Vegas Moon (2 page)

Within seconds he was standing in front of her, glaring down into her big blue eyes as he reasoned with his inner self to not let her cocky smile infuriate him further. She chuckled just as a shot of nausea traveled through his body again. Damn woman was feeding on him with him standing inches from her. He wanted to ring her neck, but instead he silently tried to reason sense into his muddled brain.
I could rough her up a bit. No, no. Jordan has gotten me out of tons of shit. Snapping on her would probably send him into big-brother mode.

Once he’d decided that beating her to a pulp would make him look bad, he forcefully cupped her elbow and pushed her toward the opened doorway. “What the fuck are you doing, woman?” The dim light in the hallway reflected against the pink-magenta hair resting on her shoulders. In that light she resembled an angel, a beautiful, pink angel. Tristan’s gaze crept down her body. He couldn’t help but admire the subtle cleavage peeking out from under her black lace blouse.

Get a grip dude.

Cindi pulled away from him. He hoped she realized that her amused assessment of him didn’t help her in the least. “Oh, relax, caramel candy. I didn’t suck you dry.”

“I can’t believe you tapped me without my approval, or for that matter my knowledge. In the process of letting your hair grow, did you lose brain cells?” He edged in front of her. “Now it’s my turn.” He moved forward two steps until she was snug between him and the wall. “Where should I cut?” He moved his gaze down her fine looking body. “Your neck, shoulder, or perhaps you’d like to spread your legs for me, and I’ll cut a nice slice into your thigh?”

“Wishful thinking, candy man. But not going to happen.” She placed her right hand, palm up, against his chest, and then burned him with a steely stare. “Hey, what the hell happened to your caramel-colored eyes?” Contacts replaced his normal eye color. Tiger eyes to be exact.

Animal eyes were the new craze in the vampiric community—mainly sanguines wore the new eye adornments.

“Don’t change the subject, Vera Cruz. Answer the question.” The fragrance coming off her skin was pure heaven to him. He inched closer in an attempt to fill his nostrils with the sweet honeysuckle aroma, only to have her petite hand push against his chest a second time. He snatched her wrist then pinned it against the wall above her.

“You’re starting to piss me off, woman.” He inched the talon close to her neck and grazed the skin without drawing blood.

She turned a contemplative look on him. A sappy, sweet sound moved from her throat. “What are you doing? I thought I told you, candy man, no blood from this vamp.”

“The way I look at it, you stole from me. I’m going to even the score.” He should puncture her skin, but he couldn’t. Every nerve in his body shrieked to get to her. Yet, he kept the talon at bay. A swarm of butterflies attacked his stomach, just like they did the night he had met Cindi.

He was a recently turned twenty-one-year-old, and she, well, she was the hottest woman he’d ever laid eyes on. The way her chin dimpled when she smiled at him that first night just about drove him into an early grave. He was overdosing in past memories when she cleared her throat and brought him back to the reality of their relationship in the here and now.

“Are you going to release me anytime soon? I mean we both know you aren’t going to cut me.” Cindi said the words with so much conviction Tristan wanted to run the talon from her neck to her naval.
Control yourself
. His hands shook like he had downed a pot of espresso in five minutes.
Calm down.

The history between them wasn’t good for him, especially at an emotion-packed moment like this. He couldn’t deny that every nerve in his body ached for her and that deep down inside he wanted her to react to him this moment the way she reacted to him every weekend in the blood room in the house in Cassadaga. It was okay for her to bleed for him during playtime, but not to feed him, and lately her decision or belief, whatever the fuck it was, was making him insane.

She laughed, a seductive laugh that tempted his ears and sent a bolt of electricity lancing straight through him. “I believe tonight is the night that you bleed for me, baby. Tonight I want to feed from you.”

Her features rearranged, causing Tristan to narrow his gaze. “I don’t think so, pretty boy. Besides, since when have I ever given you everything that you desire?”

Damned if that wasn’t an understatement.

“Stop the shit, Vera Cruz. I’m a man, not a boy.” He leaned in, inhaling the sweet smell lifting from her pores and placed his lips against her cheek. “We both know that someday I’m going to feed from you. And you are going to love it.” His anger at her feeding from him without his knowledge and his desire to hear her say she wanted to feed him, that she wanted to feel his lips against her sliced flesh, propelled him to release her. “You can deny that you want me to taste you, but we both know someday it’s going to happen. And, baby, when it does, I’m going to make you beg for my lips to touch your opened flesh.”

She glanced away for a brief second and then turned her ice-blue gaze back toward him.

“I will never bleed for you, Tristan. You should probably get that in your head now, and keep it there. You can be on your deathbed, and I still won’t bleed for you. Bleeding for you for nourishment is not my thing.”

Her words stung him, but he managed to whisper, “But blood play is okay?”

Cindi closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. “Tristan, blood play is not the same as feeding. You and I both know that. If the lines are suddenly crossing in your mind, then perhaps it’s time we stop the game.”

Why was it easier for her to let him play with her in the blood room? He sliced her skin in there and licked the blood from her wounds, yet for her to feed him outside of those four walls was out of the question. And regardless of what he should do, feed on her in that room without her knowledge, there were certain things he just couldn’t do without her wanting it, and that happened to be one of them.

Stunned by the force of the need pulsating through his blood to crush his lips to hers, he released her and took a few steps back. Her words continued to rip through him as if he just stuck his hand into a school of piranhas.
I could be dying, and she would let me croak. I don’t need you either! There are tons of women who would bleed for me.

A sly half grin kicked up the side of her face. “It’s about time. If holding me prisoner is what you want, there is a place for us downstairs.” She batted long lashes. “Are you game?”

He should say no. With the mood he was in, he might beat the shit out of her tonight. Perhaps that is what she needed. She may not bleed to help him, but she would bleed to pleasure him. It was obvious with her a completely physical, emotion-free affair was what she wanted. And he was going to give it to her. Yes, if it goddamned killed him he was going to make her wish comes true.

Without thinking of her reaction, which probably would have been bad had he given her the chance to argue, he grabbed her elbow. “Let’s go. You need a little submission.”

She winked at him as she reached for his hand. “Yes, caramel candy, I am ready for you to string me up. All of the male testosterone you’re flinging my way can be used in a more constructive manner. Don’t you think?”

What he thought was how nice it would be to have her put her arms around him and admit she loved him. But reality was brutal and blunt. Those words would never leave Cindi Vera Cruz’s mouth, so he would settle for what she wanted to give him. Obviously she didn’t want him in the way he wanted her, but damn, he was going to enjoy her just the same.

From this moment on, he would put his dreams of a life with her in the far crevices of his mind. Determined yet not completely resolved to let her go that easily, he clamped down on his emotions, resolute not to make the mistake of letting them surface again, at least not until she wanted them to surface.

If a plaything was her desire, he would reverse the game. He could use a toy, too, one with shoulder-length, pink hair, big blue eyes, a body made for sin, and a mouth like a truck driver.

Cindi stationed herself in front of the floor-length brass mirror in the room adjacent to the blood play dungeon, wondering why she’d reacted so bitchily to Tristan. How could she say she would never bleed for him? Since the night of Jordan and Mia’s wedding, every weekend since, she bled for that man and, might she add, enjoyed every single solitary moment with him.

But feeding him would mean he needed her, and she knew from all her years of previous relationships, she would only hurt him. It was inevitable.

She sucked in a deep breath before grasping the black lace gloves on the metallic bureau. The aroma of spicy cinnamon incense filled her nostrils, pushing her body into a state of calmness. She replayed in her mind Tristan’s anger level when he stormed across the gathering hall toward her. Just thinking about his fluid movements sent her stomach into somersaults, yet she couldn’t find the inner strength to admit that she cared about him more than a casual toy. Why? Couldn’t she change her feeling about relationships for Tristan?

A knock at the door startled her, and then Lilly’s raspy voice brought her back to reality. “You have about five minutes.”

She slid the other glove on, splaying her fingers out for a tighter fit. “I’ll be right there. Just finishing up in here.”

“Okay, I’ll tell Tristan you are on your way. He seems a bit agitated tonight.”

I bet he does.

“Good, tell him I’m on my way!” The sharp tone of her own voice startled her. She shrugged.
Okay, I need to tone down my bitch level since Lilly is doing her job.

Cindi scanned the room for the supplies she needed. Everything remained in the locked glass bureau against the wall. Taking one last look in the mirror, she zipped up her thigh-high black leather boots, retrieved a straight razor and Neosporin from the cabinet, and disappeared out the door.

When she’d reached the blood room, Tristan was sitting with his hands crossed, lounging in a red leather chair, in the far corner. With his eyes lowered, he appeared to be deep in trancelike meditation. Cindi’s heartbeat quickened as she approached simply at the mere sight of him in his snug black leather pants. She slowed down her pace to take in the whole package. His white silk shirt was unbuttoned and fanned opened, displaying his perfectly smooth, tanned chest.

Saliva filled her mouth, and she swallowed before clearing her throat.

She cleared her throat a second time, causing his attention to move from the floor to her. The tiger contact lenses were replaced with his normal caramel-colored eyes. Cindi smiled.

You sexy little devil, you.

“So I see the animal in you decided to take a break.” She pointed to her own eyes, a reference to his lack of contacts.

“I wouldn’t say that. I just want to make sure you are well aware when you bleed tonight that I’m the one bringing on the pain…and pleasure.” He ran the palm of his hands down his leather pants, making sure to touch every muscle in his thighs. His expression turned confrontational. “I want you to see that you are bleeding for me, and only me.”

She placed her hand on her hip.
How dare you.
“We both know this is a game Tristan. We are playing a game. You bleed for me and I bleed for you, this is true. But it is not the same as me giving you my pranic energy. I’ve told you more times than I care to count that I am not going to bleed for you in that way.”

The anger in his face contorted momentarily into hurt, and as if someone had hurled knives across the room into her gut, Cindi flinched. She didn’t want to hurt him, but it always came down to her causing him emotional pain. Why did he insist on pushing her buttons?

Just as quickly as the pain surfaced on his face, it was replaced with a blank expression, and he eased up from the chair. His over-six-foot frame towered over Cindi, even with her five-and-a-half-inch booted feet. Reaching into his pocket he withdrew two small, black nylon ropes and pointed to the area in the room where chains dangled.

Excitement funneled through her body, even though with the expression on his face, she should be a little scared. “What’s with the ropes, candy man?”

Without looking at her, he let the ropes caress his fingers as he seductively moved the material from one hand to the other. “I thought I might spice up our playtime a little tonight. Are you game?”

Cindi swallowed against the bulge in her throat. If she said no, he would think she was afraid. Was she? No, her body was begging her to let him incapacitate her with the restraints. Tonight, a part of her wanted him to dominate. She always played the dominatrix during their blood play, but this could be fun. “Fine, I don’t mind the restraints.”

“Good.” He reached for her wrists and cupped them quickly before he nudged her toward the plastic-covered black leather chair on the opposite side of the room. Everything in the near vicinity donned a heavy-duty plastic coating.

When playing with blood, safety was law. Elder Jamison made sure the rules were always followed. One of his pet peeves was blood on the furniture. Once they’d reached the chair, Tristan pushed her onto the cushion without his normal gentleness.

Cindi was, in short, a little pissed. Binding her did not mean abusing the privilege of submission. How dare he push her around like she was his personal slave. A wave of anger rumbled through her body and tensed every muscle. She harnessed her anger in an attempt to not reach out and slap his face, and instead she clenched her teeth. “Take it easy, De Sade.”

Completely ignoring her comment, he moved his gaze upward, and of course curiosity got the best of her, and she followed the path of his caramel-colored eyes. At the sight of the hanging metal chains, a strange anticipation clenched the nerves of her stomach, and then the little common sense she possessed turned immediately to fear. With the state of mind that Tristan was in at the moment, perhaps she should instantly change her mind before she found herself in a situation she couldn’t free herself from.