Blood Curse (Blood Series) Page 29

  She settled in the seat, and he sat at her side.

  “I hated Mrs. Darkwell for keeping me a prisoner,” she continued, “but I must thank her, for she found love for me.”

  “I think she has been well rewarded.”

  “I am so happy Guidon’s curse is ended. I like him very much.”

  Raven grinned. “I never would have guessed that was what he actually looked like.”

  “It’s not his looks that are important, Raven. Mrs. Darkwell loved him even when he was a little gnome-like man, and that was because he is intelligent, caring, and has a good and noble heart. Those are the important things.”

  “So if I were cursed to look like Guidon, you would still love me?”

  “Always,” she said firmly.

  The carriage lurched away.

  “When we go to bed,” Felie said softly, “I want you to tie me up. I—I know I don’t need to do it anymore, since I can touch you. But I liked it.”

  Raven stared in amazement.

  “Oh dear, you aren’t shocked, are you?”

  “When it comes to lovemaking, Felie, I hope you shock me every day of our lives together. For eternity.”

  Candlelight illuminated Raven’s remarkably sculpted derriere. Squinting at the clay in front of her, Ophelia drew her carving tool along the curve she’d formed, trying to match exactly the beautiful muscular shape that defined Raven’s delectable rump.

  She didn’t have much time, as they were due to leave very soon. She set down her tools, got up, and walked to her model. He stood in a pose, naked, holding a bow and arrow.

  She had to make certain she got this right. She just had to explore those firm cheeks of his a little more—

  His rigid cock jolted as she fondled his rump.

  Meeting her eyes, Raven groaned. “I’m in pain, love. I need a break. An erotic break.”

  “Again?” She gave a teasing pout. “But this will be the fourth one. This sculpture will never be finished at this rate. Every time I make any progress, you insist on stopping.”

  He gazed at her with ink-black rueful eyes. “Felie, you spend as much time fondling me as you do sculpting. I’m not strong enough to resist getting aroused when you stroke my arse.”

  “Think of this as building fortitude—”

  She broke off as he tossed down his bow, cupped her chin, and drew her to him. A shiver rushed over her. He lifted her gently, so she had to stand on tiptoe, and he slowly let his mouth play over hers.

  In a long, smoldering, melting kiss, quivers tumbled down to hit the throbbing pulses of desire in her quim, and she gasped into his mouth. She ached for him. Needed him. Hungered for him.

  “I want to be tied up,” she whispered, when he let her catch her breath. It was just for fun now, and how she loved it.

  He said nothing. He did not have to. She just knew from the hotter light in his eyes exactly what he was going to do.

  He lifted her and put her over his shoulder.

  He’d built this studio for her in his attic, and it was equipped with a sumptuously appointed daybed: silk sheets, thick rose-scented pillows, and gilt-decorated frame. Downstairs his servants took care of the house. In the month they’d been together, she had helped him change the entire house. True, as vampires, they were creatures of darkness, but she had used her artistic eye to make their nocturnal world beautiful—lush fabrics, many candles, rooms opened.

  Raven gently laid her on the bed. Then worry struck. “Do we have time?”

  “Very little,” he admitted.

  “Then you shall have to tie me up quickly,” she admonished, and she put her hands above her head, wrists locked.

  He looped a black velvet rope—kept conveniently by the daybed—around her wrists.

  “Ooooh,” she murmured at the soft stroke of velvet on her sensitive skin. How she loved this—this was the only fun way to be a captive, to be mastered by a handsome, black-haired vampire who loved to give her pleasure.

  He tied a firm knot, and she played her part of the game, tugging on the rope to prove it was secure and she was his prisoner.

  Grinning as she fought the rope, Raven bent and flicked his tongue over her right nipple. It hardened and stood up instantly. She moaned, closing her eyes, and arching her back so he would take her nipple in his mouth and suck her hard.

  But he never let her take command so early in the game. He played with the aching tips with his tongue, licking and laving with agonizing leisure.

  “The time,” she groaned. “We have to begin to dress.”

  His tongue left her nipple, which was not at all what she’d wanted. Opening her eyes, she saw him holding another length of rope. He eyed the juncture of her thighs beneath her skirts.

  “Maybe they’ll wait for us,” he murmured. Slowly, oh so slowly, he eased her skirts upward.

  “They won’t,” she gasped, as her hems reached her knees.

  “Not for late guests,” she added, moaning as the fabric glided over her thighs.

  “Not at a wedding,” she squeaked as her skirts were thrown up, covering her bare breasts. “Not when they are marrying at night just so we can attend the ceremony.”

  “Don’t worry, my love. I can bring you to orgasm very quickly.”

  “We have mere minutes.”

  “Watch me.” A playful grin touched Raven’s lips, and her heart melted at the sight. How she loved to see him smile. Even though when they were together his lips always lifted in happiness, she never tired of drinking in a grin, a teasing smirk, a soft, genuine smile. Each one made her heart ache with joy.

  Raven slid the rope between her legs, and she cried out as it stroked through her nether lips and rubbed along her clit. He looped it around her hips, which pulled it tighter, until it was sawing her hard clit and was soaked with her juices. She was panting, almost ready to explode in pleasure.

  “Not yet, love.”

  He moved up between her parted legs on his knees. Lifting her hips, he let her bottom rest on his thighs. His erect cock poked her bottom.

  “Deep in your ass today, my angel?”

  The words robbed her of speech. She squirmed and that tugged the rope, which stroked her clit. Yes, oh yes, please.

  His hands cupped and firmly massaged her bottom. That alone made her head loll back in delight against the bed. His thumb moved against the strips of rope positioned between her bum cheeks.

  He held his iron-hard cock against her entrance.

  She was ready for him, so aroused her tight little opening was slack and open in invitation.

  His thumb dipped in, teasing the sensitive rim. Then his cock slid in. So huge, yet she loved to be so full.

  Panting, she rocked her hips up and down, taking every inch of him up her derriere. He gently thrust his hips, shoving deep. So deep she felt his groin slap her ass.

  God, it was so good with the rope rubbing her clit, his rock-hard prick sliding in and out of her rump. So good. Heavenly good.

  “Raven!” She screamed his name at the impact of her climax. It showered over her, thrilling her, taking her, commanding her. Just as he commanded her.

  “Felie,” he gasped. His hips drove against her, making her rump jiggle, as he banged his cock deep. He arched back, and heat and fluid rushed inside.

  He rocked against her and he was commanded by his orgasm, by their shared pleasure.

  Then his head dropped forward, and he took ragged breaths. “Heaven,” he muttered. “Fucking you is like touching heaven.”

  She giggled. “We must get ready. You are to be the best man, at the groom’s side.”

  “And you are maid of honor. Though not a maid much longer.”

  “What do you mean?” She frowned.

  He winked, then left the daybed. He returned with an ewer of cool water and a cloth, and he cleaned her studiously. But he didn’t untie her.

  When he finished, he tossed the cloth in the porcelain pitcher but still left her wrists bound.

  “Won’t you let m
e go?”

  “I’d like to keep you my captive a little longer. To do this—”

  Long strides took him to his clothes, lying across the arm of a leather chair. He searched the pocket of his tailcoat. Holding something in his palm, he returned.

  He approached the daybed from the side. She wriggled her fingers, now feeling more anxious. Time was ticking past, and she refused to be late for the wedding of Harry and Frederica. “Raven—”

  “Ophelia, will you marry me? I am deeply, passionately in love with you, and I want you to be my wife forever.”

  The words poured out in a rush. Her commanding vampire blushed. Then he held out his hand. Between his index finger and thumb he held a ring bearing a huge, heart-shaped ruby. A bloodred ruby.

  Leaning over her, he slipped it on the ring finger of her bound left hand.

  “I haven’t answered yet,” she pointed out.

  “I didn’t want to give you the chance to say no,” he muttered.

  “Say no? You truly thought I might? After everything we have been through, you thought there was any chance at all I might refuse you?”

  He nodded. “I did take you prisoner, after all, and I—”

  “My answer is yes!” she broke in. “Yes, I love you. Yes, I want to be with you forever.”

  A second later, he kissed her, a lush, long, breathtaking kiss. His hands tore through the cords holding her wrists, and he undid the ones teasing her quim.

  “Now, can we go to the wedding?” she breathed. “Though I do have one more surprise for you, Raven.”

  He looked so surprised, she giggled. “I am enceinte, Raven. We are going to have a child.”

  He closed his eyes and rocked back. Then he grinned. And let out a whoop of joy. He drew her into his arms, lifting her off the bed, and spun her around.

  “I never believed I could be so happy,” he whispered against her ear.

  “Nor I. Now, we must hurry. We have a wedding to attend.”

  “The next one will be ours. Ophelia, my love, my heart will be bound with yours for eternity.”

  He kissed her again, and Ophelia knew her dress and hair were going to be done rather hastily for the wedding, for all she wanted to do was make love to her fiancé.

  Again and again and again.

  Turn the page for a special excerpt of the new book in

  Katana Collins’s Soul Stripper series:

  SOUL SURVIVOR

  With immortality comes a craving that can’t be satisfied,

  a need never fulfilled . . .

  An Aphrodesia trade paperback on sale now.

  1

  The neon-colored lights were blinding as they swooped around the club like laser beams. First purple. Then green. Now blue. It felt like I was in the middle of a lava lamp, watching them spin around me. With the little straw stirrer, I sipped my Long Island iced tea and kept dancing. Sweaty men bumped into me from all angles, each attempting to brush my ass or breasts, in the hopes I might look up and give them even the slightest bit of attention. If only they knew just how deadly my attention could be.

  Kayce, my best friend, grabbed my elbow and swung me around, our noses almost bumping in the process. Even with immortal hearing, I could barely make out what she was saying over the thumping of the bass. Grabbing the back of my head, she pulled me in closer, her lips on my ear. “I think I found two!” she yelled.

  For normal girls on the town, this could mean anything—two seats, two bucks, two drinks. For two succubi on the town? It meant victims. We prey on the local men and women here in Las Vegas to satiate the raging itch between our legs and sustain our immortal souls on Earth.

  With her hand still wrapped around the back of my neck, she turned me toward two college-aged guys who were staring at us, transfixed, while their clammy hands clenched plastic cups spilling over with cheap beer.

  My head snapped back to Kayce. “They’re so young,” I said, noting their auras, silver and sparkling. These two were Heaven-bound for sure.

  “I thought you didn’t care anymore?” Her gaze narrowed.

  My stomach twisted, guilt trying to gnaw its way out as if some little animal had burrowed into there. I pushed the feeling aside. “I don’t,” I shouted over the music with a nonchalant shrug. I was bluffing. If Kayce knew I was lying, then she chose to ignore it.

  “What do you say we give them a little something to look forward to?” she said as a devious grin crept its way across her face. She nestled her body into mine, pulsing to the beat of the music. Running her hands through my shoulder-length blond curls, she sent a wicked glance to the two guys watching, their mouths hanging agape. “C’mon, girl,” she whispered. “It’s show time.”

  I moved to the music with her, running my fingers down her open, bare back. We turned in rhythm so that I was looking directly at the leaner college kid; he had surfer blond hair that flopped to one side and full lips. An itch surged through my core, shooting between my legs and my mouth went dry. A droplet of sweat tickled its way down the side of my face along my hairline and I quickly shapeshifted it away, making sure to settle my makeup, yet again. Drinking was making me sloppy with my appearance—and I had it much easier than most humans. With one hand, I swept Kayce’s curtain of jet-black hair to the side and ran my lips ever so gently up her neck to her ear. My eyes stayed on the college kid as I darted out a tongue that barely grazed her earlobe.

  Her fingers splayed against my scalp, weaving into my hair and she tugged my neck back. “Which one do you want?” she whispered. With my eyes closed, nose aimed at the ceiling, I could feel her kisses as they trailed down my throat. When I finally opened my eyes again, I turned around, still on the beat, dropped myself down the ground, and swiveled my hips back to a standing position.

  “Surfer boy. We’ve been staring at each other,” I answered as though I were ordering mustard on a sandwich.

  “Okay, then,” she answered. “That leaves me with the mocha candy.”

  The crowd on the dance floor had parted, and there was now a group of people circled around us, watching. Men gazed hungrily and women scowled, eyes red and angry. Their jealousy surged a bolt of energy into me. Even though I used to be an angel, that bad-girl side wins out every time. An angel turned succubus—I was a creature no one in the demon or angel realm could explain. The succubus with a soul.

  The song ended and Kayce took my hand, leading me to the two guys. “This is Monica,” she said, running a fingernail down the length of the other guy’s bicep, which bulged beneath his Hollister polo shirt.

  Surfer boy took my hand in his. “I’m Paul,” he said. His palm was sweaty and after the handshake ended, I wiped my hand on my slinky, sequined dress, not caring if it stained. That’s the beauty of shapeshifting. It took a lot of my focus not to slink away, hoping that none of his other body parts were that sweaty.

  Kayce already had a leg wrapped around the other guy, pressing herself against him to the beat. I grabbed Paul’s hand and pulled him off the dance floor. I wasn’t quite the exhibitionist Kayce was. The bathroom was an extremely modern design with clear glass walls that fogged over as soon as you locked the door, so that no one could see in. I tugged Paul inside, locking the door behind me. The glass fogged, encasing us, and making it look as if the entire club on the other side of the glass had filled with mist instantaneously. He grabbed me from behind and turned my hips back to him, his hands squeezing my waist in a way that suggested a carnal need. Our lips rushed to find each other’s and his hands cupped my jaw. Bright blond hair flopped forward into his face and I brushed it back, my fingernails running through the silk-like strands. My tongue found his and they twisted around each other.

  With my eyes closed, it was easy to pretend for a moment the hair belonged to Drew—my human manager at the cafe where I worked during the day. I pretended that those lips were fuller with a tiny scar slicing across the top. Pretended that this college boy’s hands were more calloused and weathered from years of hard work as they circled and
caressed my body.

  An apelike grunt pulled me back to reality. Cool air tickled my puckering nipples and it wasn’t until that moment that I realized he had pulled my dress down over my breasts. A raging erection poked through his jeans against my belly and the contact sent a jolt of electricity through my blood. I needed his life to survive—this wasn’t about passion or even sex; it was survival. Never mind that I had had sex the night before as well. Never mind that I had chosen Paul because he had a slight resemblance to the man I loved but couldn’t have. Never mind I probably could have gone two weeks without another conquest with all the Heaven-bound men I’d been seducing lately. Right now—all that mattered was the life force in front of me. A morality so strong that its power pushed on my gut causing the air to gush out of my lungs, leaving me breathless.

  I shoved Paul against the opposite wall, wrapping my legs around his waist. As I propped myself on his hips, the dress slid up above my ass and I shapeshifted my panties away. One of the glorious things about having more sex than I need—I have plenty of power for superfluous shifting.

  A finger slid inside me and I tensed my sex around him. Again, I captured those pretty-boy lips in mine and drank him in. His soul was glistening, shimmering. He was going to be an amazing fix—the high would be electrifying. Much more so than the assholes and Hell-bound men I used to sleep with. And what’s a week off their life in order for me to not be condemned to Hell? A week off their life so that I could maintain a human body and not be a drifting soul in the bowels of Hell. And in exchange, they get a night with me—sex extraordinaire. It’s an even trade.

  Okay, maybe not even, but it’s the closest I can get to justifying my actions. Besides, my broken heart is still on the mend. Anonymous sex speeds up the healing process. Not only had I discovered Drew was working things out with Adrienne, but now she was the apprentice to my Julian. My old mentor back when I was an angel. I’d lost both the loves of my life to the same woman.