never told you. The blood of the ancients flows through your veins, like all males in the Fontaine family. The blood of your father, who was an incubus.”

“A fallen angel?” He tried to rise on his elbows to stare at her, but she pushed him back down. “You’re full of shit. My father was a vampire, like my mother!”

“Wrong. Your father is directly descended from Azrael, and an incubus like your late father lusts after many women. Why do you think he opened this resort? To feed his need—the need that all three of his sons inherited. Just like the great Merlin, a child is sometimes born of this unholy union, and that child is marked for greatness.”

“Marked.” His mind scrambled to follow where she was leading. No doubt he wasn’t going to like it. “The crescent moon on Aldric’s neck, and . . .”

“On your hip. Azrael’s mark.” She shrugged. “I would have preferred Aldric, as he’s already on the Council and is a great leader. But the truth is, I failed to win him before, decades ago, when I possessed a different face and name. He’s too strong-willed for me and Luc is too young, and so I watched you from afar for a long time. When you lost your true mate, I knew someday when the timing was perfect, you would come to me. I foresaw it, you see. And I knew I’d use your bargain against you. Soren, you can’t fight me. Don’t you understand?”

Gods help him, he was beginning to. “I sold my soul in exchange for my mate—”

“Needlessly,” she revealed, toying with his hair. “Fate would’ve brought your Harley to you eventually, even if I hadn’t taken you to Lash. I bided my time to bring you under control. And here you are.”

A wave of helpless rage engulfed him. He’d bargained away his life
for nothing
. If it was the last thing he ever did, with his final breath, he’d make her pay for this.

“I failed to ensnare Aldric, but I won’t fail with you. I will make that gift a reality for us both, starting now.”

“If you can make me powerful enough to destroy Aldric, then why shouldn’t I crush
you
instead?”

“Soren,” Arron warned.

Leila leaned close to whisper in his ear, and her words froze his heart. “Sweet Luc is dead and Aldric will soon follow, but you have a very lovely lady whose sex still lingers on your skin. Perhaps I should invite her in here to play?”

“You bitch,” he snarled. “If you go near her—”

“You’ll do what?” she laughed. “Did you really believe I would create something I can’t control? If you attempt to slip from my grasp, everyone you hold dear will be killed.
By your own hand
.”

No.
“I will never hurt the people I love.”

“Won’t you? Think of what you nearly did to your brother and to Jordan. When every cell in your body is starved for blood and the beast has ripped the last shreds of humanity from your raging mind, who will stop you from satisfying your lust?”

“I will,” he choked.

She smiled evilly, those black eyes boring into his. “No. You’ll give yourself to the darkness and love every minute of it, starting now. If you don’t, the consequences will be much worse.”

His breathing hitched in panic. “Damn you, stay away from my family, from—” He didn’t dare finish.
Oh, Harley
.

“Arron, let us begin.” Her words punctuated the quiet like a death knell.

While she resumed stroking his hair, Arron spread his legs and moved between them. He gasped as the wolf ’s tongue began to lap at the backs of his thighs, his buttocks, his back, swirling lazy circles as he moved upward. Warmth spread through him, tingling, the fiery wounds on his backside knitting closed. A wolf, healing him? When finished, Arron rolled him onto his back. Soren tried to sit up and push away, but the warning look in his green gaze stopped him.

“Easy,” Arron murmured gently, pushing him into the pillows.

The timbre of the shifter’s seductive voice moved through his veins like several shots of whiskey.

“Please don’t do this,” Soren whispered.

Without a word, Arron took each of his wrists and spread and bound them. Turning his head, Soren saw they’d been secured to the heavy iron bedposts with thick silver chains. Before he could protest, his ankles were bound the same way.

Next to him, Leila untied the belt of her black silk robe, letting it fall away. Her small breasts bobbed close to Soren’s face, a curious vial on a chain nestled between them. He swallowed hard.

“He’s perfection, isn’t he, Arron?”

Arron said nothing but stood and removed his own robe. Flinging his long auburn-gold hair over one shoulder, he seemed unconcerned with his nudity. Mouth dry, Soren watched as he retrieved a small clay jar from the bedside table and came back to tilt the object over him. The wolf poured a generous amount of thick, greenish oil onto his chest, stomach, and genitals. The stuff smelled heady and sweet, like spearmint, and oozed everywhere, luscious and soothing.

But he flinched as Arron’s hands began to message the oil into his skin. Arousing him, stoking his desire. “No.”

But his voice held little conviction and his protests turned to dust as the shifter took the head of Soren’s cock in his mouth. Began to suckle him, deft tongue catching the drops leaking from the slit. Then taking him deeper, down that sleek throat. Sucking and massaging him with practiced ease, driving him insane.

Leila whispered in his ear as the wolf devoured him. “It’s good, isn’t it? You want more?”

“Yes.” The admission escaped without his consent. He jacked his hips, eager.

“Our Arron is going to fuck you, my pet. Relax and let him have you. Free your mind and body to savor the wickedness.”

He knew what she was doing—lowering his defenses through sex, and allowing the beast to reign. And he couldn’t stop her. Didn’t want to. Arron’s big fingers breached his opening and began to slick his passage with the oil. He’d taken many males but had never been taken. It was strange and . . .

Incredible. The wolf ’s knuckle brushed the magic spot inside that drove his lovers wild, and now he knew why. “Oh, saints. Please!”

His cock jerked, hard and ready to explode. His balls were tight.

“What do you need?” Arron rumbled.

“Fuck me, hard and deep!”

Never before had those words passed his lips, and he couldn’t wait. There was enough slack in the chains binding his ankles for the wolf to raise his ass and place the head of his cock at Soren’s opening. He pushed, burrowing inside in a delicious burn that sent sparks shooting all through Soren’s body.

The wolf began to pump, and Soren was lost. He exulted in the big rod plowing his ass and at being bound and at the male’s mercy. He had no choice but to give himself and revel in being owned. Claimed.

Arron’s strokes increased in tempo until he drove Soren into the mattress, his expert fucking spiraling the pleasure higher, faster. Finally he felt the tingling, the sparks sizzling out of control. A cry escaped him as his balls erupted and ropes of cum shot between their straining torsos, bathing them. Warmth filled his ass as Arron stilled, grinding into him.

So naughty, wicked. He wanted it again.

Arron withdrew, leaving him sated and sweating.

“See? You cannot fight your destiny,” Leila crooned, reaching for the vial. She unscrewed the small lid and tipped the opening. A tiny drop of crimson liquid beaded on her finger, and she touched it to his lips. “Taste.”

Just a harmless drop of blood,
he told himself frantically.
Nothing more.

His tongue flicked the moisture, a simple, involuntary reaction to having blood placed there. Just sustenance.

Nothing. And then . . .

His entire body shook. Slight tremors at first. Sweat formed on his forehead, trickled down his face. His breathing grew ragged, uneven, and his heart pounded in fright. Not just blood. Not even Leila’s. Something ancient and terrible.

“What have you done to me?” he gasped.

If she answered, he couldn’t hear over the roar of his own blood rushing in his ears, increasing in tempo as the shaking worsened.

No. Something worse, much worse.

“Who said that? Leila?”

Insane, raucous laughter. That of his beast. Of himself.

“You, my love.” She smiled, her voice reverent. “I have waited for this day for so long. Have you any idea of the magnitude of the gift I’m bestowing upon you?”

“No. I don’t want it.” But the evil thing within him did.

“Taste, my love. The blood of Azrael, the archangel of Death. It took me centuries of searching to find and steal this vial, and now you, Soren, are about to become a hybrid of such greatness that only the gods themselves could vanquish you. Vampire, witch, demon, and archangel . . . not even the exalted Prince Valafar will be able to defeat you.”

He turned his head away as far as the bonds would allow, but she succeeded in poking a finger between his lips.

The second drop detonated his body like a bomb. The blast ripped into his brain with nuclear force, seeking not just to destroy.

To annihilate.

His memories blew like shrapnel into the air. Harley. Aldric. Luc. His mother and father. Their beloved resort. The guests. Who would take care of them?

Screaming, he reached for everyone and everything he loved, but they whirled into space. A black vortex sucked them far away, out of reach.

Oh, gods, what was happening?
Help me!

Like that fateful night decades ago when he’d lost Helena, he sent his cry for mercy to the gods. But no one answered, save the demon residing in his own soul.

“Nooooo.” He strained against the bonds in helpless agony.

Yessss.
The slumbering beast awakened, reveling in the torture, loving every moment of it. He looked up at Leila, saw the smirk of triumph on her face, knew that she called to the evil thing living inside him and that he’d lost.

Arron moved to sit near his shoulder, opposite Leila, his face grim.

“You belong to me. It is time to take your rightful place at my side,” she said, pleased.

No, no!
his mind screamed. But power, awesome and terrifying, surged through him in answer.

“I . . . I . . .”

Arron’s lips brushed lightly against his. “All will be well. Do not fear.”

He was wrong. Nothing would be all right again, ever. No stopping this now. It was over.

His soul wept, his heart shattered.

She straddled his hips and stretched atop him, breasts crushing into his chest. Grabbing a handful of his hair, she pulled his head back so hard that he thought his neck might snap, then sank her teeth deep into his throat.

Witch.

Demon.

Like one fateful night so long ago, when his horrified screams sought the gods, only the undead heard.

A
fter searching everywhere for Soren to no avail, Harley and Valafar stopped short in the doorway to his suite.