Pictures flowed in and out of his mind, in a kaleidoscope of images all surrounding Dominique.
He saw her in his mind. Her life, who she was, what she was…her differences from those she called sister, the pain that her difference had caused her throughout her life.
As a child at first, often playing alone, he saw her with her thin long arms wrapped around her equally skinny long legs, hugging herself as tears fell from her eyes after being mocked. As a young teen lying on her narrow twin bed, the images assailed him of her, absorbed in reading a book, alone. The images changed, shifted, and then he saw her as a young woman who, although she no longer showed the world her pain, it was still lodged deep in her chest, like a sharp arrow.
Always hovering in the background was an older woman, one who Bacclum recognized as her mother, diligently watching the young girl as she matured into womanhood.
One image bled to another, but more than the images were the emotions… Bacclum inhaled deeply, anger flooding him at the sheer isolation she felt, had felt, throughout her life of being different, her cries at night as a child growing up, being taunted for being different…always isolated, alone, even with her mother, he felt a sense of detachment—separateness, surrounding her.
Just as suddenly as it started, it ended. The exchange, although he had seen her entire life, had been fleeting and had taken no more than minutes. Yet it took a tremendous toll on him, the last of his remaining strength fleeing.
Bacclum opened his eyes and their gazes locked. He knew that just as he’d seen her life, who she was, she had also seen him during their exchange. Within the depths of her unique eyes, he saw the truth. No words were necessary, in fact none could really do justice to what he’d seen…what they’d both learned, about the other.
It was as complete as it was devastating.
Invasive, yet intimate.
A moment of understanding swept between them, despite questions he knew she must have, confusion…her spirit had reached out to him during the exchange and they’d connected on levels he’d never imagined possible.
She broke their visual connection. Too weak to stop her, he watched as she stumbled away, breaking free of him.
Once free, she clasped the glowing amulet resting between her breasts with both hands. Despite the fear, he also saw a gleam of strength blaze brightly in her eyes.
With her eyes on his she gripped the amulet tighter, and began chanting. She was speaking in no more than a loud whisper, yet he felt her words seek him out, right to the heart of him, and strike. The pain was as sudden as it was unexpected.
Bacclum felt his remaining physical strength completely dissipate and his mind, which had been sharp and clear, moments earlier, again became cloudy and disorienting.
“No!” he cried out.
Before she could completely vanish, and with her he knew his key to escape the hell he’d been bound to for a century or more, she glanced at him one last time.
“Come back for me, Dominique.”
Submission is the only path to his salvation…
Demon Dreamer
© 2009 Vivi Anna
Captive Souls, Book Three
Born a seer, Kiara Brodie has always been feared for her power to see others’ fantasies. She’s fine with that—it keeps the men of her Irish Gypsy caravan at bay. She wants more than this transient life. A letter from her estranged father, summoning her to Louisiana, could be her long-awaited chance to put down roots.
She finds two half-sisters she never knew she had, and an old mansion haunted by a darkly sexy demon who inhabits her dreams. At night he whispers to her of carnal delight, enticing her on a journey of extreme pleasure—and pain.
Malvo knows just what to do with the curious woman who wandered into his lair behind the library bookcase—lock the door behind her and make her a lustful proposition she can’t refuse. He seeks to temporarily ease his lonely torment, but Kiara’s willing and wanton response opens his eyes to the possibility that she is his path to his own salvation.
If only she is willing to remain captive to his every sinful desire—forever…
Warning: Contains every sinful fantasy you have ever secretly entertained—including some of the deadly ones. Being bad was never oh, so good!
Enjoy the following excerpt for Demon Dreamer:
Standing, she stretched out all the kinks in her bones and muscles. She moved toward the fireplace and found two fat candles to light. A box of matches lay next to them. Kiara lit them both, and carrying one she continued her investigation of the library. She’d always been an avid reader, so to be surrounded by so many books was a treat. She flitted from shelf to shelf, devouring the titles and running her fingers along the mahogany wood.
She pulled out book after book and skimmed the titles. There were tons of books here she’d never even heard of. Old books long ago out of print or she suspected one-of-a-kind originals. By the time she picked out something of interest, her stomach was rumbling. It had been over twelve hours since she’d eaten.
She hoped the kitchen was stocked. By the looks of the rest of the house, the fact that it was clean and looked lived in, she figured there would be some food in the cupboards. But when she turned to seek out the comfort of food, the wall of books she’d been standing in front of moved.
Startled, she stared as the tall shelf slid sideways to reveal an opening behind it. A blast of cool air hit her in the face. She sucked it in, noticing that the air was laced with a delectable smell of spices. Her stomach rumbled in response and saliva pooled in her mouth.
Curious—she’d always been so to the chagrin of her mother—and after relighting the candle for light, Kiara stepped into the dark opening. It was a corridor, the walls stone. Her heart raced but not out of fear. As a child, she’d always been the one to go first, to face the monsters under her bed. She wasn’t much afraid of anything.
Sweat trickled down her back and she appreciated the coolness that the corridor afforded her. Taking in a deep breath, she followed it. And as soon as she took four steps, the wall behind her slid back into place, plunging her into a claustrophobic darkness. Thank goodness, she had the candle still.
More curious than before, Kiara continued following the corridor. It wound its way further inward like a coiled snake which she found peculiar as she didn’t think the house went that way. In fact, the library had been at the back of the house, so technically the existence of the corridor and the way it moved was an impossibility. But Kiara had always believed in the impossible.
After a few more minutes, she walked out of the long, winding passageway and into a huge room. Warm and inviting, the room was lit by several candelabras mounted on the burgundy painted walls. The floor was covered by a soft moss green carpet that looked opulent in both texture and style. She scrunched her toes into it, reveling in the feel of it on her bare skin. Surprised, she looked around, taking everything in. From the huge hearth along one wall, ablaze with a fire, to the exquisite paintings hanging on the walls, to the stylish furnishings arranged artfully around the room. The room reminded her of a long ago era, European possibly, aristocratic most certainly. Someone was definitely living here.
“Hello?” she called.
“What are you doing here?”
Startled, Kiara swiveled toward the deep masculine voice. Out from the shadow along one wall stepped a man. A tall, elegantly dressed, sexy man with longish black hair and even darker eyes. She gasped at the sight of him. He was an impressive figure and she hadn’t seen him there standing in the dark with her first perusal of the room. And he was definitely the man from her dreams. Her dream demon.
For the first time in her life, she felt unsure of herself and apprehensive. Although she’d just only hours ago wished for him to be real, flutters of uncertainty filled her stomach. Her heart hammered as if in her throat and she lifted a hand to soothe it. “I came through the sliding wall in the library.”
He moved closer to her. “Obviously, but what are you doing i
n my house?”
“Your house?”
He nodded.
“I thought this house belonged to Jean-Paul Durant.”
He frowned. “That fool thought he owned this place, but he was very wrong.”
Kiara took a step forward. “That fool was my father.”
Arching an eyebrow, the dark man grinned. “Was he now? Interesting.” His gaze searched her form, from her bare feet to the top of her head. “Very interesting.”
Kiara felt the heated intention of his stare. Flutters of desire bloomed deep inside her belly. Her thighs clenched at the possibilities.
“You have the mark.” He gestured to her eye.
“Aye.” She lifted her chin to show him that she was not ashamed of her deformity.
“You are proud of your difference.” It was a statement, but Kiara heard the curiosity in the words.
“I am. My people revere me for it.”
“Your people.” He smiled again and it made her knees week. “The gypsies from Ireland.”
“How did ya…?”
He gestured toward her mouth. “Your accent. It’s very distinctive.”
“Have ya been to Ireland, then?”
“I have been everywhere.”
“But now ya live here?”
His face darkened at that. “In a manner, yes.” He stopped moving toward her, and gestured toward a table in the corner. “Are you hungry?”
Magically, two plates heaped with food and two full wine glasses appeared on the table. The smell hit Kiara’s nose and her stomach clenched, reminding her she hadn’t eaten in a while.
She nodded and followed her nose to the table. She sat without preamble, picked up her fork and dug in. She had no qualms about not waiting for him to sit next to her. This wasn’t a dinner date.
Watching her intensely, he sat and picked up his wine glass to take a sip. “You’re very earthy.”
Pausing mid-chew, she peered at him. “Are ya saying I have no manners?”
“Of course not. I’m saying you’re not meek or timid.”
“Why would I be?”
“Don’t you know who I am? What I am?”
She nodded, her head high. “Aye, I know.”
“And you are not afraid?”
She met his gaze, boldly. “No.”
He grinned again and set his wine glass down on the table. “Good. I don’t want a timid woman in my bed.”
She nearly choked on the food in her mouth. “Excuse me?”
“Well, that’s what you came here for, isn’t it? For me to fuck you.”
She dropped the fork this time and gaped at him.
“Don’t feign innocence. I watched you earlier, when you were masturbating. I saw the look of lust and longing in your eyes. You came to the library looking for me, did you not?”
She wanted to deny it, tell him in no uncertain terms did she want him to fuck her. But she couldn’t deny it. She did want him. Oh, Lord, did she ever. Her panties were already sodden just thinking about him, smelling his delicious scent.
“I’ve dreamed of ya several times,” she finally confessed. “But I n’er thought ya were truly real.”
“I’m as real as the throb between your thighs, mon chère.”
The moment he mentioned what was going on between her legs, everything intensified. Her pussy throbbed harder, fiercer. She squirmed in her chair against the onslaught of fiery need swirling deep inside. She bit down on her lip to stop a moan from bursting out.
By the lusty look in his eye, he must’ve noticed every little change. Could he hear her heart pounding? Could he smell her desire? Could he taste it in the air? He licked his lips as if in answer to her silent question.
“Who are ya?” she asked.
“I am Malvo, one of the great dukes of the underworld.”
“Why would I dream of ya?”
He arched one eyebrow as if pondering the question. “I don’t know. But I’m glad you have. I’ve gone too long without a real woman’s affections.” He gestured toward her plate. “Are you quite through with your dinner?”
It was an odd question, but she nodded.
“Good.” Faster then she could see, he swept his arm over the table, sending everything crashing to the floor. He stood and pulled her to her feet. “Because you’re the dessert.”
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Stone's Embrace: A Captive Souls Story. Page 10