Deathless Love (3 page)

It was better than he could have imagined. Her pussy was so swollen with desire that she felt as tight as a virgin when he slid into her. His body temperature ran low and she was on fire—her heat engulfed him, heating his blood, making him half lose his mind with hunger. Within minutes, they had knocked everything off of the top of his desk and her torso was laid back fully with her ankles hanging up over his shoulders. He pumped into her, watching her face as it moved through pleasure into fierce desire and finally the flicker of panic that precedes a female orgasm.

“Oh yes, oh yes,
oh yes
!” Kate called out as she came, her head thrown back and her eyes rolling.

Her orgasm spurred his, and he came hard, groaning and gripping her well-toned thighs. Keeping their hips connected, he pulled her up to sit and tilted her head back to expose her vein. “May I?” His voice was hoarse with desire.

“Yessss,” she said breathily. He struck quickly and savored the taste of her—warm, delicious, erotic, with the tang of alcohol. He came again and she squeezed her legs around his waist, drawing him in tighter. She was smiling. When he finished, he sealed the little holes with the blood-clotting and healing properties of his saliva and kissed her nape.

“Thank you,” he whispered in her ear.

“Mmmm.”

Of course Fox picked that moment to barge in, as locks were completely ineffectual at keeping vampires out. His fangs shot out and he hissed. “What the
fuck
are you doing to her?”

He pulled out of Kate and held up his hands as Kate jumped off the desk in search of her panties and shorts. “It was consensual,” he said quickly, pulling his own pants back up. A vampire with his fangs out is nothing to mess with—even if he is your friend. “You can ask her.”

Kate nodded. “Absolutely.”

“You took advantage of her.” The fangs had retracted a little but Fox was still pissed, and Dom couldn't blame him. He would feel the same way if he knew someone hijacked Kate while she was in an obvious state of intoxication.

Fortunately, Kate spoke up. “Do I look like I didn't like it? It's totally cool,” she said firmly.

Fox looked doubtfully from one to another, but his fangs were back where they belonged. “I came up to make sure you were okay,” he mumbled.

Kate rubbed her head where it had been bleeding. “Yeah, just a cut and bruise, I think. No real harm done.”

“You want to go to the after-party at Andrew's?”

“Sure. I'll meet you downstairs,” she said.

Fox left, throwing one last doubtful look over his shoulder and Dom reached into his pocket for his cash. He paid almost everyone under the table at No Return. It saved him money and they all appreciated it. “Here's your pay for tonight. I ought to dock it because you didn't finish the last set, but…” he stroked and then gently slapped her firm little butt, “I feel like we're even.”

She flushed, clearly not sure how to take that.

He ran his finger over the bump on her forehead, feeling like it was absolutely tragic that her perfect face would be shadowed with a bruise. Something about her made him feel protective. “Be careful tonight, okay?”

“I will,” she promised.

“All right. Good night, Kate,” he said, giving her soft lips a quick kiss.

“Okay, yeah. Bye.” She seemed a little flustered. Sobering up, maybe.

When she had left he sat down in his chair and closed his eyes.
Oh hell.
That was a mistake. He had enjoyed every moment of it, but from start to finish—on every level—it had been a colossal mistake.

Chapter Two

He had spanked her.
Kate shut the door to the office lounge and stood out on the landing. She felt totally discombobulated. Her body felt relaxed and pleasured in every way, yet she still was turned on by what had just happened with Dom. And totally embarrassed.

She couldn't think about it without getting butterflies in her belly and a pulsing between her legs. Her whole life she'd been fascinated by spanking. She used to rub her dolls’ bare backsides and spank them in private in her bedroom, and the interest had only increased with puberty. Spanking was her most closely guarded secret—something she'd never told anyone about. She found it completely embarrassing. It made her feel like a deviant.

And now, having just had her number one fantasy fulfilled by the man who often starred in those daydreams, she felt as raw and open as an oyster pulled out of its shell. She felt like bursting into tears, but not sad tears, just… tears. And she definitely didn't feel like going downstairs in her bra and spankies, no matter how comfortable she had been prancing around on stage in them an hour ago. She sat down on the top of the stairs to get herself together.

“Are you okay?”

She jumped and turned around. Dom had left the office and was standing behind her. As she started to stand, he came around and sat down on the stair next to her. He was so attractive to her—the muscles of his chest stood out under his black No Return t-shirt and his long dark hair was tousled and hanging in his face. She leaned against him, grateful for the company. His company.

“Are you feeling… vulnerable?” he asked softly.

Wrong question. How on earth could he know that? Suddenly she lost it completely, tears spilling out of her eyes before she could even take a breath. He stood and gently pulled her to her feet, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and leading her back into the lounge. There, he pulled her down with him on the couch and she somehow ended up straddling him on his lap, her arms twined around his neck, her face buried there, sobbing. He stroked her back and didn't say a word until she'd finished. She sat back and wiped her tears. “I'm sorry—I don't know why I did that.”

“No, I'm sorry,” he helped her wipe a tear. “I just wanted to turn you on—I meant you no disrespect.”

She shook her head. “I didn't feel disrespected.” It was her habit to automatically reassure people when they apologized, but she thought it was mostly true. She did feel ashamed, though. But she probably would have from his lecture, anyway. “Why did you think it would turn me on?” she asked meekly, almost afraid of what his answer would be.

He tapped his nose. “Vampires have a great sense of smell.”

“You can smell—?” She didn't know what to call it.

He smiled and nodded. “Yep. Can't hide much from us. Especially now that I've had your blood,  I have a certain bond to you—I can feel your emotions.”

She smiled in relief. It was nothing so scary as him having been in her head or knowing her fantasies. He'd smelled her…arousal, and had wanted to satisfy her little kink. She felt a sudden rush of gratitude and affection for him. She leaned forward and gave him a shy peck on the cheek. “Thanks.”

“It was my pleasure,” he said with a satisfied little purr in his voice.

“So… is that your pleasure?” she asked timidly.

He laughed. “It's not my regular gig, but it's an easy role for me to step into. My name
is
Dom, after all.”

Kate looked confused for a moment, and then she chuckled a short nervous laugh. “I'd be your sub any day,” she said in an almost-whisper. He felt a surge of lust at the thought of Kate being his anything and his fangs shot out. He leaned forward and slowly, lightly ran his sharp fang along her collarbone, then down the vein to her breast as he pushed her bra aside with his hand. He couldn't resist her—everything about her was so delicious to him. One more time tonight couldn't hurt anything, could it?

* * *

In his home studio the next afternoon, he stared at Kate's visage in marble. He wished he'd carved fairy wings on her back. He hadn't seen it when he'd made her in wax, but now with the five-foot sculpture almost completely emerged from the marble, she looked just like a little sprite. And standing back, looking at her, he had a vision of Kate with several tiny fairies flickering around her. It was not a vision precisely, because he didn't
see
, except that he knew that the fairies were there and what they looked like. He shook his head rapidly. He hadn't been visited by psychic visions like that in hundreds of years. Not since he'd been turned. The skin on his arms prickled. Was it Kate who somehow inspired them? He picked up his riffler to work on the enormous task of refining her hair.

He'd carved the unsure Kate—she was looking up through her lashes with her automatic smile, and he'd somehow captured her eager to please nature. There had been no question that he was going to carve that Kate. He loved the strong performer side of her as well, but this one seemed more real, more personal, somehow.

Sculpting Kate had been a secret, guilty pleasure. It was an intimate act to hone the shape of someone's face and body with your tools. In this case, it was also a bit of an invasion of privacy, considering she didn't know he was doing it. He'd spent the past nine months absorbed with capturing every curve, every nuance of her and he probably had another three to go before he finished.

“Are you going to show her that?” Fox asked from behind him.

He didn't answer or turn around to acknowledge Fox's question. There was a note of censure in it, which he knew he deserved. He let the silence stretch between them.

“What's going on between you two?” Fox demanded.

Dom sighed and unbent himself from his position and set down his riffler. The last thing he needed was to get riled by Fox and gouge her. Because it had become
her
to him.

“It was just sex. We both wanted it and we acted on the impulse. That's all.”

“She deserves better than that.” Fox's voice was tight.

“I know,” he said, irritation threading through his own voice, more with himself than with Fox. “That's why I'm not going to do it again.”

“Why don't I believe that?” Fox folded his arms across his chest.

Dom didn't answer. He wasn't sure he believed it, either. He'd already broken his vow to stay away from her when he had sex with her that second time, after he found her crying on the top of the stairs. There was something about her that was so compelling. He couldn't bring himself to inflict the smaller hurt of keeping his distance, even though in the long run it would save her from a much larger pain. Because the fact was, he was nothing but bad for her. With a capital B. Vampire/mortal relationships were way too difficult to maintain. Kate was in her late twenties—the age these days when women started looking seriously for a long-term mate—and she deserved a real relationship with a man she could settle down and have a few kids with, if she wanted. Getting tangled up with him would only mean an eventual breakup when she realized that her life was stalled out. The last thing he wanted was for her to be hurt.

“I'll take care of it,” he sighed.

“What does that mean, exactly?” Fox said suspiciously.

He wished he knew. “It means I'll take care of it!” he snapped and leveled an alpha male stare at Fox until he lowered his eyes, albeit sullenly. Vampires were nothing but animals at their core, and Dom had been around longer than any in the U.S., and most all in the old country, too, which meant he was stronger and more powerful than the rest of them. And although he was hiding out in Tucson with his head in the sand about the rumors of trouble with the vampires in the old world, he was still the dominant. Fox and Stella had chosen to follow him here, which meant they lived under his authority.

Since his attempt at finding peace through sculpting had been shattered, he gave up on sculpting for the day, and went downstairs to shower before he headed to the club.

There was a double set of doors at No Return, just like he had in his home, so that people could enter during the day without letting the sunlight in. The first door opened to a coatroom/foyer and then the second door into the actual club. Because of this feature, Dom could materialize from his home to the club or vice versa during daylight hours. He did it often enough, although he also liked to drive back and forth, too, in case any of the employees started wondering how he got around.

The club was a whole different scene during happy hour. A lot of regulars hung out and the vibe was casual and friendly—the intensity of nighttime was dialed down by half. They served simple bar food like quesadillas, nachos, and pizza slices for people who hung through dinnertime. Dom materialized into his locked office, which was guaranteed to be protected from any light, and then headed downstairs. Alex, his happy hour manager, was leaning on the bar, chatting up the regulars.

“Hey boss,” he said.

Dom walked behind the bar and fished a Dos Equis out of the beer cooler, squeezing a lime into it. Alex would've been more than happy to serve him, but Dom liked being hands on in his own club. He had worked every position so he knew the ins and outs of what they did, and what their challenges might be. Besides, working kept him busy and socializing. Otherwise, he'd never leave his house.

His immortal heart did a double-pump when he saw Kate walk through the door. She wasn't working at No Return tonight—Fox had said the Morphs were playing at Club Congress. Which meant she was probably there to see him. Or not—he shouldn't assume anything. He would just treat her like nothing had happened.

“Hey Kate. Ginger ale?”

“Sure,” she said, beaming at him. She was wearing a thin gray t-shirt that said “Boys Lie” and had horizontal rips all along the back. She had on a denim skirt and cowgirl boots underneath.

He poured the ginger ale and squeezed the lime into it. “Whatcha up to?” he asked casually.

She shrugged, her eyes too eager as they watched his face. This was bad. “We're playing at Congress tonight, so I thought I'd stop in early.”

“Great. Great.” That was brilliant. Now what? He opted for the sneak out method, and casually drifted off down the other side of the bar, checking inventory and wiping down bottles—a job that Alex had probably already done for the day. It might have been a good method, except that an attractive woman like Kate sitting alone at the bar could not fail to be noticed by more than one troller. It wasn't more than five minutes before she had a guy sitting on each side of her trying to pick her up. One had more game than the other and she ended up angled slightly toward him, answering his questions politely.