by Zoey Marcel
“Mark,” Ben reproved him.
“I’m sorry, but it’s true. She’s always harassing the crap out of you and trying to make your life miserable.”
“I know it is, but there’s a lady present.”
Mark turned to her. “Sorry. People who aren’t familiar with her fitting title know her as Chanel Carmichael.”
“She seems…antagonistic.”
“You got that right,” he snorted.
“Is there something we can help you with?” Ben asked her.
She noticed his badge. “I didn’t know you were the sheriff.”
“It’s okay. He won’t bite,” Mark assured her.
“I was just wondering if either of you knew where I could get some coffee and doughnuts.”
Ben frowned. “Is this a joke?”
“No.”
Mark grinned. “Why are you asking us?”
“Because you guys are—”
“Cops?”
“Yeah, cops like doughnuts and coffee.”
“So does the rest of the population,” Ben returned.
“Yeah, but I think police have a special place for them. Earlier I saw someone in a cop car flash his lights so the cars had to move and then he sped into the parking lot of the doughnut shop, but now I can’t remember where it is,” said Claire.
Mark grinned sheepishly and put his finger to his lips to shush her.
Ben turned to him with a raised eyebrow. “It was you, wasn’t it?”
“Guilty as charged, but you have to understand last time I got there the person in front of me bought the last apple fritter. I got there before lunch this time and there were plenty of them. It was all warm and gooey.”
Ben shook his head with a smile. “If you head that way down this street and take the second left and then turn right when you get to the light, you’ll see it.”
“Thank you,” said Claire.
“It’ll say Fatties on the sign,” Mark put in. “The Jitterbug Coffeehouse is right next door.”
She giggled. “I like the store names in this town. They’re very creative.”
“They sure are. I hope you enjoy your stay,” Mark told her before heading back inside with the sheriff.
“Thank you. I’m sure I will.”
Claire made a nice little day of it simply exploring the town and what it had to offer until it was time for the club to open. She showered and dressed in her hotel room, deciding upon a low-cut, black top, a black-and-gray, diagonally striped skirt that fell below her knees, and black, knee-high boots. She studied her reflection in the mirror carefully. She’d piled her golden-blonde hair on top of her head with curly tendrils of hair escaping on either side of her head. The smoky eye shadow seemed to darken the shade of her baby-blue eyes, bringing out faint shades of gray with tints of green. She turned to the side, pleased with the way her clothes hugged the curves of her slender body in all the right places. She splashed on some of her favorite perfume and drove to the club.
Claire stood in line in the chilly night air, wishing she’d thought ahead to bring her jacket. The bouncer was well over six foot and generously built with muscles. His ruggedly handsome face and tough-as-nails persona reminded her of a cowboy. He even wore boots to complement the fantasy. Cowboys weren’t really her thing. She preferred men in leather, but this man wore the cowboy look quite well.
After she showed him her ID and paid, he let her in. The club was hopping with plenty of half-naked people grinding on the dance floor while others stood with their drinks and socialized. It looked like quite a few people wore leather collars of some sort.
After asking around, Claire found one of the owners serving drinks behind the bar. “Are you Dakarai Hawthorne?”
“I am. What are you drinking?”
She smiled at his South African accent. She’d only heard it a few times on TV, but to hear it in person coming from this tall, brawny African god of a man made her weak. “I was actually hoping we could talk. I understand you’re hiring right now for a waitress or a bartender, or have you filled the position yourself?”
“My bartender called in sick. Today was his last day, ironically.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m afraid I have my hands full right now, but perhaps my partner, Joaquin can interview you.”
“Where is he?”
“In the courtyard. I’ll show you where it is. Cory, take over for me for a minute.” Dakarai led her through a long hall to a back door and unlocked it for her. “He should be just outside there. He can interview you first and if he likes you I’ll talk with you as well before we make our decision. I have to get back there now.”
“Thank you.” Claire stepped outside into the cold darkness, rubbing the goose bumps on her arms.
The courtyard was fenced in by a stone wall that towered over her. The moonlight shone over the area, which was somewhere between a gardener’s dream and a Dom’s paradise. There were two spanking benches in the center of the yard near a large, bubbling fountain with a statue of an angel supporting it. A St. Andrew’s cross stood near the stone wall, and there was a stockade on the other end near the other wall. Various flowers and plants decorated the vicinity as if they’d been placed there to balance out the implements of punishment with their delicate, natural beauty.
Claire made her way over to the impressive oak tree at the far end of the courtyard. A sling of some sort hung from one of the sturdy branches. The succubus in her felt a wicked thrill at the kinky piece dangling in front of her, but she could sense Rochelle’s timid disapproval from within. She would never be free to explore her womanhood with Rochelle’s soul trapped inside of her. On the other hand, without the saintly woman’s influence, would her own soul be enough to keep her demonic nature under control?
“What are you doing here?”
Claire gasped in alarm and whirled around to see a hard, serious-looking man of about five foot eight standing behind her. She hadn’t even heard him approach. “Oh, you startled me.”
He stood, appearing somewhat tense and defensive, like a warrior ready for action. “The courtyard is closed at night.”
“I’m sorry. I’m looking for someone who goes by the name of Joaquin Sullivan.”
“What is your business with him?”
Perhaps it was the stern tone of his voice or the piercing, steely quality of his eyes, but for whatever reason he made her nervous. She tried to read his soul to gauge what kind of person she was dealing with here, but she couldn’t get a reading of any sort. Either he had some sort of natural defense against soul devourers, or worse, he had no soul for her to read. But that would mean he wasn’t human. Oh crap, what was he?
“Dakarai sent me out here to see him.”
His eyes narrowed in an almost evil approval and he nearly smiled. “Did he, now?”
Claire’s heartbeat quickened as the ominous stranger slowly stalked toward her like a predator moving in for the kill. The chilly night air seemed somehow colder now. “Are you Joaquin?”
“I am. You’re new in town, aren’t you?” He continued his insidious advance toward her.
She swallowed nervously, though she wasn’t sure why. This was Dakarai’s partner. He was only going to interview her. So why did he eye her like a big, juicy steak? “Yeah, I just got in today.”
“Are you vacationing with family or friends?”
She backed up only to feel the crude bark through her top. She stepped aside, trying to avoid the sling. “No, actually I want to move here.”
“Alone?” he asked darkly as he came around the tree to where she stood. He backed her into it as if herding a lamb for slaughter.
She shivered in apprehension, unsure of where he was going with this. “Dakarai didn’t send me out here to discuss my living situation with you.”
Joaquin smiled this time, but it proved sinister in nature. He briefly swept her with his gaze and his eyes looked darker now, almost black, but that could have been the sky getting darker due to the hour. “No, he didn’t.”
<
br /> Claire felt her senses heightening with excitement as he drew closer. His nearness also served as the reason for the chilling fear now pulsing through her. “What are you doing?”
“Don’t scream,” he murmured in her ear.
She was mighty tempted to, particularly when his large hand covered her mouth and she saw his fangs descend as he moved in for her neck. Oh my god, he was a vampire. Hadn’t Millie Stein told her vampires and other demons weren’t allowed in Temptation? What was he doing here? His identity must be a secret.
Claire tried to shove him off, but his free hand secured both her wrists with ease. She kneed him in the groin and he snarled at her and grabbed her by the throat, shrieking when his palm made contact with her gold cross necklace. He released her long enough for her to pull out the wooden cross charm from her black velvet clutch purse and thrust it in his face. He backed away in trepidation but seemed pissed off by the threat.
“I don’t know if this is a normal part of the interview process to work here or not, but I would rather just show you my resume and answer any questions you may have for me.” Her body trembled violently, hoping he didn’t smack the charm out of her hand like he seemed to want to.
He appeared surprised by her outburst. “You’re here for an interview?”
“Yes! What did you think I was here for—to be your snack?”
“I did, but evidently that is not the case.”
“Is Dakarai in the habit of sending people out to be sucked off by you?”
Joaquin’s lips twitched in naughty amusement. “I don’t suck my victims off. I drink their blood.”
Claire blushed, realizing he’d turned her comment dirty in his mind. “I thought demons weren’t allowed to live in Temptation.”
This seemed to unsettle him, though he masked it fairly well. “I’ll see your resume now.”
She removed it from her folder and handed it to him cautiously, staring at him while he read it. “It might be too dark out here to read it.”
“I can read it just fine.”
Perhaps sanguinary vampires saw especially well at night.
“It says you have experience with waiting tables and you graduated from a bartending academy. Have you worked at a bar since attending school?”
“No. Not yet. I came here after graduation.”
He handed the resume back to her. “It’s an impressive resume, but you might want to start your bartending career out at a smaller establishment. It gets too busy here for a beginner.”
Claire panicked when he turned to leave. She wasn’t about to let some good-for-nothing bloodsucker crush her dreams. “Wait. Just give me a chance. I’ll be the best bartender you’ve ever had.”
“It gets busy sometimes. On Friday and Saturday nights we get slammed with business. I don’t think you’re ready.” He started to walk.
“I don’t think you’re ready,” she retorted, surprised by her own boldness.
“Excuse me?” He turned to face her again.
“They say idle hands are the devil’s playground. If my time isn’t completely occupied with making drinks, it just leaves me with plenty of time to report what you really are to the sheriff. I don’t think you’re ready for that to happen so suddenly and unexpectedly.”
Joaquin’s eyes turned to ice. “I could kill you where you stand without a sound before you ever got the chance.”
“I wouldn’t give you that chance.” She hoped to god he didn’t carry out his threat.
He smirked. “You’re a weak, little human. You couldn’t stop me if I turned deadly.”
“Then the joke’s on you, because I’m a vampire slayer.” Please don’t call my bluff.
He eyed her heavily for a minute. “I think you’re bluffing.”
“Why else would I carry a cross charm in my purse? If I had known I would be interviewed by a vampire, I would have brought a stake, but I don’t need one to put you in your place if you turn lethal on me. Challenge me at your own risk.” Claire tried to act haughty and collected, though inside she felt terrified and uncertain.
“Fine,” he said, tone laced with irritation. “You start tomorrow. However, the duration of your employment depends solely on your silence, and if you decide to leave at any point, I won’t give you a good recommendation unless you swear to continue that silence.”
She nodded. “I promise.”
“Dakarai will train you a few hours a day for a week and then you can start working once you feel more comfortable with the flow of things.”
“Thank you. I won’t let you down.”
“You already have. I thought you were a treat, but instead I have a slayer for a bartender now.” His sarcasm seemed like a mingling of humor and annoyance.
“I’ll make it up to you. I’ll be the best you’ve ever had.” She grimaced when she saw his amused half smile and realized he’d twisted her meaning again.
“I don’t think you realize how good I’ve had it.”
“I don’t think you realize how good I can give it…the drinks, that is, but I’m good at other things too.” She winced, wondering why she bothered to continue talking.
Joaquin looked entertained by her embarrassment over her unintentional innuendo. “Well, as much as I dislike the idea of having a slayer in my employment, I look forward to trying what you have to offer.”
Claire grew warm. Surely he meant the drinks she would make, but the heat in his eyes suggested he meant something else entirely.
Chapter Two:
Dreamscape
Joaquin paced back and forth in the master suite he shared with Dakarai. It was dawn now and the club had been closed. They certainly had enough money to buy a house if they wanted to, but they simply lived upstairs. It had everything they needed up there, including a kitchen, living room and bathroom.
All of these rooms were fine, but the bedroom was their sanctuary. The massive king-size bed was the focal point of their glamorous haven. The bed frame and four posters were made of black steel and the headboard and canopy were both oversized mirrors. Being vampires, they gave off no reflection, but both knew the possibility of a female third could bring about a pleasurable use for mirrors on her end as she watched them pleasure her.
The bed was appealing to the eye to be sure, but even more important than the fine piece of furniture and the luxurious scarlet comforter and pillows that adorned it were the kinky possibilities the bed allowed. There were plenty of places for attachments for bondage and even suspension.
Joaquin was still aggravated by the blonde slayer he’d had no choice but to hire. He’d just finished relaying the account from earlier in the courtyard to his partner.
Dakarai lay on the bed, calmly listening to him stew over the whole situation. “This is my fault. I should have told you she was coming out to meet you for an interview. It never occurred to me that you would try to bite her.”
“It’s not your fault. It was a misunderstanding. You’ve sent me treats before.”
“How did she taste?”
“I don’t know. I never got to bite her.” He wanted to badly. Claire had smelled so good standing in that garden with her smooth skin being caressed by the evening air as it sent her natural scent wafting toward him. She smelled like strawberries and all the warm essences of summer. Having his prey escape proved to be a challenge that vexed him. He wanted to bite Claire and by god he would find a way. If only she wasn’t a damned slayer and his employee. That did complicate things considerably.
“Does she know what I am?” Dakarai asked.
“No. Just because I’ve been discovered doesn’t mean I won’t carry your secret to my grave.”
He smiled. “Thank you. I understand slayers consider dreamscape vampires a threat to humanity as well.”
Joaquin rolled his eyes. “They’re against any kind of vampire. I still can’t believe that little troll blackmailed me. If she was my sub I’d flog her for such gall.”
“Try not to let it bother you. She may not even
be here for very long. Perhaps working for the enemy will get to her after a while and she will quit.”
“That would be nice, except for the part where I have to worry about her blabbing to someone if she ever decides to leave town.”
“Maybe she won’t.”
Joaquin heaved a sigh, feeling soothed by his partner’s words. He could sit and listen to Dakarai’s South African accent all day. The man was several inches taller than him, around six foot two. Where his voice brought consolation and contentment, his dark face and body proved distracting, even amidst Joaquin’s current state of frustration. Dakarai looked tantalizing lying there with his bulging muscles and swarthy skin, bare chested against the crimson velvet comforter. All he wore were black boxer briefs that emphasized his generous endowment and steamy midnight eyes that housed a wealth of naughty suggestions.
He smiled knowingly when he caught Joaquin’s devilish grin. “What are you thinking about?”
“Only about which sounds more appealing to me right now, sucking your cock or drinking your blood.” The thought of either had him salivating already.
Dakarai’s eyes glimmered with invitation. His palm moved down to cup his crotch. “Why not do both at the same time?”
Joaquin moaned in anticipation at the sight of Dakarai touching himself. He stripped with haste, getting harder the more he watched the man fondle himself over his underwear.
“Then again, I’m feeling rather tired. Perhaps we should just call it a night,” Dakarai teased as his hand dipped into his boxer briefs and groped himself shamelessly.
Joaquin’s eyes narrowed, but his half smile was playful. “If you fall asleep, I’m just going to take you anyway.”
Dakarai chuckled. “Or maybe I will tend to my needs before you even get over here.”
Joaquin kicked his clothes aside now that he stood in the buff and ready to pounce. “Do you need help getting those off?”
“Who says I’m taking them off?”
He hopped into bed and pulled Dakarai’s hand out of his underwear. “You’re being rather ornery tonight.”
Dakarai winked at him, running his hand over Joaquin’s arm. “You like a challenge. That’s what arouses you about Claire.”