by Myles, Jill
His new mistress, the courtesan Olivia Rhodes. His thoughts were full of her smile, her laugh, the freckles that dotted her cheeks. David hadn’t been searching for a new mistress, but his old one had recently thrown him over for a duke. He didn’t mind – he hadn’t been attached to her in the slightest. But that was weeks ago, and his monthly needing would soon be upon him. A gentleman had three choices – wife (which was out of the question), mistress, or whore.
He preferred mistresses.
He hadn’t expected to find someone like Olivia Rhodes, either. She was at a party with a fast set, accompanied by several friends dressed far more provocatively than she. He remembered her laugh, bright and shining and happy. As if the world was a constant joy. He’d loved that about her, was drawn to her happiness with a longing that he hadn’t felt in ages. It seemed that Miss Rhodes was a member of the demimonde, and on the lookout for a new patron as well. Her last financier – an elderly but kind gentleman – had severed their relationship as his new wife had just found out about his mistress and was none too pleased.
They were perfectly suited.
Without hesitation, David offered to take Olivia as his mistress. He’d been surprised – and a bit gratified – at her charming blush. She was young and pretty – twenty and one, with long, lovely dark brown hair and a sweet smile. The freckles marred the creaminess of her lovely skin, and she was very tall and not particularly well built, which was why she was not more popular.
But he liked that about her – her tall, slim elegance and her bone-deep happiness. She wasn’t jaded, still new to society and men and mistresses.
Aloysius had laughed at his choice, clapping him on the back when they retired for cards. “Surely you can get a better looking courtesan than that one, my friend. You are rich and immortal. She is too tall and thin.”
David smiled at his dearest friend and shook his head. “I like her smile. And she seems sweet. Untainted despite her choice of professions.”
Aloysius’s laughing smile twisted ever so slightly. “We are all tainted by our choices, brother.”
He’d dismissed the comment. Miss Olivia Rhodes was his now.
While the custom was for a gentleman to visit his mistress and not the other way around, as a Serim, he didn’t trust spending his evening in an unfamiliar place. He’d had Miss Rhodes coached to his manor house, and she’d arrived wearing the same blushing smile that he’d found so appealing – and nothing under her long cloak.
He’d taken her to his bed and made long, sweet love to her. She’d been perfect in her responses – shy but enthusiastic, her touch knowledgeable, her responses sincere. Accommodating and eager – he liked that in a mistress.
He’d liked her so much that he’d commanded that she stay in one of the guest bedrooms – she couldn’t stay with him, as the sleep of a Serim was unnatural in its stillness, and she might worry.But when he’d awoken, her bed was tousled, but she was not in it.
The servants had a puzzling explanation for him. “She left with her patron late last night, my lord. We have not seen her since.”
David frowned. Did she have more than one patron? He hadn’t thought she would seem the type to leave his bed and head straight to another man’s. He’d returned to her room in hopes that she’d left a note that the servants hadn’t found.
He found a note all right, but the note was in Aloysius’s handwriting.
Meet me at my house. I have a surprise that I think we shall both enjoy.
How had Aloysius gotten to his house at night? He was cursed to endure the same night-sleep that David was. Perhaps a servant, though it didn’t explain why Olivia was gone. David looked at the skies, just barely brushing with dawn. Against his better judgment, he called a carriage again and left for Aloysius’s home.
The servants showed him in, one of them bearing eyes red with weeping, and she clutched at a neck scarf as she led him in. She gestured at the double-doors of the parlor, but would not open them. “The master is in there,” she whispered, then curtsied and ran away.
David fought the sense of unease and wrongness that seemed to permeate the house. He strode down the hall, calling for his friend. “Aloysius? Are you in there?”
No answer. A soft moan came from behind the double doors and he hesitated, not wanting to interrupt a private scene. But that sense of unease crept over him again, followed by the faint tingle against his nerves that could only mean one thing – magic. He thrust the door open.
What he saw there rocked him to his core.
Aloysius bent over the red velvet settee near the fire. Sprawled on the settee, arms over her head, lay the naked form of Miss Olivia Rhodes. Her long, lovely hair gleamed in the firelight and her head was flung back, her expression slack. Dried blood stained her throat. Between her spread legs, Aloysius pumped, fucking the girl even as she lay there in a stupor.
It didn’t make sense. Aloysius had stolen his sweet, innocent little mistress? But his servants had said that she’d left last night with her patron. But how…? No Serim could go about in darkness. That was the domain of…
Vampires.
Aloysius thrust into the girl cruelly, and then turned to glance at the door. Dried blood had crusted around the edges of his mouth, and his eyes were bright red. The shirt he wore over his back was lumpy and tight, as if holding the black wings at bay.
“No,” cried David. “What have you done?” His friend, his dearest friend, the only one that understood millennia of pain and abandonment…now had given his soul over to darkness.
Aloysius withdrew from the girl’s body, pulling up his trow. “A present for you, brother,” he said, grinning and showing far too much fang. “I’ve turned her.”
Turned her? David stared at the girl. She hadn’t moved despite the rough fucking that Aloysius had given her, and she looked almost…dead. But as he watched, the bruises on her thighs disappeared, and her skin smoothed, the freckles vanishing.
“Transformed…her?” David could barely talk around his horror.
“Into a succubus. A plaything for both you and me.”
No! The last thing he wanted was to damn another misfortunate to the fate that he and his brothers were forced to endure – eternity shackled to the curses brought down upon them. He stared into Aloysius’s red eyes with horror. “And yourself? How could you do such a thing?”
“The queen has promised me the freedom denied our kind, and I grow weary of the rules of the Archangels who have seen fit to cast us off.” Aloysius moved forward, grabbed David by the arm. “Come. Fuck your sweet whore. She will be yours now for all eternity. Ours.”
David jerked away, repulsed by Aloysius’s touch. “Just because you have embraced evil does not mean that I shall do the same.”
Aloysius’s smile was cruel. “Why not? Do you think anyone cares if you play by the rules, David? You cannot undo what has been done to us.” He gestured at the woman sprawled on the settee. “No more than you can change what I have made her.”
“I cannot undo, but I can make amends.” His mind began to whirl with horrific options. Retrieve the other Serim in London and have them dispose of his oldest friend? Do it himself? Or…hide Aloysius’s secret and somehow live with what his friend had done to an innocent woman? Could he somehow convince Aloysius to leave the path he had chosen?
They were all equally impossible. He gave his friend one last sorrowful look. “You must renounce this evil path, my friend. I cannot let you do this.”
The vampire sneered, all blood and fang. “And if I do not?”
David’s face was grim. He shrugged back on his cloak. “Then I have no choice but to destroy you.”
He had the advantage of daylight, and other Serim were nearby. Though it would haunt him forever, he had no choice. Aloysius – his brother, his friend – had become one of the enemy and must be stopped.
The two men stared at each other in a silent stalemate. Then, Aloysius’s face twisted into a furious sneer. “If you leave this house, Dav
id, you shall regret it.”
“You cannot stop me.”
“Can’t I?”
David ignored the vampire’s mocking claim and touched his hand to the front door. It felt ice cold, and he looked down to see a string of curious trinkets looping the handle. Coins, herbs, and a blood sigil marked above the doorknob. Some sort of magic, and he’d triggered it.
He pulled his hand away as if burned, but too late. The spell tingled up his arm, his fingers numbing. Damn Aloysius. He’d set this trap up for him.
“I warned you not to leave, David,” Aloysius called behind him as he staggered out the door. “It’s your own fault, brother. You left me no choice.”
David staggered out to the coach, a strange ringing in his ears. His limbs felt icy and unresponsive already, and it would not take long before he lost consciousness entirely. He flexed his hands repeatedly, willing the sluggish blood to circulate, his lungs slowing.
His driver glanced back at him. “Home, my lord?”
With great effort, David shook his head. “Take me to Mr. Gideon’s home. And fast.”
He only prayed he could fight the lethargy long enough for him to explain that Olivia needed saving. He might die from Aloysius’s curse, but she need not share his fate…
* * *
The dream blurred and melted away. For a long moment there was nothing but quiet, and then the hodgepodge of images flashed past all over again.
He saw her from across the room and noted her freckles, her thick, dark brown hair, her tall form, but what he liked most about her was her smile…
I detached myself from David’s dream with a shudder. He was dreaming about that fateful night, over and over again. Whether his dreams were brought on by his awakening or if he had dreamed the same thing for the last hundred and twenty years, I couldn’t say. He’d merely dreamed the betrayal – I’d lived through the aftermath. I rubbed my bare arms, but my fingers against my skin only reminded me that the Itch was in full swing, and the man next to me was asleep. Not ideal. I’d have to make due until dawn.
The hours of night passed slowly for a succubus. Most of the world was asleep, and unless you kept company with vampires, it was a very lonely sort of time frame. Normally I didn’t mind having alone time – I’d learned to entertain myself quite well over the years, and had enjoyed the peace and quiet – but living ten years on my own, pretending to be a normal human, had made me wistful for things I couldn’t have. A good night’s sleep for one, I thought wryly, and glanced over at David in the bed. Even now he dreamt with a frown on his face.
Peaceful sleep, maybe not. I glanced at the clock – David’s dreams had taken up a large chunk of the night, but there was still some time before dawn.
My hand skimmed down my naked flesh as I waited for David to awaken, enjoying the sensation. Thank god David had helped me take off that horrible outfit. It had been days since I’d been able to remove that ridiculous dress, and the freedom of bare skin was intoxicating. All succubi were feminine perfection, but I liked my skin the best of all my features – cream smooth and rosy with health, and not a single solitary freckle to mar it. With my dark hair, I probably resembled a very tall Snow White. I glanced over at David. Would he be the Prince Charming to save me from the evil witch hunting me down? I sighed at my own stupid fantasy, even as my fingers glided over my sex, parting the lips below. My folds were already slick with need, the Itch throbbing through my veins and making my body react. My nipples were hard, tight peaks, and there was a restless need in-between my long legs that needed to be satisfied.
I slid my fingers over my clit, the sensation pulsing through me with delight. My other hand brushed across my nipples, teasing them. For hours, I stroked my body, lost in my own thoughts. Too worked up to relax and watch TV, too needy to do more than prepare myself for the sex I needed. This was madness – no one would be awake for hours, and I was all alone. A succubus could not bring herself to orgasm – part of the curse. If we wanted relief, someone had to give it to us.
Not that it mattered who – and Aloysius had commanded me to endure only the touch of a master. Lucky for me, David was right here.
And fast asleep yet, although dawn was nearing.
Suddenly frustrated that I was in such need and he was oblivious, I shoved the blankets off of him and placed my hand on his cock. It was soft with sleep, so I began to stroke it, taking the length of him in my hand and pumping with a cold-blooded necessity that I hated. He was leaving me no choice. Best to just get this over and done, and use him like I’d always been used by everyone. I flicked my wrist, working him harder, feeling his body respond under my ministrations, his cock growing thick, lengthening under my hand. The old Olivia of a hundred and twenty years ago would have never done such a thing, but new Olivia was a jaded creature, a twisted, darker imitation of her old, cheerful self.
David would hate the new one if he knew her. The thought filled me with a wild, unexpected despair. What did I care what he thought? He’d known what I’d turn into when he’d left me with Aloysius…
But he hadn’t, I reminded myself. He hadn’t known anything. He’d been asleep for all that time. It’s not his fault you are what you are.
My hands slowed, and I released him as if burned, shuddering with hate for myself. I slid away on the bed, curling up on the edge of it and hugging my knees to my chest, filled with self-loathing. I was no better than Aloysius, to take what was not given to me. A monster that cared nothing for the feelings of others.
The bed shifted, and a hand touched my shoulder, gliding down my back. “Why did you stop, sweet Olivia?” David’s voice was a caress against my ear.
I did not look at him. Could not. My shame was too great. “I will not rape you simply to satisfy my own needs.” My voice was hard with bitterness. “I have experienced that particular violation myself, and know how it feels. I should not have touched you.”
His hand continued to stroke my back, as if soothing a wounded kitten. “You need relief, do you not?” At my short, jerky nod, he continued. “If you do not like touching me, I can get Noah for you. He is kind and considerate, and…I would not stand in the way of what you desire.”
“I don’t want Noah,” I said miserably. “I don’t want anyone. But Aloysius’s command is quite clear, and I can touch no man but my master. Unless I wish to crawl back to him…”
“Then you need my help, don’t you?” His hand wrapped in my long hair, pulling me backward onto the bed, until I lay next to him. “I could simply remove the command, could I not?”
He could. I watched him, my gaze cautious. If he simply removed the command, I’d be free to seek out another man. A stranger, I supposed. The thought left a bad taste in my mouth.
“Unless you’d rather spend your needing with…me?” His blue eyes focused on my face. “Is that what you want?”
I wouldn’t admit it. Couldn’t. The words wouldn’t move past my throat. Tell him that? When it was so obvious? It came to close to begging.
As if sensing my reluctant desire, David ran a casual hand down my side, grazing my skin with the backs of his fingers. His large hand slid along my hips and then moved to the apex of my thighs, cupping my sex. “You’re wet with need, Olivia.”
I bit my lip. I hated need, hated relying on someone else to pleasure me, but his touch was blinding. “David,” I whispered, spreading my legs wide in supplication. I wouldn’t ask. I had learned not to over the years. That asking simply brought new kinds of torture. That it was better to shut down and endure when I needed something.
I hated needing anything. Hated it so much that I pushed at his hands, trying to shove him away.
He ignored my pushes, saying nothing, as if he understood my silence. Instead, he watched my face. Watched it go from anger, to frustration, to helplessness, back to desire and then frustration again.
I glanced down at his hand between my legs, watched David flex his fingers against my wet sex as his gaze remained on my face. Unable to meet his
eyes, I watched his hands instead, and as I watched, he moved. His thumb, once resting on my mound, slid downward and parted my sex.
I gasped.
“So you do want me,” he mused. The pad of his thumb touched my clitoris and gave it a rough stroke, possessive and sensual. “Even if you hate the thought.”
I glared at him, hoping he would stop torturing me and make this swift and painless. My anger and frustration burned on my face even as my hands locked around his, encouraging him onward.
His hand shifted, and I felt his thick middle finger slide down my sex, searching. It circled the entrance to my sex, the slick wetness there. It tickled my clit, dancing along the sensitive flesh. I arched my hips against his hand, bucking in an effort to bring myself to come faster, so I could be done with this – done with him.
“No,” he whispered. “You’re trying too hard, sweet Olivia. This isn’t about just satisfying the need. This is about you and me, too.”
“It’s just about getting through the next two days,” I gritted. “Nothing more.”
His eyes – so blue they glowed in his face – met mine. “You’re wrong. It’s not like that. ” He moved over me, tossing one heavy arm over my torso, pinning me to the bed. One heavy arm pressed over my stomach, his shoulder resting over my belly, his body turned so I was helpless to do anything but stare at his broad, muscular back.
He could do anything he wanted to my body, covering me so possessively. As if he owned me and I existed solely for his pleasure.
I felt his other hand skim down my belly, toward my sex.
My breath quickened. I was trapped beneath him. I should have pushed him off of me, forced him to play by my rules. But instead, I admired the perfect expanse of his back, the golden curls of his fashionably-tousled Victorian hair as his head bent over my body, examining my slick sex with intense scrutiny, as if it held all the secrets to my heart.