Shadowfall Shorts: A Dark Legacy 1.5

by L Ann

  "You don't believe me." As he spoke, he unwound one arm from around her waist and caught her hand in his. Pressing her palm to his chest, he pushed it downwards between their bodies until her fingers touched his erection through his pants. "I want you."

  Dru licked her lips and watched as his eyes zeroed in on the movement. "Alright," she told him. "But not yet. I must stay for a while."

  His smile was triumphant. "An hour... two at the most, promise me."

  She nodded, and he kissed her, tongue sliding briefly between her lips to tangle with hers, and lifted his head. "Until later."

  ~*~

  After leaving Dru in the courtyard, Isaac had taken a quick detour to the nearest public restroom. He spent a few moments washing his hands, removing any trace of Dru's scent from him while he thought about the events in the courtyard. It had been a while since he'd given pleasure without taking it in return and he hadn't planned to sample the sexy redhead when he'd discovered her out there alone, but he had enjoyed the way she responded to him and while taking her against the fountain had been right up there in his thoughts, he didn't want their first time to be a quick hook up in a public place that she would see as seedy afterwards. The thought of her legs wrapped around his hips while he took possession of her made him smile at his reflection in the mirror. He'd known before walking away from her that he and the redhead weren't done and after the taster he'd just had, he knew that she would be worth the chase and that was why he'd turned around and gone back to her.

  Drying his hands, he exited the restroom and headed back into the club hired for the birthday party Arcadia had dragged him to. He'd only agreed when she told him Taz I'Ane and Kane Thoth would be in attendance and it had been a few months since he'd last seen them.

  It took a minute or two, but he finally spotted them through gaps in the forest of formal attired guests. Kane stood near the room’s free bar, as ever, surrounded by a cluster of assorted male and female... Human and Vampire sycophants, all lobbying for his time and/or approval... for politics, business, or an invitation to share his bed. It was his arena and he moved within it the way a fish swam through water. On the other hand, Isaac was among a chosen few who knew that it was all just a well-crafted masquerade. Kane Thoth was, first and foremost, a business man and a dedicated political activist. The former kept him in a position to be effective in the latter, a devout believer in Vampire unity and an advocate for turnblood rights.

  On the other end of the spectrum, standing very close to the room’s main entrance, Taz I’Ane’s visibly dissatisfied countenance could probably best be compared to an atheist shackled to a pew at a Catholic Mass. His presence there was obvious. As the son of Lord Zuron, head of the House of Nikaris - the Vampire Nation’s largest and most powerful House (with Club Shadowfall also being the as yet to be officially declared Nikaran sovereign headquarters, by the way) and as Prince-heir to the Nikaran seat of power, he was the obligatory representative. Or as Taz liked to put it, ‘the ass that has to be kissed, by proxy’.

  Isaac had no doubt that, left to their own designs, here was the last place both men would rather have been. Taz especially, as the person he doubtlessly would have loved being in that ‘any other place’ with - a certain drop dead gorgeous brunette with mesmeric brown eyes - stood close-by, though just out of reach staring at the Vampire Prince with a look outsiders would mistakenly describe as affectionate. He, on the other hand, knew all too well that below its deceptively placid surface was a smile of sadistic delight at watching her partner and lover squirm.

  A flutter of movement near the bar caught his eye and Isaac turned, just as Arcadia broke away from the group; the clutch surrounding Kane as a matter of fact, and wended her way toward him; leaving a trail of wistful male glances and acid-tongued female rumblings in her wake.

  She waited until they stood abreast of one-another before speaking. “For someone who stubbornly dug in his heels concerning this shindig until I mentioned Kane Thoth and Taz I’Ane,” she tossed quick glance to those named, “you seem rather hesitant about spending time with them.”

  “Do I?” Isaac countered.

  “Or am I missing something?”

  He left her query unanswered, gaze suddenly shifting to a point at their left where three young women stood. One of whom was the redhead he’d made plans with in the courtyard. Something that did not go unnoticed by Arc.

  "Ahhhh," she said. "Not something but someone." She laughed and linked her arm through Isaac's. "Shall I introduce you?"

  “You know her,” his response, though tinged with audible curiosity, came out more a statement than query.

  “And that surprises you?” Arc smiled, giving his arm a squeeze. “Actually, her father’s the reason I’m here. He, and a few of his friends, are joining me in co-production at Warner Brothers for the next film based on my latest novel. Which it to say, they’re kicking in the capital.

  “But... I know of her,” Arc continued after a quick pause. “All three, in case you’re interested. The girl on the right – the blonde,” she indicated with a nod. “Chantelle McEwan, eldest daughter of Terrence and Helena McEwan, the House of Machiavel. The brunette on the left is Poppy Nachios, only child of Stefan and Alexis, mid-range in the orbit of the royal Nikaran House. And the one in the middle... the redhead,” she shot Isaac a wry, knowing grin, “Druisillana Kleommas, daughter of Andreus and Clarissa Kleommas, very low in the orbit of the royal House for a number of reasons, the desire to rise not being one of them.”

  “I knew you got around, but I didn’t realise you were so up on House politics,” Isaac said.

  Arc chuckled. “I may not be vampire, but my ears work just fine,” she nodded again to indicate the room as a whole. “Vampires – especially the Pures, have this attitude where us normals are concerned. As far as Human senses being less heightened than theirs, we must all be blind, deaf, and stupid. And the tongues have been ticking like a telegraph about that one. Seems our young Miss Kleommas has given the family name a nasty bruise.

  “And, I think you just answered my question,” she added, with another squeeze of his arm. “Concerning an introduction,” she said in response to his hiked eyebrow reaction.

  Both noted Dru’s gaze as it touched them and quickly jumped away.

  “You like the chase,” she said.

  Isaac’s reply was slight smile and shrug.

  “I’ve seen that look before,” Isaac commented, glancing at the smirking brunette after a particularly pointed silence.

  “And I have seen that one,” Arcadia reached up to tap the tip of his nose for emphasis, “far too many times in the past few years,” her gaze found the redhead again. “You remind me of that old fable - the extreme version. No matter how many doors there are to choose from you always manage to open the one that houses the tiger.”

  “And you’re casting her in the role of man-eating feline?” Isaac said.

  “What I’m saying, my sweet, is that although there may not be many prettier lasses at this soiree, you might consider finding a much less... complicated situation.”

  “I like complicated.”

  “You like trouble,” Arc countered with a resigned and playful growl and another squeeze to his arm. "Come along, then," she continued when he didn't reply, and wound her arm through his. "Let's go and say hello to the birthday girl."

  ~*~

  At the height of a swallow of her wine, Chantelle choked, sputtering and nearly dropping her glass.

  “Look... it’s... they,” she coughed and tried speaking simultaneously, gesturing with her free hand. “Them! Arcadia Black and him headed this way.”

  “This way? Hell. They’re coming straight for us,” Poppy said, her voice scratchy and conspiratorially lowered as she quickly turned away to vainly fiddle with her hair and clothing. Chantelle did likewise. Dru, on the other hand, didn’t move a muscle.

  "Mr Trumaine," Poppy began breathlessly.

  "Dance with me." Isaac spoke over Poppy, his eyes on
Dru.

  "I don't dance."

  "Make an exception." He took her hand in his and led her on to the dance floor, much to the delight of her two friends. Coming to a stop on the dance floor, he turned to her and raised an eyebrow.

  "What?"

  "Now we dance. Unless you'd rather just stand there and glare at me," he replied.

  "I told you. I don't dance."

  "Don't or can't?" he asked looping his arms around her waist and drawing her toward him.

  Looking around at the smiling faces that surrounded them, Dru knew that refusing now would cause a scene - and make her parents repeat one of their many lectures about public appearance. Sighing, she lifted her hands and rested them on his shoulders. "I can dance," she informed him in a cool voice.

  He pulled her more snugly against him and dropped his head to whisper in her ear. "The ice queen act might work on some, but I still have the taste of you on my tongue to prove you're not as cold as you want people to think." His arms tightened, anticipating her attempt to pull away. "If you run from me, I'll chase you and we'll be leaving sooner than you wanted."

  "Why?"

  He regarded her, eyes unreadable. "Isn't that what predators do? Chase their prey?"

  "Is that what I am... your prey?" Dru asked.

  "I'm definitely planning on eating you later."

  Dru gasped and he grinned, leading her into a dance.

  "Why did you do... what you did?" She broke the silence after a few minutes.

  "Why did you let me?" He laughed at the frustrated look she threw at him. "It was a fair question. You don't strike me as the type to give yourself so easily."

  There was an edge to her voice when she replied. "Do you think I set out to make that happen?"

  "Sheath those claws, kitten. I was making no such claim." His hand stroked down her back to rest on the curve of her bottom. "But, considering your parents reputation, I have to say I was surprised."

  He felt her tense. "What do you know of my parents?"

  "Nothing of any note, other than them having a daughter who I'm very interested in." He smiled at her surprised look. "That can't be news to you."

  "You have your own reputation," she replied.

  "Indeed, I do." He rested his mouth against her ear. "One I fully intend on living up to later."

  "If my parents see you with me, I won't be able to get away."

  Isaac loosened his hold on her. "Spoilsport." They continued the dance in silence, with Isaac leading her back to her friends at the end of it.

  ~*~

  Stretching lazily, Dru woke from the best sleep she'd had in a long time. As she moved, the silk sheets slid against her still-sensitised skin and her hand connected with the warm muscled back of the man still sleeping beside her. She opened her eyes and let her memories drift over the events of the previous evening and early morning, while carefully easing upright and sliding out of the bed. She couldn't help the blush that stained her cheeks as she took in the disarray of the room. Clothes - hers and his - were scattered everywhere; discarded in their haste to reach his bed. Two silk ties were still attached to his headboard and she closed her eyes briefly in mortification of the memory that blazed before her eyes, her own screams of pleasure still ringing in her ears. True to his word, Isaac had lived up to and surpassed the reputation her friends had taken immense pleasure in telling her about; teaching her things about her body that she hadn't known herself in almost 300 years of life.

  Carefully, trying not to wake him, she gathered up her clothes and pulled them on and had her hand on the door handle when his voice stopped her.

  "Are you running away?"

  Slowly, she turned around. He was lying on his side, head propped up on one hand, watching her with a slight smile.

  "I need to get back," she said.

  "Unless you've developed the ability to walk in the sun, you're going to have to wait another hour or so."

  "My parents -" she began.

  "Aren't you a little old to be on a curfew? You're a grown woman, Dru." He flicked one of the silk ties with a fingertip, and laughed softly when her cheeks reddened.

  "It's complicated."

  "It usually is." Throwing back the covers he stood up, unconcerned by his own nakedness. Crossing the room, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her slowly, savouring the taste of her lips. Raising his head, he looked down at her. "But there's nothing complicated about this. Come back to bed, Dru."

  ~*~

  Christiaan Van Schorrel was a man with a bug. Not the insectoid, or for that matter viral variety, mind you. Christiaan’s bug could best... better be categorized as ‘something that bugged’ - a deeply entrenched aversion with extreme overtones of obsession. In plainer English: Christiaan hated to lose.

  Examples: He once played Baccarat at a casino in Monaco and lost - badly. Christiaan bought the casino for three times what it was worth, had the man who served as banker during his ‘disgrace’ fired, then tracked down the man he lost to and had him killed.

  On another occasion his favourite car, a Bentley Continental GT, broke down on a trip from London to Bristol. There was only a slight inconvenience, and no danger at all as his people were able to reach him with a replacement vehicle long before sunrise. But for Christiaan that didn’t matter. The car had been a gift, a birthday present from a friend of his father’s. Christiaan had the man followed, locating and identifying the man’s favourite, Human mistress. Christiaan had her murdered – decapitated - then had the head gift-wrapped and delivered to his father’s friend with a note (written in the victim’s blood) that read: ‘If I can’t enjoy a nice ride, neither will you’.

  Recently, Christiaan had lost his fiancée...

  “Your Highness...” a verbal prompt from the car’s front seat, his driver and chief trouble-shooter, brought Christiaan’s awareness into the Here and Now, calling his attention to Shadowfall’s front entrance and the presence of a solid black Lamborghini.

  As they watched, two people emerged through the vehicle’s trademark scissor-door openings - one male, the other a red-haired and unmistakingly recognisable female. The male tossed his keys to one of the club’s valets, then offered a hand to the redhead, which she accepted, and a bit too willingly for Christiaan’s taste, and they entered the club.

  “That bastard she’s with,” the venom in his voice caused the driver to wince, involuntarily. “Find out who he is.”

  The driver, Conor, cleared his throat before speaking. “If His Highness will allow me. I recognize him. His name is Isaac Trumaine, a turnblood commoner from the House of Sasul. He’s rather connected, Your Grace.”

  There was a moment of silence. Brief but long enough, given his knowledge of the man in the car’s rear, to elicit the beginning a cold knot in Conor’s stomach.

  “And by connected you mean?”

  “According to local gossip,” Conor resisted the impulse to release a sigh of relief, “he’s like this,” he held up a pair of crossed fingers, “with Kane Thoth, Fallon Wylde and Lord Zuron’s son.”

  Another slash of silence. Longer this time.

  “Your Highness?” Conor dared to break it.

  “I have some thinking to do, Conor. In the meantime, I want him... both of them watched.”

  “I’ll see to it personally, sir.”

  ~*~

  "You should have just let me phone one of the boutiques to deliver some clothes to my place," Isaac was saying as they entered the club.

  "It's fine. I was supposed to stay with Poppy, so I have clothes there." She attempted to untangle her fingers from his unsuccessfully. He tightened his grip on her hand and pulled her over to the bank of elevators, pushed a button to call one then shot her a sidelong look.

  "You've nothing to be ashamed of."

  "You mean other than staying out with a man I've only just met and coming home in the same clothes I spent the last evening in?" She arched an eyebrow at him.

  "I meant about being seen with me."


  "I'm not ashamed of being seen with you," Dru denied quickly - too quickly, she knew, when Isaac shook his head. "I'm not," she repeated. "It's just -"

  "Complicated." Isaac finished dryly. He let her pull her fingers free as the elevator doors slid open and followed her inside. "So, you go to your friend, get changed and then what?" He leaned back against the wall and folded his arms. "Do I lurk in the corridor and wait for you? Or was last night a one-time deal for you?"

  Dru lifted her eyes to gaze at him. She really wanted it to not be a one-time deal, but - "Yes," she said.

  "Yes?" She watched his body tense and swallowed, forcing herself to say what she needed to say.

  "Yes, a one-time deal."

  "Like hell!" He was across the small space before she could blink, hands slamming palm down on the wall to each side of her.

  "We had fun," she fought to keep her voice steady. "But I can't afford to get involved with anyone right now. "It's too -"

  "There’s that word again... Complicated!" Frustrated, Isaac felt himself on the verge of losing it and took a quick breath. "Un-complicate it. I like you, you like me. It’s just sexual attraction, not a blood oath."

  Their eyes locked, clashed and Isaac could see her thinking about his words, analysing them. When she finally nodded, he let out the breath he didn't realise he'd been holding. "Fine," she said. "But we have to be discreet."

  Another Day At The Office

  KANE THOTH, OWNER OF SHADOWFALL, A VAMPIRE of an age beyond belief, sat behind his desk in the penthouse suite of his club and tried to focus on the pile of paperwork in front of him - tried being the operative word. Something not as easy to accomplish as it sounded, not with the young vampire female he'd taken charge of only hours earlier doing everything she could to disturb him.

  When he'd first led her into his suite and organised one of his security team to take position outside, she'd turned to him with those big baby blues wide open and pouted "Am I your prisoner now then?"

  He'd ignored the question, watched her flounce across the sitting room with an arched eyebrow and retreated behind his desk, not quite ready to deal with what trouble she may have brought to his home. On the periphery of his vision, he could see his 'guest' pacing the room and, venting an almost silent sigh, dropped the paper he'd been reading to the desk and rose to his feet.