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

by Joey Hill

  “That’s Louis. He’s a master at fire play. What he’s doing there is pretty basic, so the session’s probably just started or that’s the guest’s comfort level. I’ve seen him make a woman come just from doing fire play with her nipples.”

  Garron guided her onward. “Club Sin originally was just the one main area with a few private rooms, but Roan, the guy who helped with the design, learned fast that Eden needed far more options, and it just keeps expanding. This underground area was his latest design, with the help of other Sin staff and Vardalos’s architects. I think they stole a few ideas from Disney and Universal for special effects and props.”

  “I’ve no doubt.”

  They passed a cell where the Mistress had a young woman chained fast against the bars. The girl was dressed like a nature fairy, with a crown of flowers and a gauzy dress that had been ripped to tatters, exposing her small breasts. They were pushed between the cell bars, held there by a rope harness that constricted them, made them look swollen. The Mistress was using a knotted rope to flog her ass and thighs. While she was doing that, a Master stood outside the cell, offering the watchers the chance to pinch or suckle a nipple, or slap the constricted breasts bare handed. As they passed by, the girl came, screaming out her climax. Without a change in expression, the Master stepped forward and shoved a ball gag in her mouth mid-orgasm, buckling it around her head as tears flowed. She continued to come as if his indifferent treatment increased the force of her reaction.

  Kaela realized she was clutching Garron’s hand at her waist. Everything said the girl was helpless to their sadism, yet she watched the way the Mistress stepped forward during the orgasm, put her body against the petite girl’s back, ran her hand down her abdomen, closed a gloved hand over her pussy to gently massage as she bent, kissed her throat. Cherished, tormented, possessed.

  You’re going to cut off circulation to my hand, baby.

  God, it made her knees weak when he called her that. When he touched her back, she drifted forward, past a couple more windows, an enema coupled with cock and ball torture, basic spanking, a flogging. She stopped in front of the next cell, finding the sight strangely hard to resist.

  The Dom was dressed the way most people imagined vampire garb. White poet’s shirt, tight black pants and Hessian boots. Bared fangs, long dark hair. He was sucking on his submissive’s throat as she lay slack across his lap in a pale white nightgown showing the mauve color of her nipples. Her legs were spread and slack as he worked his hand beneath the wisp of skirt and exposed her, putting black gloved fingers inside her. Rose petals were scattered over her and on the floor. In addition to being an absorbing role play scene, it was involved performance art, the vampire and his victim probably into some type of theater as well as enjoying D/s together.

  As she watched, she became aware of more people gathering at the scene. Garron moved them out of the group, putting some distance between her and them until they reached a window through which she saw a Mistress spanking her male sub with a wooden spoon while he clasped her ankles, his head to her boots.

  “Does it seem laughable?” he asked, gesturing back toward the cell with the vampire.

  She shook her head. “He looked dangerous, like he really would take her blood. Usually it’s when they make vampires look tame, like they don’t really want to hurt anyone, that they seem ridiculous to me. Because the reality is so different from that.”

  “I’ve noticed,” he said gravely. His lip quirked. “I’ve seen flashes of it in your mind, usually when I mention my past submissives. You suppress the desire to do actual violence, but the impulse seems pretty real.”

  “It is. When humans say something like ‘I’m going to kill my husband because he didn’t take out the garbage’, it’s something they say, no thought or meaning to it. When a vampire thinks it…we want to do it. We crave doing it, can practically taste the blood as soon as we have the thought. It requires a great deal of effort to learn how to control the impulses, and you’re never completely past it. No matter how old or experienced we get, bloodlust can be triggered. When it happens, suppressing makes it worse. We learn how to channel it.”

  “Hence the intense sex games with servants? Which I assume would make everything down here look tame.”

  A shadow crossed her face. “Yes. If you truly understood that, you wouldn’t be pushing to be a part of that world.”

  It was the first time she’d acknowledged directly his push in that direction, but the set of her mouth said her bringing up the topic wasn’t progress.

  “The sex games and the politics are partial ways to deal with the bloodlust. The rest of it is just what we are. We can’t afford to be killing humans without provocation or cause, or killing one another for the same reasons. There aren’t enough of us to take those risks. We—”

  Abruptly, Kaela broke off. Garron felt everything in her freeze and lock. Her head snapped up, gaze darting up and back down the corridor as she sharply pivoted, pulling against the tether as if it weren’t there. He heard it in her head, the snarl, the shot of panic and rage together.

  No. It’s not possible.

  “Kaela, what is it?” He couldn’t make sense of it in her mind. When he touched her arm, she wheeled on him, her eyes shooting sparks. Showing him up close and personal that violence they’d just been discussing.

  “He lied to me. Vardalos lied. There is another vampire here. Down here.”

  What the fuck? Garron caught from her mind that the threat was coming from the entrance to the tunnels, and it was too late to slip away unnoticed. If she’d detected the other vampire, the other vampire had detected her.

  Amid the storm rising in her, he saw her spurt of relief as she recognized from his own reaction that he’d not been part of any deception against her. He wasn’t as quick as she was to accuse Vardalos of malicious intent, but he admitted he was wondering what the hell his boss had been thinking. Not that Garron had intended to hit social media about his vacation with a vampire, but Theodosius had made it clear it was top secret, her life at risk if it leaked out.

  One thing he knew how to do was prioritize in a crisis. At the moment, Vardalos’s part in this, right or wrong, didn’t top the list. His and Kaela’s appearance—him an obvious Dom, her a collared vampire being led by a leash—was a much bigger issue.

  Instinct had made him shy one step farther away from the bomb that had killed his team, an unconscious act that had taken him a long time to get over, a big part of him feeling like he should have died with them. Yet he’d seen enough of what her world was in her mind that he didn’t question his instincts now. He had the choker and chain removed from her neck in a blink. Since there was no way that thing was going around his thick neck, he wrapped the choker around his wrist. Stripping off his shirt, he dumped it and the tether into a used toy bin. One of the girls was going by with a tray of toys, and he snagged the item he wanted off of it, sending her on with a curt snap of his hand.

  With no hesitation, he strapped the spiked, two-inch wide leather band around his throat and shifted behind Kaela, despite every instinct that made him want to step in front of her.

  Her eyes were darting about, her mind in turmoil, his presence forgotten as she tried to figure out how to make this work. He wasn’t sure she’d even realized what he was doing. One of his other talents was getting a sub to slide into a different headspace, so using that skill now, he put firm hands on her hips.

  “You’re the California overlord, appointed by the Vampire Council. You’re in charge and you’ll kick the ass of anyone who thinks otherwise.”

  He said it as well as thought it, and the message penetrated. She started beneath his touch, turned. When she saw the collar, he felt her kneejerk reaction, a howl of protest, but he gave her a fierce look.

  Do you think trappings make me less of a Master, my lady? Or your absence of a collar less my sub?

  Her jaw set, and he gave her a brusque nod. “Your Master is giving you an order. Pull your ass together
and show me that backbone of yours. I may give you orders, but no one else in this world does unless they want their throat ripped out.” That was what I saw written all over your face, the very first moment you put your hand in mine.

  Damn it, he wasn’t getting through. Not enough. Over the past few days she’d given herself fully to her submissive core, guided by him ever farther into that well, and now she was floundering, suddenly drowning and out of her element, because her reality had intruded unexpectedly. She’d trusted in the fantasy and was feeling skewered by betrayal. Her mind was torn between panic and rage. He could feel that bloodlust reaction rising. Violence was not the proper response to this, but she’d said every vampire had a trigger.

  So did every sub. Sliding his arm around her waist, he pressed his face into her throat, willing her to feel all his strength surrounding her. He exhorted her to remember that first night when he’d covered her with his body while she curled beneath him. I know it takes years to establish the kind of trust between Master and sub that we’re going to have to rely on in the next few minutes. But we’re inside one another, aren’t we? Hell, inside our souls. Trust me, Kaela. It’s the hardest and easiest thing you’ll ever have to do.

  His certainty about that wasn’t just because of countless sessions with other subs, the experience that brought him. Or that the markings had taken them into one another’s minds and hearts, bypassing years of communication games normal couples had to struggle with. It was because once they’d touched, connected, it was a fit that clicked, a perfect fit. It wasn’t an assumption of perfection. More like finding the perfect place to build a forever home, brick by brick. Everything at first new, but the kind of place where, as the years together mounted, you knew you’d be willing to go through every remodeling, every repair, every unexpected busted pipe in the winter, because it was home. The place where you sat on the back porch to watch a garden grow or the moon rise.

  At least you didn’t say watch the sunset, since I couldn’t do that with you.

  Hearing her response was like seeing a boxer pull himself back to his feet after a near knockout. He wanted to cheer. He changed position enough to meet her eyes with fierce resolve, showing her how proud he was to be with her, to stand behind her. “I’ll sit out there so you can watch it through my eyes, so we’re doing it together. The same way we’re going to do this together.”

  §

  “Every time I see a sunset, I think of how that was your favorite time of day. No matter where I am, I’m sharing that moment with you.”

  It had been in one of Jared’s letters. Not his last one, which hadn’t been particularly significant. Unlike in the movies where that final goodbye often contained a significant, lingering pause, a final letter contained instructions on how to winterize the barn or asked after old Mrs. Willoughby on the other side of the hill. Or told Kaela what day-to-day things were happening in his camp. The type of beans they were eating, what they were mixing with their tobacco to make it last longer.

  After his death, every word of every letter became significant. She’d re-read them often, until she was captured. When she returned home, everything had been burned to the ground and reduced to ash, including those. But the words had remained engraved in her mind, the phrases and thoughts rising to bring her comfort or inspiration when needed. Like now.

  Kaela turned in Garron’s grasp. As he eased his hold enough to permit it, she stared up at him. In mere seconds her world was going to be destroyed by the truth or she’d embrace the lie that kept it intact. Could she trust a human with everything she was? Trust him to understand, know what to do when she honestly didn’t have a clue what she wanted to do? Could she truly follow his lead when her life hung in the balance? Or—more importantly to her—his life?

  He was a man who’d faced death, horrendous injury, who’d led men in the field, men who’d had to trust him the same way. They had, because they knew he’d bring them home safe, if it was within his power. If he could have, he would have made a deal with the Devil for his perceived shortcomings in that area. As her gaze slid over his scars, she realized why he hadn’t had them minimized. Everything worth doing and having had a commensurate price.

  “Lady Kaela.”

  She’d been wrong. It wasn’t one vampire, but two that she turned and faced.

  Lord Richard was Region Master for many of the southern states, the post Lady Lyssa had held before she took over the Council. Before that, he and Lady Tara had shared overlord responsibility for the Alabama territory. Tara had remained in that overlord role, but the bond between them was apparently still strong, if they were at a resort island together. While she wondered what had brought them this far afield, she realized they were likely asking themselves the same question. Unlike her, their servants were with them.

  That’s a matter of opinion, my lady. Garron’s thumb caressed the valley of her spine under the thin robe.

  It should have been distracting, and it was, but it was a touch she embraced, that steadied her as well. She wasn’t going to analyze the why of that. Instead, she gave Garron a brief flash of information about the two vampires and the servants standing just behind them.

  Seanna was a black New Orleans native whom Richard had taken out of a brothel when she was barely in her teens, decades ago. Most servants aged until they looked late twenties, early thirties, but she still looked barely twenty-one. Despite that, she had a confidence, a sultry sensuality, that belied that. She was also almost as tall as Tara’s servant Liam, a handsome blond male who looked like a young Brad Pitt. He wasn’t as outgoing in personality as Seanna but served his Mistress with a quiet earnestness that made him acceptable and appealing at once. Since Seanna’s arm was linked with Liam’s as they strolled behind their Master and Mistress, it seemed they had a good rapport.

  Kaela knew them as a twosome that had no difficulties staying within the lines of vampire society and protocols, and who were keenly aware of where those lines were. Even with Seanna’s more flamboyant personality there was no overstepping the bounds for either of these servants. Both knew their place and served their vampires well.

  “We just arrived this afternoon. We were unaware there were any other vampires here,” Tara said, giving her a courteous and warm look out of her dark, expressive eyes. They’d met at several Gatherings, and were friendly acquaintances. Kaela knew that Tara had been born and made in the Middle East, her straight dark hair and olive coloring making her a head turner, though of course all vampires were. Richard, more reserved and austere, had the looks supporting that. He’d been turned in his forties and so his chestnut hair was threaded with handsome silver strands highlighted by his piercing gray eyes. As a Region Master, he outranked Kaela, and even when he and Tara were co-overlords, Richard had always been the more dominant of the two.

  “It’s an unexpected pleasure.” Kaela said with equal politeness and warmth. “What brings you to Eden?”

  “A vacation, if you can believe it. We were sent an exclusive getaway package. We thought it was a mistake, but well…it’s hard to explain why we’re here. All the reasons in the world not to go but the offerings were just too irresistible. And you?”

  “Almost the same story.” Her mind was turning, trying to figure out the angles and whys of it. As well as wondering if Theodosius Vardalos had a will made up in the event of his tragic, sudden and painful death.

  Easy, my lady.

  “How long are you here?” she said, hoping her smile didn’t come off as a snarl. Since Tara and Richard continued to look genial, she must have accomplished it. A hundred and seventy-five years of practice really did come in handy.

  “For the next week. And you?”

  “I leave first thing tomorrow night.”

  She felt a flicker of startled reaction from Garron and closed herself down to it. “But you’ll find so many wonderful things to do here.”

  “Like him.” As Tara’s gaze slid past her to Garron, Kaela suppressed the strong urge to stand in front of
him. Not that she could have concealed his massive bulk with her far slighter form. However, if she bared fangs, she was sure it would tear Tara’s gaze from its slithering over every inch of Garron’s half-naked muscular form. “Isn’t Fran here with you?” the Alabama overlord asked.

  “No. I gave her a vacation as well.” Something trembled hard and low in Kaela’s belly as Richard’s eyes flickered, considering. A vampire didn’t travel without her blood source unless it was for significant reasons.

  With a shot of utter panic, she remembered she had third marked Garron, something other vampires could detect. But maybe because it was temporary, that wouldn’t be the case. Maybe.

  “I’ve been thinking it’s time to take…a more permanent companion, but my preference is a male.” Kaela amended her language, knowing their assumption would be that their vampire identities must be concealed. “This seemed like a good place to sample the possibilities without any commitment.”

  After a weighted pause, Richard inclined his head. “I admit I was surprised when you accepted Fran as a second mark. You’ve always seemed to have far more attraction to males.”

  “Sometimes it’s less distracting to have the gender that’s not your primary preference.” Kaela was satisfied to see them smile in response, even as it felt like a knife stabbed her in the vitals.

  The way their gazes passed over Garron said neither of them detected the marks. Another boon to the temporary marking process, but the threat to Garron’s life if that had not been the case wasn’t going to be overlooked. Nothing about this situation was going to be overlooked. She didn’t want to pretend here. She wasn’t supposed to have to do so. Vardalos, that bastard, had promised his life to her if it proved any differently. He’d find she took promises very seriously.