Crimson Psyche (19 page)

He went down on his knees next to me, flicked a couple of fingers at the levitating candles and extinguished a few, creating even softer light and deeper shadows. My attention was drawn to a drop of moisture glistening on the head of his erection.

As if drawn by a magnet, my finger slid over that pearl-drop and massaged the liquid into the surrounding skin.

I rose to my knees facing him, lifted the gown over my head and tossed it next to the Liberace costume on the floor. The protective pentagram necklace nestled between my breasts.

We leaned toward each other, our lips meeting. The kiss started out sweet, then became more intense with every passing second as our mouths moved together, our tongues caressing and thrusting. We embraced, pressing our bodies tightly against one another, both of us moaning. The feeling of his thickness pulsing against me was making me crazy with need, so I pulled Devereux to me as I let myself fall backward into the fluffy duvet. Still feasting on his mouth, I immediately wrapped my legs around his hips and ground myself into him.

He broke the kiss, licked my lower lip with his warm tongue and gazed into my eyes. “The last time we were in bed together, we had sex. It was wonderful, if enthusiastic. This time I wish to make love. Slowly. Deeply.” He’d whispered the last two words, the timbre of his voice caressing my ears.

“Well,” I murmured, “if you insist.”

It’s a tough job, but somebody’s gotta do it.

Since not all of me had been present for the last encounter, and I didn’t have any memories of my alter ego’s sexual performance, I wouldn’t have anything to compare our lovemaking to. I was sure I wouldn’t be disappointed.

He was as good as his word. We touched and stroked each other’s bodies, using our hands and our mouths, and he licked his way from my nipples down to the wet, hot ache between my legs. His tongue slowly laved my clitoris, torturing me with ecstasy, bringing me to orgasm unexpectedly. I moaned and bucked my hips as he held me in place, and by the time he slid himself inside me, I was ready to explode again. Devereux had an astounding ability to remain hard for an unusually long time, his thrusts maintaining the deep, fast rhythm we both loved. Each time he shifted his angle ever so slightly, my body spasmed with pleasure. I gave new meaning to the words
multiple orgasms
.

Sated, he finally rolled over, which surprised me because we usually ended our lovemaking sessions with a blood donation. I heard him chuckling softly and I moved toward him, not sure if laughter was the most appropriate after-lovemaking response. “What’s so funny?”

He lifted a hand and let it drop heavily onto his chest. He laughed louder. “I simply feel good. As if every muscle in my body, every fiber of my being, is content, peaceful and satisfied. If I slept like a human male, I would be blissfully snoring right now.”

Vampires don’t snore. Check. Breathing is required for snoring, and no breathing while dead.

I frowned. “What’s funny about that? I’m sure you’ve been
content, peaceful, and satisfied
thousands of times before. I can only imagine how many devotees you’ve had at your disposal. I still don’t understand why that would make you laugh.”

He climbed onto me and pressed his lips to mine for a quick kiss. “You of all people should understand, Dr. Knight. It requires a great deal of trust to be emotionally safe enough to release all of one’s defenses and protections around another individual. I have never done it before you. It is a heady, addicting and quite unfamiliar sensation. I have indeed had more sexual experiences than I can remember, but quantity has nothing to do with intimacy. I continue to be in unknown territory with you.”

“Why didn’t you take any blood from me?” I stroked his hair. “You always do. I was ready to have a few more of those brain-numbing orgasms.”

“There is always tomorrow.” He smiled wide. “I can promise you an endless supply. You were so depleted, both physically and emotionally, that I did not wish to stress your resources any further. You need time to build up your blood again.” He kissed me. “Come. It is time to travel to the penthouse. You require sleep before seeing your clients in the morning.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right. Should I get dressed first?”

“There is no need. The penthouse is empty, awaiting our arrival.”

He slid off the bed, scooped me into his arms and the familiar sensation of air blew against my face. We materialized in Devereux’s sumptuous living room to find Luna standing in front of the wall of windows, staring out at the lights of the Denver skyline. She turned and gasped as we entered.

“I told you to stay away from me!” Devereux bellowed.

“But you must listen to me. Don’t let her ruin everything. If you would simply allow me to explain—”

“Have you forgotten to whom you are speaking?” he growled. “There is nothing that I
must
do. Get out of my sight, and do not return until I send for you.”

“Master, please—”

“Be gone!”

Eyes wide, Luna vanished.

Whoa. What the hell?

What was going on between Devereux and Luna? He’d always treated her respectfully, and always spoke highly of her, despite the fact that she made my life miserable. Whenever I’d joked that I wouldn’t mind if she relocated to Transylvania or had a personal encounter with a sharp stake he’d always insisted that I didn’t understand her. Personally, I thought I understood the snarly bloodsucker perfectly: she was in desperate need of the vampire equivalent of electroshock therapy and some heavy-duty mood-stabilizing medications, not that any of those interventions would actually be effective with the mysterious animating systems of the undead. Since the relationship between them had always been friendly before, something had to be terribly wrong.

Devereux’s expression was as angry as I’d ever seen it, and his grip on my body had tightened uncomfortably. Obviously distracted, he stared off into the distance, his mind elsewhere, unaware that his strong hands were pressing into my flesh. I wiggled in his arms, finally catching his attention and causing him to remember he had a passenger. He gazed down, released the tension and mumbled “Many apologies, my love,” then lowered my feet to the pristine wood floor. “Luna’s presence was an unpleasant surprise.”

It felt weird to be standing naked in the middle of Devereux’s luxurious penthouse, but I wasn’t about to say anything that might give him an excuse to change the subject. I wanted to know what had happened. “I don’t understand. Why are you so angry at Luna? What did she do?”

He gave a slow blink, then met my eyes, his posture rigid, mouth tight. “It is a long story, and one I am not at liberty to share at the moment.”

I’m sure my face registered shocked surprise. “
Not at liberty?
You mean you’re not going to tell me?” My stomach tightened, sending alarm signals to my brain. I couldn’t remember any time since I’d known him he’d refused to tell me something about Luna. In fact, he usually enjoyed discussing his minions. Whatever the secret was, it didn’t bode well.

He visibly relaxed, smiled and floated two fingers toward my breast, capturing my nipple. Pinching the tender nub, he chuckled as I twisted away.

“Hey!” I covered my breasts with my hands in case he intended to poke or prod them again in his pitifully transparent attempt to hijack my focus away from the subject of Luna.

He smirked and held his hands up, feigning innocence. “Do not trouble yourself about Luna. As you have often mentioned, she is not your favorite... individual. Just enjoy her absence.” He bowed from the waist, then straightened, offering me an elbow. “Let me show you to your room.”

Step into my parlor, said the spider to the fly...

I studied his face, seeking signs of an ulterior motive, and found a mischievous angel staring back at me. That was one of his hardest-to-resist aspects. I gave up and took his arm and he guided us through the absurdly large room.

Since the penthouse belonged to Devereux, of course it was stunning. But unlike his personal room beneath the Crypt, which was filled with his artwork, magical potions, books and mystical symbols, this huge space was sparsely furnished and had an unlived-in look. It was perfect enough to be featured in an interior design magazine, but it was sterile, empty. The black leather couches and chairs created a lifeless façade of sophisticated elegance, rather like a never-visited funeral parlor or the dentist’s waiting room from Purgatory. Large, abstract sculptures, beautiful but soulless, sprouted from the polished wooden floor in random patterns throughout the rooms.

The window glass was invisibly tinted, shielding the interior from outside view while leaving the panoramic vista unobstructed from the inside.

He led me into a large bedroom.

“Wow.” The last time I’d seen it, the style had been lovely but generic, everything white, but now the room appeared to have been designed with my particular tastes in mind. Blue was the predominant color, and varying, complementary shades could be found in every detail.

A flick of his fingers illuminated the room. He sailed his hand through the air, indicating the lovely furnishings. “I hope you like the décor. My staff worked very hard to create a welcoming sanctuary. I wish for you to be comfortable while you are here. My home is your home.”

I stepped around so I stood in front of him and raised my eyebrows. “Do you sleep up here?”

He blinked and lowered his chin, gazing down at me from beneath those dark eyelashes. The corners of his lips curled into a gentle smile. “As you will notice” — he glided toward the walk-in closet — “much of your clothing and accessories were brought from your townhouse, and various new items have been added. Please call for anything additional you need.”

Very slick. He was getting entirely too skilled at ignoring me. “Why do you always avoid answering that question? Is it possible you don’t trust me with your physical safety while you’re dead to the world?”

“No.” His expression went serious. “Keeping the location of my daytime chamber unknown is simply a deeply rooted habit, and not disclosing that information to any living soul has kept me safe for centuries. I trust you implicitly, and after we are bonded, I will share all my most intimate secrets. You are not the only one who must adjust to new conditions.”

His comments effectively slammed the coffin lid on that discussion. I didn’t want to talk about the bonding issue again, and the fact that he brought it up probably meant he knew exactly what he was doing. I was too tired to try to figure out the next pothole on the vampire-boyfriend highway. Devereux had been right earlier when he said I needed sleep. Fatigue had begun to be my constant companion. If I didn’t zone out for a few hours before seeing my clients, I’d be worthless.

I glanced up at his somber face and smiled. “Okay, I won’t ask you about your hiding place. It’s more fun to imagine you lying in a red-silk-lined coffin anyway. More Bela Lugosi-like. I
am
tired. Would you like to tuck me in?”

A devilish glint sparkled in his eyes. He lifted my hand and sucked one of my fingers into his mouth. “It would be an honor, but I must regretfully decline. I have many business details to complete before the dawn arrives, and time is short. If you desire anything, simply lift any of the telephones in the penthouse and someone will satisfy your needs. I will come to you tomorrow evening when I rise. Sleep well, my love.” He leaned in, pressed his warm lips to mine, then vanished.

I chuckled as I thought about picking up the phone to have someone satisfy my needs. Just how far did Devereux’s hospitality stretch?

***

Waking in Devereux’s extravagant penthouse was a delicious experience. The potent aroma of fresh coffee caressed my nostrils, drawing me like a java junkie toward the dining room. The table was spread with all my breakfast favorites. I could definitely get used to Master-style room service.

When I had finished luxuriating in the spacious, dual-stream shower, I wrapped myself in a thick bathrobe and perused the contents of the huge closet. My eyes skimmed the familiar garments that had been transplanted from my own humble abode before locking on to a fashion masterpiece. An ankle-length dress of sky-blue silk waved hello and winked at me. Celtic patterns hand-stitched in silver thread adorning the neckline and the sleeves glittered softly in the light. Next to the gorgeous dress hung a matching jacket.

The outfit was a step up from my usual work attire but I couldn’t resist slipping the soft material over my head. Naturally, it fit perfectly — a slim column, encasing my body with elegant style. I didn’t have to search far to locate the matching shoes. The Master certainly had taste. I spun in front of the three-sided mirror a few times, enjoying the sensation of the smooth material against my skin.

After indulging myself, I completed my morning tasks, grabbed my briefcase and headed toward the hallway.

I strode to the elevator like I was walking a Paris runway, and rode the mirror-walled box to my office a couple of floors below. I always enjoyed my morning conversations with Victoria in the lobby, and it was odd, not following the familiar routine. When I got to the door of my office I held out my keycard — and found my door open a crack.

My stomach tightened. The last time I’d found my office door ajar, bloody carnage had awaited me inside. Of course, that was at my old building, where the security was nonexistent and underpaid cleaners often left the doors unlocked. All of Devereux’s properties had state-of-the-art alarm systems, hidden surveillance cameras and both human and undead guards, depending on the location of the sun. In the five months I’d been in the office, there’d been no problems. Maybe Victoria had opened my door for some reason.

Using one finger, I pushed the door gently. Sitting on one of the cream-colored leather couches in the waiting area, her feet propped on the magazine table, was Maxie. She grinned when she saw me, threw her copy of
Psychology Today
onto the pile and stood.

“Hey, Doc! It’s good ta see ya — wow, snazzy outfit! I didn’t know you were the Psychologist to the Stars. I’m impressed. If I’da known, I woulda dressed for the occasion.” She glanced down at the faded black T-shirt and baggy jeans she wore. Her white hair was gathered into a braid that brushed the backs of her knees.

I was deeply relieved to find neither a corpse nor the police waiting for me, but how the hell had Maxie gotten into my private office? “What are you doing here?” I asked, ignoring her comments. “How did you get in? This door needs a keycard to open it.”

“Yeah, I expected to find a receptionist or someone down in the lobby, but nobody was there.” She waggled her eyebrows. “You’d better complain to the owner. I could’ve been anybody. I waited around for a while, because I’ve been in the building before, and last time there was this New-Agey chick sitting behind the desk, so I figured maybe she went out for coffee. But she was a no-show. Your name’s on the directory so it was dead easy to find your office, and when I didn’t get any answer to my knocking I went back downstairs and rummaged through the reception desk to see if there was a master key.” She grinned wide and held up a keycard. “So I let myself into your waiting room and — well, waited.” She handed the card to me. “I imagine you want this?”

I took it, making a mental note to ask Devereux to change the lock codes. The breaking-and-entering adventure of a couple of nights ago was fresh in my mind. Maxie wasn’t above taking more than one master keycard — or copying this one — so she could keep one. But more importantly, where was Victoria? She’d never leave the lobby unattended, especially not with all this vampire weirdness afoot.

“It’s not that I’m unhappy to see you,” I started, “but I have a client in a few minutes. Is there something you wanted to talk to me about?”

Maxie plopped down onto the couch again, her expression grim. “Yeah, I need to tell you something I heard. About Devereux.” She stared at me, obviously waiting for my reaction.

I tried not to visibly tense. “What about Devereux?” What could Maxie possibly know about him? It simply wasn’t possible that she’d uncovered anything dangerous, but if she had...

She jumped up and stood in front of me. “It’s too long to go into right now. Can you get away for a while at lunch?” She appeared agitated, and she started pacing, unable to stand still.

“What’s this about, Maxie? You’re rather nervous.”

She rested her hand on the doorknob. “Too much caffeine.”

I took a step toward her. “Spill. What’s really going on?”

Her gaze slid to the floor. “I’m the bearer of bad tidings and it kinda wigs me out.”

Bad tidings for whom? For Devereux? I argued with myself while I mentally reviewed my schedule for the day. It wasn’t unusual for me to meet clients outside the office. I sometimes found being outdoors calmed them. Maxie wasn’t a client, so that wasn’t a concern, but she was acting odd — anxious — and I wasn’t sure moving our discussion to a public location was a good idea. “I can take a half hour around noon. Do you want to meet here?”

“I don’t think we should talk here, not in
his
building. Let’s go to the café down the block.” She pointed toward the window. “That one over there. I’ll see you at twelve, then. Have a good time listening to the loons.”

She left and closed the door behind her.

We shouldn’t talk in Devereux’s building — what did that mean?
I didn’t know if Maxie was being a paranoid drama queen, or if she genuinely knew something, but whatever she was going to tell me, I knew I wasn’t going to like it.

***

“... and there he was, tapping on my window, brazen as you please.”

I glanced surreptitiously toward the clock. “What happened then?”

Shirley scooted to the edge of her chair, excited. There was a manic edge to her aura. She always saved the most outrageous portion of her tale for the last ten minutes of our sessions. Lowering her voice, she leaned toward me. “I opened the window and he smiled like the devil himself and climbed into my bedroom. Before I had a chance to think, I was unbuttoning my nightgown. The lustful demon must have taken over my mind, because I’d never have shamed myself without his satanic control.” She thrust herself back against the couch cushions and wrapped her arms around herself. A visible shudder quaked through her body.

“How did you shame yourself, Shirley?” I used my most soothing therapy voice.

Her chin quivered as she tried in vain to resist the memory. “I let him have his way with me,” she whispered, sobbing in earnest now. She swiped the back of her hand under her runny nose, spreading slime along her cheek. Then, jutting her chin into the air, her voice became louder as she rocked back and forth. “I didn’t try to stop him — I didn’t fight him — so it was all my fault. He told me so himself. I’m a bad girl. A very, very bad girl. I must be punished.” Tears streamed down her face.