Elusive Hero: Invitation to Eden (Vampire Queen Series Book 12) (22 page)

Her bitten lip, the spark in her eye, told him she did. Leaving that for now, he moved around her, considering her from head to toe. “Stunning. But you’re used to hearing that, aren’t you?”

“No. It’s a given in our world.” She lifted a shoulder. “Vampires are sexy, sensual, erotic, beautiful, handsome. It is what it is. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“It means something to me.” He stepped close to her, touched her mouth. “I’m not talking about your measurements, how pretty your hair is or the silk of your skin. I look at you and I see you in those restraints over there, begging. I hear you saying ‘Master’ for the first time in that desperate whisper, your voice trembling on the cusp of climax. When I take you out around other people, that’s a window into who and what you are that they don’t have, you spread and begging for me. It makes you more than beautiful. It makes you a goddess to me.”

She lifted a hand, traced the scar over his face. “It works that way for me, too,” she said, wondering. “I see far more than the way you look.”

“A good thing,” he said wryly.

“No.” She shook her head. “I like the way you look, Garron. But it’s a matter of opening your eyes to really see what’s in front of you. I look at you and I feel the gentleness of your hands, hear that tone in your voice that makes me tremble for reasons I don’t understand. I can break you, and yet I feel this delicious edge of fear when you threaten to punish me, tell me to obey you. You were frightening, right after I marked you. I was afraid of you and…it aroused me.”

She had no idea how her words could take him to his knees, make him want to worship her, even as he visualized all the ways he could make her surrender to him. He settled for taking a tight grip on her hand, and clearing his throat. “Good.”

He linked fingers with her, changed topics. “For the next little bit, you can ask me anything, talk about anything. I know part of you wants to stay in character full time, because it’s easier for you to treat this as a pure fantasy, something that won’t chase you once you leave here, but I think that would be the wrong tactic to get the most out of this. My goal is to give you what you need, not necessarily what you want.”

She didn’t yet realize how far he was willing to go with that, maybe because he was just starting to figure it out himself.

She frowned, obviously not liking him disrupting her effort to keep her expectations down to a ten day fantasy, but that was just tough. When he slipped the collar from her throat and pocketed the slim strap, he saw the flicker in her gaze, a protest she bit back.

“And another thing,” he said casually. “From here forward, you don’t get to call me Master unless you ask and I say yes. I don’t let a sub do that automatically until I’m sure she understands exactly what it means to call me Master.”

Oh yeah, he was pissing her off a bit. He saw the flash through her mind. She wasn’t “a sub”, any faceless submissive, one of his harem or another guest who came through the Eden club, paying for his services. He shifted a little closer to her, using the intimidating body language to tell her he was aware of the attitude. She stiffened but her gaze lowered. Progress.

“That goes for getting in my head,” he continued. “You keep your mind open to me, but you need my permission to be in my head. I’m sure you can do it without me knowing, but I’ll pick it up in how you anticipate me, and that will disappoint me, Kaela. It will tell me you don’t respect the boundaries your Master sets.”

“You said I couldn’t call you that.”

“It doesn’t mean that’s not what I am.”

It gratified him to see her resentment about not being allowed in his head had nothing to do with the edge the information would give her. She wanted the connection and, after having it such a short time, he had to agree, it was fucking fantastic. He wouldn’t mind it being two-way himself. He didn’t care if she saw where he was going with things, but at the moment it was better if she just focused on one thing, and that was what he was telling her, not what he was thinking. What lay behind the orders would be way more complicated for her to handle at this juncture.

He touched her cheek. He didn’t need a window to her mind to read it through her golden-brown eyes. Resentful, troubled, aroused, confused, pissed. She was never just one thing. He liked that about her. “I want you in my head, too. But for the immediate future, I want your focus on you and what I tell you to do.”

She nodded.

“Okay. Let’s go to the pool. I’ll drop a rock in it and we’ll see which one of you sinks faster.”

I
can
rip your heart out of your chest, human.

She might not be listening to his thoughts, but she realized he was reading hers. He bit back a smile, though he wondered if hearing his response would unsettle her the way it did him.

You already have, my lady.

§

Eden had no less than a dozen different types of pools. The lagoon pool, his intended destination, would be one of the quietest ones this time of night, but since it wasn’t technically in an area where being buck-ass naked was okay, they needed to stop at his place so he could grab one of his own swimsuits. Passing through the trio of pools and adult water slide that were the main social hub for the party set was a necessary evil for that. Even at this late hour, it would be hopping.

Because of that, Garron snagged a sheer body scarf with beaded fringe from one of Eden’s many discreet boutique shops. As well as a pair of matching rhinestone sandals to protect her feet. Having Kaela knot the scarf at her hip added a translucent veil over her backside that only enhanced the temptation of what was there, and of course didn’t conceal the feast of her breasts at all. In the end, he gave her one of his extra staff T-shirts he kept in his room at Club Sin and had her put it on. Even though he was aware of her speculative look, he didn’t respond to it. Yeah, it was kind of a surprise to him as well. He had every intention of indulging her interest in Eden’s 24/7 BDSM area eventually. Hell, if he took her there, she might be stripped down to nothing but his collar.

Yet that didn’t change his feelings a bit about exposing her to the mainstream jet set crowd. For whatever reason, he felt she was more vulnerable there, where less rules were in place. In a formal BDSM setting, behavior toward subs, no matter how beautiful, was structured and controlled by the respective Masters and Mistresses.

As such, he kept a light hand on her lower back as they moved into the area that was always too lively for his taste.

I get the feeling you prefer quiet places,
she thought.
Walks along the beach, a book, a cup of coffee in the morning. And no, I didn’t read that from your mind. I’ve seen policemen going into a crack house who look more comfortable than you do.

She reached out, touched his side. “I’m fine, Garron,” she said. “I have to be around humans quite often. I was one, remember?”

He gave her a rueful smile. “Sorry.”

They’d just come out of an intense one-on-one that had been on-going, in point of fact, since she’d arrived. This was like emerging from a cave. Even in a normal sub session, he usually did something to transition himself from one environment to the other. His time with her had been ten times more intense than that, putting him as much into his head space as she’d been in subspace. He realized now he should have circled around the cocktail set. He’d been through enough PTSD therapy to know what triggers to avoid, and he was feeling too vigilant. Adjusting his body closer to her, his eyes noting every sound and movement, were indications of it. His instincts for danger were turned up to high volume in a way that didn’t fit here and he knew it. Self-awareness didn’t change his nerves being on edge, however.

Kaela’s hand slid behind her, tangled with his on the small of her back, as if she was letting him hold her arm behind her back. But she exerted gentle pressure on his hand and shifted her body so that he was cupping her ass, his thumb sliding along the cleft in blatant ownership. The satisfying flare of arousal in her mind was matched by his.

He lifted a brow, glanced down at her. “Topping me, my lady?”

“No sir.” Her full lips pursed as she lowered her lashes in a way that said she was doing something different. A combination of flirting and reassurance at once. She might not be in his mind, but she understood body language almost as well as he did. He’d never in a million years have expected her to call him
sir
like that, but it successfully snapped him out of the fugue and brought him into the present.

He gave her a squeeze and slid his hand back to her waist. Putting his hand on his submissive’s ass in a club environment was an appropriate message. Doing it here would be disrespecting his lady, and he’d no more tolerate that than he’d tolerate anyone else doing it.

When he saw her cheeks tinge with color, the pleased surprise in her gaze, he tugged her long hair. “You are listening. Didn’t we talk about that?”

“We did.” She closed her hand over his on her hip again, caressing his knuckles. “I was worried about you,” she said. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Without access to her mind, his defenses might have gone up, making him think he had to prove he was in charge, but he saw it wasn’t that. She didn’t see any conflict between him being her Master and both of them wanting to watch one another’s backs. Him by covering her with a T-shirt, her by checking into his state of mind.

He’d had relationships with a small handful of women, where some of that reciprocity existed, but this was the first time he’d looked into a submissive’s eyes and seen a hint of a true equal, someone who had no expectation or desire that him being her Master would absolve her of her own desire to watch out for herself…or for others.

Something to think about. She touched his mouth, the scar on his throat. “No,” she said. “It wouldn’t. I don’t think it’s supposed to work that way. Do you?”

He hadn’t ever given it much thought, since his relationships here were professional and temporary, all about caring for the guest who turned everything over to him. Not so much about trusting himself in her hands.

“Hmm,” she said.

“Stop reading my mind,” he told her sternly, but a smile struggled on his face. “Else I will totally kick your ass when we get to my place.”

“You say that like it’s a threat.”

He sighed, put his hand to her back and gave her a playful push before they were walking again. Mission accomplished, though. Things were easier now, the noise and splashing not bothering him as much. They followed the perimeter of one pool through a crowd of guests standing in clusters, drinking and laughing. Others were in the pool, swimming and flirting. More held drinks and conversations while sitting on the lip or on lounge chairs, all ways to see and be seen. The five waitstaff and two bartenders manning the tiki hut were hustling. It was one of those evenings where, if he wasn’t engaged at the Club, Garron would have been pitching in. Evidence that he had no real social life, according to Vardalos. There was the pot calling the kettle black.

“Look, there’s one. Hey,
you
.”

Another thing that hadn’t helped his management of the noise was that he’d put in his hearing aids, knowing he was going to be around people other than Kaela. The cacophony of white noise was overpowering, even when he turned down the volume. Now what had sounded like a distant snippet of conversation was actually close, a guest calling out to him. He saw it in Kaela’s mind when she touched his arm.

A man he’d seen at check-in earlier in the week, who’d obviously remembered Garron worked here despite the lack of official uniform, was headed his way.

“Apologies, my lady,” he muttered, and turned to acknowledge the guest.

While all those Vardalos invited to the island received exclusive invitations and were vetted, there were some Garron knew served a “conflict purpose”, challenging the true visitors about the nature of their fantasies, helping them find their way to them. This impatient male, reeking of entitlement and alcoholism, with bloated blood vessels on his nose and cheeks, had to be one of those, because otherwise Garron couldn’t see Vardalos letting him set foot here.

“I asked for a drink five damn minutes ago.”

Should have brought your stash from your room to tide you over
, Garron thought. His attitude toward the man didn’t improve as he saw his bloodshot gaze go to Kaela and cling. Ignoring male attention as usual, she was watching the play of light over the pool and studying her surroundings, but Garron gave serious thought to scooping the guy’s eyes away from her breasts with a jagged-edged grapefruit spoon.

“What are you, deaf?”

Garron cursed himself for looking away. Usually he paid close attention to what a customer was saying. “I’m sorry, sir. What was that?”

Most the time, the hearing aids went unnoticed, but he realized the torchlight around the pool must have caught the glint on the tubing, for the man’s gaze zoned in on the side of Garron’s head.

“Well damn, I guess you are.” The man made some elaborate hand gestures, a mockery of sign language, and mouthed his words in an exaggerated fashion. “Think you can send someone this way who knows English? And how to bring me my fucking drink?”

Garron wondered if it occurred to the asshole that being obnoxious on a remote island in the Bermuda Triangle—where there was no lack of ways to dispose of a body—put him square on the top of the clueless heap. Then he saw Eaton returning with the man’s drink. From the young man’s harassed look, Garron suspected the guy’s drink request had involved a trip into the vaults. Eaton gave him a long suffering look before schooling his face back to professional courtesy.

“Here comes your drink, sir,” Garron said, turning back to the guest.

But the man was no longer paying attention to him, and Kaela was no longer to Garron’s left. She was standing in between him and the offensive man, her back to Garron, but because of their mind connection, he heard what the man said to her…as well as her response.

The man gave her an amused look. “Decided you liked the look of a whole man instead of that scarred freak show, didn’t you, sweetheart? Why don’t you come have a drink—”