The Nightlife: London (Urban Fantasy Romance) (The Nightlife Series) (2 page)

Fear is an unimaginably powerful device.  Some people spend
their entire lives twisted by fear, driven to all kinds of insanity, only to
justify it through fear.  Aaron recognized that Janette lived with a good
measure of fear of her bosses.  With good reason.  He doubted the prostitution
racket had any real separation from the gun-running and drug dealing side of
the family business.  Janette was knee-deep in the hoopla.  This was not the US
of A, where gang bangers walked around packing pistols in public.  In London,
where all handguns are illegal, they were
the
big ticket black market
item.

Back in their deluxe suite at the Knightsbridge Hotel, Aaron
hashed out the situation with Michelle.  “The dancer is deathly afraid of this
guy Reza.  When we talk to him, he’ll know where we got our information.” 
Aaron loathed getting involved with this mess.  But he needed more info.

Michelle slipped off her Louboutin designer heels and faced
him.  “In Albania, the mafia deal in slaves.  Here, they are
merde
, pimps and thugs, but
the habit is hard to break.  They own this woman, like a commodity.”

Aaron wondered how Michelle knew so much about Albanians.

“
Mon amour
,
you are tense.”  Michelle unbuttoned his dress shirt, her eyes smoldering with
desire.  “Let me help.”

She slid off his shirt, unzipped his pants, and he stepped
out of his boxer shorts.  He loved it when she pampered him like this.  And he
loved the feel of her silky smooth, pale limbs wrapped around him.

He had found her again just three weeks ago in Paris.  When
she died in his arms, her body plugged full of 9mm rounds by Jamison, their
bond broken, Aaron felt as if he’d lost part of his soul.  Discovering she had
survived, resuscitated by Parisian medics, had been the best night of his life. 
Like getting a second chance.  He could never get enough of Michelle.  If it
wasn’t for this damn vampire hunt, he’d never let her out of the bedroom.

He unzipped the back of her blue dress and pulled it from
her shoulders to watch it fall to the floor.  Nothing but smooth, flawless
skin.  No bra, no panties, just the love of his life, in her delicious birthday
suit.  Every night with this pale goddess in his arms felt like a stolen
moment.  Death cheated one more time.

He pinned her against the wall, his cock already hard with
need for her.  “I’ll work away both our tensions, until you can’t walk.”

She growled low and gripped his cock firmly.  “A bold
promise.  But I will hold you to it.”

He loved hearing that feminine growl of hers.  He’d learned
everything he knew about how to please a woman in her bed with her growling
beneath him.  She could fuck until his cock hurt and still take more.  His
balls ached with an endless need for her and she fed that need, stroking him
with a smooth, squeezing glide.

Her hands knew his cock better than he did.

He ran his fingers deep into her hair, encircling her head,
pulling her into a kiss.  He had to have her, be inside of her, his tongue, his
cock, his fingers.  Lips crushed, fangs bared, he devoured her mouth.  Still
pinned to the wall, she wrapped a slender leg around his waist and slid his cock
between her inner thighs.

Slick with arousal, she ground her hot, wet slit along the
top of his shaft and pulled on him, trying to slip it in.  She growled into his
kiss, struggling to mount him, but the angle was wrong, sandwiched between him
and the wall.  He let her fight her slippery wet battle, almost sliding in then
slipping back out again.  He grinned into their kiss, chuckling as she grunted
in frustration.

Finally he stepped back.  She took full advantage of this opportunity
and jumped on him, legs spread wide.  She guided him into her sopping wet heat
with a satisfied moan.  Then he slammed her back against the wall, and ground
up into her hard and fast.

“
Je t’aime Aaron!  Je t’aime!
”

The more she cried out her love in lyrical French, the
harder he pounded her, using all his preternatural strength to hammer her
insides like the piston of an engine.  When she came, inhuman vocal tones screamed
his name.  She bit down into his shoulder, sinking her fangs in almost to the
bone.  Her venom punched him full of endorphins, and he came hard, buried all
the way inside her.

“Oh god, I love you so much, Michelle!”  He bit her neck
deep and clamped on, sucking blood hard and fast as he emptied himself inside
her, giving and taking, punishing her with love.

* * * *

Michelle held onto Aaron desperately, absorbing all his
pummeling passions, never once complaining at the wonderful hurt.  She never complained
he was too rough.  Though she had developed a mental privacy wall, and could
keep him out of her mind, she rarely did.

She knew Aaron sensed her pain, but he also sensed that she
liked it rough, mostly.

She needed this.  She needed to take all of him, every ounce
he could dish out.  His bond with Urvashi had changed him.  He had grown
stronger, more virile and aggressive.  Although subservient to that damn
fallen-angel-bitch of a master, Aaron had begun to assume the dominant role
with Michelle.  She wouldn’t have it any other way.

He was no longer bound to her commands.  Her power over him
had been stripped away in the moment of her death.  Complaints would only serve
to drive him off, and she feared this more than anything.  Only love kept them
together.  She hadn’t truly understood what Aaron meant to her until he
disappeared in Paris.  Now that she had him back, she couldn’t imagine losing
him again.

Although it hurt, she could take it and heal up right as
ready by the following evening.  She had endured much worse from her former
master, without the benefit of affection.  Michelle made herself into Aaron’s perfect
lover, willing to do or give anything he might want.  There was no one else in
the world like him, and she gladly took everything he had to give, even pain.  Quivering
and moaning, throbbing pleasure and soreness overlapping into ecstasy, she
clung to him like a woman drowning.

Growling, breathing heavy, he slowly surfaced from his
frenzy.  “I did it again didn’t I?”  She nodded.  Her claws sank deep into the
flesh of his shoulders as she clung to him, too exhausted to speak.

He carried her from the wall to the bed and gingerly laid
her down, exercising the care and caution he had momentarily forgotten in their
mad tussle.  The best part, he was still buried in her, right where she wanted
him.

“I’m sorry, Michelle.  I can’t get enough of you.  It’s like
I need you so badly, I am fighting to get as far inside you as I can.”

“
Oui
.” 
She managed the one word acknowledgment.  He had definitely reached deep inside
her.  She was still high on him, from his bite, his cock, still twitching with
the aftershocks.

Her arms and legs felt boneless.  The man could screw her
into a complete stupor.  His venom seemed more potent.  His bite made her
rummy, like being drunk on hard liquor.

When Aaron took Urvashi’s blood in Paris, he gained an extra
measure of strength, and few other things.  Michelle had hoped he might provide
her the same extra measure of strength, but so far the condition was not
contagious.  Aaron, alone, retained the benefits of Urvashi’s blood.

* * * *

He lay in heaven, deep in Michelle.  He wished he could stay
between her thighs for the rest of eternity.  Though she wouldn’t say it, her
whimpers spoke volumes.  He had fucked her raw expressing his love.

{{Are you finished?  I have been waiting.}}  Urvashi’s voice
rang in his mind and destroyed his hard won bliss.

He had tried to keep her out of his mind, to hold onto some
shred of privacy, but he knew the fallen angel had been watching and he sensed
her pleasure at his predicament.

{{You’ve enjoyed enough of her.  Now come to me, we must
talk.}} 

Unspoken, but fully implied, was the fact that Aaron was not
done performing tonight.  Urvashi wanted hers, and she would demand everything
he could give, no holding back.

Michelle watched his eyes, seeing the moment his gaze turned
inward, distracted.  “She’s in your head again. 
Putaine de merde!
  Tell her if she wants to
watch, I charge two thousand an hour.”

He chuckled then pulled his hips back, making her gasp and
shudder.

“Oye …”  She grunted and gritted her teeth as he slowly slid
out.  All that slick, wet love oozed out around her thighs as she lay
exhausted, legs spread wide in invitation.

God, she made him hard again, seeing her so vulnerable, rosy
pink, wet and ready.  She would let him, too, but that wouldn’t be fair.

Perhaps it was better to work off his need for Michelle on
Urvashi.  She didn’t seem to mind when he called out the wrong name.  Urvashi wanted
his cock and obedience, and perhaps something else she wouldn’t admit to.

“Michelle, love, you’re worth every penny of two thousand an
hour.”  He gave her a lingering kiss.  “I want nothing more than to stay, but I
must speak to Urvashi.  Duty calls.”

Michelle snagged him before he could move off the bed.  She
pulled him down into a kiss, her tongue searching, plunging in and around his
mouth, scraping on his sharp fangs.

When he resisted, she let up and pegged him with an
unfamiliar look.  A look of uncertainty, maybe even fear?  “Promise you will
never let her come between us.”

“I promise.  All the fallen angels in the world couldn’t
keep us apart.”  The words had become a nightly ritual.  A smile formed on his
lips as she fingered herself, a blatant invitation for more.

He got up quickly before she tempted him to hurt her
further.  He threw on a bath robe, slipped out the door and headed down the
hall towards Urvashi’s suite.  His new master preferred a room on the same floor,
keeping him on a short leash. 

Staying at The Knightsbridge was like living in a real
English manor.  Traversing the hallways barefoot, in nothing but his robe, he
expected to run into a frowning English butler in a three piece suit. 
Obviously decorated by professional designers, the walls, floors, and furniture
were a collage of subdued pastel colors.  A hotel straight out of Martha
Stewart magazine.  At four hundred pounds a night, you’d think the puke-beige
colored pillows were weaved with gold.  Good thing Michelle was paying the
bill, she could definitely afford it.

Urvashi answered her suite door in a see-through, white,
silk robe and a sly grin.

“You called?”  He smiled, wishing he was back with
Michelle.  But hey, any man could find pleasure with Urvashi.  The gossamer
robe barely hid Urvashi’s shapely, golden-tanned curves, full, lush breasts and
thighs, and somehow, she always fit his cock like a glove.  Did she shapeshift
to mold to him precisely?  He often wondered.

No matter how much he loved Michelle, he couldn’t deny the
sublime pleasure Urvashi offered.  Sex with her revitalized him, like plugging
into a battery, literally.  An electric exchange crackled his skin wherever
they touched.

She sniffed at his neck as he stepped up for a hug.  “You
could have showered.  If I wanted her pussy in my face, I would fuck her
myself.”

“Yeah, she asked me to remind you she charges two thousand
an hour.”  He couldn’t help a roguish grin as Urvashi rolled her almond eyes at
him.  When she started untying his robe, he placed his hand over hers.  “Wait. 
We need to talk first.  Business before pleasure.”

She pursed her lips and kissed him, brushing a static tingle
oh-so-gently over the ridge of his lips.

Aaron faced his Persian sorceress, wishing he could pierce
her mind like everyone else.  Urvashi had a privacy wall, a solid block.  And
she never let him in – not voluntarily – not since their first meeting, when he
had inadvertently caught a glimpse of several thousand years in the life of a
fallen angel.  She had brought him to his knees with the crushing revelations
of her experiences throughout human history.  When she realized her mistake,
she shut that door in his face, permanently cut off.

He sighed at the layers of strangeness and complexity in his
life.  Itching to return to Michelle, Aaron got down to business.  “Why would
Mike need a gun?  What’s he worried about?  Think he knows we’re looking for
him?”

“He is American.  They collect guns like I collect shoes.” 
She shrugged.  “You should be more concerned about the Albanians.  The UN
considers Albanian mafia to be terrorists.  They work in large family clans,
very difficult to
penetrate
.”  Her dark eyes pierced him with the
innuendo.

When she found him in Paris, he watched her shapeshift into
this Kim Kardashian persona.  Urvashi seemed to enjoy wearing the skin of Kim
Kardashian.  Well maybe not exactly Kim, but very close.

Urvashi-Kim ran her fingers down his chest in an electric
tickle of energy.  She had a thing for touching him.  Not really affection, just
lust.  Lots and lots of lust.  Yet he suspected Urvashi’s constant touchy-feely
indicated an ulterior motive.  Like stealing a pinch of his energy?  Maybe more
than a pinch?

“You’re not ready to face these people, Aaron.  Not without
a massacre.  You need professional help.”

“Michelle’s not gonna like that.”  He shook his head.  He
had maintained peace by keeping the ladies away from each other.  Bringing
Urvashi into the investigation directly would quickly create problems.

His life had become a juggling act, and there were only so
many balls he could keep in the air before they all crashed into each other.

Urvashi purred in his ear, brushing her succulent lips over
his skin.  “Not me.”  She slid her tingling fingertips inside his robe, and reached
for his cock.  “I have friends who can help.”  Her warm magical hands stroked
him to a rock-hard erection in seconds.