by Celia Kyle
“Bitch.” Yeah, there was a lot of venom in Gwen’s voice, but she wiggled and tugged on the dress, pulling it up past her hips and higher, revealing a completely bare lower half.
“Dude, is your bare vag on my seat?”
Gwen glared at her. “Yes, it is. Now I’m gonna have to go to the emergency clinic and ask for some antibiotics to cure whatever my vag is contracting from your seat.”
Zoe’s car wasn’t that dirty.
Her friend gave the dress another tug and Zoe closed her eyes. Gwen hadn’t worn a damned thing underneath her outfit. “Full Monty? Really?”
Another glare and Zoe bit her lip, whipping off her button down shirt and shoving it at Gwen while she snatched the black dress. She tugged it on over her bra, yanking her pants down as she lowered the hem. She leaned against the car to yank off her shoes, pants getting tangled, and finally shoved everything at her roommate.
“You need to wear it sans granny panties, too,” Gwen pointed out and Zoe glanced down, groaning at the VPL—visible panty lines—and the cups of her bra peeking over the neck of the dress.
She did that wiggle and wobble known to all women everywhere, sliding her bra from beneath the dress without flashing the world and then scooching the panties down as well. (They were not granny panties.) She winced when her bare feet scuffed the rough asphalt and wrinkled her nose when a piece of gravel dug into her heel.
Zoe was so ready to be done. And she almost was, except for… shoes.
Gwen’s shoes fit Gwen, Zoe’s shoes fit Zoe, and never the twain shall meet.
“Motherfucker,” she groaned, staring down at the pair she’d be stuck with. Well, Arik had said dress or skirt. He hadn’t mentioned shoes, and there was nothing she could do now. Fugly—with a capital Fug—black clogs it was.
“Ew, you wore your icky waitress shoes.”
“I was applying for a waitress position. Sometimes they want you to serve a couple of tables if they like you.” They’d liked Zoe enough to give her a full shift. Which was biting her in the ass now. She glanced at her watch. Shit. “C’mon, I gotta go or they won’t let me in and I’m not gonna be a no-show. Plus, I need to let them know this is day one and then I’m done.”
She yanked Gwen out of the car, thankful the chick had dressed and gotten her bare vag off Zoe’s seat. One slam of the door and a press of a button had her vehicle locking and then she was jogging across the lot, racing for the front of the building.
“Thanks! I’ll see you tomorrow!”
“You owe me, bitch!”
Yeah, Zoe did. “Love you too!”
She quickly rounded the corner, Gwen forgotten in her run, and hoofed it up the front walkway. She tugged on the door only to come face-to-chest with… the guy from yesterday morning. And not the hot one, the creepy one.
Cason.
“Uh, hi,” she swallowed hard. “Mr. Lange told me— “
“You’re late, little pretty.” He reached for her, moving faster than she could track, and traced the low curve of her neckline, finger getting dangerously close to her breasts. She took a small step back and those cold blue eyes narrowed on her, anger swirling in their frozen depths. “Cattle aren’t allowed in after eleven.”
A roll of… shame?… slunk through her. Cattle. Whore. “I’m sorry. I— “
“But your show in the lot out back was nice.” He stepped close once more, looming tall and immovable. “Will you give me a private show, little pretty?”
“Uh…” She wasn’t giving anyone a show. Not this guy and definitely not one of the vamps he protected, or whatever. “You know what? I made a mistake.”
Another step, more space separating them, and she turned. Only to have her wrist caught in a vise-like grip.
“Tsk, tsk. I didn’t say you could go, little pretty.” The way he said those words, the twist of anger in those eyes, had her regretting her choice to even show. Her body screamed at her to leave, to run from the man in front of her.
“Look, let me go and— “
“I don’t think I will.” He smiled widely, revealing long, white… fangs. Pointy ones. Did she mention long and white and pointy? “I think you should come inside.”
That was when those blue eyes flashed… red, and she realized his palm felt cool against her wrist.
Fangs. Eyes. Cold.
She swallowed hard. This was one of those Julia Roberts-Pretty Woman fuck ups. Big mistake. Big. Huge.
“I…”
Then Arik was there, Arik with his blond hair falling around his face, penetrating eyes locked on her and smooth stride that put his body between Zoe and Cason.
Cason, who he dismissed. “That’s enough, Cason. Thank you for seeing to Miss Spencer.”
A growl vibrated the air, the dangerous sound bouncing off her nerves, and Zoe wondered how big Arik’s balls really were. He stood between her and a vamp, not even giving the other man a single look, just a few dismissive words.
His balls had to be ginormous and solid brass.
Arik seemed to ignore the vamp’s anger entirely, instead choosing to slide his hand down Zoe’s arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake. He reached her bruised wrist and gave it a gentle kiss, his lips gliding over the skin. It was as if his touch soothed and wiped away whatever remaining pain she experienced. He gave her another kiss, this one to the center of her palm, and flashed her a wicked grin and a wink.
Her body responded to his nearness, his teasing and his touch. She heated from inside out, warming with a blossoming desire for the man. The man who might die if the vamp at his back had his way. Cason’s face appeared over Arik’s shoulder, murderous eyes on Zoe, and she shrank away.
“Cason. Enough.” Two words, soft yet as hard as steel, and then Cason was gone, leaving the two of them alone in front of the building. “I’m sorry you had to deal with him. I’d intended to be available when you arrived, but…”
Zoe grimaced. “I was late. I’m really…” Arik shook his head and she let her apology drift away. “It’s perfectly fine. I forget that newcomers are nervous on their first day in the club and should have anticipated your delay.” He lifted her hand to his mouth once more, brushing a kiss across the back. “Let us explore all that Claret holds.”
She swallowed hard, staring into the darkness beyond the front door. The panel was still opened inward like it merely waited for them to enter. Should she? Would she? Could she?
“Aren’t you,” she lowered her voice. “Aren’t you afraid of that guy? Cason? I mean,” she licked her lips and knew she was about to be racist—speciesist?—as hell but she couldn’t help it. “As a human, aren’t you a little afraid of vamps like that?”
Arik’s lips tipped up at the corners, a small grin that soon transformed into a wide smile. Wide enough to reveal his… fangs.
Maybe they were fake.
“You assume I am not one of them, skatten min.”
Or not.
“I… This is a mistake?” She hated stuttering around him, being unsure. Why couldn’t he be human? He was intimidating enough without the fangs and now… She’d get the rejection done quickly and then run. How fast could they move? “I’m not a blood whore. Really. I’m a waitress and student. I’ll donate tonight, but I won’t be coming back, so can you take it from a vein here or— “
Arik—way too sexy Arik—rubbed a fingertip across her lips. “So soft, so sweet.” His eyes flared, a hint of red encircling the irises. “Do you taste as sweet?”
“Did you hear me?” Could vamps be hard of hearing? “I won’t— “
He quirked his lips. “I heard you, skatten min, but I don’t believe you.” He shook his head and stepped forward until nothing more than an inch separated them. “I believe only your body. And your body,” he breathed deeply, “desires me.”
Note to self: vamp sniffy abilities are hella strong. Because she did desire him. Her pussy was wet and aching, her blood thrumming through her veins at an increasing pace, and she wondered what it’d feel like to h
ave his teeth in her neck.
No. Wrist. She wasn’t doing the neck thing because it was intimate and—And it took a small tug to get her moving, to have her following him into the club. Arik didn’t pull her across the crowded, main floor. Instead, he led her to a set of nearby stairs that led to a catwalk that lined the walls of the building. They could see from every angle, watch what happened down below, observe a vamp ease a woman onto his lap until she straddled him. The chick leaned forward, brushing her hair out of the way while baring her neck. The vamp’s hands weren’t idle, stroking her back, cupping her ass, and dipping beneath the edge.
Zoe’s pussy clenched, a ripple of sensual awareness slinking through her. The vampire toyed with the woman, his actions hidden by the folds of her skirt, but there was no missing the pleasure that seemed to radiate from her body. The stranger moved her hips as if he pleasured her, giving her more and more until she froze and that was when the vampire struck, sinking his fangs into his partner’s bared neck.
She jolted with the quickness of the move and almost moaned along with the woman when she obviously took pleasure from the encounter.
“That’s…” she whispered.
“Why our female donors wear skirts. It is quite pleasurable for the woman and what man doesn’t wish to taste the deliciousness of a partner’s release?” Moist air bathed her neck, Arik’s lips hovering close to her shoulder. “It’s the purest form of bliss to a vampire. When that rush of orgasm overtakes his partner…”
He moaned and Zoe nearly did the same. It all sounded so seductive, so alluring, so… terrifying.
“Do you wish to experience that, skatten min?”
No.
Yes.
“One night,” she whispered. She’d experience it for one night. “With one condition.” She turned to face Arik. He could be the devil incarnate, but nothing could shake off the feeling of safety she experienced when he was near. “It has to be you.”
“I would not have it any other way. Come,” he held out his hand. “I have a private room for us.”
Private.
Zoe pulled back a little. “I…”
“Safeguards are in place should a vampire lose his head to bloodlust. It has never happened at Claret, but that does not mean security measures are any less strict. You will be safe.”
Right.
She nodded, allowing him to pull her forward. “Just so you know, my friends know where I’m at. So if I don’t come home in the morning…”
Arik glanced over his shoulder, that sexy-as-sin grin in place. “You will come before morning, skatten min. Long before.”
Perhaps Arik would as well. Already his body yearned for hers, his cock hard and aching. From the moment he’d see her car whip into the parking lot, he’d been aroused. He’d nearly embarrassed himself when she partially stripped beside her car, body managing to stay hidden by clothing. He’d wished he could have been at her side, his hands pulling the fabric from her skin, leaving her bared to him.
But he could not. Not without frightening her with the depth of his need. Humans were… delicate. He believed his skatten min—his treasure—was one of those human females.
Yet, she became aroused while watching Stian with one of his favorite donors. The beat of her heart increased and her breaths came in shallow gasps while his friend pleasured the woman. Then the scent of her arousal reached him, the salty musk making him ache all the more.
Arik remained silent as he led her around the room’s periphery, the stares from the rest of the club weighing heavily on his shoulders. He didn’t take women—donors—to private rooms. Ever.
He couldn’t imagine feeding from Zoe’s delicate neck in front of the other members and staff. He would keep the necessary safeguards in place within the private area—he would not allow protocol to be violated by even himself—but he would hide her from all others.
He drew Zoe to the last door in the far corner, the entrance hidden in dark shadows from prying eyes. The key card slid easily into the electronic lock, light turning from red to green to grant them entrance, and he held the door open for her.
Zoe’s attention wandered across the room, her gaze touching on the furnishings while his remained solely on her.
The outdoor security system monitored sound as well as the cameras, and he recalled her every word. Including the comment about her “icky waitress shoes.” He also remembered the mention of applying for a waitressing position because tonight was “day one and then I’m done.”
Arik would never be done with her. Never.
“Do you like it?” He looked around the space, noting with satisfaction that his orders had been followed. Gone were the gaudy accoutrements that some older vampires enjoyed. Gilded chairs and swaths of red velvet worked for donors who wanted the “vampire experience.”
His Zoe was not like that. Necessity drove her to Claret’s doors, but desire would make her remain.
“It’s beautiful,” her whisper drifted to him, her fingers tracing the edge of a shelf. “Comfortable.”
She gave him a bashful grin and he nearly shouted in triumph. Something was truly wrong with him. “I had the staff reproduce my den on a smaller scale.”
“Den?” She grinned. “Not a coffin?”
“Not on your first night, skatten min. Not on your first night.” Though he hadn’t used a coffin in centuries. They were no longer necessary now that he tolerated the sun with ease.
“This is my only night.”
He did not wish to frighten her with his determination to see her every night, and simply hummed. He didn’t agree… or disagree. “Perhaps we should enjoy the evening and leave tomorrow’s choices for tomorrow.”
He moved to one of his favorite, plush chairs. He truly had ordered the room to mirror his sanctuary at home. Old books lined one wall, comfortable leather couches and seats around the room, and plush carpets on the bare flooring. A place to relax, to smoke a cigar and let the worries of Claret melt away.
“You want to…” her fingers fluttered along her neck. “Now?”
“I do.” He held out his hand, waiting for her to come to him. “Now.”
Thankfully, he did not have to wait long. Indecision slid across her features, ghosting through her eyes for a brief moment before she squared her shoulders. She practically stomped to him, as if she had to force herself to his side. Fear and anxiety were written in every tense line of her body, and he understood her worry.
She would be vulnerable to him—at his mercy—and he cherished that gift.
Her movements were jerky and rough, but he kept his smooth and slow. Like a frightened animal, she trembled for him and he murmured, “Skatten min.”
Arik eased himself into the nearby chair, plush cushions accepting his weight, and he drew her into his lap. She didn’t resist, but she didn’t fall into his arms completely.
His Zoe, so different from all the others.
She sat sideways across his thighs, her shoulder against his chest and their mouths mere inches apart.
“What does that mean?” she whispered.
“What?” he spoke just as softly.
“Ska…”
He quirked his lips. Strong need and emotion took his mind back to a time when he’d still been human. When he’d been a Viking in Norway wielding an axe and protecting himself with a wooden shield. Ah, a thousand years ago? A few years long now.
“Skatten min.” He ran his hand along her spine, familiarizing her with his touch. He would touch much more if he had his way, but for now, he sated himself with that caress. “My treasure.”
Her lips formed the words of Arik’s language, not a sound escaping them, and he wondered what it would take to teach her Norse. To hear of his homeland in her voice.
But first, he had to teach her to take his touch, his kiss, his… bite.
Arik trailed his fingers up her bare arm, her soft skin teasing him. Was she that gloriously smooth everywhere? If the goddess Freya were kind, Zoe would be that delici
ously soft.
She trembled but didn’t pull away from him, and another wave of her scent slipped into his lungs. So hot and sweet. He craved the arousal he sensed, to bury his face between her thighs. He would lick and suck her clit, get her crying out for more, and then would give her the release of her life.
By sinking his fangs into her inner-thigh.
His cock throbbed, full and hurting—need unlike he’d ever known now coursing through his veins.
Zoe’s breath caught with a soft gasp and she wiggled slightly in his lap. Her cheeks flushed pink, all of that delicious blood flooding her pale face, and he licked his lips. He tasted the air, searching for proof of his suspicions.
Yes, there was arousal, worry—but it was fading quickly—and excitement. No fear. She did not shake and flush because she feared him. She wanted him—was excited by him.
But that did not mean her craving could not be quickly snuffed if he moved too fast. Part of him wished he could sate himself with a seasoned donor, but something about Zoe made him think all others would pale in comparison to her.
Arik reached for her with his free hand, cradling one of hers in his. He rubbed his thumb across her knuckles, gentling her like he would have when he’d raised horses in the Old West.
“Is something wrong, Zoe?”
She shifted slightly, her plump ass rubbing his hard cock, and her flush deepened to a bright red. “No. You’re just— “
He rocked his hips, just enough movement to torment him and tease her. “Hard.”
Zoe’s chocolate eyes darkened to near black, her lips parting and that pink tongue darted out to wet her lower lip. Did she realize the challenge she presented?
“I am hard for you, skatten min.”
“Me? Because drinking blood makes you…” she wiggled her forefinger a couple times and then held it straight.
“You believe I am aroused by the simple thought of drinking blood?” He clucked his tongue and shook his head. His naïve Zoe. “I am aroused because it will be your blood.” He turned her hand over and nipped the base of her thumb. “Because I desire you.”
“You…”