Netherworld: Drop Dead Sexy

by Tracy St. John

  Tristan considered my question. I appreciated that he gave my words such weight. To so many men, I’m just a Barbie doll, all form and no substance. I’m not slighting them; I put myself in that position. But I sure enjoy it when I’m taken seriously.

  When Tristan answered, most of his calm self-assurance had clicked back in place. “Being a vampire has its good points. I’m not going to lie in order to sound nobler than I am, Brandilynn.”

  “Honesty makes for nobility,” I offered. I leaned against the desk behind me, strangely excited to get a more accurate picture of Tristan Keith.

  He folded his arms over his chest. “I like the power that comes from being a vampire. I like sitting on top of the heap. I worked for powerful men when I was alive, but I didn’t have the money or social standing to claim that world for myself.”

  “You like the challenges being a vampire has opened up for you.”

  Tristan nodded. “I won’t pretend I don’t enjoy taking the risks and maneuvering around the obstacles. It’s a game I love to play.”

  Men. Whether it’s over women or status, they just have to beat their chests. My smile for Tristan was pure affection. “Hey, I worked for those kinds of men in my own way. Ambition doesn’t put me off.”

  He grinned back, the relief evident. “Good because I enjoy your company.” He glanced over his shoulder at the closed door behind him. “You care about Dan. I can tell.”

  A pang of guilt went through me. But I’d been up front with Dan. He knew what the score was. Still, I felt the urge to remain true to him in words at least. “Dan’s wonderful. He means a lot to me.”

  Tristan’s eyes were as sharp as a hawk’s. The eyes of a man who takes whatever he fancies. “What about me? I’m someone who easily gives up what I want. I’ve never desired a woman as much as I desire you, Brandilynn.”

  Even making myself imagine Tristan swinging from a vine with a wild Tarzan yell couldn’t keep me from shivering at his dark, possessive stare. I tried to remember him as he’d been when feeding on his little blood bank the night before. Nope, that didn’t cool my jets either.

  I was so screwed.

  I made a very unhappy sound. “When you’re not sporting those sharp incisors, I enjoy your company too. Dan’s not thrilled about sharing me, but he’s willing for now. What are your thoughts on the matter?”

  Tristan closed the distance between us. His fingers trailed through my hair. The selfish expression had disappeared to be replaced by simple, warm need. With real regret he said, “As much as I’d like you to be monogamous with me, I can’t ask you to make me your one and only when my hungers lead me to seek other women. Blood and sex go

  together. No vampire is exempt from that one-two punch. But know this, Brandilynn, if I could be with just one lady, you’d be the woman for me.”

  Jeez, he’d stopped just shy of proclaiming his eternal love. What did I do to make these men act like this? I was Brandilynn Payson, a BDSM-loving, no-commitment making, high-end prostitute. It made no sense Tristan and Dan would want a woman like me, not for keeps.

  I tried to play it off like my brain wasn’t twisting itself inside out over the situation. “It’s just as well I’m polyamorous. At the risk of sounding racist, I don’t go for bloodsuckers. You really freaked me out last night.”

  “I know I did.” Tristan’s smile was a bitter thing, one that didn’t sit well on his handsome face. “We have the daylight hours though. Look, Brandilynn, no fangs.” He opened his mouth to show me.

  I laughed. When he kissed me, I snuggled in tight. So sue me for wanting to bang a vamp. He’d been honest. He’d been open. He’d treated me like I was a real person with real feelings. You don’t toss aside a man like that, no matter how long his teeth grew after the sun set.

  Tristan’s kiss deepened, and I did my whole gooey-puddle shtick. He plundered my mouth thoroughly, sending my senses reeling. His hand drifted down to cover my breast, and blink! – my sundress was only a memory.

  Tristan pulled his lips from mine and frowned down on me. “Did I tell you to remove your dress, Brandilynn?”

  Uh oh. I’d let my eagerness overstep my role in this relationship, and Tristan was going gonzo Dom on me. I froze and dropped my eyes from his dark gaze. “I’m sorry, Sir. I didn’t have your permission.”

  “No, you didn’t. Stand up.”

  I rose to my feet in an instant. Nervousness churned uneasily with arousal. Maybe with Dan I’d have gotten away with a warning. A little smack on the rear for my temerity. Not Tristan. This man didn’t coddle disobedient subs. I was in for it.

  “Up on the desk, hands and knees.”

  I swallowed and clambered up on the wide surface, arranging myself so that I didn’t disturb the books and papers on the desk. I felt terribly aware of the vulnerability of my bare flesh.

  Tristan’s hand rubbing over my buttocks filled me with warmth tumbling through my belly. He wasn’t doing it to make me excited, though his touch certainly did that for me. He let me know where the punishment would occur, letting dreadful anticipation make me tense with worry. I didn’t know how bad it would be. The offense had been minor in my opinion, and Tristan might let me go with only light discipline. Then again, he might decide to make an unequivocal statement by really letting me have it.

  His deep, honeyed voice sounded firm and emotionless. “Ten swats from my hand, Brandilynn. You will count them off. If you miss any or try to move away, I will start again from the beginning. Do you understand?”

  “Yes Sir.” I already trembled.

  “What is your safeword?”

  “Sharkbait, Sir.”

  “Very good.”

  Tristan didn’t start right away. Instead he continued to caress my backside, his touch light and gentle, as if he’d never correct a sub’s lapse of judgment. The seconds spun out as he stroked me. I grew more worried as time passed, as he made me wait for the spanking. Tension thrummed through my body. I clutched the edge of the desk, my knuckles whitening.

  “Relax, Brandilynn. The more you clench up, the worse it will hurt.”

  I took a deep breath and make my muscles ease. “Yes Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

  The words had no sooner left my mouth when his palm cracked mightily against my upper right butt cheek. Fiery pain lanced from the blow, and I gasped. Intense heat flooded my body, and it took half a second before I remembered what I was supposed to do.

  “One,” I whimpered.

  “Good girl.” His hand descended again, hitting the exact same spot.

  Tears filled my eyes. “Two.”

  The next two blows went to the opposite cheek, again the upper part. My rear stung and burned, and my breath sobbed in and out between counting them off. The following two spanks went back to the left mound, just above my thigh. Then twin strikes found the same spot on the other cheek.

  “Seven. Eight.”

  Tears dripped from my eyes as the raw burn of my backside grew. The heat in my womb made me ache for Tristan to touch my pussy, to end the torture of the need that pulsed there. His willingness to dominate me, his ability to be strong with me fired up everything. I wanted him to plunge deep inside, to soothe the pain of desire. I’d gone dizzy with need.

  His hand crashed against me, right on my slit, stinging my clit. Agonized bliss rocketed through my body. Oh. My. God. I almost came right then and there. A high-pitched wail streamed from my lips.

  “Nine! Oh, Sir!”

  Tristan’s last blow hit the same exact spot, and my pussy convulsed hugely, sending excruciating elation pouring through my senses. I hung onto myself long enough to scream “Ten!” before letting the spasms carry me away into the heaving tide.

  Tristan’s low chuckle was a life preserver for me to clutch at and bring me back to reality’s shore. His hands rubbed the stinging flesh of my rump, sending fresh darts of pain through me. My body hummed with delight.

  “That was supposed to be punishment, Brandilynn, not reward.”

  “I
’m sorry, Sir.” Like heck I was.

  “You’re a little bit of a pain slut, aren’t you?”

  “With the right man. Sir.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind next time you’re in need of discipline.”

  “Yes Sir.”

  “On your knees in front of me, sweetheart. Since you’ve already had yours, you may service me until I achieve mine.”

  I darted a glance up at his face as I slid down to the floor. Tristan looked pleased. More than that, I detected real affection on his expression. I felt all warm and tumbly inside again.

  He didn’t make his clothes disappear, so I fumbled with the old-fashioned button fly of his trousers before his cock finally sprang free. I served him enthusiastically, determined to make my earlier transgression right. I wasn’t sure who was more satisfied when he flooded my mouth with precious hot saltiness, his groans ringing in my ears like the sweetest orchestra.

  Being stalked by my killer aside, it wasn’t such a bad afterlife.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I entered Miller-Edwards Funeral Home on Dan’s arm and gaped at the full lobby. “A lot of stiffs on display tonight, I guess,” I muttered. I spoke quietly despite the fact I could have yelled and screamed and no one would have known the difference. Nobody speaks loudly in a funeral home. Public grieving is so darn civilized. Despite the crowd, you could easily hear the soft piped-in music, even the rustle of clothing.

  “Just you and one other,” Dan answered, his voice equally hushed.

  Even in the lobby, floral arrangements perched anywhere there a horizontal surface existed to support them. As if that wasn’t enough, I spotted bowls and jars of potpourri dotting the room. It was as if the funeral home directors were obsessed with hiding the slightest odor of corruption. It smelled like a meadow full of flowers had farted.

  Dan pulled me into the Darien Room where a snow-white closed casket sat under a soft spotlight. It gleamed with ethereal mistiness, as if in the act of being dissolved into the eternal clouds of Heaven.

  If not for the canny lighting that left the rest of the room in dimmer shadows, I would have missed it in the large gathering. My first instinct was that we’d gone to the wrong room because there were so many people. We’d only taken a few steps into the mauve-carpeted room when I jerked to a halt.

  My eyes went so wide with disbelief they hurt. I turned to Dan. “What – why?”

  He stroked a thumb beneath my eye. Only then did I realize a tear had escaped. “Why not? People care, Brandilynn. You don’t have to do great things for them to notice you’re not around anymore. Sometimes the lightest touch is enough to affect others.”

  “You sound like Augustus,” I said, my voice strangled. I blinked back further tears before they could embarrass me. With my vision cleared, I spotted the griffin sitting next to a sofa where Tristan’s black-wearing vampire aide Penny perched. People looked at him in awe, giving him a wide berth. “Speak of the furry, feathered devil.”

  Dan followed the direction of my gaze, and he jerked so slightly I wouldn’t have felt it if I hadn’t been molded to his side. “Now that’s respect. He rarely allows himself to be seen in public. You’ve made a heck of an impression.”

  My throat closed up again, and I fought to get hold of myself. I was not a weepy damsel in distress. Not me. “I don’t know why he’d do that for me. I haven’t done anything in particular to astound someone like him.”

  I let my gaze roam back to the casket that held my remains. It was closed of course. The Ripper’s mutilations and amount of time my body had spent in the woods had no doubt made the view exceedingly unpleasant. A line of people filed past, some pausing to touch the gleaming surface of the casket. The sweet young man with Downs Syndrome who carried my groceries to the car and acted like my five dollar tips were a

  flood of wealth. The barista from the coffee shop I went to every day, a single mom with two children. A salesperson from the bookstore I frequented.

  I watched Agent Heany mouth something as he leaned close. A prayer, perhaps? A promise to catch the monster that had ended my time among the living? Agent Neuhaus did something similar. Sheriff Grayson simply bowed his head and closed his eyes for a few moments. Buck the puking deputy crossed himself.

  After paying their respects, people stopped at the head of the casket to have a few words with Tristan and Patricia, who stood in for my family. The vampire siblings were as grave (ha-ha) as the occasion demanded, looking cold and beautiful and yet appropriately solemn. A few bodyguard weres including Gerald and Eddie stood nearby, looking like the Secret Service in dark suits and ties.

  Dan tugged at me, and I allowed him to lead me into the room. We threaded our way through the gathering, and I saw the owner and several employees of the escort service I’d worked for along with Lana, Taylor, and Isabella.

  I halted before an aged man sitting alone in an armchair. His eyes rested blankly on an arrangement of lilies sitting on the table in front of him. I dropped to my knees before him and grasped one bony, big-knuckled hand in my nonexistent grip.

  My heart ached. “Martin. You came for me? Oh you sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”

  Dan’s voice drifted down. He stood behind me, staring at the old man’s sorrowing face. “Why does he look familiar to me?”

  I sniffled and wished for ghost tissue. “It’s Martin Lancaster. He owned the computer factory that caught on fire a few years back.”

  “Oh, I remember that.”

  I wanted to hug Martin more than anything. I wish I had loaded up on energy before I’d come here, just so I could offer some comfort. “He lost everything in that fire. It turned out he didn’t have enough insurance to cover the damages and lawsuits that followed. He’d been a client when he was still rich but it was only for companionship, not sex. His family up and abandoned him after he was destitute.”

  “Nice family.” Dan sounded thoroughly disgusted.

  “He was so lonely I kept going to visit him every couple of weeks free of charge. You’re so sweet to have come, Martin. I swear I never meant to leave you alone.”

  I wept for him, this kind, abandoned man who looked forward to our games of checkers and shared his memories of European and Asian tours with such vivid descriptions that I often felt I’d visited those far off lands myself. Who would spend time with this forgotten being who subsisted on meager Social Security checks? He had no one, no one at all to care now.

  The room quieted. Martin’s head lifted as everyone’s attention was drawn to the front of the room, near where Tristan and Patricia had been posted. I rose to my feet with Dan’s silent assistance to see what was going on.

  Tristan had stepped behind a small wooden podium, apparently ready to make a statement or speech. Patricia took a seat nearby.

  The vampire commissioner’s dark gaze swept the room. “Thank you for coming to say goodbye to this young woman, Brandilynn Payson.”

  Dan whispered in my ear. “Keep an eye out for strangers. Maybe your killer will show up and you’ll remember him.”

  As Tristan made remarks about how unfair death could be, snatching away the life of those with so many hopes and dreams ahead of them, I scanned the crowd. Close by, I noticed a lovely blond woman standing near Lana and Taylor. Her hair and makeup were perfect. She had impeccable taste in clothes, the wine-colored silk dress with color-coordinated strappy heels classy and understated.

  I nodded in her direction. “I don’t know her.”

  “That’s Yelena. She’s the witch who does most of Tristan’s protection.”

  I had a sudden vision of Glenda the Good Witch from The Wizard of Oz. “The one who warded the library?”

  “Right.”

  Yelena’s face seemed kind. She probably attended out of respect to Tristan, but I appreciated her presence just the same. “It’s nice that she came.”

  Yelena looked right at me. She nodded with a smile before returning her attention to Tristan. I went very still as my vampire boyfriend told the assem
bled that a person’s life must be assessed not only by their deeds, but also by their aspirations and what they might have accomplished had life been a bit more fair.

  “She can see us, like Erica.”

  Dan’s grip on my hand tightened with reassurance. “All witches have the second sight. You have nothing to fear from her.”

  I noted another three strangers, men wearing wrinkled shirts rolled up at the sleeves and badly knotted ties. “Don’t know them.”

  “Reporters. One from the local paper and the other two are from Jacksonville.”