Born Of Sin

by Deanna Richmond

  He removed his hand right before she climaxed. She panted, desperately wanting him to finish. “I will send a car for you in an hour,” he whispered in her ear, and then he was gone. Flushed, she turned to face the wall, planting both hands against it.

  What the hell have I gotten myself into?

  Octavia was unable to concentrate during the meeting. She kept watching the clock, but it seemed to be stuck. She started having doubts, deciding not to go at least ten times during the meeting, but when forty minutes was had passed, she left without a second thought. She could not believe she was actually having an affair with a man she knew nothing about, but it excited her. It was more than a normal exhilaration, or just an affair. The way he made her feel, what he did to her body in his private room, sent chills through her. It felt like a drug, one so consuming she didn’t know if she could ever kick it. She did not care to.

  She ran back to the locker room and changed her clothes. She had an extra outfit at work, in case she ever went out right afterward. This was normal when it came to having a friend like Jared. She dressed, applied makeup, then headed out.

  Unsure of which exit to use, she decided on the main entrance to be on the safe side, and there she was greeted by a long black limo. The smiling driver stood next to the door, holding it open. She smiled back and stepped inside. On the seat sat a single white rose and a bottle of pink champagne. She was floored; never before, had a man treated her like this.

  “If you don’t watch out, Octavia, you may fall in love,” she said aloud.

  She promised herself that she would end it, if, and when, it got too heavy. But she feared this was one promise she’d be unable to keep.

  She took the rose, smelled it, and poured a glass of champagne, liquid courage. On the seat, she noticed a letter. Opening it, she read:

  To my mystery lover,

  For tonight, you will be my Natalia and I will be your Cristian. Plan on a pleasurable evening.

  Her stomach flipped; she could not hide her beaming smile. He wasn’t with her, yet the idea of him touching her again was arousing. She sat back to enjoy the ride.

  The limousine stopped in front of the Ritten House Hotel. She suppressed another smile as she walked in. This man was definitely out of her league. A man she did not recognize greeted her as ‘Natalia’ on sight, escorting her to the elevator. She didn’t ask how he knew who she was; no doubt ‘Cristian’s’ description was quite accurate.

  Her stomach flipped when the door shut, and dropped as the elevator ascended. The door opened up and the uniformed man held out a hand and announced, “The Presidential Suite.”

  There stood ‘Cristian,’ a relaxed air about him. His piercing blues gave not so much as a hint of his mood. He was breathtaking. His suit fit him impeccably, his coal hair waved perfectly, and she felt as if she’d been enraptured. Octavia stepped out into the foyer and walked towards him. He made her feel damned sexy as his eyes stayed on her.

  He thanked the man, who silently departed.

  “Natalia,” he acknowledged with a slight nod, and handed her a single red rose.

  She took a deep breath as her mind soared toward heaven.

  Victor.

  Chapter 10: Victor

  Holding the door open, Victor admired her stride as she sashayed into the luxury suite. she had a walk that was naturally seductive, free from affectations. She was not even aware of her enticing appeal. That, in itself, made him desire her even more.

  Although the room smelled of rose blossoms, the aroma of endless possibilities loitered in the air, like fresh dew on a flower petal. Extravagance didn’t begin to describe the room’s design. Everything was exquisite — the inviting decor, the enormous bed, the open windows overlooking the city’s lights. He’d always had expensive taste that had become more cultured throughout the centuries, and he wanted to make the most of this last time together. Octavia had no clue about the perverse world she had entered, and he had it not in him to tell her. Of course, she would never believe he was a vampire.

  He was torn. He knew he had to walk away for her safety, for their wellbeing, but in such a short while, he’d grown jealous toward her, and the thought of separating from her was akin to the thought of separating from a part of himself. Regardless, he was an egocentric man who wanted her, and tonight he would have her, damn the cost.

  He watched her eyes scan the room — the flowers he had insisted upon, the luxurious bed, and the gorgeous view of the night. She wore a long black fitted skirt with a red blouse and red and black heels. She wore it well, and he imagined how she would look even better when she no longer wore it. Her hair cascaded freely down her back as if each strand were made of liquid silk. Her hair caressed her like he soon would.

  He handed her a glass of red wine and they drank, eyeing one another. It was so sexy, this dangerous game she wanted to play. Her daring behavior left her exposed, and he wanted her more because of it. He didn’t know why. It was more than chemistry, need, or anything he could put his finger on. It was simply, her.

  It happened so quickly, it was impossible to know who had made the first move as they ravished each other against the glass window. For the second time, she bit his lip, and he did not attempt to wipe the trickle of blood that flowed. He could taste the sweet metallic bitterness of it. But when she licked it, sucked it, drawing more of it, it felt as if her lips were suckling his manhood. It was a direct pull.

  He ripped open her blouse while she unzipped his pants, finding him fully erect. Unable to remove their clothes rapidly enough— impatient desire wouldn’t permit it — he lifted her skirt, tore her thong, and plunged into her with such force she cried out, clawing at his back.

  Her screams made him unreasonable. He drove into her as if, with each stroke, his life depended on it. Each thrust was deep and purposeful, and all animal. They breathed in each other’s pheromones as if it were their ruler and they its devoted subjects. No control. No logic. Just desperate, chaotic greed.

  The perfume of her sex aroused him. She was intoxicating. For the second time in years, Victor’s eyes revealed an almost translucent shade of blue without his control. His fangs elongated and his face paled as he instinctively went for her neck.

  Stopping himself, he quickly turned his head away before drinking her. Suppressing the beast inside him, he kept his face hidden as her cries of passion continued begging him to feed from her. He struggled with the hunger she brought out in him. It was relentlessly cruel. He wanted to stop, but this thing, this madness was bigger than him, bigger than her. She, Octavia, was his aphrodisiac. If there was a cure, he didn’t want it. In fact, the forbidden nature of this liaison made him crave more of her. The danger of it — his kin not knowing, she being human, and the loss of his civilized self — turned him feral.

  A tear rolled down his cheek as he struggled to control his true nature, a beast. When he was with her, inside of her, it felt like nothing he’d ever fantasized, unmatched to any sensation that he’d ever experienced.

  But this was wrong.

  “Amelia,” he spoke through fanged teeth.

  “Yes… yes,” she moaned.

  He slowly turned to face her, fully changed, paled, grossly veined, but her lids were shut. He rested his head, his lips against hers, not kissing, but tempting himself.

  Just but a taste, he tortured himself.

  “Amelia,” he breathed, desperately trying not to pierce her supple skin. Her heart beat at an accelerated rate and each drum, lub dub, sounded like his name in a tune that cried, “Taste me. Taste me. Taste me.”

  “Yes,” was her answer, but she had no clue what the question was.

  He turned away again, fighting the damned urges that were driving him insane. He fought back the creature that was him and gripped tightly to his love. He slowed his breathing and retracted his fangs, not wanting to drain the life from the woman in his arms.

  When Victor finally had controlled the beast within, he faced Octavia again through piercing eye
s. He grasped her head with both hands as they inhaled the same euphoric air. And even though time remained the steady, their world slowed, dictating their earth’s spin.

  His hands caressed her soft skin, the smoothest he’d ever felt. Her plush lips felt warm against his cool body, and her breath smelled of wine. With her bare ass planted against the window and her arms around his neck holding onto him for support, allowing him to govern, it made this forbidden hunger even more astonishing.

  Their connection was powerful, yet incredibly perilous. What brought them together was the very reason they should be apart, and if others had a say, they could both be dead.

  Victor released himself into her with such vigor he could barely stand. He fell to his knees, still inside of her. They sat holding each other, unable to move. Against the glass pane, they rested, blown away at what had just happened. Victor didn’t understand it. There was no reason for this affair. There was no sense in this. He barely knew this woman, yet he felt deeply linked to her. Octavia puzzled him.

  He grabbed her face again, looking deeply into her eyes. Her lids were heavy, but Victor felt a mixture of anger and deep affection. He held back his true form, one she would consider a monster. With tight lips and a wrinkled brow, he watched the mortal who somehow clung to him with despairing breaths, and would not unhinge.

  For a split second, he wanted to rid himself of this woman he held onto, a woman who’d already chipped away at his possessed soul.

  This time, he allowed his face to change on purpose, wanting her to see him for what he was so he could rid himself of her. But when her eyes began to open wider, he quickly turned away. He couldn’t do it, not this way. Without a word, Victor got up and walked away to the lavatory.

  She watched him rip from her like he could not get away fast enough. She pulled down her skirt and sat there for a minute.

  In the bathroom, Victor turned on the shower, then leaned against the sink. Facing the mirror, his face returned to societal normalcy. He needed a minute to himself to think, to double-check his eyes. They were back to his usual shade of blue.

  He took several long large wearisome breaths trying to determine why he could not leave her alone. Why had he gotten involved with her in the first place? He had made promises to his kin, and yet this woman had woven her way into his world and planted roots, ones he could not free himself of for they held him in bondage. He didn’t want to leave her, but had to. He’d never suffered from such turmoil before. And no matter how great the potential agony, he could not walk away.

  Why can’t I simply walk away?

  Feeling her presence, he turned around to find her standing there. “Are you all right?” he asked, searching her neck to make sure it held no markings.

  “Yes,” she said, but she seemed uncertain, as if she had more to say. She decided to hold her tongue. Her uneasy manner told him she was not the sort of girl to play such risky games with a man she hardly knew; even that turned him on. Everything Octavia did turned him on.

  “Let’s shower,” he suggested. Just that quickly, he had to have her again. Her scent floated in the air, arousing him. She clouded his judgment and he was beginning to realize he did the same to her.

  He fell to his knees in front of her and slowly began to undress her, taking his time with each article of clothing. Each time his hands brushed up against her skin, her pulse rate increased. She craved him as badly as he did her. He stood up and admired her nakedness.

  Straining to maintain a modicum of control, he walked her into the shower. He removed his pants and stepped in behind her. She never removed her eyes from what he was doing. He lathered the soap in his hands and ran it over her petite frame, prolonging the inevitable.

  He stood pressed up against her, his sudsy hands caressing her breasts as the water ran over them both. Her hands reached up over her head, running through his mane. She luxuriated in his touch as he enjoyed playing with her nipples. When there was no more soap, his hands explored her perfect body.

  She took two of his fingers and slid them inside of her. He obliged by moving up and down, in and out, so slowly it was almost torture, finishing what he had started in the library. Her head fell back onto his shoulder, allowing his other hand to caress her neck.

  Suddenly angry, he shut his lids, thinking how easily he could end all this if he could just snap her vulnerable little neck, a nape that would not stand a chance against his grip. He contemplated killing her while nuzzling his face against her hair as his fingers pleased her. Snapping her neck in the middle of a climax would be both giving and taking.

  But he could not.

  Just as quickly as the feeling came, it disappeared. He let her complete her climax, none the wiser of his morbid thoughts.

  He lifted her and sat her on top of him in the shower’s seat. Victor marveled at her, this woman with her eyes closed, this woman who had no idea about the man with whom she was having a fling.

  Of his centuries roaming this earth, he had been a savage for two hundred of them. He had been a true monster, pillaging, killing and even taking the blood of others who screamed for death in his arms. His appetite had been insatiable. There had been a time when he would have killed Octavia without a second thought. Feelings had never come into play when he’d pursued what he wanted.

  Over the years, he had been tamed only by the help of others such as Brayden and Miruna, his other most trusted companion. He had learned to control his carnal nature, becoming mild mannered, and ruled by reason. At least, this is what he had been told. His recollection of that time was still lost to him.

  Until now, feelings had never mattered. Whether it was power or women, it was not in his nature to trust.

  Six centuries sat between Octavia’s legs as he pleased her like he had done so many women before her. He knew women’s bodies well. He had made many scream out his true born name—Nikolai Von Mort. They’d cried for more of him and he’d given it to them, then walked away when he was done. Whenever he’d had his fill.

  Octavia was different; she made him feel. This was something he’d rarely done, and never with a woman. His feelings were unclear, but he knew letting her go was no longer an option. Earlier today, he had decided to end this after tonight, but now he realized that would never happen.

  He pulled her close to kiss her, then whispered in her ear, “What are you?” but she didn’t hear. She was too enthralled in their lovemaking. She was soaring high from his sensual skills.

  He leaned her all the way back so that her head almost reached the floor. He lifted her up and down as the water ran over her ample breasts, watching himself enter her. Soon, he laid her on the tile floor. There they spent endless hours making love as he fed her his blood with a kiss. He never wanted this to end.

  Ever.

  ***

  “I want you to tell me something about yourself,” he said, handing her a glass of wine. They lay on the rug in front of the fire. Only a blanket covered them. “I know more about other people that I have been less intimate with.” Victor saw fear creep across her face. What hell has she endured? “I don’t need you to tell me anything until you’re…”

  “I’m from Connecticut and I moved here to be closer to Le Château Rouge.”

  Victor was surprised that she’d divulged anything, but more so that it was about his own home. “Why, may I ask?” He rolled over onto his forearm, curious.

  “I don’t really know. Ever since I was a child, I was fascinated with its beauty and with the original owner, Nikolai Von Mort. I was in love… no, more like obsessed, with Nikolai ever since I can remember. I’m kind of embarrassed to say that your eyes remind me of him.” She grimaced, pushing her hair back behind her ears. “Anyway, needless to say, he died centuries ago, but the castle still stands.”

  Victor abruptly sat up, staring at her in disbelief, as though she were toying with him. Was this a game? Did someone send her here to get close to me or does she know who I am? It could not have been a vampire to send a human,
but it was possible a human was trying to trap him. He did have enemies.

  Victor got up to refresh his drink. “How did you come to see this Von Mort person?” he questioned with his back to her.

  “His painting was in a book. The picture was fuzzy, but his eyes stood out. My mother was a historian, an anthropologist, which is how she…”

  “Which is how what?” he snapped, as did the glass in his hand.

  “I was going to say which is how she’d acquired it.” Her lids widened. “Hey, you’re bleeding, are you all right? You sound… different.” Octavia scrambled up to help him.

  “No, sit,” he demanded. “I’m fine.” He grabbed a towel and applied pressure. Victor watched her suspiciously as she sat on the floor, covered with only a blanket. She appeared innocent enough. Was she? Her scent has always been off. What was she? How could he tell this woman that he, in fact, was born Nikolai Von Mort? He had been so careful to avoid taking pictures, allowing only one portrait to be done. That book should have been sealed long ago.

  In order to calm himself, he put on his trousers and sat in a chair across from her. He needed to distance himself from her scent because it clouded his judgement. His face reflected his wariness.

  “Hey, are you all right? Did I say something to offend you?” she asked, cautiously crawling over to him, her naked body wrapped in a red cashmere blanket.

  He leaned back in the seat, studying her performance. Her heartbeat raced once, but that was to be expected of a human when upset. Maybe she is telling the truth. He sat up and cupped her face, finally acknowledging her. “Do you truly want to know?”