SeduceMe

by Calista Fox

  “Goddamn it,” he mumbled angrily. She was human and he should have been more careful with her. Christ, they’d be lucky if he hadn’t cracked one—or all—of her ribs.

  He rubbed the knot at the back of his neck, hating himself for hurting her. Hadn’t he sworn he never would?

  As he continued to pace and berate himself, he wondered how far an apology would go. The idea of begging for her forgiveness didn’t even pacify him. How could it possibly satisfy her?

  Of course he wouldn’t blame her for being furious with him or for hating him for causing her pain. He didn’t deserve her forgiveness. He’d been a vampire for over two hundred years—he knew better this! How could he possibly have thrown out all of his convictions in one night and given into his desire for a human?

  But then when she came out of the bathroom, looking as impeccably put together as she had the moment she’d set foot on the premises, he knew why he’d taken such a huge risk with her tonight. She was simply irresistible.

  She handed over his shirt and then clutched her purse close to her breasts. She’d freshened her makeup and lipstick and had brushed her long, silky curls, draping them over her bare shoulder. She looked breathtaking, save for the severity of her stance. Her shoulders were squared and her chin lifted a notch. But her lower lip quivered. And her eyes were slightly puffy and red.

  He really had scared her with the bruises. Maybe even more so than Jane had with the blood.

  He took a step toward her, wanting desperately to take her in his arms and hold her, but fearing he’d only damage her more.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said, though words couldn’t make up for what he’d done to her.

  She shook her head and said, “Don’t worry about it. It’s really nothing more than what I expected.”

  His eyes narrowed on her. “You were expecting this?”

  She let out a short, hollow laugh. One that pained him to hear. “I’m used to it, remember?”

  Now he was confused. He reached his hand out to her. “Shana, I—”

  “Please.” She stepped away. “It’s okay. Really. I’ll survive. I always do.”

  She moved briskly past him and walked to the door.

  “Wait,” he called out. “You can’t just leave. I don’t want you to go. I really need to apologize. I feel horrible about—”

  “Don’t,” she said, not even looking at him. “I enjoyed the evening, regardless. I’ll be fine. Just…forget about all of this. Please.”

  She pulled the heavy door open and disappeared into the hallway.

  With every fiber of his being, he wanted to run after her. To beg her forgiveness. To tell her he’d never hurt her like that again. He’d swear to be more careful with her. Yet at the same time, he knew that was impossible. She made him ravenous with desire. She drove him absolutely wild with her sultry smiles and breathy sighs. Everything about her made him want to crush her to him, as he’d done numerous times because he couldn’t seem to get close enough to her or deep enough inside her.

  Which would just lead to more bruises.

  Infuriated, he tossed the shirt into the fireplace, knowing he’d never get the scent of her out of it. A worthless effort, really, and a waste of a three-hundred-dollar shirt, because he’d never get the scent of her out of his nose. Everything about her was engrained on his brain and burned into his now-confirmed-damned soul. Causing him to be even more tormented than he’d been before he’d had the privilege of making love to her.

  He skulked about, irritated and loathing himself, wondering what the hell to do next. Drake wasn’t the type of man to bury his head in the sand when something needed to be addressed. Especially something this critical, this dire. But his rational mind told him it was best to let her walk away. What did he have to offer her anyway? Pain every time he laid a hand on her, which of course he wouldn’t be able to resist doing. The need to leave her friends behind when he moved on every decade so no one noticed he didn’t age. And, eventually, her mortal death while he continued to live for eternity. That’s what.

  The thought of moving on stayed with him as he dumped out the rest of the champagne and the ice that had turned into a pool of water in the chiller. He’d ruminated over the need to pull up stakes if anyone found out about his or Jane’s existence and now that Shana knew… Maybe it was a good idea for him to head back to London for a while. Put some distance between him and the object of his never-ending desire.

  He poured a scotch and swirled the amber liquid as he absently rotated his wrist, seeing nothing but her eyes in the bottom of the glass.

  Too bad it’d take a couple bottles of booze to dull his senses. Unfortunately, dull wouldn’t be enough. He longed to be completely numb. Then maybe he wouldn’t still feel her soft hair and her supple skin. Maybe he wouldn’t smell the intoxicating scent of her arousal and hear the hypnotic sound of her playful laugh, her sensual begging, her soulful moans.

  He had no idea how much time passed as he stared into his glass and wondered how the hell he was going to recover from experiencing the most intense physical and emotional pleasure known to man or vampire when he knew he’d never experience it again. He didn’t know how to move on from here. The burning desire to see her again made it difficult to decide what was right and what was wrong—go to her and apologize again, comfort her. Or leave it be and let her get on with her life without him.

  Sensibility told him to let it lie. So he drained his glass and focused instead on what needed to be done to wrap up his business, shut down Body Scenes and return to England.

  He wasn’t surprised when the security guard stationed at the elevator that led to his private office phoned him to say Finn Griffith and Yvette Samson wanted to see him.

  Letting out a pained sigh, he said, “Send them up, please.”

  He reached for his suit jacket to pull it on, though his shirt was currently incinerating in the fireplace. He decided it was moot to put the jacket on—it’d be obvious either way what he’d been up to this evening and it was doubtful Finn and Yvette were arbitrarily dropping in. They were friends of Shana’s, so their unexpected visit wasn’t likely coincidental.

  Hoping to keep the conversation congenial, he poured two more scotches and had them in hand as Finn and Yvette entered his office.

  His hopes were dashed as Yvette immediately demanded, “What the hell did you do, Drake?”

  Holding his sigh in check, he handed over a glass to Finn, who accepted it graciously, then set Yvette’s drink on the corner of the desk. He said, “That’s between me and Shana.”

  Yvette, always more than willing to say exactly what was on her mind, told him, “I just saw her downstairs. She was clearly upset, though she wouldn’t tell me why. What happened when she was with you?”

  “I assure you, I—”

  “She couldn’t get out of this club fast enough, Drake!” Yvette’s temper flared. “She wouldn’t even wait for Finn’s driver. She rushed out and grabbed the first cab that pulled up to the curb, practically climbing in before the other people had even gotten out of it!”

  His jaw clenched. He really didn’t need someone else to tell him how deeply he’d hurt Shana. He’d seen the bruises himself and was suffering every conceivable consequence for being the one who’d inflicted them upon her. But he’d obviously also upset her emotionally and that was even more disheartening.

  For as territorial as he felt toward her, it’d take all the willpower he possessed not to maim anyone who harmed her. So it was the worst damn feeling in the world to know he was the one who’d done it.

  “I’m sorry things didn’t work out, but again, that’s between Shana and—”

  Very unexpectedly, Yvette stepped forward and slapped him across the face.

  “Yvette!” Finn grabbed her around the waist and pulled her backward, stepping in front of her so he was between her and Drake.

  Not that Drake would ever hit a woman, but Finn apparently intended to take any potential retaliation for his girlfrien
d. One more thing he admired about Finn. He also adored Yvette and was more than willing to overlook the slight.

  In fact, he said, “I deserved that. Not that I would ever intentionally hurt Shana. Please believe me. I’m very enamored by her.”

  Oh Christ, what an understatement that was!

  But it seemed to catch Yvette’s attention and quell her temper at the same time. “I don’t understand. If you’re so fond of her, why did she say you don’t find her attractive?”

  He stared at her, his eyes bulging. “What?”

  Yvette said, “She was devastated and her eyes were bloodshot as though she’d been crying. I asked her what happened with you and, I mean… You knew she was a virgin, right?”

  His eyes rolled. Hardly the conversation to be having with Finn and Yvette. In a dour tone, he replied, “It was brought to my attention.”

  “Then how could you have taken advantage of her?” This from Finn, who seemed genuinely surprised his friend would do such a thing.

  “In my defense,” Drake started to say, but then turned away and stalked over to the wet bar to pour himself another drink. There was no defense for what he’d done this evening.

  He’d worshipped Shana White from afar and it should have stayed that way. He’d given into Jane’s desire to “help” the woman because she’d connected with Shana’s soul and had felt something tragic dwelled within Shana that she and Drake could somehow miraculously cure. And it almost seemed as though they had released her from her demons as she’d so freely given herself to them and allowed herself to experience the pleasure they wanted to bring her.

  But his passion had been too forceful, too aggressive, too powerful. And he’d ended up hurting her. So what was his defense? He had nothing.

  “Look,” he said as he turned back to his friends. Ones he would miss when he moved back to London. “I regret certain things about this evening.” Making love to Shana was not one of those things. He’d enjoyed it too much to possibly ever regret the actual act and the pleasure they’d both derived from it. “But I can’t explain them to you. It’s not anything you’d understand.”

  “She specifically said,” Yvette told him, “that she had the most wonderful night of her life. ‘The most beautiful experience’ were her exact words. And then you seemed to snap out of whatever euphoric haze you’d been in, took one look at her and suddenly decided you didn’t want her anymore. Seriously, Drake! How could you be so callous?”

  He stared at her a moment, her words hitting all new chords—and they weren’t lyrical ones. His usually quick mind slowly processed what she was saying to him and he was certain he stared dumbfounded at her.

  Finally, he said, “She left because she thought I didn’t want her anymore?”

  Yvette’s eyes narrowed on him. “She said you gave her a disgusted look when you saw her naked.”

  “Oh bloody hell.” He slammed his glass down on the desk, surprisingly not breaking it, which was what he’d thought he’d do if he continued to grip it so tightly. He considered what his reaction had been when he’d glanced down and seen the bruises on Shana’s body—caused by him. He’d been admiring her body one moment and kicking himself in the ass the next. And that latter expression was the one she’d seen.

  “Son of a bitch.” He let out a low growl. “She completely misunderstood. It wasn’t her. It wasn’t what she thought. Fuck!” He knew how self-conscious she was of her body. How difficult it had been to let go of her inhibitions, to let him undress her. She was self-conscious and what she’d seen when he’d been so disgruntled over having hurt her physically was not a look of disgust directed toward her. But that’s how she’d taken it.

  “Great,” he muttered. “That’s just fucking great.” Not only had he injured her body, he’d damaged her pride.

  “Umm, what exactly happened tonight?” Yvette asked, suddenly looking contrite. “Because I’m getting the impression it’s not what I thought.”

  Finn rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m guessing this is a case of jumping the gun.”

  “Hey,” Yvette snapped, “when my friend is devastated and this close to bursting into tears and can’t get away from a man fast enough, that sends up red flags.” To Drake she said, “You hurt her. Somehow you hurt her feelings. I can clearly see by your reaction that it wasn’t intentional, but she doesn’t know that. She was totally destroyed. So much so, it broke my heart.”

  Which basically broke his, knowing how much he’d distressed Shana, even though that was something he’d never willingly do.

  Giving Yvette an earnest look, he asked, “How do I fix this?”

  “Go talk to her.”

  He groaned. Picking up his drink again, he took a few sips, hating that the alcohol wouldn’t help to salve the sting. Equally frustrating was the fact that he knew couldn’t go talk to her. Yes, he wanted to. But he was back to acknowledging that he wasn’t the man Shana deserved. He wasn’t a man at all. He was a vampire. It would be detrimental to them both if he didn’t accept that—no matter how she’d made him feel earlier. Regardless of the fact that he’d felt more alive when he was inside her than he’d ever felt before he’d been turned.

  To Yvette, he simply said, “She’s better off without me.”

  Yvette fumed. Finn took her by the arm and told her, “We should go.”

  She didn’t protest. But she did say, “I shouldn’t have slapped or accused you. I hope you can forgive me.”

  Drake shook his head. “There’s nothing to forgive. This whole thing is my doing, my fault. I just want you to know that I feel very deeply for Shana. I wouldn’t hurt her on purpose.”

  Yvette sighed. “I never should have jumped all over you like this. I just… I know how fragile Shana’s ego is and it’s easy to bruise it.”

  The word “bruise” made him cringe. “If I could make it up to her, I would. But I truly believe the best thing I can do for her is…leave her alone.”

  “Now, Drake,” Finn said, stepping toward him. “Don’t be so hasty. I spent four years waiting for the right moment, the right reason, the right thing to say to Yvette. And then I realized ten years could pass before I settled on the ‘right’ time.” He gave Yvette a loving look and added, “What a waste that would’ve been.”

  She visibly softened. “Maybe that’s why I’m so agitated.” She turned to Drake. “Shana has some issues, no doubt about it. But this past year, she’s really made an effort to break out of the insecurities that confine her. I don’t want to see her revert into that shell she’s constructed around herself, Drake. She’s such a warm and wonderful person. She’s so giving and caring when it comes to other people, but she doesn’t extend herself the same courtesy when it comes to her self-image, and I want that to end. She’s a fantastic person, Drake, and I—”

  “Want her to know it,” he said. “That makes two of us.”

  “Three of us,” Finn added in a pointed voice. “So, Yvette. Let Drake do what he needs to do.”

  He scowled. What he needed to do involved getting up close and personal with Shana and that would be hard to do without breaking his new conviction that he should just leave her the hell alone because she deserved so much better than him.

  Yvette, however, seemed convinced he’d do the right thing. She touched him on the arm and said, “I was completely out of line and, again, I’m terribly sorry. But Finn is right. You’ll fix this.”

  He had to voice his truest thoughts. “I care about her, make no mistake. But she deserves more than me.”

  Yvette smirked. “Oh please. You’re a catch times ten.” Finn shot her a look and she quickly amended, for his sake, “You’re a catch times eleven, my love.”

  “Yeah,” Finn replied in a dry tone. “Whatever.”

  She laughed. Drake wished some of his tension would ease. He wished he could share the same obvious love and attraction with Shana that Finn and Yvette shared. But in order for him to make Shana truly see the beauty she radiated, he’d have to find some way t
o make up for the way he’d bruised her pride and her body.

  Again with that double-edged sword. He wanted her, but could he really have her?

  Yvette gave him a hug and Finn shook his head. They left his office and Drake tidied up. Then he contemplated his next move.

  And dragged a few empty boxes from the storage closet to pack up his favorite books.

  Chapter Eight

  Shana curled up on the chaise lounge overlooking the New York City skyline from her living room, her knees pulled up to her chest. Resigned to being an Old Maid, she flipped through the current issue of Vogue magazine, not really seeing the pictures or the words on the pages. Her tears had dried, but she’d cried a river last night. She’d felt pulled into a dark and lonely abyss and it had terrified her as much as it had pained her.

  She’d spent all day in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the previous evening in her head. Over and over again, until she could no longer deny the gnawing feeling that ate away at her. Something wasn’t right about those last few minutes with Drake, before she’d left his office. He hadn’t wanted her to go, he’d said as much.

  Frustrated by the fact that she couldn’t shake the two contrasting looks in his eyes—the heated one and the disgusted one—she’d thrown the blankets off and wandered out into the living room.

  An hour later, she still felt something was off.

  Tossing aside her magazine, she stood and stretched. Her body was sore, but not at all in a bad way. It felt refreshingly used and sated.

  Heading into the bathroom, she stripped off her clothes, her eyes avoiding the mirror. She stepped into the shower and a warm spray of water hit her skin, making it tingle. Or maybe it was thoughts of Drake’s hands on her body, which she couldn’t banish from her mind, that made her ridiculously aroused, even though she was all by herself.

  She lathered the soap in her hands and then ran them down her arms and across her chest and over her stomach. That’s when she saw the bruises.