Published By: New Dawning Bookfair
Word Count: 10,400
Available in: Adobe Acrobat, Mobipocket (.mobi), Epub
In modern Toronto, two vampires stalk the night, their hunting a game that is seductive and deadly. In a darkly compelling Goth Club, they find the prey they seek for their pleasures, and the night runs crimson with blood and unquenchable thirsts....
Reader Rating: (2 Ratings)
She knew what she wanted tonight, and her senses resonated with his presence. Somewhere in this crowded mélange, Demetri deVerieux was lying in wait, his deviant desires beckoning to her with invisible fingers. In this alone was he like their maker, Stavros, with his ability to lure her into amoral desires until all that existed was her need to find release.
She paused at a dark corner, closed her eyes and reached out to the night. A shudder of rapture slid along her veins at his mental caress. He summoned her to him, taunting her with waves of memory and promises yet unfulfilled. Their game began in earnest.
Edgy and eager now, she rubbed her hands against the velvet of her skirt, her breathing rapid and shallow as harsh reality bit into her eagerness. Her present life was a necessary ploy to disarm an old enemy. Despite the pleasures they shared, her relationship with Demetri served a greater purpose. He was not the mate she had chosen to spend her eternity serving and loving.
She seized a seat at a sidewalk café, and took a moment to pull her emotions together, before he picked up on her distraction. Or the reason behind it.
She drew in a calming breath and closed her eyes. Demetri’s hunting games always triggered the memories seizing her heart. Shivering, she opened herself to the past. It was the only way she could hope to bury her secrets beyond his reach again…
The dreams came, as they always did, breaths of disjointed, blood-tainted images. Fragmented and disconnected, the scenes flew across her mind like clips from a movie in which she was the star. Terror assaulted her, a distant, abstract awareness, part of her, but not born of her. Within Cliantha, an unmistakable thrill of excitement awoke—a macabre delight in the fear that flourished all around her. A reckless surge of abandon filled her, and she threw back her head. Laughter filled the night, hers, and his.
A shudder penetrated the madness and she wondered who he was. She gazed up, drowning in eyes so blue, they filled her vision, and he smiled. That fleeting shift of expression sent a tingle along her spine that made her arch toward him, her body seeking contact with his. He laughed, sweeping Cliantha into his arms.
Before she could make sense of whom he was, the dream/vision skewed again… becoming one of lust and savagery as images blurred and aroused a hunger she couldn’t define. His lips parted hers and demanded her soul.
She gave it.
His taste and scent filled her senses, stirring a passion that threatened to make her scream for fulfillment. Still he teased her, his mouth searching out the most vulnerable places, plundering her secrets, revealing them to her with a wickedness that made him all the more terrifying.
When he refused to answer her broken pleas, she grew angry, and that, too, pleased him.
“Bastard!” she hissed.
“Take what you desire, Cliantha!” He matched her anger, but still smiled. “You can have anything you want, if you dare to claim it as your right.”
Her eyes swept over the man lying beside her and she rose to her knees. She stared at him, her passion swelling to an agony of exquisite need with each caressing shift of her gaze. With shaking hands, she stroked his silky platinum hair, while her sensitive fingertips traced the mocking smile that tilted the corners of his mouth. She parted his lips with a gentle probe of one finger, and punctured the tip against the razor-sharp edge of one extended fang. He licked the droplet of blood as she traced the fullness of his bottom lip.
“I hate you,” she murmured, leaning forward to straddle his hips. Her hands wandered over his smooth, cool chest, memorizing contours she knew better than her own. Touching him intoxicated her like a drug, addictive, senseless, and exciting beyond anything she’d ever known.
It had even ceased to matter that he had forced her into his bed. His dominance had long ago stripped her of the innocence she’d once possessed. She let another drop of blood drip from her finger; it pooled over his heart and she bent to lick the scarlet stain. This time he reacted, and the tiny shiver inspired deep satisfaction, making her smile down at him. Pure hunger blazed within her. A hunger he had cultivated and fed for decades. A thousand years could pass and she’d still crave his touch with an insanity that made her despise herself, and him.
“Show me how you hate me, bitch!” His hand tangled in the waves of blue-black hair that fell forward when he pulled her to him. She tore away from his embrace and glared down at him. Amused, he gripped her throat.
She arched her neck, inviting without a word. His blue eyes grew dark and dangerous. She rose and bent forward until her lips brushed his, then allowed her tongue to invade his mouth. Strong, elegant fingers drifted across her back, waking trails of fire that left her shuddering against him. She drew away from the bitter sweetness of his mouth and stared down at him again, her chest heaving with her effort to regain control of her body’s responses.
His hands at her waist shifted, found the fullness of her breasts and she moaned as he brushed his thumbs across the hardened buds of her nipples. Cliantha shook her head and slid back, pushing his hands away as she began to explore his pale, defined body. When her mouth finished its teasing trek across his chest, and closed over him, she shuddered at the rise of his hips.
“Hate me, Cliantha.” He was, even now, unable to resist reminding her that he allowed this erotic torture.
Her head rose and she smiled. Reflected in his glowing gaze, her fangs gleamed in the silvery haze of muted moonlight that illuminated the elegant room.
He pulled her to him and rolled, possessed her body with his, biting into her throat in the same motion. She spasmed in a shiver of pain and ecstasy. He mirrored her response when he drew back and she found the softness of his neck.
* * * * *
Cliantha gasped as the mixture of dreams and memories left her trembling and disoriented. She rose from her seat, annoyed because this always happened when she permitted the truth to surface.
Ten years ago, Stavros had reclaimed her from Demetri, but then Demetri had killed their master.
Demetri now owned her in ways she hadn’t believed possible. What had begun as a game she’d controlled had become an addiction, a trap from which she made no effort to escape. Even when the truth had returned to her mind, Demetri’s seductive hold remained unbreakable.
He’d destroyed Stavros, run a burning stake through his heart. She’d wanted to die that night, but Demetri refused to allow it. He’d forced her to live, lured her with his seduction and his passion for the darkest desires she could imagine.
When she had run to her oldest friend seeking shelter, Demetri had killed him while she watched. But, even now, she carried a secret he’d never discovered. He was so certain of his victory, he’d never questioned her absences.
Demetri had chosen tonight’s game, but before the hunt was over, she’d planned a few surprises for him. She stepped onto the sidewalk, moving through the throngs of humanity, and burying the past with determined will.