The Maestro's Butterfly (7 page)

In spite of her mental protests, she found herself opening to Seth’s forceful kiss, clutching at his T-shirt before remembering she had asked to leave, and he had forced her to stay. She tried to call up enough anger to do what was necessary to get away.

Surely a man’s crotch was still his weak point, whether he was a vampire or not. She 46

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pushed at his chest and tried to pull out of the kiss, putting enough distance between them to jab up her knee.

He was too fast, and blocked the blow. The next thing Miranda knew, she was crushed against the wall so hard she could feel the bumps in the bricks. Seth’s grin turned into a leer. “I could tan your hide with my belt for that if I wanted to,” he said.

The threat sent a jolt right up Miranda’s spine and made her draw in an unexpected breath. She knew her eyes had become wide and pleading. “Kneeing a vampire in the balls is definitely against the rules.”

“Are you going to bite me?” she asked, momentarily more concerned about passing out again than about threats involving belts.

He shook his head and pinched her hardened nipple, hard enough to cause just a little pain. She tried to move away but he had her pinned too tightly. She scanned the room for anything that could get her mind off the growing heat in her groin, but all she could find was the cot, and that was no help at all. “I’d really like to,” he said, “but you’re not ready yet. You haven’t started making extra blood. The first bite primes you.

A few days after that, you’re good food. You’re not good food yet.”

“Food?” The word conjured up slaughterhouse images in her mind, and made her head reel. For a moment, she thought she might be sick.

“But I can fuck you all I want.” He ground the hard bulge of his crotch against her. Her body moved against his, even though she told it not to. All thoughts of slaughterhouses vanished.

“You are so gonna get it,” he said, and hardened his features. He flipped Chloe’s T-shirt up over Miranda’s breasts and took a nipple between his teeth, teasing it with the points of his fangs. She moaned deeply, caught in an ecstasy of hot and cold between the wall and the vampire.

Seth moaned in response. “You taste so good,” he whispered. “And I am going to fuck you so hard.” His voice trailed off.

“Don’t hurt me,” she begged, partly because she meant it and partly because it 46

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thrilled her that it was a possibility.

“I’ll do what I want with you,” he said between his teeth and squeezed her breast hard enough to make her gasp. Miranda felt as though she would collapse if he wasn’t holding her up. He nipped the tender flesh, harder this time. She closed her eyes tight and wondered how Claudio was going to react, then began to shiver from the stimulation and the cold pressed against her back—not to mention the possibility that
le
Maestro
may actually decide to punish her for this.

The next thing she knew, Seth’s quick fingers had opened her jeans and slipped inside to find soggy denim. “Damn, girl,” he said with much approval. “You want to get fucked bad, don’t you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Holy fucking shit,” he said and pulled the jeans down and off, scraping the denim hard against her thighs. In spite of her shivering, Miranda was praying he’d just throw her down and take her. Deep down, though, she knew that “taking” a woman was something a man like Claudio did. Seth was just going to fuck her.

“Yeah,” she whispered.

Seth didn’t throw her down. He pressed his bulging denim crotch against her nude one and ground against her, pressing her backside hard against the wall.

“Oh my God,” she breathed. “Just do it.”

She didn’t have to ask twice. Seth had his cock out in seconds, guiding it to the folds of skin between her legs. “You are so gonna get it,” he breathed again and bent his knees to get a good angle. With one thrust he was in her up to the hilt. She cried out as her body went into momentary shock. He hooked his hands around the place where the backs of her thighs met the backs of her knees and stood, dragging her up the wall with him, impaled on his cock. She plowed her fingers in his hair to keep her balance as he bounced her roughly, turning her body into a confused mass of pleasure-pain. She opened her mouth like a fish on land and pulled in air when she could.

“You like the way vampires fuck?” he asked, movement making the edges of his 48

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voice ragged.

She tried to nod, but hit her head against the wall instead. “Yeah,” she gasped, as he slammed her repeatedly against his groin.

“Good,” he growled between clenched teeth, and pushed himself all the way up inside of her again and again. She felt the undulations that told her he was climaxing.

She was badly in need of an orgasm, but was too wet, too turned on. Wondering about the possibility of taking care of things herself before Claudio returned, she wrapped her legs around Seth’s half-covered hips and hugged his head to her breasts, enjoying the feel of his warm breath through the shirt. It had fallen down during all the mad thrusting.

Eventually he set her down and tucked his cock away. When Miranda pulled the jeans back on, she was supremely aware of being cold, wet and sticky.
Great,
she thought.
I’m going to be gross all day.

“No panties,” he said. “I like that.”

“Claudio ripped mine. And
he
didn’t use a condom either.”

Seth shrugged. “We can’t get sick and we can’t make babies. I don’t even remember what a condom feels like.” Before she knew it, he had pulled her to him and kissed her, then let her go. She stood blinking in the dark.

“It’s good you like being fucked by vampires,” he said. “‘Cause, between me, Claudio and Adam, you’re going to get fucked a lot.”

He flashed his pointed grin at her once and left.

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Augusta’s Imperial Theatre was a stately old grand dame of a building, with high vaulted ceilings and characters from Classical mythology standing out in relief. The Muses guarded the spots over the two arched doorways leading from the auditorium to the backstage area. Flakes of chipped paint, which had yet to fall prey to the board’s plans for renovations, threatened to fall. Giant chandeliers hung over the red reupholstered seats.

Claudio had felt at home here since he had been in this city.

That evening, he stood on stage watching Adam supervise the two male feeders as they used power tools on Claudio’s new Saint Andrew’s flogging cross. He’d just had it delivered to the theatre so he could determine the best placement for it on the stage.

The large black X-shaped frame was to be part of the grand finale for the November show, which was to be more than a simple music program. Claudio enjoyed treating his audiences to the occasional dramatic presentation, and this was to be his greatest offering. It was to take place on his birthday. He wanted it to be perfect.

A few of the show’s details, however, had caught the theatre board’s notice. It was a show about one of Claudio’s favorite topics—dominance and submission. The board had called it “potentially too risqué for Augusta audiences.”

What the board had meant, Claudio knew, was “potentially too risqué for Augusta investors.” They were afraid that the people with money would be offended and withdraw their support for the rest of the season. Claudio knew that adding a dark, sexual element to the area’s classical music performances would be a good way to interest contemporary audiences. It would demonstrate what the music was actually about, and allow them to feel the passion simmering there.

Those in charge did not see it the same way.

Marvin Johnson, the theatre director, who had agreed to let him bring in the 50

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cross even though the Augusta Ballet had a show that night and needed to rehearse, shook his head and shouted over the screwdrivers. “I think it’s a great concept for a show, Mr. du Fresne, I really do. I’d pay to go see it. I love this kind of stuff. I’ve seen

‘Zumanity’ twice. I’m just not sure Augusta is ready for this.” He ran his hand over his head. The tools paused, leaving Johnson to shout into the silence, “I’m not sure the
board
is ready for this!” Then he looked embarrassed and cleared his throat.

Claudio suppressed a grin at the other man’s discomfort. “I’ve spoken to the board, Mr. Johnson,” he said. “Their concerns are money, not morality.”

“I’m not saying your show is immoral. Just risqué.” Johnson eyed the cross as the two feeders stood well back from it and Adam tugged on it to test its strength.

“Exactly,” Claudio said, pleased at the look of the cross. It was a beautiful piece, made of mahogany, like his bed frame. “The board worries too much about investors and not enough about art. That looks good, Adam. Is it stable?”

Adam nodded. “You could flog a horse on this thing.”

“Good,” Claudio said. “Now dismantle it and take it to the back.”

“You heard the man,” Adam said to the others. Again, the power tools. Again, Johnson had to shout to be heard. Or at least he thought he did. Claudio’s hearing would have allowed him to ferret out the sound of the man’s voice through almost any amount of noise.

“Frankly, Mr. du Fresne,” Johnson shouted, “if the investors pull out, I could be out of a job. We live hand-to-mouth in this business. Do you know how much one season of advertising is worth?”

“A quarter of a million dollars. Yes, I have done my homework, as you say. I also have a plan you and your board will perhaps be interested in.”

“I would love to hear that, Mr. du Fresne.”

“Let’s go someplace we can talk more easily,” Claudio said, and led him up the red-carpeted aisle through the mezzanine doors and into the foyer. Approaching twilight gave the outside light a purple tint, visible through the glass of the front doors. Distance 50

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muffled the noise from the power tools.

Claudio turned urgently to Johnson. “What do you think your board of directors would say if I could cover that amount for next season? It will give the advertisers and investors time to make their point, with no resulting loss to the theatre. My show will happen. People who enjoy real art will have hope once again, and you will still have your job. Next year, people who spend money on theatre will forget about the whole thing.”

“Well I have to say, I’m impressed.”

“I met with the board today,” Claudio continued. “They understand receiving that much money up front, in addition to the money from the investors who don’t back away—this will be very good for the theatre.”

Johnson widened his eyes. “You’ve spoken to them?”

“I don’t leave things to chance, Mr. Johnson.”

Johnson blew out a thoughtful breath and put his hands on his hips. “Well as I say, I’m all for it. If they’ll agree to it, I’m definitely in your corner. I’d love for this show to happen. You’re probably right about the money guys forgetting.”

“People always forget unpleasantness, when you give them something for their trouble.”

Johnson nodded. “Okay. Let’s see what happens. You definitely have that kind of money?”

“Let’s just say I have access to it. My family, you understand.”

“Of course, of course,” Johnson said, and suddenly stuck out his hand. Claudio took it, keeping his eyes on those of the other man.

“No blood, right?”

“Only of the stage variety,” Claudio said.

Johnson nodded. “Well I guess people can handle that,” he said.

“You would be surprised what people can handle,” Claudio answered.

Johnson backed away. “I’m just going to go to my office for a while. You’re 52

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leaving out the back?”

Claudio nodded, once.

“Okay, then,” Johnson said, and waved, then disappeared through the office door near the front of the building.

Claudio let his smile fade and set his jaw, then returned to the stage, where Adam waited for him. Adam motioned to the half-broken-down cross at an angle in the shadows at the back of the stage, “So is that good? It’s kind of dark back there, even if it is catty-cornered.”

“We’ll use a spotlight,” Claudio said with a wave of his hand. “Have them dismantle it. We’ll store it here until the seventh.” He mounted the stairs, intending to leave through the back.

“You’re taking a big chance not doing a run-through before the big night,”

Adam said.

“I want immediacy. The victim is not to know what she will experience before the moment is upon her.”

“Her? You sly dog. You’ve picked somebody. Who? The girls have been chattering about it all summer.”

Claudio went to stand near the cross, looking down at it. “Miranda.”

Adam didn’t reply right away. Claudio looked up at him. “I didn’t expect that,”

Adam said quietly. “She’s new. You don’t know what she’s into yet.”

“Must we always have this conversation?” Claudio snapped. “She will surrender to me. She will be ‘into’ what I want her to be ‘into.’ The end.
Finis.
”

Adam looked down and shook his head, watching himself scuff the hard wood of the stage with his sneaker. “Slavery,” he said. “Pure and simple. And deception.”

“Deception?” Claudio’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about, Adam?”

Adam shook his head. “I know you made a bet with Victoire and I know Miranda’s the prize. And she has no idea, and that’s just wrong, man. That’s wrong.”

Claudio nodded. “You have a better plan, obviously, to make this show happen.

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I am anxious to hear it.”

Adam looked away and sighed. “No. No plan. I just know the difference between right and wrong.”

Claudio approached him slowly as the feeders looked on. “Everything I do, I do for the welfare of our family. Don’t you dare forget that.”

“Making this bet with Victoire so he’ll give you the money you need to make this show happen is not about survival, Claudio. It’s about your ego, and it’s not fair to use Miranda as bait.”

“The way I got most of our slaves...
pardon
...feeders...wasn’t fair. Yet I notice you make liberal use of them.”

Adam stepped from around the cross to face him. “Because I have no choice. I have to be straight with you. I’m not sure how much longer I can do it your way.”