Her Vampire Lord

by Ines Johnson

“Aren’t you a bossy little thing,” I say.

  I itch to take her over my lap and spank some obedience into her. As I advance on her, she takes two strong strides towards me, closing the distance. Her wine-colored eyes are tequila bright. Another man would’ve backed down. Instead, my dick punches the front of my pants, eager to breach the rest of the distance between us.

  “Don’t call me bossy,” she growls, though it’s more like the purr of an irate kitten. “Whenever a woman corrects a man or speaks her mind, she’s called bossy by that man. Likely because her words shriveled up his manhood.”

  “Trust me, minou. My manhood is anything but shriveled.”

  Marechal’s gaze dips low, to my pants. The evidence is stark for her to see. I watch her throat work as she takes me in. My tongue traces over my incisors. Hunger rushes through me, down past my stomach and into my loins.

  I know then that I’m going to have this woman. I’m going to have her repeatedly. I’m going to have her thoroughly. And she will be begging.

  “You’re a bastard, you know that?”

  I do know that. But it’s for entirely different reasons than she could ever fathom.

  “You’ve taken my sister,” she continues. “And now my business.”

  “Minou, I haven’t touched your business. You’ll be screaming my name when I do.”

  “I would’ve fixed it.”

  There’s a break in her voice that makes me stop and pay attention. The stern look on her face changes, and some of the strength leaves her. I have the urge to prop her up. I don’t like Marechal Durand weakened and broken. Not unless it’s by my hand.

  “I raised Cari all by myself after our mother died. And you and your brother have just taken her from me.”

  “Cari and Hadrian are just on their honeymoon. They will return.” Reassuring a woman is not my strong suit, and I’m not sure I’m doing a fair job of it here.

  “I’ve been running the day to day of my family’s wine business since I was fifteen. I brought it back from the brink while my father grieved our mother. I would’ve brought it back again. But you’ve taken that from me.”

  Now I am clueless as to what we are talking about. That happens often with me when I’m engaged in a conversation with a woman that has nothing to do with sex.

  “Don’t act innocent,” Marechal hisses.

  “I’m anything but innocent. But I don’t have any idea what you mean about your business. What is happening? Are you in some kind of trouble?”

  “I’ve never needed a man to come in and save me. I’m no damsel.”

  No, Marechal Durand definitely isn’t the passive princess type. She is a warrior. A woman it would take a calculated assault to break down. I much prefer that type of strength to a female in distress.

  “I would’ve covered the debts. I would’ve brought Durand back. I would’ve handled it all.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” I say.

  Marechal blinks at me as though she doesn’t believe my words. It would appear this strong woman has the weight of the world on her shoulders—at least the weight of acres of a vineyard, and a family that doesn’t seem to appreciate her load.

  I reach my hand out. Her breath catches on my thumb as I tilt her chin up. I lift her proud head until her eyes are gazing directly into mine. I know now that I’ll need to tug a little harder to bend her to my will.

  “Come, Marechal,” I command.

  Her lips part. I get a sneak peek at the rosé of the flesh there. Her full lips are plumper than a grape. I content myself with the knowledge that I’ll soon be sinking my teeth into them.

  “Come now, it’s time to rest.”

  Marechal’s lids droop, hiding the ripe plum of her dark irises. In another second, she is in my arms. I lift her form with ease as I walk out of the cellar.

  “Don’t worry, minou. I’ll take care of everything.”

  8

  Gaius

  “Where is she? Is she still here? Is she hurt? Did I hurt her?”

  I stand in the doorway as I watch Hadrian pull his bride close. Cari’s fangs are out and dripping even as her gaze is troubled. The bruising on her upper arms where Hadrian must have held her back is fast fading. There are rips in her sundress, exposing the chest of her honeyed skin, skin so much like her sister’s. Though my fangs don’t ache at the sight of my new sister-in-law’s bared flesh.

  “It’s all right,” Hadrian soothes, tucking Cari under his chin. There are scratches on his face and forearms, no doubt delivered by his newly-turned bride. His bruises are fading even faster than Cari’s, the struggle of a moment ago forgotten. “You didn’t get anywhere near her.”

  Cari buries her head at Hadrian’s heart. Just days ago, Hadrian clawed at his chest to feed a dying Cari the lifeblood from his heart. It’s the best way to turn a new vampire. It was the first and only time any of my brothers have done it.

  We all watched Domitia turn young boys, countless times. We never discussed it out loud, but silently we had all sworn never to make another of our kind. But that was because we’d only seen it done to enslave or gain power. We’d never seen it done for love.

  There is a pang in my chest as I watch the two of them together. I don’t understand the feeling. I’ve watched Hadrian with Domitia many times. Our sire enjoyed having the two of us inside her at the same time.

  I do not miss those ménages, mainly because the sexual escapades broke Hadrian a little each time she forced him into them. Which, of course, was why Domitia insisted on them. The demoness couldn’t get off if there wasn’t pain involved: preferably another’s pain.

  So no, I feel no love for my sire. More than anything, I want her out of my nightmares so whatever tightness I feel in my chest isn’t from thoughts of her.

  “I can’t believe I almost attacked my own sister,” Cari whimpers. “I smelled her blood and I couldn’t stop myself. If you hadn’t been there…”

  “Shhh,” Hadrian hushes her. “Gaius sent her off the property. She’s safe and sound.”

  “She’s not gone,” I say, pouring myself a glass of blood-tinged wine. “She’s in my bed.”

  Hadrian and Cari turn blazing eyes on me. Cari’s fangs elongate once more as her eyes dart frantically around the dining room. Hadrian’s fists clench as he glares at me.

  “I put her down for a nap.”

  “Why would you do that?” demands Hadrian.

  Why indeed? We have a few workers on the vineyard, shifters we use to work for us during the daylight hours. One of them could’ve driven Marechal home. But the thought of someone else touching her, the thought of her being beyond my grasp, made those same muscles clench in my chest.

  “You know Cari is in a fragile state. Why would you keep her sister here?”

  “I don’t know, brother.” I down the glass of sanguine wine; the iron and alcohol go straight to my head. “Why did you buy the Durand vineyard debts?”

  Hadrian’s fingers unclench. He jerks his head away from me, but not before I hear the curse under his breath.

  “You what?” Cari’s fangs flash again. “Hadrian, is this true? Did you do some sort of hostile takeover of my family’s business?”

  Hadrian takes a deep breath. He sinks his fang into his lower lip, as though he is mulling over the right words to say. Having known the man for centuries, I know that he is carefully crafting a lie. Having known the man for just a couple of weeks, it would appear his new bride is wise to his ways, as well.

  “You asshole,” Cari hisses. “You can boss me around in the bedroom. But if you want to try it in any other room, especially when it comes to my family, you’re gonna get a rude surprise. Especially once my sister wakes up.”

  I chuckle at that. I’ve been on the receiving end of Marechal Durand, the boss businesswoman. I know a weaker man would’ve cowered. That iron maiden attitude only serves to make my dick hard. I wanted to bend her over her office desk and lick her from her toes to her clit.

  “The vineyard was drowning
in debt,” says Hadrian. “Lucius Frangelico was about to purchase it.”

  I wasn’t aware of either of those two details. We have made peace with the vampire king, but I don’t want him sniffing anywhere near Marechal. I move from my post on the wall, coming to stand at Hadrian’s side.

  “Marechal’s going to lose her shit when she finds out,” says Cari.

  “She already has,” I say. “That’s what she was doing here.”

  Now it’s Cari who cringes. “Did she bite your head off?”

  “She tried.” I grin. “Luckily, she’s not the one with fangs.”

  Cari flashes me her fangs with a toothy grin. Her features are so like Marechal’s that the vision of a tight-bunned, stern-faced vampiress glaring down at me makes my dick weep with want.

  “Hadrian, you shouldn’t have gotten into my family’s business without consulting me,” says Cari. “I know the vineyard was in some trouble, but you should’ve let Marechal handle it. Marechal always handles it.”

  Something about that statement irks me. I think back to Marechal’s relaxed posture as she’d lain with her foot bound in a knot of rope. And then again when she’d come face to face with the suspension toys in the dungeon. For a woman who always handles everything, Marechal Durand desperately needs someone to take her in hand.

  “You’re already on her bastard list for running off and marrying me,” Cari says. “Now you’ve taken her business from her. You are not going to win brother-in-law of the year anytime this decade.”

  “Luckily, we have a lifetime,” says Hadrian.

  “But what are we going to do today?” Cari says. “She definitely hates you now.”

  “I’ll handle it,” I say.

  “You?” says Hadrian. “She already doesn’t like you.”

  I scoff at that. But then Cari nods in agreement.

  “Well, you are exactly the kind of man she dislikes,” says Cari.

  “Charming, well dressed, cultured?”

  “A ladies’ man who is now her boss,” says Cari. “Just know that if you try to change anything about the business she’s run for over a decade, she will make your life miserable.”

  “Why would I change anything? Your sister is brilliant at what she does.”

  I’ve been keeping track of the Durand Vineyards for decades now. Their signature wine is an elegant nod to the classic vintages. Though I’m not one for blends and hybrids, I can’t deny the innovations their vintners are making. This past week, I learned that the head vintner is Marechal.

  “Yeah, she’s brilliant, and she knows it.” Cari smiles proudly, her hunger all but forgotten. Then those Chianti-colored eyes of hers sparkle. “Hey, if you two get together, you can turn her and we can all be one big happy family.”

  My mouth goes slack. I might want to fuck Cari’s sister, but I don’t do relationships or monogamy. Hell, I am rarely willing to commit enough to actually stick my cock in a woman’s cunt. Down her throat? Sure, if she behaves. Between her tits? Yeah, if she’s lucky.

  But I’m not about to tell Cari that. Luckily, my brother comes to my aid.

  “That’s not going to happen,” says Hadrian. “Gaius never wears the same socks twice, much less keeps the same woman.”

  I want to protest. That isn’t entirely true. I’ve been playing at the club most nights this past week, and came home wearing yesterday’s socks at least twice.

  “We’ve talked about this,” Hadrian goes on. “If Marechal finds out what you’ve become, we’ll need to wipe her mind, like we did your brother. That didn’t go so well.”

  Arneis Durand was in the same accident that had nearly cost Cari her life. Hadrian saved him by giving him a taste of his healing blood. Then I wiped the man’s mind.

  I don’t want to tamper with Marechal’s mind. I like the fight in her. What I want is her submission. Now that I am her boss, I could have a taste of it.

  9

  Marechal

  I’m not usually a good sleeper. Dreams are always thin wisps to me. When I wake, I can never truly hold on to what I’d been dreaming about.

  Not so this time.

  I feel each braid of the rope against my ankles. The twines loop around my thighs, curling up over my torso and binding my hands to the Saint Andrew’s Cross at the center of the wine cellar. I hear the whisper of the flogger’s tresses as they are dragged on the floor. Each hum of the tails sends a shiver along my thighs that urges me to clench my ass.

  But I can’t move. I am bound, held still, and awaiting his command.

  The sound of his footfalls is a booming drumbeat in my ears as he steps onto the scene. His presence mutes the light of the glowing candles. Each flame leans towards him, drawn as though the wicks are the moths and he is fire.

  His jet black hair falls across his forehead, shading his dark gaze from me. His tongue snakes out of his mouth and licks at his lower lip. Again, I feel the need to clench. But this time it isn’t my ass that needs to grip at something.

  The channel between my legs is desperate for something to fill it. It’s a feeling that is foreign to me. I lost my virginity in high school. I can’t even remember the boy’s last name, or his face. It wasn’t memorable. Nor were any of the few times I had sex after that.

  Sex was simply a chore that came with having a boyfriend. When I realized that having a boyfriend didn’t serve my bottom line, I stopped the practice, and saw that I had no need for sex. It had never been memorable, anyway.

  But watching Gaius handle a flogger while I’m strapped and bound to a cross makes my lady bits sit up and pay attention. Even in a dream.

  As I’d felt when I was caught by the rope and he’d loomed over me, there is a weightlessness that settles over my captive shoulders. I feel free, even though I can’t escape. I can’t remember a single worry from my life.

  More than anything, I want to stay asleep, in this dream. The relief of hanging here, waiting for Gaius to make a move, is heaven.

  He lifts his gaze to my face. My back arches off the cross, my breasts strain to him, the nipples going harder than pebbles.

  His hand rises. The tails of the flogger murmur with a hum of excitement as the twirls shift in his hand.

  I need to press my thighs together but know that I will get no relief. I know that only his hands wielding that device will be the thing that does it. Which is strange. I have never had an orgasm before. I doubt any woman has ever had one. It’s a farce made up by the porn industry. If Meg Ryan can fake one on cue then it can’t be real.

  Still, it is nice to dream. It is nice to be aroused. It is nice to explore my secret fantasies in the comfort of my depraved mind. I have never let my curiosity about the world of BDSM be known to anyone.

  Well, except for one boyfriend. But when he’d tried to comply with my wishes and given me a light, chuckling swat on the butt, I dumped him the next day and never spoke of it again.

  Back in the wine cellar that was actually a sex dungeon, Gaius Serrano looked like he knew exactly how to use a flogger. He probably knew how to tie a woman to a cross, since he’d been so adept at unraveling me from the knot earlier.

  But this will only ever be a dream. A dream I can’t afford to keep having. There is too much work to do, and I have to get up and do it.

  The moment I open my eyes, all the pressures slam back into me. My hands aren’t bound, they are free to pick up the mantle left to me by my parents. My feet aren’t restricted, they can carry the load on my shoulders and get my family out of this latest mess.

  I know there are bills to deal with, a payroll total that I can’t meet, berries that need looking after, equipment that needs fixing, a brother who is unwell, a sister to find, and now an Italian family to wrestle my business back from.

  Is Gaius Italian? I’ve caught a lilting French accent every now and again. He certainly doesn’t know French well. The word for kitten is minette. So why does he keep calling me minou?

  Italian, French, or whatever, I’ll deal with him… Just a
s soon as I figure out where I am.

  It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. The first thing I notice is that I am not in my bed. I’m not in my room. The sheets I’m lying on are softer than a newly sprung grape leaf. I’m in a four-poster bed that looks like it grew from the roots of a tree. It smells of old oak and fresh earth.

  Not a single light is on in the room. It is lit by candles, and the wicks all lean towards one corner of the room. I know instinctively who is looming in the shadows.

  “Mr. Serrano?”

  I sit up in the bed, thankful that I am still clothed. The only thing that has been taken from me are my shoes. I see them sitting on the side table.

  “What am I doing here?” I demand.

  “You fell ill.” His voice is like honeyed wine: sweet on the way down, but the burn comes later in the throat. “I brought you inside to rest.”

  That doesn’t sound like me. I’ve never taken ill a day in my life. I’ve been far too busy.

  “You’ve been working yourself to the bone, Ms. Durand,” he says. “There’s no longer a need for that.”

  “And so it begins? Now that you’ve purchased my family’s business, you think you’ll tell me what to do?”

  Gaius’s grin spreads as he separates himself from the shadows. The flames catch on a flash of white teeth. My heartbeat kicks up. I feel like prey that’s been cornered, and am now being played with before the eating begins.

  “I’ve spoken with Hadrian. He purchased the vineyard’s debts as a wedding present to Cari. He has no interest in running the business or interfering in any way.”

  That should be good news. But the fist around my heart does not loosen. Instead, I feel more stress pressing down on my shoulders.

  “When it comes to winemaking, Ms. Durand, I know that you are the best. I would not deign to tell you how to run your vineyard.”

  He takes a step towards me. The sound of his heel impacting the hardwood of the floor is the same drumbeat from my dream.

  “In your labs, you will maintain complete control,” he continues.