Temptation at Twilight: Lords of Pleasure (9 page)

“Yes,” he groaned. “Anything.”

The handler slowly pulled the beads from the woman’s ass, and she was nearly insensate now. Leila’s wicked siren song called to the dark thing inside him that had been patiently lying in wait all evening. The beast unfurled, stretched its claws, and awakened, smirking evilly inside him.

I am you,
it told him in his head.
And you are me. Together, we can have anything we want.

The handler tossed the beads aside, freed himself from his pants. Pressed the head of his big, dripping rod into her anus and pushed inside, inch by inch. The slave cried out for more.

“Ahh, gods!” Freed, the beast exulted.
We will have ultimate power and we all will rule as one.
A rush poured through Soren’s veins, both icy and hot, as his new companion settled into his very bones, his soul. His beast craved the combination of sex and death, something that as a vampire he’d always struggled to keep leashed. And now . . .

The handler was reaming the woman’s pretty ass now, splitting it with that huge cock just as
he
would do when she belonged to him. Pounding her hard.

Leila worked Soren’s cock faster. “She looks so right bound like that, at his mercy, being fucked. She’ll spread so wonderfully when you torture her, darling. When
we
torture her.”

“Fuck, yes,” he rasped. “We’re going to do all sorts of nasty things to her sweet body, my love.” The thought filled his balls to the point of bursting, and a laugh he didn’t recognize escaped him, low and hungry, joined by hers.

“That’s right, darling. I knew you’d start to come around. You’re a strong-willed one, but the magic of our bond is stronger.”

Oh, gods! Had he really said that and meant it?
What’s wrong with me?

Shh,
the beast soothed.
Don’t fight us. Just give in and you’ll love how it feels, the power. Can’t you feel it deep in your balls? Let us free you.

Onstage, the handler plunged to the root with a shout, ass clenched, and pumped his cum into her channel. The slave screamed with the force of her orgasm, spasming under him, on and on. The audience went wild, shouting appreciatively. Many were getting off on the scene, in front of anyone who wanted to see.

Soren’s release exploded as Leila captured his mouth with hers. She kissed him deeply and he opened to her, letting her have him. When she broke the kiss, her lips curved into a cruel smile, and his beast purred.

“Now I know our bonding has been completed. You are my mate, in the way of
my
kind, not yours as a vampire.”

Yesss,
his beast purred.

“And what
is
your kind? What are you?”

“I’ve told you—you’ll find out more when you’re ready. As of yet, all that matters is that you’re mine, and together we’ll be unstoppable.”

Reaching onto the table, he grabbed a couple of napkins and cleaned himself off. He tossed the napkins onto the table again, and a server quickly whisked them away. Returning his attention to the stage, he saw that the handler had tucked himself away and was just finishing with cleaning the woman. He spun the platform around so she faced the audience again. She was slumped, expression sated but weary.

His heart tugged, but the beast intervened.
Do not feel sorry for her, and do not soften. She will be yours to fuck and let others fuck, as is your right. Even the law is on your side, and your brothers cannot refute that.

He shook his head, trying with minimal success to clear the seductive voice. Beside him, Leila placed a possessive hand on his thigh, and he let it stay. He was more interested in the auctioneer, who had stepped up to the podium that was positioned off to the side and was ready to start the bidding. Soren didn’t want to miss his chance.

The portly man began his pitch. “That was quite a show, wasn’t it? Nowhere else are you going to find a slave of such fine quality to warm your bed! What a lovely creature, and so responsive. Let’s start the bidding at fifty thousand credits!”

And so it began. But no bastard in this room was going to outbid Soren, no matter how hard he tried. One black-haired, black-winged demon across the room did try, though Soren could swear by the twinkle in the demon’s eyes that he was driving up the price on purpose, with no intention of winning. Why the hell would he do that?

In the end, it didn’t matter. Soren finally placed a bid the demon wouldn’t top.

“Sold! To the gentleman in the booth there for one hundred fifty thousand credits! Sir, if you’ll come see my assistant about settling up.”

With a nod, Soren slid from the booth and went to do business. Honest elation warred with that darker side of him that was quickly taking over, merging with his old self. How long until the Soren he and everyone else knew and loved disappeared? The idea scared him to death, as did the idea of his hurting the woman, his brothers, or anyone else. He’d have to talk to Aldric tomorrow. And, luckily, the beast didn’t respond to that last thought or attempt to dissuade him. Hopefully, it hadn’t heard.

While Leila waited in the club, the assistant led Soren to his office, where the credits were paid. For the first time, he wondered what had landed this woman in circumstances dire enough to be sold on the block. Yes, she was incredibly responsive, but was she happy about her new circumstances? Or afraid? He was ashamed he hadn’t considered her feelings before now.

Transaction completed, the assistant pointed. “You can take possession of your slave now. Just go right and continue down the hall to the second-to-last door on the left. That’s where she’s being held for transport.”

“Thank you.”

With every step down the hall, he felt as dirty as if he’d rolled on the ground. People shouldn’t be possessions. He and his brothers had always believed that, and the only reason he was doing this was to rescue his mate, if Leila was telling the truth and that’s who she turned out to be. Except the witch called
herself
his mate, and the other woman a toy.

Leila is your mate, and the woman our toy,
the beast reminded him.

“Shut up,” he muttered.

Somehow, he wasn’t surprised to see the big demon that had participated in the bidding war standing outside the door to where the woman was being held. He halted a few feet from the other male and held out a hand, cautious.

“I’m Soren Fontaine,” he said in greeting. Now that the demon was close, he believed the male looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place him.

The demon shook hands with him. “I’ve heard of you and your brothers and I’ve seen you around. But, then, who hasn’t? Your eldest brother sits on the Council, and the three of you run the infamous resort.”

The demon’s tone was cordial, allowing him to relax some. “That’s right. And you are?”

“Valafar. My clan lives just outside the city limits.”

Valafar
. He stared at the demon as the name formed meaning.
By the gods, it can’t be.
But it was, and from the wry curve of the male’s lips, he saw the exact moment when Soren figured it out.

“Prince Valafar,” he said, giving a slight bow. “It’s good to meet you. You certainly keep to yourself and your clan these days, refusing to reclaim your seat on the Council.”

A flash of sadness darkened his eyes, then vanished behind a mask of indifference. “Obscurity is often a necessity and a relief in a world like ours. There is nothing public life has to offer that I want any part of, and there hasn’t been for many eons.”

“To the disappointment of many in the Southern Coalition,” Soren informed him seriously. Prince Valafar was an anomaly among demons, a worthy male who ruled his clan with strength and fairness. And if the long-standing rumors were true, his magic was extremely powerful, making him the most sought after of allies.

“They seemed to have managed just fine in my absence.”

That tone said
closed subject
in no uncertain terms, but Soren had a different question. “Does the woman know who you really are?”

“Her name is Harley, and I saw no reason why she should. My friend Zenon and I found her stranded on the road a few nights ago. We took her home, and naturally had some fun together before bringing her here.”

“Naturally,” he replied, his tone stiff. It burned that the demons had enjoyed her first, but there was not a damned thing he could do about it. Knowing demons, especially that particular clan, the woman had no doubt been more than willing and had the time of her life. And, yeah, Valafar had deftly changed the subject.

“Just yanking your chain. Though I’m not involved in politics any longer, I pay attention and recognized you when you began bidding. Couldn’t resist a bit of fun there at the end, after the others had given up.” His eyes twinkled with mirth.

“Yeah, thanks for that,” he drawled sarcastically. He was starting to like the prince, though he didn’t want to. “You cost me a bundle.”

Valafar looked unperturbed. “You can afford it, Lord Soren.”

“I can.” He paused, curious. “So, you and your friend are what? Her captors?”

“That’s the way things began, yes. But the female burrowed under our skin, and before we knew it, we’d become . . . fond of her.”

Soren took notice. Forming any sort of emotional attachment wasn’t something a demon admitted lightly. “Then why not keep her? Though I’m glad you didn’t.”

“She’s not my destiny or Zen’s. She’s not our mate, nor is she the mate of anyone in our clan, and although we could have kept her for our pleasure, I had the strong sense that she belonged somewhere else. That if I brought her here and cast her fate to the winds, her destiny would be fulfilled. Perhaps it has been.” He eyed Soren in speculation.

“Maybe it has,” he allowed. “I scented her, and she called to me. I believe she might be my mate.”

With an effort, he forced down his unwelcome hitchhiker. But what if his beast was right? How did he know this stranger was his true love? It seemed he was surrounded by lies, and picking through them would take some time.

“From your reaction to her, I suspect as much, also.” Frowning, Valafar leaned closer and peered into the depths of Soren’s eyes for a long moment. Slowly, he straightened, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet enough that it couldn’t be heard by anyone else. “What sickens you, vampire?”

Shit.
“What do you mean?”

The demon hesitated, then shook his head. “I think you know. There is something wrong inside you. A presence that is something . . . other than vampire.”

“So what if there is? I can’t imagine how that’s your business.”

“Normally I would agree, but Harley makes it my business,” the demon prince said, his tone cool.

His fists clenched at his sides. “She’s bought and paid for, and therefore no longer your concern. Why this interest in a slave?” That sounded so horrible, so unfeeling, he cringed inwardly.

“Is that what you think?” Valafar looked upon Soren as though he were a particularly disgusting bug. “That the purchase of this human makes her less?”

“Isn’t that what demons believe?” he snapped. “You sold her.”

“Ah, but it isn’t a question of what
my
kind believes, is it?” Valafar said quietly. “And
I’m
not the one who bought her.”

Touché.
Soren felt about an inch tall. Who was the monster here?

He looked away, fighting the sudden urge to lunge and rip out the demon’s throat and show him. Not his urge, but that of the interloper that had taken up residence in his soul. “The woman, Harley. What is she to you?”

“In truth? A capture that turned into more of a rescue. I can’t say that I’ve ever had a mere human affect me the way she has.” Valafar took a step closer. “If something terrible were to happen to Harley, I’d take it personally.”

“She’s under my protection now, and I’ll do my best to make sure she’s safe.”

“But?”

After glancing behind him to ensure they were still alone, he returned his attention to Valafar. “I can’t put a name to the darkness inside me,” he admitted. “It appeared shortly after I made a bargain with a priestess, then fed from her.”

Valafar flinched at this news. “What was the bargain?”

“To return my dead mate to me.”

“And you think this deceased mate is Harley?”

Did he, really? Their physical differences were great, and so was their scent. “I don’t know,” he said in frustration.

“Who is this priestess? Was she the one in the booth with you?”

Soren carefully watched his reaction. “Yes. Her name is Leila Doucet.”

“Satan’s balls,” the demon muttered with disgust. “Even my clan won’t fuck with that rank whore. Stupid vampire, what were you thinking? That witch is a pestilence, always hanging around the Council and draining her opponents of their lives.”

“Wait. What do you mean,
their lives
? I’ve heard only of the one Fae she was accused of killing.”

Valafar gave a dark laugh and shook his head. “He wasn’t the first, nor will he be the last.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Don’t you know she is not what she seems?”

Anxiety tightened his gut. “Tell me what you know. Please.”

The demon opened his mouth but then flicked a glance over Soren’s shoulder. “Not now. Your black widow crouches at the end of the hallway like the venomous thing she is. Wouldn’t do for her to overhear.”

“Later, then?”
Dammit!

“You can count on it. I’ll pay you a call in the next few days to check on Harley.” He grinned. “And perhaps partake of your resort’s infamous offerings, since I’ve never had the pleasure.”