The Sacrifice (5 page)

“What?” I stare at him. “But…but what about my clothes?”

“I’ll send someone for them.”

“My… my plants. Someone has to water them.”

“I’ll send someone to do both.”

I try again. “My job at the shop? Can I still work there during
the day?”

“I’m afraid not.” He gives me an annoyingly superior smirk.
“Serving your new master is a full time job.”

I want to say that he’s
not
my master, but unfortunately
that’s not true—he is. And besides, it would sound so childish. Like saying,
'You’re
not the boss of me,'
or something equally immature. Still, I grope for more
reasons why I shouldn’t be tied to him twenty-four/seven.

“But my family—I’m the only one who works the shop on a regular
basis,” I say. “Without me there, one of the other witches will have to stop
practicing the craft in order to run it. That’s a loss of income.”

“Your family will be more than adequately compensated.” Aiden
sounds almost bored. “Is there anything else?”

I try one last time. “My class—Advanced Herbology. I take classes
at night. Can I—”

He frowns. “When you’ve proven to me that you know the true
meaning of submission then and only then will you be allowed to resume your
coursework.”

“But I paid good money for that class,” I protest. “And one of the
grading requirements is attendance. If I miss too much I’ll fail.”

“Well then…” He gives me a lazy smile. “You’d better learn to
submit soon, hadn’t you?”

Suddenly I am furious—he thinks he has me sewn up in a neat little
bag, doesn’t he? “Let me tell you something,
Master,”
I say, leaning
forward and pointing a finger at his broad chest. “If you think I’ve got
nothing better to do than bow and scrape and dance attendance on your every
whim, you’re wrong.”

His eyes narrow. “Is that so?”

I sense I’m going too far but I don’t care. “Yeah,” I say
sarcastically. “That’s freaking so. And if you expect me to enjoy jumping through
your ridiculous hoops and fall in love with you and beg for your approval to do
anything I want—”

“This has nothing to do with love,” he snaps, cutting me off.
“It’s about dominance and submission and that’s
all.”
He leans forward
until I shrink back. He is crowding me, getting into my personal space. “And
believe me, Emma, I have a
damn
good reason for demanding that you
submit to me.”

“Would that reason be that you’re some kind of a sexual sadist?” I
say but my voice comes out in a breathless squeak instead of the strong,
fearless tone I hoped it would.

“Absolutely not.” Aiden leans back, resting comfortably in the
soft leather seat. “Dominance and submission is not a new game to me, but it’s not
one I indulge in often. Usually I like to know that my partner wants such
treatment before I deal it out.”

“Well, I
don’t
. Want it, I mean,” I say as forcefully as I
can.

“How do you know?” he murmurs, eyeing me with interest.

I look at him in disbelief. “How do I know that I don’t want to
be…be dominated? To be punished and hurt?”

“Punishment can be a pleasure in and of itself, if performed
correctly,” he purrs. His gray eyes are lazy and half-lidded with something
like hunger burning far back in their depths.

“How…how could anyone possibly get pleasure from being punished?”
I whisper, feeling my cheeks heat.

“That depends on the punishment.” Lightly, Aiden brushes my hot
cheek with the back of his hand. A jolt of electricity tingles through me at
the gentle touch.

“I…I don’t understand.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to, Emma. Your earlier modesty tells me
that you have very little experience of the sexual world, especially the dark
side of that world, which we will explore together.”

A sudden image flares in my mind like a struck match. I can see
myself, naked before him and tied to the bed. It’s a big, four-poster and my
ankles and wrists are bound to each of the thick posts with some kind of black
cord. Aiden is leaning over me, holding something in his hand…a blindfold. I
suddenly know he’s going to put it on me and then do anything he wants…anything
at all. My nipples are as hard as bullets and my pussy is dripping, my cunt
swollen with a need only he can assuage. There is fear in my hazel eyes, but
longing also. Longing to give myself to him completely, to submit in any way he
wants, to offer myself to my Master…

No!
I
shake my head, trying to clear it of the disturbing vision. Where did it come
from? Did I just have a bizarre fantasy or is the vampire somehow feeding me
images of what he wants to do to me? Either option seems equally upsetting.

“But…I don’t want to explore it,” I say, trying to pick up the
threat of our conversation.

He shakes his head. “A great pity—this will be more difficult than
I feared. Still, what you want is immaterial in this case.”

“Why?” I demand.
“Why
is it immaterial? If you always give
your…your partners a chance to say yes or no then why not give
me
that
chance?”

He frowns at me. “You ask far too many questions. I would prefer
you to sit in silence for the rest of our trip.” Before I can protest his
high-handed proclamation he adds, “Every word you speak from now until we reach
my home will add to the punishment you already have coming to you.”

“I…you…you…” I sputter incoherently.

“That’s three more strokes,” he says, sounding almost bored.
“Would you care to try for more?"

Actually, I wouldn’t. I sink back in the butter-soft leather seat
and fume silently instead.
Arrogant bastard!
But the strange vision I
had of myself tied to his bed won’t leave my head. And I’m already wondering,
what
kind
of strokes is he talking about?

Chapter Five

Aiden’s house is a flat out mansion—no other word fits.

We have to drive down a long and winding road through some pretty
dense tropical vegetation, which tells me the vampire likes his privacy. Either
that or he forgot to pay the gardener. The house itself is long and low, all
one story, which makes sense in Florida. It’s much more expensive to cool a
house with upper floors. It’s a sprawling modern design with lots of outer glass
walls—surprising in the lair of a vampire. The lights inside give off a soft
golden glow in the deepening night, promising a haven of safety. I am sure they
lie.

“I spent years missing the sun,” Aiden says, obviously seeing me
examining the glass walls. “When I acquired the means to reacquaint myself with
its light, I didn’t want to waste it.”

Well, that explains all the glass. And it’s private and secluded
back here—the house is surrounded by dense Florida foliage. So I guess he
doesn’t have to worry about anyone seeing him walk around naked. If he does
walk around naked. Just the thought has me blushing. If the broad, muscular
chest I can see peeking out from the leather jacket he’s wearing is any
indication, Aiden James naked would be a sight to see.

Wonder if you’ll be seeing it sooner rather than later,
whispers a little voice in my head.
I shiver at the thought.

Before I can speculate further, the limo pulls up to the front
door, its tires crunching on the crushed shell driveway. Aiden steps out first
and holds out his hand for me. It’s an old world, courtly gesture, one I’m
tempted to ignore out of sheer perversity. A single look at my new master’s
face, however, tells me that would be a mistake. I take the offered hand
without comment.

He helps me out of the limo, then takes me firmly by the arm. With
his other hand he makes a gesture towards what looks like a motion detector or
monitor of some kind and the double front doors fly open soundlessly. Aiden
marches me inside and they shut just as quickly with a very final
clicking
sound
I don’t care for one bit. Are we locked in? Before I can ask, he is steering me
through the house, one hand still clamped firmly on my arm.

“Hey, wait a minute! Where are we going?” I protest, forgetting
his moratorium on talking.

“To the bedroom,” he growls. He’s walking so quickly I have to
trot to keep up and the opulent house is a blur around me. “Your education
begins tonight.”

My education? Is he
serious?

Apparently so because the minute we enter a large master bedroom,
he releases my arm and says, “Strip.”

“What?” I stand there confused and more than a little terrified.
The very room we’re in seems built to intimidate. The walls are solid, not
glass at least. As for the décor, it’s
tres
masculine. Big, heavy, dark
furniture, thick, deep gray Berber on the floors, and a huge four-poster bed covered
by a maroon spread.
With
a start, I realize this is the bed I saw in my dream—or vision or whatever you
want to call it. The one I was tied to while Aiden was about to blindfold me.

“You heard me,” he says, pulling my attention back to him. He is
standing there in the doorway, his broad shoulders blocking my escape and his
arms crossed over his chest. “Strip.”

“I…why do I…?” I can’t finish the sentence.

Aiden sighs in obvious frustration. “Emma, I know you’re new to
this but let’s get one thing straight from the start. A submissive does not ask
why. She simply does what she’s told to do,
the minute
she is told to do
it.”

“So you’re asking for my unconditional obedience?” My voice is
quavering but I’m determined to have my say. “That seems like a tall order
considering we’ve known each other less than twenty-four hours.”

Aiden runs a hand through his hair, a very human gesture of
frustration. “I will tell you again, I have good reason to demand your
submission. And it is not simply my personal preference.”

“What reason?” I demand. “Tell me.”

“In good time.” He eyes me sternly. “For now, do as you are told.
Strip, Emma, or I will strip you myself. And I promise you won’t like the
punishment afterward if I have to do that.”

He keeps promising to punish me but as yet he hasn’t said how he’s
going to do it. How many punishments have I racked up so far? I open my mouth
to ask in the most sarcastic way possible but the expression on his face makes
me swallow my words. He’s just standing there, waiting for me to obey him. To
take off all my clothes and get naked right here and now. I open my mouth again
and this time what comes out is, “Do I really
have
to?”

His eyes soften a little at my pleading tone. “Emma…” He takes a
step toward me and I back up, my thighs hitting the footboard of the tall, four-poster
bed.

“Please,” I whisper. I realize I’m begging now but I can’t seem to
help myself. All my sass and sarcasm has leaked away now that I’m pressed up
against the bed with the huge, dominating vampire looming over me.

“I understand that you’re frightened and shy,” he murmurs softly,
taking another step forward into my personal space. “But I must have you naked,
my lovely little witch.”

There is a finality in his deep voice that tells me he’s not changing
his mind about this. I’m going to have to do it, no matter how much I don’t
want to.

“Fine,” I say, feeling furiously self-conscious. “I’ll strip. But
don’t blame me if you don’t like what you see.” Turning my back to him, I push
down the long peacock colored skirt and let it pool around my ankles. Then I
take the loop of fabric from around my neck and slip off the halter as well.
Finally I’m left in nothing but the strappy black sandals Lexy loaned me and a
pair of blue lace underwear. I know I should take them off too but somehow I
just
can’t
.

“Emma,” Aiden says softly and slowly I turn to face him. I cross
my arms over my chest, hiding my too large breasts as best I can.

I know most women would die to have a double D cup but my bra size
has always been a source of embarrassment to me. I remember the taunting voice
of a girl I hated in high school.
“More than a handful’s too much, Emma.”
And
her friend had laughed and added,
“Yeah, and Emma has more like a
car
-full!
Besides, big boobs don’t count when you’re fat.”

I’ve slimmed down some since those dreadful days but not nearly as
much as I want to—as I should. Of course, if someone would have told me I would
be standing naked—or nearly naked—in front of a supernaturally hot and hunky
vampire in the near future I would have hit the Stairmaster a little harder.

“Take your arms away,” Aiden says quietly. “Let me see you.”

Miserably, knowing I have no choice, I do as he says. I feel
completely exposed with my breasts bare, my nipples on display. Because they’re
so big, they’re not exactly as perky as I’d like. Of course, not everyone with
big boobs can look like a porn star—most of
them
are only so firm and
high because they’re sporting a plastic rack. Still, I feel woefully inadequate
standing there in front of the gorgeous Aiden.

“Emma,” he says. “Look at me.”