Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 52247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
She sniffs. “That’s a myth. We don’t have to shift with the moon.”
“There are many false myths about us. Both our kinds. For one thing, I enjoy garlic.”
She smiles at that. “The garlic stuffed olives tipped me off. You’re Italian, right?”
I raise my brow at her direct question.
“Sorry,” she looks away.
“No, you’re not,” I chide, tugging her hair. She’s not sorry at all.
“Is it rude to ask questions about a vampire’s past?”
“Not rude. Impertinent. You’re lucky I enjoy it. But be careful, pet. Push too far, and I’ll gag that sweet mouth.” Her eyelashes flutter and I sit back. “I spent some centuries in Italy, yes. Turf wars between the city states. Whoring and dining with the Medicis. It grew tiresome, and the church’s increased focus on finding and burning out any evil or witches became uncomfortable. I escaped to the New World, with plenty of wilderness and cover for monsters who hunt at night.”
“You think you’re a monster?” she whispers to the carpet.
“I know I am. A creature of hunger and darkness. The older I get, the more my perversions.”
Her throat convulses. “You hurt people.”
“I do,” I drawl, deepening my voice. “I enjoy it.” I tug her head back, exposing her neck. “So do you.”
Her head jerks and I tighten my grip.
“You deny it?”
“I don’t like pain.”
“Not just pain.” I run a finger from the jaw to the soft column of her throat, enjoying her struggle to keep from lashing out. “Pain, pleasure depends on the way the body registers it. Two sides of the same coin. When I whip a sub,” a tremor goes through her at the word whip, “I balance them on a knife’s edge. Suspended over two chasms. One way--immense pain. The other--boundless pleasure.” I hold out my hand and rock it back and forth as she stares. “They never know which way they’ll fall.”
“So that’s it. You like being in control.”
“I don’t like it, pet.” I wind her hair around my fist until she’s caught, throat taut, lips quivering, on a white golden leash. “I live for it.”
The limo coasts to a halt. I hold her in place one, two, three long moments before releasing her. “Shall we?”
I help her out of the limo and usher her to the club door. The door’s unlocked but no one’s inside, as I instructed. Selene clings to my arm as we walk through the murky coat check area and descend the stairs into the gloom.
“What is this place?” she asks, voice hushed.
In answer, I press a hidden panel and flick on the first set of lights. The first part of the room is dedicated to lounging. A backlit bar faces an assortment of low tables and plush armchairs. I wait for Selene’s eyes to adjust and illuminate the second half of the dungeon. Spotlights appear around the vast room, shining on the heavy wooden furniture bolted to the floor. St. Andrew’s crosses, spanking benches, wooden horses, long tables topped with black leather--a well appointed BDSM dungeon. A dom’s paradise. A submissive’s hell and heaven all in one.
I flip the final switch and entire wall lights up. Selene gasps at the display of hanging floggers, Shibari rope, whips, paddles and canes.
Her shock is refreshing. Was I ever so innocent? Her head swivels, her wide eyes lit up, taking everything in. Her nipples are sharp points. Not so innocent. At least some part of her is fascinated.
Excellent.
“Well, pet.” I touch her hair to awaken her. “What do you think?”
She blinks. Licks her lips. Says the last thing I’d expect: “Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition.”
Chapter 5
Selene
The vampire king moves behind me, a giant, dark shadow in the this frightening place. His laughter echoes around me, surrounding me like warm blanket, entering my veins. The sound makes me light headed, like a glass of whiskey on an empty stomach. I sway a little and he wraps a large arm around my waist.
“Welcome to Toxic, pet.”
“This place...is yours?” I’ve heard of the vampire’s night club and the rumors of what it really is: a BDSM dungeon with a dance club as a cover. Some vampires are sadists, and prefer their victims to be submissive masochists. Sweetbloods, they call them. The blood has more flavor when mixed with endorphins, the body’s response to pain.
“All you see.”
“Everything the light touches,” I mutter. A smart mouth is a good way to cover up fear. Lucius laughs again, and keeps chuckling as he moves me forward.
We’re halfway to the center of the room, where a heavy throne sits on a raised platform, a spotlight showcasing its medieval splendor, when the silence makes sense.
“There’s no one here.”
“Of course not,” Lucius purrs in my ear. “You are my most prized possession. I do not want to show you off, not quite yet.”
I think of the party he’s throwing in a month. “But someday?”