Regency Rogues Omnibus (58 page)

Nevertheless, she ignored that emotion and picked her timing when they came to the door of a room they obviously intended to enter. Then, the guard was on her left side and just as he reached for the iron door latch, she stepped back, drawing his hand clamped to her arm with her. Instead of opening the door and pressing her through the entrance at the same time, he was left with the door swinging open and revealing the room beyond.

Joelle paid no attention to the inner room as the guard’s fingers tightened painfully on her arm and she began to pretend panic at having to enter the room, which was in reality not far from the truth. She had no idea what horrific circumstances lay waiting in the room, only that there
would
be another set of horrible circumstances. She shook her head, dragging her body backward, making negative sounds of refusal. The guard chose to haul her forcefully forward.
One brush with the keys.
She allowed herself to collide more fully. The guard hissed, shaking her by her arm as she made her knees wobble, while she whimpered a few times. “No. No.”
Second brush with the keys
. She wobbled against the guard and he stepped more firmly against her, reaching out his other hand to keep her upright, while tugging her forward. She nearly collapsed against him then.
Third contact with the keys
. It was the longest contact, as she cried. “I do not want to go in there!”

While her theatrics were in play and the guard was physically holding her upright dragging her forward, she lifted the key. Success! Quickly, she dropped it into a small hole that she’d torn on the inside of her cloak. The key fell free to the bottom hem of the cloak where it caught and she felt elation for a brief moment, before she finally allowed herself to look at the room and the man waiting within.

“Come here, my darling beauties. I have waited so long to meet you.” The voice was so resonate in cultured and deep tones, and the enticing strength and quality of the sound instantly filled Joelle with the desire to find its source. She remembered thinking that the man behind that voice had to be extraordinary, right before she gasped, thinking the man was a ghost.

Joelle tried to see beyond the light of candles placed in the otherwise dark room, with heavy drapery clinging in blackness around the edges. The man’s image seemed to waver behind the light of the flickering candles as the guards herded her and the Marquis forward. Joelle would always think of the man thereafter as, “the voice,” and the glimpse she caught of him standing in the darker recesses, beyond the candles, was of a ghostly quality. It was obvious that he had long white hair. His hair was so long, the snow-white strands appeared to trail nearly to his waist. His silhouette looked tall and thin and he wore a large piece of glinting jewelry that hung in the middle of his chest. But that was the only glimpse of him she obtained before the guards halted their forward advance, and then both guards spoke for the first time.

“Kneel before your master, Lord Hellion!” Both guards pressured she and the Marquis down onto their knees, barely using the corded muscles bulging around their arms.

Joelle fought to keep the key from clanking on the stone floor as she was forced downward unexpectedly. She succeeded, but her gaze was lowered when Lord Hellion spoke next.

“Ah, there is the hair of fire and the hair of earth, this pleases me. Giver of the red hair I bestow the christening name,
Ardente,
on you and giver of the earth shades of hair I bestow the christening name,
Seducteur,
on you.”

Giver?
Joelle thought, captured by the mellifluous tones of Lord Hellion’s voice. This man, she realized suddenly, could shape legions of people with his voice alone. Alarmed, Joelle fought the urge to look at the Marquis for strength, at the same time she challenged herself not to gaze upward at the carrier of that, “voice.” Somehow, she knew Lord Hellion expected his voice to entice her gaze to turn to him, more than her natural curiosity.

Chapter Eight

Saxon’s gaze was fathomless as he looked into the face of pure white evil. Lord Hellion was an albino, with his chest bared in pastel white flesh, pink eyes, and the voice of the devil. Saxon let none of his surprise show at Hellion’s venomous and unnatural appearance. Saxon kept his gaze sultry-lidded with flecks of interest as though he was instinctively trying to hold it back, but not succeeding. He saw immediately that it worked as Hellion’s pink-veined eyes purred back at him. Saxon’s flesh itched with distaste, yet he knew Hellion was slightly surprised, because Hellion seduced with his voice, not his looks.

Hellion wore white britches and a white fur-edged cloak draping back on his shoulders, leaving his chest and arms bare. His flesh appeared ashen and his sparse lips looked bloodless. His structure was nearly skeletal, while his face was concave, with sharp ageless qualities. Had Hellion had any color to draw upon one could deem him partially handsome, if not for being so thin. Suppressed demonic energy shown from his eyes, and the voice of mastery came from those eyes. Saxon was certain that Hellion could call God vile and his listeners would hear the honeyed tones of righteousness in Hellion’s voice.

“I have waited eternity for you, Seducteur.” Hellion moved forward as though he flowed and Saxon caught a glimpse out of the side of his gaze of Joelle raising her head as she knelt beside him. Saxon heard her small gasp, then Hellion’s voice thundered as though in ecstasy, shouting, “You!” Then, Hellion shocked Saxon, and Saxon nearly cringed backward as Hellion dropped to his knees before him.
“You
will make me a God!” Hellion’s vociferations came with his white face twisting at odd angles.

Saxon hastily bowed his head before showing any outward reaction as his heart hammered unreasonably. He had no clue as to what to do. How to proceed. How to gain the best advantage over a madman with the voice of a God. Joelle’s hiss of fear beside him sounded like repercussions inside his ears and inside himself. Voicing things, he fought to control. Joelle’s sounds obviously turned Hellion’s attention.

“And you, Ardente, you will anoint and consecrate the last limb I need to rise up to my rightful place and forever will your hair be intertwined with this young vision of the deity Bacchus!”

Joelle made a strangled sound, causing Saxon to raise his head, as he heard her crying in outrage, “Are you utterly insane? Just listening to you is like watching a bad play! If you are going to kill us or rape us at least make some sense!” One of her hands emphasized her statement by slashing in front of her. “I wager you have people groveling at your feet with that undecipherable drivel.
God
at least made sense when he spoke!”

At this turn of events, and unrestrained, Joelle chose to lurch to her feet as though her fury’s heat lifted her upright. The guard, several steps behind her, came forward to roughly clasp her arms from behind, while Hellion rose with deep and charismatic laughter. Saxon stayed kneeling, silently applauding Joelle, while he took the free moments given him to quickly calculate the perimeters of the room. When confused, shaken, and uncertain, he thought dimly, fall back on what you know.

“Your fire will sustain me,” Lord Hellion chuckled, stepping toward Joelle. Joelle fought her instinct to cringe away from Hellion’s unappealing visage. “You are intelligent and I will feed on that,” Lord Hellion said, with his chalky hands, carrying long and claw-like fingernails toward her. Suddenly, he grasped her jaw, forcing her head back harshly against the guard’s chest behind her. “
But,
” Lord Hellion hissed. “In the end you will worship your Master and God. You will be a play thing for his pleasure!”

Hellion’s fingers dug painfully into her jaw, straining her neck as she fought the clutching fingers, working her mouth against them. “If I
saw
a God,” Joelle sputtered through the press of her lips. “I might worship him!”

Joelle cried out at the slashing pain of one of Hellion’s nails slicing down her cheek. She saw the Marquis rise, but the other guard quickly clasped his arms. Joelle felt blood welling on the laceration as Hellion held up a hand toward the Marquis, with his gaze turning to him also.

“It is good, Seducteur, that you wish to protect your future voluptuary slut. Possessiveness is a raw emotion and you have such seething emotions inside you.”

Hellion released her jaw then, and he moved toward the Marquis, with his upper torso and head undulating slowly, like a seductive dance, half circling from one side of the Marquis to the other. Joelle saw the beauty and underlying carnal virility of the Marquis also as she watched the serpent trying to tempt the beauty.

“Passions buried deep, my sultry Seducteur. So deep inside you.” Lord Hellion’s voice was like the lowest honeyed notes of a violin.

Joelle saw the cherry-brown color of the Marquis’ eyes deepen as he remained unnaturally quiet and accepting. She wanted to rail at the Marquis, to tell him to rise and challenge the evil. Yet, the Marquis merely stood, appearing to be a supplicant, with his long hair falling loosely around him like a rich curtain of brown and his black eyelashes covering his heavy-lidded irises. The Marquis’ gaze looked more attracted to the odd jewel in the medallion on Hellion’s chest. It was large and multifaceted with colors that changed with the light. Looking at it made Joelle feel strange, especially with Hellion’s undulating motions and she forced her gaze away from it.

“Your hair, Seducteur, is a talisman of your desires and of the erotic passions you can barely contain.” Hellion’s voice wove seductive tones as his body snaked in slow motion.

Joelle felt as though Hellion were sucking the Marquis into some unmentionable abyss and her emotions flared again, before her sense prevailed. “What bunk! Marquis, are you going to listen to this farce and say nothing?”

“Silence!” Lord Hellion snapped, flinging his head in her direction.

“Ouch!
Ouc-,
” Joelle’s protest came to a halt with a dark palm seriously clamped over her mouth.

Saxon felt as though he was jerked from some type of dreaming trance as his gaze pulled away from the sway of the prismatic, egg-sized gem on Hellion’s chest, to Joelle’s outcry.

“Yes, yes,” Hellion said, with his fingers reaching forward to touch Saxon’s hair covering his shoulder. “You will easily be mine, succulent Seducteur.”

Saxon wondered in alarm if that were true. There seemed to be some quality to Hellion’s voice and the jewel that was altering what should be his natural reaction.

“Let me see the rest of him,” Hellion said. Saxon kept his gaze on Joelle, whom the attendant still restrained, but the fire in her midnight irises sustained him. “Disrobe, the Seducteur, so I can see the final piece. See the male organ of ascension.”

Bloody hell,
Saxon thought, Joelle was right. Hellion talked like a warped theatrical religious actor. But he also knew that it was imperative to make sense of Hellion’s mélange of meanings. Saxon thought one thing was clear, Hellion wanted to look at his prick. Saxon felt the guard behind him reach forward and fling open the cloak that had been covering him. That cleared his senses. That and keeping his gaze off the jewel. He could not remember a time when his nudity had bothered him as much.

The sound Hellion made was of instant perverted attraction and Saxon realized at once that Hellion lusted for men as well as women. He should have known it. He probably did deep inside where he had not wanted to look too closely. It was why he remained so docile, wasn’t it? So Hellion would lean toward him and not Joelle. Sometimes he did not understand his inner motivations until too late. It was as if he worked on inner instincts his conscious mind didn’t recognize. It was because of chameleon qualities that spying had forced him to play. Well, really before that.

Saxon thought he might finally erupt if Hellion touched more than his hair. But Hellion merely gazed at his nakedness, and just those pink licentious eyes on his bare flesh, without touch, had his stomach crimping and his flesh longing for cover. The guard holding his chained upper arms from behind, moved him partially to one side, and then partially to the other side, but Hellion’s gaze stayed on his prick. Saxon wondered that Hellion could not see the tints of virgin’s blood there. However, with only the candles shadowing the room, Saxon supposed that it merely made his male organ look ruddy against his medium-shaded flesh.

“Any dripping cunt hole would feel like a vise around that cock. Most women would have trouble taking you, I imagine. It is the cock of a God when hardened. The cock of a male seductress.”

Saxon felt like squirming unreasonably beneath Hellion’s words, and he tripped his gaze away from Joelle in something like embarrassment. He had never been in a position quite like this before as though he were the object of some desire. He thought for an instant that he could nearly catch hold of how an abused woman might feel.

“Unveil just her tits,” Hellion ordered suddenly. But his gaze stayed on Saxon’s penis.

Saxon watched Joelle’s struggles, but the guard managed to keep his hand clamped over her mouth and at the same time tug her cloak open and downward just enough to bare her breasts. Saxon’s lean muscles tensed with the need not to react in her defense. He willed it away at the same time he kept his gaze from her breasts.