She came with a muffled cry, her pussy contracting hard, squeezing her fingers as her thumb stroked her clit. She lay there for a moment, her chest beaded with sweat, her heart pounding beneath her breasts. And then she rolled to her side, and curled in on herself as if to contain the pleasure, wishing Christian was there to hold her instead.
She must have drifted back to sleep then, because the next time she woke, she had the definite sense that it was later. The little bit of light leaking around the dark blinds was just pale enough that she knew it was afternoon, not morning. And a quick glance at her cell phone told her she was right. Rolling to her back, she smoothed the soft fabric over her breasts, feeling her nipples harden. She toyed with them briefly, then snapped upright. Something was happening to her. Despite the long, dry spell of celibacy that had been her time in Houston, she usually didn’t masturbate more than a couple of times a week, and she rarely woke up wet. That she was even thinking about coming on her own fingers for the second time in one day was unheard-of.
This was Christian’s fault, too. Although, with her pussy still twitching pleasurably from the previous night, she was having a difficult time convincing herself that this new development was a bad thing.
But enough was enough. She had work to do, and tonight was the gala that Christian had to attend, despite the confrontation with Anthony. And she was going with him. She had her dress and shoes, and the underwear to go with them. But if she was going to do the dress, and Christian, justice, she’d need some serious prep time. And some food. She didn’t care if it was breakfast or something else, but she needed sustenance.
The idea of food finally got her out of bed, and as if to make sure she didn’t backslide, her stomach grumbled loudly. Remembering the pitiful state of Christian’s refrigerator—at least when it came to real food—she decided to make a run to the grocery store. She didn’t know this neighborhood, but there had to be something nearby, and she’d seen Marc drop the SUV keys on the table next to the door.
But she wasn’t going anywhere all sweaty and stinking of sex, with her thighs still sticky from last night. She needed to shower, and it made no sense to do it twice, which meant washing her hair, and shaving her legs. Her stomach grumbled again, but it would just have to wait.
By the time she’d cleaned up, found the grocery story, and driven back, there were less than two hours left until sunset. She didn’t know exactly what time the gala started, since she hadn’t been formally invited, and hadn’t been part of the planning either. Anthony had never involved her in any of the vampire activities, which now struck her as somewhat odd. It was as if he’d been intentionally keeping her from meeting any of the many vampires who hung around the estate. She didn’t want to think too much about his reasons for that, even though it was pretty clear by now that he’d been saving her for himself. And that idea still had too high of an ick factor to contemplate.
Intentionally setting it aside, she unwrapped the sandwich she’d picked up at the grocery deli, added some chips, then settled down in front of her laptop. She still had a job to do, and besides, she loved her work. Loved finding clues in the numbers, following the trails.
She was deep in her own head, seeing nothing but what was on the computer screen, when a warm hand caressed the bare skin of her lower back. She shrieked and nearly fell off the kitchen stool, only to be caught by a laughing Christian.
“That’s not funny,” she protested, slapping away his hands.
“It sort of is,” he said, ignoring her efforts and pulling her into his arms. He gave her a smacking kiss on the lips, then glanced at her computer. “You’re working?”
She nodded. “It relaxes me.”
“I could relax you,” he crooned, his big body surrounding her as he leaned forward to trap her in his arms. “Unfortunately, we leave in an hour,” he added.
“What?” Natalie straightened abruptly, her head nearly cracking Christian on the chin when she swung around to stare at him. “You’re dressed,” she said stupidly. But he was. His white tuxedo shirt wasn’t fully buttoned, and his tie hung open, but everything else was in place. Black pants, black leather belt and shoes, and now that she was paying attention, she saw the elegant black jacket draped over the back of a chair. “Fuck!” she swore and pushed at his chest, trying to force him back. The effort was totally futile, of course. Christian would move when he wanted to, and not before. “Christian,” she said exasperatedly, “I have to get ready.”
“I sort of like this look,” he said lazily, his hand sliding beneath her T-shirt and around her ribs to cup her braless breast.
“Christian,” she breathed. It was meant to be a protest, but it didn’t come out that way.
He kissed her. Not the brief smack of a hello kiss he’d given her earlier. This was heat and desire and sex. He pulled her into his arms, his hand clenched in her hair, a hungry edge adding urgency, his lips almost rough as he explored every inch of her mouth before pulling back. Natalie was lost in sensation, her head back and eyes closed. Her fingers gripped his waist, crushing the fine cotton shirt as she held on for dear life. He licked the corner of her mouth, then tightened his hands on her arms.
“You need to get dressed,” he murmured.
Her eyes opened lazily, and she groaned. “Not fair,” she muttered.
“Go on,” he said, turning her toward the doorway and slapping her butt. “I’ll rinse your dishes.”
“Ass,” she muttered, too soft for him to hear. Or maybe not.
“You’ll be paying for that later,” he called cheerfully, and was still laughing when she slammed the bedroom door.
CHRISTIAN STROLLED through the gathering of beautiful people with the most gorgeous woman in the room on his arm. He closed Natalie’s fingers over the crook of his elbow, and held them there. It was either that or explore the enticing expanse of bare back exposed by her sexy dress. He’d been fighting an erection ever since she’d hurried out of her bedroom earlier, her hair a sensuous pile of curls that looked like she’d just been well fucked, her legs smooth and silky beneath the short dress, with a pair of black stiletto heels making them look even longer. He couldn’t blame anyone but himself for her tempting appearance. He’d selected the dress, after all. But damn, she looked good. And despite the tension they were both feeling about Anthony—wondering if he’d be stupid enough to show up tonight when Raphael was gunning for him—Natalie was charmingly excited about the gala.
He scanned the room slowly, without being obvious about it. Scoville was in attendance, though he’d all but dropped out of the race after his chat with Christian the other night. And Marcel Weiss was across the room, sending hate-filled glares from within his circle of supporters. But there were notable absences. Noriega was missing, of course—that’s what happened when you jumped the gun; you missed the big party—but Stefano Barranza was also nowhere to be seen, and Christian found that suspicious. It wasn’t mandatory for challengers to show up at the gala kick-off, but it was customary. It was a chance to measure opponents’ power, to flaunt your own, and, if you were lucky, to come to the attention of the current vampire lords who were in attendance. Barranza’s absence made Christian wonder if the Mexican vampire had decided to drop out altogether, or worse, if he was down in Mexico seeking a new alliance with Hubert.
But while the challengers had a central role to play, they weren’t the indispensable attendees at this party. That honor went to the vampire lords, and Christian had to admit that it wasn’t often one saw so many of them in one room. The current batch of lords got along with each other in a very un-vampire-like way, which made getting together a lot easier. That was Raphael’s doing. And it would be the undoing of the Europeans, unless they changed their tactics. But he wasn’t going to be the one to warn them.
The lords stood apart from the crowd, their mates by their sides. Mates were almost always in attendance for challeng
e launches. The lords were there to contain the aggression-fueled violence that could erupt at these things, while their human mates were on hand to help contain the aggression of the lords themselves.
Christian was keeping a close eye out, but there’d been no sign of Anthony, which only reaffirmed his assessment of the Southern lord’s survival instincts. Raphael and his mate, Cynthia, had arrived early on, along with both Duncan and his woman. Vincent wouldn’t be attending, but that wasn’t a surprise. He could hardly leave his territory when there were known infiltrators actively working to bring him down. And thus far, Christian hadn’t spotted any of the others—Sophia, Lucas, Rajmund or Aden—but the night was still young, and the lords tended to arrive singly rather than all at once, to avoid a sudden crush of power in the room. Nerves were strung tightly enough. By now, everyone had heard about what had happened to Cibor, and Raphael’s anger because of it. And when a vampire as powerful as Raphael got angry, no one in the vicinity was spared the effects.
Next to him, Natalie tensed, and her fingers twisted to grip his nervously. Christian followed her line of sight and found Jaclyn and Cibor, deep in conversation. Jaclyn’s hand was hooked around Cibor’s elbow, her breast was pressed against his arm, and their lips were almost touching.
“Look at Cibor, chére. He’s fully recovered. Raphael will have made sure of it by now.”
She nodded, and Christian bent to kiss her artfully tousled head. “He and Jaclyn look awfully cozy, though. Maybe the crisis brought some deeper feelings to the surface,” he mused.
He was surprised, but relieved, when Natalie laughed. She hugged his arm against her soft breast, and leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, “They’ve been lovers for years. Didn’t you know that?”
He reconsidered the last few days. The signs had all been there, but he’d missed the obvious, because it wasn’t commonplace for two vampires to become lovers. “That’s rather unusual.”
She tilted her head, gazing up at him curiously. “Why? I’d think it’s a natural fit. Shared interests and all that.”
“But no food, no blood source. Is it just the two of them, or is there a third?”
“You mean . . .” Her cheeks were stained such a delicious pink, that he was tempted to take a small bite, just to taste.
“That’s exactly what I mean,” he whispered, settling for a slow brush of his lips over her cheek, feeling the heat. “They must be hunting and feeding together. Seducing together. I wonder if they hunt men or women.”
“But I thought blood and sex went together . . .” Her words trailed off on an indrawn breath. “Are you saying that they, um, that they both . . .”
“Oh, yes.”
“Oooh.” She studied the couple with an assessing and entirely unexpected gleam in her eye. “Did you and Marc ever . . . you know.”
Christian put his lips against her ear, exploring the soft shell with his tongue before murmuring, “Yes, we did. Many times.”
Her chest flushed with arousal above the tight bodice of her dress, her nipples creating slight bumps where they were trying to push through the fabric.
“Would you like to do that with us, Natalie?” he murmured. “Does it excite you?”
She licked her lips, and he wanted to snap his teeth at the sweet, rosy tip of her tongue. “I’ve . . . that is, I’ve never—”
Christian wrapped both arms around her, hugging her close to his chest. “It would be delicious, mon ange. But only if you want it.”
Natalie’s fingers clenched in his shirt a moment before he detected a powerful presence to his left.
“Christian Duvall. I don’t believe we’ve met,” drawled a deceptively relaxed voice with a deliberate flavor of the deep South.
Christian kept an arm around Natalie’s waist as he turned to greet the newcomer. And what a newcomer he was. Duncan Milford, Lord of the Capital Territory. They’d never met, but Christian knew of him. Everyone knew of Raphael’s longtime lieutenant.
“My lord,” Christian said with a respectful nod of his head. “My companion, Natalie Vivant Gaudet.”
“Charmed, my lady,” Duncan said smoothly. “And intrigued. Cajun and Creole, if I’m not mistaken.”
Natalie gave him a wide smile. “You are not, my lord,” she said, her own lilting accent in full force. “A Cajun father and Creole mother, both back several proud generations.”
“And beauty, as well, surely.”
Christian was beginning to suspect that Duncan was laying on the Southern accent a little heavily. He’d spent more than a century in California with Raphael; it was unlikely he’d managed to hold on to his accent for all that time. Maybe he was trying to relax Natalie, or maybe to disarm Christian himself, with what the Americans called “good ol’ boy” charm.
Christian gave him a bemused look, to let him know it wasn’t working. No disrespect, but no dice, to coin another American phrase.
“Anthony seems to be missing tonight,” Duncan said, his accent all but disappearing as quickly as he’d shifted subjects.
Christian huffed a breath. “You can say many things about Anthony, none of them good, but he has a highly developed sense of self-preservation.”
“Ah, yes, that business with Cibor,” he said disingenuously. Christian had no doubt at all that Duncan and Raphael had thoroughly discussed the previous day’s events. “Jaclyn must have been in a fine temper over that,” he added.
Which provoked Natalie’s sharp elbow in his side. Apparently everyone knew about Jaclyn and Cibor except him.
“She was understandably furious,” Christian agreed, wondering where all of this small talk was leading. “As was I.”
Duncan nodded knowingly. “I feel the need to apologize on Anthony’s behalf, Ms. Gaudet. He is a member of our Council.”
“There’s no reason to apologize, my lord. Christian took care of Anthony just fine,” she said with a loyalty that warmed his cold heart.
“Did he?” Duncan eyed Christian speculatively. “I would guess then that you are not exactly Anthony’s favorite person.”
Christian gave Duncan a flat stare. “If not for Raphael’s prior claim, Anthony would be dead by now.”
“And you would be Lord of the South.”
“I’ll be that anyway. But I’d have killed him for what he tried to do to Natalie.”
Duncan gave a sideways tilt of his head in acknowledgment. “Are the challengers all here tonight?”
Christian didn’t need to scan the room again. He could place every one of his competitors without looking, and, curiously, Barranza had still not shown. “Not all of them,” he told Duncan. “One is mysteriously absent, while another made the bad decision not to wait for the formal challenge. It wouldn’t have changed the outcome, but he might have lived long enough to enjoy the party.”
“I’m betting the dead one was one of Anthony’s?”
Christian studied Duncan, surprised that the Capital lord was aware of Anthony’s scheming. And what Duncan knew, Raphael knew. He nodded in agreement. “Noriega. He should never have been in the challenge, and Anthony had to know that.” Christian didn’t bother to hide the anger in his voice. Noriega hadn’t had to die.
A sudden ruffle of power from the dais had them both turning to look as a big, blond vampire joined the crowd, going immediately over to shake hands with Raphael. His woman went with him, a pretty, buxom little thing who was quickly enveloped in a hug by Cynthia Leighton. The two women couldn’t have looked less alike, but they clearly knew each other well, and immediately moved off to the side for a private conversation.
“Rajmund,” Duncan commented, confirming Christian’s guess. “And his mated wife, Sarah. And I believe that’s all of us for this gathering. Lucas and Aden chose to remain home to cover any surprises from our European friends.” His brow wrinkled in conce
rn. “And we’re a little concerned about Sophia. No one’s heard from her in the last week. And Cynthia’s attempts to contact her mate, Colin, have been unsuccessful, which I understand is unusual.”
Christian was sorry Sophia hadn’t made it. He’d been curious about her. Female master vamps weren’t that uncommon, but female lords were rare. Even more rare, now that Mathilde was gone.
Up on the dais, Raphael turned, his black gaze resting on Christian for a long moment, before settling on Duncan.
Duncan frowned briefly, then smiled and said, “Raphael would have a word with you, Duvall. Come say ‘hello.’”
Jaclyn and Cibor appeared out of the crowd at that moment to surround Natalie, pulling her gently out from Christian’s grasp. Christian trailed his fingers along her back as she moved away, but he let her go, because he understood that Duncan wasn’t the only one who’d been communing with Raphael. And apparently the Western lord wanted his conversation with Christian to be private.
Besides, Natalie looked so happily relieved when she was enveloped in a group hug by the two vampires, that he didn’t have the heart to stop her. Although, he did make one thing very clear to them.
“Just remember,” he said, catching Jaclyn’s eye. “She’s mine.” He said it lightly enough, but they knew he was serious. He gripped Natalie’s chin, turning her face to his for a kiss, before saying, “I’ll be right back, chére. You stay with Jaclyn, oui?”
She nodded, but just to be safe, he caught Marc’s eye, where he stood chatting up a blond human a few feet away. Raphael wasn’t the only vampire who could issue telepathic requests to his children. Marc whispered something in his companion’s ear, then came over to stand on the other side of the group hug.
Christian (Vampires in America: The Vampire Wars Book 10) Page 19