Elusive Hero: Invitation to Eden (Vampire Queen Series Book 12)

by Joey Hill

  She felt that trickle of resentful reaction she’d felt before she’d second marked him, then she remembered how she’d felt after she’d taken that choice out of his hands. As if she’d betrayed herself, as much as him. She’d let fear take over, though she’d fought much worse things in her life.

  “He would be in my mind, because he could be. But I wouldn’t block him.” She paused, realizing that was exactly what he had just demanded. “So even when he’s having to behave as my servant, meeting the demands of my world, I could hear his voice in my head, know he was still in control. But it’s impossible, because he would have to act as my servant, truly be that way, in front of other vampires. How could someone who is truly a Master…like you… bear that?” She touched his face. “I couldn't bear it,” she whispered.

  His eyes stayed cool, the lips firm. “You're taking too much on yourself. A Master makes his own decisions, doesn't he?”

  “It doesn’t matter. This is a vacation. This is what I can have. I won’t talk about it anymore.”

  “Take that high and mighty tone with me, my lady, and you’ll find yourself back in those restraints.”

  This was a ten-day fantasy. What gave him the right to talk about it as more than that? She didn’t want him to do that, make it harder than it was.

  He gave her another thoughtful look at that, but didn’t say anything else. Just rose and pulled a robe out of a closet. He put it on her, letting her do very little to help him with that before he picked her up and put her back on the mattress. She watched him pack away his equipment, leave instructions for their care to the submissive attendants who ensured that all of it stayed clean and ready for his next session. She was quiet, inside and out, watching as he typed out a text on his phone. He paused, swept an appraising look over her, went back to the text. A few minutes later, a knock came at the door. She heard a female voice, saw a slender arm pass a glossy Eden gift shop bag through the opening. The voice belonged to Bridget, the woman at the desk.

  She remembered then she could now see through his eyes, so she caught a quick, blurry glimpse of a lush brunette in a velvet red corset before the door closed. She blinked. Blinked again. Now she understood why he looked at her in such a careful, measured way. The man had terrible vision. How on earth did he read lips so well? Why didn’t he wear glasses?

  When he turned to look at her, she realized something else was going on. He could see auras. Not just a vague halo of light, either. It was as if a different part of his mind other than his sense of sight detected the energy signatures, and they were complex, detailed, beautiful…

  “Yours in particular,” he said. “Yeah, it helps with reading lips, though I can’t really explain how. The auras give me another sense of what’s being said, along with body language and the rest.”

  “You think glasses or surgery would mess with it.”

  “Maybe. I don’t really want to take the risk. It gives me something, when I’m working with a submissive. Something I’m not willing to give up.”

  Any more than most vampires would be willing to give up the soul connection with their servant. Yes, for some of them the servant was merely a valued tool, but for those like Jacob and Lyssa, it went far beyond that.

  She thought about the second mark connection she already had to Garron and understood that far more than she was comfortable saying. Why was she thinking about this? It didn’t matter. He wasn’t leaving with her.

  Her gaze flickered up to his again and they held that contact. Her attempt to push away the thoughts and his awareness of them formed a humming energy between them. At last, he spoke.

  “My lady, you looked through my eyes because you were curious about Bridget, weren’t you?”

  Her relief that he wasn’t going to push her on the issue was supplanted by an inexplicable defensiveness. She bit back on a dozen things she could have said, settling for, “Yes. She’s very lovely.”

  His eyes glinted with humor. “I didn’t give you permission to be in my mind. You just want more punishment, don’t you?”

  She was pretty sure the answer to that question was a resounding yes, but she simply offered a noncommittal shrug and pushed up from the mat, combing her fingers through the wisps of hair that had come loose from her braid to frame her face. His look said he’d heard that yes loud and clear, and that it would be his pleasure to accommodate. Her skin heated under that regard, but he merely tossed the bag to the floor in front of her. Opening it, she saw two scraps of cloth, a bikini. “Put that on. We’re going to take a dip in one of the pools. It’s shallow,” he added. “Only five feet so you can stand.”

  At her little sigh of relief, he gave her a wink. “Vardalos mentioned vampires are uncomfortable in water over their heads.”

  “That man knows far too much about us, and it’s not a fear. It’s just a preference. We’re not buoyant. We sink.” She considered the swimsuit. “There’s not a lot of this. Why even bother?”

  “Because I want to see you barely wearing it.” He gave her an appraising look. “Put it on.”

  She felt spots of color in her cheeks as she responded to the order. During the heights of her arousal, it had been a little easier to accept her instinctive compulsion to obey his commands. Even so, she shed the robe and donned the bikini. Though there wasn’t much to it, his gaze was hot and appreciative. The bra cups were low enough she nearly spilled out of them, while the press of the sides and straps kept her breasts pushed up high with a tempting valley of cleavage. The bottoms were Brazilian cut with little beaded ties that could be pulled free easily.

  She was used to being seen as beautiful. Being seen as her Master’s possession, inciting his desire with her every move made her slow down, take more time with it. She was still enjoying a dreamlike state of post-arousal, but the more he stared at her like a wolf wanting to devour, the more that was turning in a present tense direction. Vampires were known to be insatiable. She’d never been happier about that trait.

  §

  He was going to die of a hard on. Garron imagined Theodosius writing that one up for the mainland authorities. He’d probably give up on it and just pay them off, saying that Garron had died at the hand of a homicidal maniac yet to be apprehended. Easier that way.

  He leaned against his work table, fueling his frustration with the view as she stepped into the bottoms, re-tied those little strings and fitted the top around her luscious tits, making his mouth dry at how she reached in and adjusted them, sexy as hell. She started to twist her braid into a knot, but he shook his head.

  “Take out the braid and leave it down. I want to see it look like mermaid hair, all silky while you’re swimming.”

  She slid the band off the end that he’d twisted there, and began to unravel the thick strands. He stayed where he was, watching, letting her see his pleasure at merely watching her perform the task. The way she combed her fingers through it, freeing it to rest on her shoulders, was almost as enjoyable as doing it himself, savoring the feel of it, the way her eyes darkened when he pulled on her scalp.

  “Vampires don’t swim you know,” she said. “We’re too dense.”

  “Wading is fine. I’m not going to ask you to compete in freestyle. Though seeing you do the backstroke would be every man’s wet dream.”

  The teasing was putting her feet back under her, restoring her fire. She tossed her hair back. “I’m not here to be on display to others.”

  “No? So you had no interest in checking out the 24/7 area?”

  Her bitten lip, the spark in her eye, told him she did. Leaving that for now, he moved around her, considering her from head to toe. “Stunning. But you’re used to hearing that, aren’t you?”

  “No. It’s a given in our world.” She lifted a shoulder. “Vampires are sexy, sensual, erotic, beautiful, handsome. It is what it is. It doesn’t mean anything.”

  “It means something to me.” He stepped close to her, touched her mouth. “I’m not talking about your measurements, how pretty your hair i
s or the silk of your skin. I look at you and I see you in those restraints over there, begging. I hear you saying ‘Master’ for the first time in that desperate whisper, your voice trembling on the cusp of climax. When I take you out around other people, that’s a window into who and what you are that they don’t have, you spread and begging for me. It makes you more than beautiful. It makes you a goddess to me.”

  She lifted a hand, traced the scar over his face. “It works that way for me, too,” she said, wondering. “I see far more than the way you look.”

  “A good thing,” he said wryly.

  “No.” She shook her head. “I like the way you look, Garron. But it’s a matter of opening your eyes to really see what’s in front of you. I look at you and I feel the gentleness of your hands, hear that tone in your voice that makes me tremble for reasons I don’t understand. I can break you, and yet I feel this delicious edge of fear when you threaten to punish me, tell me to obey you. You were frightening, right after I marked you. I was afraid of you and…it aroused me.”

  She had no idea how her words could take him to his knees, make him want to worship her, even as he visualized all the ways he could make her surrender to him. He settled for taking a tight grip on her hand, and clearing his throat. “Good.”

  He linked fingers with her, changed topics. “For the next little bit, you can ask me anything, talk about anything. I know part of you wants to stay in character full time, because it’s easier for you to treat this as a pure fantasy, something that won’t chase you once you leave here, but I think that would be the wrong tactic to get the most out of this. My goal is to give you what you need, not necessarily what you want.”

  She didn’t yet realize how far he was willing to go with that, maybe because he was just starting to figure it out himself.

  She frowned, obviously not liking him disrupting her effort to keep her expectations down to a ten day fantasy, but that was just tough. When he slipped the collar from her throat and pocketed the slim strap, he saw the flicker in her gaze, a protest she bit back.

  “And another thing,” he said casually. “From here forward, you don’t get to call me Master unless you ask and I say yes. I don’t let a sub do that automatically until I’m sure she understands exactly what it means to call me Master.”

  Oh yeah, he was pissing her off a bit. He saw the flash through her mind. She wasn’t “a sub”, any faceless submissive, one of his harem or another guest who came through the Eden club, paying for his services. He shifted a little closer to her, using the intimidating body language to tell her he was aware of the attitude. She stiffened but her gaze lowered. Progress.

  “That goes for getting in my head,” he continued. “You keep your mind open to me, but you need my permission to be in my head. I’m sure you can do it without me knowing, but I’ll pick it up in how you anticipate me, and that will disappoint me, Kaela. It will tell me you don’t respect the boundaries your Master sets.”

  “You said I couldn’t call you that.”

  “It doesn’t mean that’s not what I am.”

  It gratified him to see her resentment about not being allowed in his head had nothing to do with the edge the information would give her. She wanted the connection and, after having it such a short time, he had to agree, it was fucking fantastic. He wouldn’t mind it being two-way himself. He didn’t care if she saw where he was going with things, but at the moment it was better if she just focused on one thing, and that was what he was telling her, not what he was thinking. What lay behind the orders would be way more complicated for her to handle at this juncture.

  He touched her cheek. He didn’t need a window to her mind to read it through her golden-brown eyes. Resentful, troubled, aroused, confused, pissed. She was never just one thing. He liked that about her. “I want you in my head, too. But for the immediate future, I want your focus on you and what I tell you to do.”

  She nodded.

  “Okay. Let’s go to the pool. I’ll drop a rock in it and we’ll see which one of you sinks faster.”

  I can rip your heart out of your chest, human.

  She might not be listening to his thoughts, but she realized he was reading hers. He bit back a smile, though he wondered if hearing his response would unsettle her the way it did him.

  You already have, my lady.

  §

  Eden had no less than a dozen different types of pools. The lagoon pool, his intended destination, would be one of the quietest ones this time of night, but since it wasn’t technically in an area where being buck-ass naked was okay, they needed to stop at his place so he could grab one of his own swimsuits. Passing through the trio of pools and adult water slide that were the main social hub for the party set was a necessary evil for that. Even at this late hour, it would be hopping.

  Because of that, Garron snagged a sheer body scarf with beaded fringe from one of Eden’s many discreet boutique shops. As well as a pair of matching rhinestone sandals to protect her feet. Having Kaela knot the scarf at her hip added a translucent veil over her backside that only enhanced the temptation of what was there, and of course didn’t conceal the feast of her breasts at all. In the end, he gave her one of his extra staff T-shirts he kept in his room at Club Sin and had her put it on. Even though he was aware of her speculative look, he didn’t respond to it. Yeah, it was kind of a surprise to him as well. He had every intention of indulging her interest in Eden’s 24/7 BDSM area eventually. Hell, if he took her there, she might be stripped down to nothing but his collar.

  Yet that didn’t change his feelings a bit about exposing her to the mainstream jet set crowd. For whatever reason, he felt she was more vulnerable there, where less rules were in place. In a formal BDSM setting, behavior toward subs, no matter how beautiful, was structured and controlled by the respective Masters and Mistresses.

  As such, he kept a light hand on her lower back as they moved into the area that was always too lively for his taste.

  I get the feeling you prefer quiet places, she thought. Walks along the beach, a book, a cup of coffee in the morning. And no, I didn’t read that from your mind. I’ve seen policemen going into a crack house who look more comfortable than you do.

  She reached out, touched his side. “I’m fine, Garron,” she said. “I have to be around humans quite often. I was one, remember?”

  He gave her a rueful smile. “Sorry.”

  They’d just come out of an intense one-on-one that had been on-going, in point of fact, since she’d arrived. This was like emerging from a cave. Even in a normal sub session, he usually did something to transition himself from one environment to the other. His time with her had been ten times more intense than that, putting him as much into his head space as she’d been in subspace. He realized now he should have circled around the cocktail set. He’d been through enough PTSD therapy to know what triggers to avoid, and he was feeling too vigilant. Adjusting his body closer to her, his eyes noting every sound and movement, were indications of it. His instincts for danger were turned up to high volume in a way that didn’t fit here and he knew it. Self-awareness didn’t change his nerves being on edge, however.

  Kaela’s hand slid behind her, tangled with his on the small of her back, as if she was letting him hold her arm behind her back. But she exerted gentle pressure on his hand and shifted her body so that he was cupping her ass, his thumb sliding along the cleft in blatant ownership. The satisfying flare of arousal in her mind was matched by his.

  He lifted a brow, glanced down at her. “Topping me, my lady?”

  “No sir.” Her full lips pursed as she lowered her lashes in a way that said she was doing something different. A combination of flirting and reassurance at once. She might not be in his mind, but she understood body language almost as well as he did. He’d never in a million years have expected her to call him sir like that, but it successfully snapped him out of the fugue and brought him into the present.

  He gave her a squeeze and slid his hand back to her waist. Putt
ing his hand on his submissive’s ass in a club environment was an appropriate message. Doing it here would be disrespecting his lady, and he’d no more tolerate that than he’d tolerate anyone else doing it.

  When he saw her cheeks tinge with color, the pleased surprise in her gaze, he tugged her long hair. “You are listening. Didn’t we talk about that?”

  “We did.” She closed her hand over his on her hip again, caressing his knuckles. “I was worried about you,” she said. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Without access to her mind, his defenses might have gone up, making him think he had to prove he was in charge, but he saw it wasn’t that. She didn’t see any conflict between him being her Master and both of them wanting to watch one another’s backs. Him by covering her with a T-shirt, her by checking into his state of mind.

  He’d had relationships with a small handful of women, where some of that reciprocity existed, but this was the first time he’d looked into a submissive’s eyes and seen a hint of a true equal, someone who had no expectation or desire that him being her Master would absolve her of her own desire to watch out for herself…or for others.

  Something to think about. She touched his mouth, the scar on his throat. “No,” she said. “It wouldn’t. I don’t think it’s supposed to work that way. Do you?”

  He hadn’t ever given it much thought, since his relationships here were professional and temporary, all about caring for the guest who turned everything over to him. Not so much about trusting himself in her hands.

  “Hmm,” she said.

  “Stop reading my mind,” he told her sternly, but a smile struggled on his face. “Else I will totally kick your ass when we get to my place.”

  “You say that like it’s a threat.”

  He sighed, put his hand to her back and gave her a playful push before they were walking again. Mission accomplished, though. Things were easier now, the noise and splashing not bothering him as much. They followed the perimeter of one pool through a crowd of guests standing in clusters, drinking and laughing. Others were in the pool, swimming and flirting. More held drinks and conversations while sitting on the lip or on lounge chairs, all ways to see and be seen. The five waitstaff and two bartenders manning the tiki hut were hustling. It was one of those evenings where, if he wasn’t engaged at the Club, Garron would have been pitching in. Evidence that he had no real social life, according to Vardalos. There was the pot calling the kettle black.