Brazen Temptation [Temptation, Wyoming 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage and More)

by Zoey Marcel

  “We just need to tell her. We’ve got to tell her all the dirty, disgusting things we want to do to her and then she’ll come around.”

  Brad smirked as they headed toward the door. “Yeah, sure, Cory, that will work. If you want her to hit you in the face, then be my guest.”

  “Let’s go get Dawson and fuck her. She wants it. You know she wants it.”

  “I don’t think she does.”

  “Then let’s go get her.” Cory pulled free from Brad and took off, running into the wall. He fell over on his ass and lay there. “Ow.”

  Brad chuckled and pulled him to his feet. “We’re going home now.”

  “No. I’m gonna kiss her,” Cory insisted as they headed toward the door. He staggered along with his older brother’s help and started to sing. “Closing time. One last call for alcohol.”

  “Absolutely no more alcohol for you, sport,” Brad told him.

  * * * *

  The next two days were extra busy with the Friday- and Saturday-night rush, but Cory was there, sober thankfully, to help Claire through it. At times playing bartender proved stressful, but there were other times when it was a good deal of fun. She liked mixing cocktails, pouring drinks and seeing the customers enjoy the colorful concoctions she made in the various beautiful glasses.

  Over the next few weeks, she gained speed and confidence and soon found herself working the bar by herself most of the time, only requiring Cory’s assistance during the maddest of weekend rushes.

  She wasn’t sure which she enjoyed more, the bright lights and noisy crowds on the weekends or the leather-clad, collar-wearing members who dropped in and out during weeknights Tuesday through Thursday, since the club was closed on Sunday and Monday. Their lifestyle intrigued her and while most of them went into private rooms where she couldn’t go since she had to tend to the bar, it always excited her when some of them remained out in the open and displayed their indulgences and disciplinary acts. She thoroughly enjoyed the demonstrations Joaquin, Dakarai and Brad sometimes gave.

  Tonight Brad was giving a Domme tips on how to train her male sub to have multiple orgasms without ejaculating until she allowed him to.

  Joaquin and Dakarai were on the stage showing some of the members how to safely perform Shibari, some kind of Japanese rope bondage. To Claire it appeared complicated, but the end results resembled art almost. She couldn’t imagine it being very comfortable hanging from the rafters like that, but she somewhat envied the woman in skimpy lingerie being bound and helpless according to the will of her employers.

  Claire couldn’t fathom why dangling from the ceiling should be a coveted position to her, but somehow it was. Did they ever sleep with that woman? Was she simply a temporary sub who had agreed to do demonstrations with them but keep sex out of it? Not that she cared. She didn’t. Why should she?

  Dakarai was kind and gentle even while being dark and mysterious. How could the sub not agree to anything they asked of her? Damn her.

  And Joaquin, he had that same serious, brooding manner with pretty much everyone, but there were times when he lightened up some. Claire even saw him smile once or twice, but only when Dakarai was there with him. He treated everyone civilly and a few he even behaved friendly toward, but to Claire he remained cold, clinical and distant. He barely spoke to her except to give her orders or tell her to make a drink for one of his special guests. At least Dakarai thanked her and seemed to appreciate all her hard work this past month. Joaquin took her for granted. Irritating bastard. Maybe he still held a grudge against her for blackmailing him into hiring her.

  Once Joaquin and Dakarai released the woman from her bondage, the audience clapped again and a few of the Doms requested to be walked through it while they performed it on their own subs. Brad finished with the Domme he was assisting and came over to join Dakarai in helping some of the members.

  Joaquin walked up to the bar where Claire stood. “Ashley would like a Mai Tai. Make it quick. She won’t be here much longer. Oh, and Claire, give her two cherries. Ashley always likes two.”

  He walked off and Claire scowled inside. No please or thank you. Nasty demon. She glanced at the jar of maraschino cherries and sighed. There was only one left in there. Normally that would be enough, but no, Princess Ashley had to have two cherries in her Mai Tai.

  Claire wandered off and went down into the cellar to retrieve her Royal Highness’s jar of maraschino cherries so she could have that elusive second fruit in her drink. The cellar was dark and frigid. She’d never been down here, but Joaquin had told her once that if she ever ran out of ingredients, there would be extras in the cellar. He never told her where or gave her a tour, so Ashley was just going to have to stick around a while until Claire located the jar.

  First she should probably find the light. There it was. She flipped the switch and the bulbs illuminated the creepy darkness, but the atmosphere still felt chilly and eerie. The pantry housed shelves of liquor bottles, liqueurs and jars of fruit and olives. There were also cans and crates of regular food and drinks, which made sense since her bosses lived here.

  She noticed a large box with a glass lid a ways to the left of her. It looked like a coffin but had to be some fancy storage for some sort of vegetable or something. Still, the human-size box looked too fancy to house potatoes or anything. What was in it? She drew near and covered her mouth to smother her own scream. A man lay in the coffin perfectly still with his eyes closed.

  Her first thought was, Oh, how sad. This must be a friend of theirs who died. Followed by, Oh my god, what if they murdered him and are hiding the body down here? And finally, Oh my god, this is one of Joaquin’s victims! Maybe he’s dead or been turned into a vampire.

  But why were there holes in the glass lid of the coffin as if to permit the man airflow? Why was there a healthy color in his cheeks? Claire thought she saw his chest move up and down as if breathing calmly. Was he asleep? Should she let him out or report what she’d seen to the sheriff? The man didn’t even smell like death. He smelled good and enticing, like a man should.

  Suddenly his eyes flew open and he stared at her. This time she gasped and jumped back, screaming bloody murder when he flew up and threw the lid off the coffin. It shattered once it hit the floor and he sprang out of the box after her when she fled. He snarled at her like a freaking animal as he tackled her. The impact of hitting the floor knocked the wind out of her, inhibiting her screams as she tried to catch her breath. The man’s eyes turned to an intriguing golden-amber color, appearing more feral and catlike than human. It horrified her when huge, gleaming canines descended from his mouth.

  She heard Rochelle clearly in her mind. “AAAAAAAAHHHHHH!”

  But that could have been her own sanity screaming out. He leaned closer as if to bite her with those big-ass fangs. There was just no fucking way. Claire tried to fight him off, but he proved much stronger than her and his hands seemed to be everywhere at once. One wrestled with her flailing arms and the other ventured up her shirt, caressing her abs before fumbling to get her jeans open. Her breathing grew heavier, and she almost stopped fighting him for a second, whether out of shock or her driving needs as a succubus, she didn’t know. Rochelle could hardly rebuke her for an indiscretion if a man forced himself upon her.

  That thought disappeared in a flash when the raw instinct to live and not be bitten by some beast of the night kicked in. As she struggled to fight him off, Claire decided that this was one instance where sucking the soul completely out of someone until they died would be completely acceptable. She placed one hand on his chest and focused her energy on sucking the life force out of him. It didn’t work, which meant either he had some kind of defense against soul devourers or he had no soul. Either possibility terrified her.

  The man covered her body with his, trying to draw near her neck. She felt the enormous bulge of his erection straining against his pants and pressing against her pussy as he sought to sink his teeth into her. Before he could, she tried to shove him away, but he moved
and the tip of his fang pierced her finger. She screamed and clawed at his face to fend him off. Her nail scratched his cheek and she couldn’t tell if the bloody streak was from his cut or her bleeding finger. It was probably both.

  She felt both stunned and relieved when the man was tackled and thrown off by Joaquin. They fought and clawed at one another before Dakarai grabbed the stranger from behind and shoved a cloth under his nose. The wild man was out cold in seconds and Dakarai eased him to the floor.

  Joaquin looked pissed and savage. His normally steel-gray eyes had turned black and he glanced back and forth between her and the coffin. “How the hell did he get out?”

  “The box wasn’t nailed shut. He pushed the lid off himself.” Claire couldn’t stop quivering with terror.

  “I mean how did he wake up? He’s been in a coma for over a month now.”

  Dakarai’s countenance appeared to harbor understanding of the situation. “Joaquin, remember what I told you about the spell—the one way Nex could be awakened from his coma?”

  Joaquin looked surprised, but his expression hardened once his gaze drifted back to Claire. “Fantastic.”

  Claire shivered when she saw the black in his eyes lightening to a plum-purple as if they were about to turn red. The ravenous growl that rumbled low in his throat resembled a hungry crocodile. She followed his hard, determined stare to the blood running down her hand. He wanted her blood. In that moment she realized she was no safer with Joaquin than she had been with this Nex person who just attacked her.

  Dakarai noticed Joaquin’s possessed gawking. “Joaquin, weren’t you going to drive Ashley home?”

  Joaquin didn’t listen. His eyes looked truly soulless as he took a fatal, insidious step toward Claire.

  Dakarai appeared as worried as she felt. “Joaquin!”

  The vampire snapped out of the hypnosis and shot a glance over at his friend.

  “I will take care of these two. You should go take Ashley home. Please.”

  Joaquin’s countenance softened and his eyes became black again. They seemed to be gradually lightening to gray as he walked quickly up the cellar steps.

  “Are you all right, Claire?” Dakarai asked her, face filled with genuine concern.

  She nodded, still trembling violently in shock. “Who is that?”

  Dakarai secured the unconscious man in chains that were welded into the wall. “His name is Nex Harper. He is a were-tiger.”

  “Why was he in a coma?”

  “He sought revenge on a witch for sending him to hell. I cast a spell on him to put him in a coma.”

  “Why did the witch send him to hell?”

  “He was terrorizing the people of Scotland back in the fourteenth century. The witch sent him to hell to protect the people. Apparently Nex was raised from the dead by a demon friend of his a while back. He did a favor for the demon and in return the witch was raised from the dead so that Nex might hunt her down slowly and have his revenge on her. I used a spell to put him into a coma to protect her.”

  “Was the witch someone very dear to you?” Claire asked glumly.

  “No. I only met her last month when she came to me for help. The witch is Hilary. You remember her, don’t you? She’s a member here.”

  “Oh, you mean that short, little dominatrix who has one male and one female sub?”

  “Yes, that’s the one. It’s funny that you call her short when she is two inches taller than you.” Dakarai winked at her. Then with a sly smile he added, “And no, Claire. I do not have any feelings for her.”

  This relieved her, but she blushed at the knowledge in his eyes. He had to know now beyond the shadow of a doubt that she liked him.

  “Now that Nex is secure, we need to get you cleaned up.” He gently helped her to her feet. “I can drive you to the hospital if you like.”

  “I’m okay. I just need to clean it up a bit and I’ll be fine.” Being part demon, she healed rather quickly and hoped he wouldn’t become suspicious because of it. “You said you cast a spell on him. Are you a sorcerer?”

  Dakarai became cautious. “No, but I have learned a few spells in my time.”

  “You said only one thing would awaken him from his coma. What was it?”

  He seemed bothered by this and hesitant to answer her. “It was you.”

  That wasn’t the answer she anticipated. “Me? What do you mean? I didn’t do anything.”

  “You didn’t have to. He must have caught your scent and it woke him up.”

  “Why? Does he not like this perfume or something?”

  He managed a weak half smile. “No, Claire. He obviously likes you very much.”

  She snorted. “Hardly. He tried to kill me.”

  “He wasn’t trying to kill you. He was trying to mate with you and claim you. You will have to excuse his aggressive zeal. Being soulless, the concept of consent probably weighs very little with him.”

  Claire became even more startled. “Why would he want to claim me when he doesn’t even know me?”

  “Because you are his true mate.”

  Chapter Four:

  Mating Heat

  Dakarai gave Claire the following night off, for which she was grateful, but she didn’t have enough money to stay in the hotel anymore. She’d been trying to save for an apartment while she worked but had to stay at the hotel while she waited, since she had no place to go. That got expensive quite fast.

  She suddenly recalled the private rooms at the club. Of course, they would be in use at night while she worked, but during the day they were free of people. Joaquin would be sleeping during the day and wouldn’t know she was there. Dakarai would be…wherever he went during the day. She could have a safe place to stay while she saved up for an apartment.

  Late that night after work and just before dawn, Joaquin and Dakarai headed upstairs after the club had been closed, and Claire cleaned the bar and made sure all the doors and windows were locked as usual. She often closed, so they would never know she was staying there. After the long, hard night at work, it felt good to just walk into a room already in the club rather than having to drive back to the hotel in the cold. She would just be sure to get up before the others did. She could shower, have breakfast and get ready around noon and Joaquin would probably still be sleeping.

  The next day, after Claire had been up a while and still found no one about, she decided to stock the bar for the coming evening. She usually did that every night before closing, but last night she’d been too tired to care. Well, they could definitely use some more rum up here and a jar of cocktail olives. They were kept in the cellar…where Nex was. She didn’t really want to see the savage brute again, but she needed those items and no one was around to retrieve them for her.

  She checked her finger again, pleased that it had completely healed. It had hurt severely when it jabbed into his canine. She couldn’t remember a time she’d ever experienced greater pain. At least it was healed and painless now.

  She headed toward the cellar door. Her finger began to burn and tingle the closer she drew. She looked down at it, but it appeared normal. The fire she felt in it didn’t hurt. It somewhat resembled the hot, tingly need she sometimes felt in her cunt when she became aroused.

  Huh, weird.

  She took a deep breath and reached for the handle to the door of the cellar.

  * * * *

  Nex stood in chains secured to the wall, staring at the cellar door. She would come back. He knew she would. And if she didn’t, he would find a way to break out of here and get to her. He wondered why he had been in a coffin in the first place. Where was he? Who was this woman who bewitched him?

  The cellar door opened and his heart skipped a beat. It was her. Her natural strawberry scent filled the air as she stepped down into the cellar and closed the door behind her. She tiptoed down the steps, but her efforts were entirely wasted. He knew she was there. Fear and yearning hovered over her as she reached the bottom of the steps and froze when she saw him watching her. Her
eyes darted away and she made her way over to one of the shelves.

  Her eyes were baby-blue. He liked that. Her blonde hair had a slight curl to it but appeared to be mostly wavy. She reminded him of a warm ray of sunshine. She only looked to be about five foot two. He smiled at this. He was a whole foot taller than the little lady. Did she like tall men? Who didn’t?

  He noticed the jar she reached for. “Olives?”

  She seemed startled that he spoke to her. “Yeah, for the martinis.”

  He didn’t know what a martini was, but her nervousness amused him. As far as he knew, olives were for eating, but he could easily think of a few dirty things to try on her with them. “What is your name?”

  She seemed on guard. “Claire.”

  “Claire. I like that. My name is Nex Harper.”

  “That’s what I heard. I didn’t realize you had a Scottish accent.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “No. It’s nice.”

  Nex smiled and Claire looked away. In this new place his accent would likely be regarded as a novelty. She seemed aroused by his voice. That could work to his advantage. “Do you know why I was in a coffin, Claire?”

  “Someone placed you under a coma spell to protect someone else.”

  “How did you break the spell?”

  She looked away and turned to leave. “I have to go.”

  “Wait. I’m hungry.”

  She kept her back to him. “I’ll ask one of my employers to bring you something to eat when I see them.”

  “So we are alone then?” He grinned, wishing he wasn’t bound in chains.

  “No,” she said too quickly. “They’re here. They’re just busy at the moment. You’ll have to wait.”

  “I’m hungry now.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I want you to feed me.” He smelled her fear and desire, and it drove the tiger in him wild.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”