Tempt (The Kresova Vampire Harems: Aurora Book 2)

by Graceley Knox

  I frown, the name not ringing a bell. "You spoke to who?"

  He clears his throat, shifts his weight from one foot to another and I realize that, for all his stoic silences, he might actually be pretty shy. Warmth spreads in my chest at the realization and I smile softly at him.

  "My fiancé," he says at last, and it feels like being unexpectedly stung. A needle pin prick, too familiar to be very painful, but an unpleasant surprise all the same.

  "Oh." I don't have the willpower for other words.

  Lucian folds his hands on the railing, watching his own fidgeting fingers.

  "I usually speak to her once a week," he says. "On Sundays. But with the peril of our situation I thought it was important to let her know I was still alive, and going into hiding. She's not aware of the details of our activities of course, but I didn't believe it was fair to her to possibly get myself killed without at least giving her a heads up."

  "Yeah, I get that," I say, nodding, though I really don't want to hear this. Something about the quaint, reliable intimacy of a regular Sunday phone call, of thinking about him thinking of her, makes that pin prick from before jab deeper. "I mean, I'd probably be pretty pissed if my fiancé went off and died without telling me." With another woman. He’s fated to be with. No biggie.

  He's quiet for a moment, watching the sunset, or his own hands, but never me. He twists the gold engagement band on his right ring finger absentmindedly.

  "For the past several calls," he goes on, "I could tell something was bothering her. Something she wasn't telling me. I didn't press the issue. I don't feel I have the right to demand to know her secrets. Ours has always been an engagement of convenience."

  That's news to me, and Lucian sees my raised eyebrows, and turs to face me fully.

  "Our sires introduced us," he explains. "It was a political maneuver among our families. These sort of marriages are a common way of consolidating power among the vampire courts. Still, neither Erica nor I were opposed. We were both turned during a time when such things were commonplace among humans, and both more interested in our own endeavors than in dating at the time. Erica is a historian, you know? She's currently up to her eyeballs in vampire genealogy. Who sired who, who went on to marry into which family, etc. etc."

  I nod because I don't trust myself not to respond with sarcasm. Oh, who’s her sire? I’d love to send him a box of chocolates for this shit storm situation. Truly, can’t thank him enough. I don't really want to know what Erica's hobbies are. Knowing that Lucian wasn't marrying her for love should make this less painful, but instead it just makes it feel all the more impenetrable. And makes me feel more stabby.

  "Anyway," Lucian looks down at his hands again, at the ring he's still twisting on his finger. "She told me today, the secret she's been keeping."

  "What was it?" I ask, frowning, both hope and despair twisting through my gut.

  Lucian smiles faintly, gathering himself. "She's fallen in love with someone else."

  My eyes just about pop out of my head and he laughs a little under his breath.

  "Some mortal grad student she's been collaborating with on her research," Lucian continues. "She says she never looked for love, but it found her anyway, perfect and completely unexpected. I know how she feels."

  He glances up at me again, and slides the ring off of his finger, setting it on the patio table beside me.

  "She's calling off the engagement."

  I feel suddenly light headed, like I could float off the balcony like a soap bubble and drift into the sunset. I put a hand to my spinning head, trying not to get my hopes up.

  "I'm sorry, Lucian," I say, not sure what else to say. Outloud at least. "What are you going to do?" Celebrate? Light your ring on fire? Perhaps dance in glee?

  "We'll keep up appearances until we can find a way to end the engagement in the most mutually beneficial fashion," he says. "But, in the meantime..."

  He reaches for my hand and kneels before me so that he can look more easily into my eyes. His touch is delicate, as though he thinks I'm a butterfly who might be accidentally crushed or fly away. "It does make this easier."

  "Make what easier?" I ask. I need him to be as clear as possible before I let myself get excited. I really don't want to get my heart broken right now.

  "Us," he says, covering my hand with his own, and I feel all the hopes I was trying to hold down flying away. "Unless I've badly misread the situation."

  "You haven't," I say quickly. "You really haven't." Like for reals, how about we celebrate together. Horizontally in bed.

  I see the smile growing on his face, all the more lovely for how rarely he shows his feelings.

  "Then, you're interested in... courting me?" he asks.

  I laugh, and answer him by kissing him hard.

  For a moment, caught off guard, his lips are stiff against mine. Then he softens, a hand sliding into my hair, and kisses back. Undead as we are, he's warm, and kissing him is as different from kissing Carver as the two men themselves are. Lucian is slow, sweet, careful. He kisses as much with his hands as his lips. His fingers brush my cheek, stroke the column of my throat, drag across the sensitive skin of my scalp, constantly keeping all of him engaged with all of me. There's a sense of intense focus, as though nothing else in the world matters to him more in this moment.

  His lips part as my hands clench in his shirt, keeping him close. The first warm sweep of his tongue is tentative, asking permission, and my nerves light up with excitement. I deepen the kiss with maybe more enthusiasm than he was expecting, throwing my arms around his neck and sliding out of my chair, wrapping my legs around his waist. He catches me, almost falling over backwards, and I feel him laugh without breaking the kiss, smiling against my mouth. The next thing I know he's rising to his feet, lifting me with him as easily and as delicately as if I were made of spun sugar. The only thing not delicate about his grip is the way his hands clench on my ass.

  He carries me back into my room, leaving the balcony doors open to fill the room with cool evening air. Or perhaps he just forgot them, too busy kissing me breathless. He lays me on the bed and I feel a thrill of excitement run down my spine to burn like an ember between my thighs.

  He breaks the kiss at last, meeting my hazy, flustered stare.

  "Is this alright?" he asks, and I can hear that he's as breathless as I am. "I don't want to rush you."

  "I want this," I tell him with absolute certainty. "I want you. All of you.” I lean up and kiss him again, quickly and full of passion. “Right now.”

  He swallows hard, meeting my gaze, and then kisses me again, more passionately, but still with such delicate care. His kisses trail from my lips down my jaw to my throat and I don't bother to hide my moan of approval, especially as his teeth scrape the tender place where my neck meets my shoulder. I dig my hands in his hair, my nails scraping his scalp before I tug my robe open, inviting him lower. He catches on quickly, his hands finding my breasts at the same time as his mouth. I rise into his touch, biting my lip, as he kneads the sensitive flesh, scattering kisses and love bites.

  When his kisses slip even lower my heart hammers with hope that he's planning what I think he is.

  “Lucian.” I sigh his name and I feel his lips smile against my sensitive flesh.

  His hands follow his kisses, counting my ribs, brushing over my belly, squeezing at my hips. I spread my legs and he kisses my thighs, the soft tender place behind my knee, making me giggle, down all the way to the curve of my ankle. He worships every part of me, except the part I most want him to.

  Just when I'm about to give up and beg him, he relents. I cover my mouth with my hands to stop a shout as his tongue runs through my folds, one hand spreading me open like a flower. His hands squeeze my thighs, slide under me to grip my ass, and lift me up to his lips like a bowl he could drink from.

  He knows where to focus his attention and the relentless roll of his tongue against my clit soon has my toes curling and my voice rising. The hand over my mouth f
orgotten as I grip a fist full of his hair in one hand, and a fist full of the comforter below me. He keeps going even as I shake, until I'm digging my heels into the mattress and trying not to pull his hair out of his scalp.

  “So sweet on my tongue.” He whispers the words softly, so softly I almost didn’t hear him, and I think I'll lose my mind before he finally stops, showering my thighs and stomach with kisses as I slump into the sheets, trembling with my need to come.

  My eyes closed, I hear him unzipping his slacks, the fabric rustling as he removes them. A moment later he leans over me again, kisses my throat, whispers in my ear.

  "May I?"

  "Fuck yes," I answer immediately, and groan low as he presses his thick cock into me. The slow stretch of the first stroke is always sweetest and I hold my breath through it, relishing the sensation. For a moment he's fully within me and I squeeze, trying to keep him there.

  “You wrap around me like a vise.” He curses softly and I can't help smiling.

  I quickly forget my pride however as he begins to move. I wrap my arms around his shoulders as he rocks his hips, rolling deep within me for a moment. His hands wander from my hips to my thighs, stroking, squeezing, and guiding me into his thrusts as they grow longer, harder, but always careful, slow and steady. I press a kiss to his temple and whisper in his ear. “I won’t break, Lucian.” I bite his ear. “Fuck me like I know you want to.”

  He raises my hips higher and my breath catches as he hits deeper within me, each stroke leaving me shaking. “Don’t rush me, baby. I want to enjoy every second of this.” His hands grip my hips, hard enough to leave marks that won’t last longer than five minutes.

  “Lucian, please.” I wiggle my hips under him, and nip my way up his neck, twirling my tongue in circles.

  He growls low in his throat and speeds up his pace, each thrust of his hips against mine hitting my clit and sending a jolt of ecstasy through me. I could burn away to nothing like this and die happy.

  He picks up speed, urgency rising, and leans over me as he strives to bury himself as deep as he can. He nips at my neck, and I can feel my climax coming and I put my arms around him.

  “Lucian. I’m close.”

  “I know, baby. I can fell you fluttering around my cock.” He pounds into me, hard. Locking his gaze with mine.

  I look into his eyes as pleasure roars through us both. I tumble over the edge to completion. There’s something in his eyes that frightens me as much as it thrills me in that moment. A possessive hunger he’s holding back, and a deep adoration that radiates from him like a small sun. I had no idea he felt this strongly, that he’s been hiding so much raw emotion from me.

  For a moment we lose each other as pleasure overwhelms us. My heart beats as fast as the speed of light as I try to catch my breath, coming down from the peak of pleasure slowly. I become aware of myself again with his forehead pressed to mine. We look into each other’s dazed eyes and there’s no more wildness there now, just cautious confidence. I make a mental note to make him lose as much control as he can next time. My instincts telling me to rile him as much as I can.

  He holds me close, smiling against my skin, and for a moment at least all my worries have dissolved like sugar into a warm cup of coffee.

  Chapter 17

  I would have liked to linger all day in bed with Lucian and maybe Carver too if they were both inclined but unfortunately, we have plans. All too soon we had to crawl out of our comfortable bed and our blissful cuddling to shower and dress for the night's festivities.

  It's the last night of the centennial celebration. If the masque was an elaborate, elegant overture to the Fête du Sanguine, then the final night, the Bacchanale des Bêtes, was its sordid grand finale.

  It was to be a night of drinking and debauchery and it was promised that every sin ever wrought by mortal or immortal would be there on display for the tasting. From what Carver described, it would makes Eyes Wide Shut look like your first pair of fuzzy handcuffs. Last year, he said it 'put Caligula to shame.' I’m not super shy, but I’m pretty sure tonight, I’m going to look like a virgin as my mouth is continually open in shock.

  In any other circumstance, I might have been excited to be invited to a party like that. Nervous, but excited. But the fact that we'd be avoiding Morana all night kind of ruined that for me. She’s a buzz kill that way.

  Once the fête was over, we had our plans made and a plane waiting. We'd head to Europe. Morana hated traveling overseas and avoided when she could, and there were so many different vampire families in Europe that sheer politics might keep her off our backs for a while. Long enough to disappear, hopefully.

  But for tonight, the party. The god damned party.

  Carver picked out another dress for me, to my annoyance. Especially once I went to put it on and realized it was more jewelry than dress.

  "It's much less stuffy than the gown you wore the first night," he says, kneeling to help me fasten the outrageous diamond garter belt that was part of my outfit. The loop of silver and jewels around my waist was invisible under the sad excuse for a silk tank top that was the dress I'd been given, but the two belts of diamond that fastened around my thighs peeked out from beneath the very high hem. Matching diamonds circled my upper arms, loosely chained to a glittering bracelet. A web of diamond strands fanned out from the manacle to four silver rings on each of my fingers. The diamond collar around my throat dripped similar chains down my back and around my breasts to connect to those around my waist, visible through the plunging neckline of the dress that went nearly all the way to my navel.

  "Yeah, being naked is definitely less stuffy," I gripe, red faced. "I look ridiculous. I thought we were trying to avoid attention!" Not to mention it was a little heavy and I was afraid if I moved everything would just fall off me. Whoosh, check out my goodies.

  Carver chuckles. "Alright," he says. "I admit this outfit is mostly for me."

  His fingers brush the back of my thigh and my heart stops briefly in my chest as he brushes the hem of my dress away to press a kiss between the two strands of diamonds.

  He looks up at me, eyes heated with desire.

  "But I promise, this will not stand out among those at the Bacchanale. If anything this outfit is too modest for such an event." He takes my hand as he stands, kissing the back of my fingers everywhere not covered by diamonds.

  “This? This is too modest? Will anyone else be clothed?” I choke out the words.

  "And you do not look ridiculous," he purrs, sliding a hand around my waist to pull me close, the thin dress no barrier. "You, my ma belle, are absolutely ravishing."

  I gasp as he tips me back to kiss my throat, working his way around the edge of the collar. Desire thrums through me, and I press my thighs together to ease the ache he’s creating in my core.

  "Mmm, you smell like Lucian," he says, breath warm against my ear as my heart skips a beat, his fingers sliding down one of the diamond chains on my chest. "I could hear you two, you know. I'm glad you finally broke through to him. But now I'm feeling oddly territorial. You should smell like both of us."

  I'm all too eager to find out how he plans to accomplish that, but a tap at the door interrupts us. I pull away from Carver and try to smooth out my dress awkwardly while Lucian stands in the doorway trying to hide a smile.

  "I'm sorry to intrude," he says. "But the car is waiting. We're expected at the party." His stare is hot on my thinly veiled body, and he licks his lips. I stare back at him hungrily before Carver taps my ass and I jump into movement. Between the two of them I’m going to be a mess of desire and need.

  We hurry out, not wanting to be counted missing. Carver's outfit is almost as skimpy as mine in painted on leather chaps and a leather a jacket. Lucian has decided not to dress up again, and I decide I'm going to have to find some opportunity in the future to make him.

  All such thoughts disappear when we reach the party. It's a wonderland of terrible, wondrous things. Beautiful, immortal flesh is on display everywhere
the eye lands. Carver wasn't lying about my outfit being modest. There are people in little more than lingerie. There are people in less. The smell of sex is thick in the air, though I don't see it at first.

  Supposedly, the party is arranged according to sins. Past the entry rooms, the guests will descend through Gluttony, Sloth, Wrath, Greed and Envy, Lust, and finally Pride.

  The first few rooms of Gluttony are innocuous enough, full of comfortable couches and gauzy drapery and the most beautiful, delicious looking food I've ever seen. All food is a luxury for vampires, who don't need it, but this is something human royalty would feel lucky to taste. Another benefit of vampirism to add to the list. Vampire chefs, with centuries of experience to draw from and access to the rarest ingredients in the world. But the dishes get weirder as we go deeper.

  "What's that?" I ask as we pass a table where several vampires are sitting with white cloths over their faces as they lift whole roasted tiny birds into their mouths.

  "Ortolans," Carver says, looking away as the vampires drop the cloths back over their faces. A hideous crunching of bones follows, making me shudder. "A songbird, caught wild and blinded so that it eats continuously or force fed, until swollen to several times its natural size. At which point it is drowned in Armagnac, roasted, and served whole. Traditionally, the cloth is to hide your face from God."

  "That's horrible," I say, still staring at the vampire's mouths moving under the white cloths.

  "It will only get worse," Lucian promises, taking my other arm and hurrying me on past the table.

  There are three more rooms of Gluttony. I see a small, live animal being strapped to a table and decide I've had enough. I keep my head down and try not to look at anything else the rest of the way through. Lucian and Carver do their best to shield me, but I glimpse more than one dish despite our best efforts. The meat looks distressingly familiar.

  Sloth follows and is an immense relief. A haze of smoke hangs about these rooms and for a moment I feel more comfortable at the sight of a common as dirt glass bong than I have all night. But Carver and Lucian keep moving me forward.