by Selena Blake
Table of Contents
Bound to the Vampire
About Bound to the Vampire
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Thank You
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Copyright
Bound to the Vampire
BY
SELENA BLAKE
ABOUT BOUND TO THE VAMPIRE
Three hundred years ago their covens arranged for them to wed, hoping to end the infighting. He was strong willed and she was hot headed. Their love was instantaneous and passionate. But the night before their wedding, Valencia heard him utter the words that would shatter her heart and send her running.
Now, all these years later, they come face to face at a masked ball at Mystic Isle. Her memory is long and she'll never forget his betrayal…no matter how much her body might crave his touch now.
He'll have his work cut out for him where she's concerned. He has four days left and his thirst for her is undeniable. Luckily, he has in his possession the one thing she's always wanted but never been able to possess.
DEDICATION
To my awesome fans. You guys supported this series, loved the characters and the world. We waited patiently for Valencia’s story. Here you go. And as always, thank you for your support.
Prologue
Valencia Fabelle clung to Dameon LeBeau’s shoulders, not ready for the night to end. Obviously sensing her distress, he ran a soothing hand down her spine.
“Two days, chérie. Just two more days and you will be mine forever.”
Valencia buried her face against his neck, relishing the words, the husky sound of his voice, his strength. He was everything she’d ever wanted in a man, a lover, a mate. Strong on the outside, gentle inside, protective and caring. The fact that they were equally matched in look, wealth and passion made their union perfect.
She hadn’t expected to fall for the man her coven had betrothed her to but fallen she had. Hard, completely, wholly to the point she couldn’t stand being separated from him for a single moment. But it was time to part again and she would spend the next two days thinking of him and their future together.
She angled her lips toward his ear so he’d get the full effect of her words.
“I’m already yours. I always have been. I always will be.”
A tremor ran through his body and into hers. She closed her eyes, memorizing the feel of his hips pressed against her and the way his fingers tightened around her waist. No matter how old she got, she wanted to remember these precious moments where they were just Valencia and Dameon. Lovers.
In love.
He was her everything. Her breath, her blood, her salvation, her heart.
“I don’t want to let you go,” he whispered into the crook of her neck and his arms tightened around her back like unbreakable leather stirrups.
“So don’t. I can stay here until the wedding.”
His body’s response indicated that he liked her suggestion. “What am I going to do with you, Val-dear? You make it so I cannot think straight.”
His honest words seduced her and she couldn’t help but fall further, deeper in love. “That makes two of us.”
She could stay locked like this forever, away from the world. Their little sphere was safe, quiet, and theirs alone. Here the world and their covens didn’t intrude. Didn’t even know that they’d been silently meeting over the last few months.
Their betrothal had come as a shock and their first meeting, anything but smooth. But now, now she couldn’t wait to become his wife. To seal their fates publicly as they already had privately.
He sighed and eased back. As his arms loosened, she wanted to protest but she didn’t. Dameon would never respect a clinging, silly sort of woman. Even though that’s exactly what he’d turned her into.
The fire he’d once admired as backbone and strength had turned into a raging passion, a desire so deep she didn’t think she’d ever surface again.
“Two days,” he murmured.
He cupped her face between his hands and stared hard. There was a wealth of emotion in his blue gaze: love, longing, pride, happiness, impatience. She traced a thumb along his jaw and tucked her other hand against his heart.
“Two days and I will finally sink my fangs into your beautiful neck and taste you.”
Her lips parted on a sigh and he groaned. A delicious shiver raced over her skin just before he claimed her lips. Even though he was only a few years older, he was a master at seduction. Taking everything she had to give and stealing more.
As usual, time stood still as he drank from her lips. Giving, taking until they were both short of breath and moving against each other like waves on a shore. Damn the restrictive dress. She needed more, needed him, skin against skin.
They could solve this.
She trailed her lips down his jaw to the hollow of his throat. “Let’s run away. We can get married in the chapel before the sun comes up.”
He groaned again.
“You are to be the death of me, chérie.”
“Then we will die together.” She kissed the edge of his mouth, awaiting his answer. Fully expecting him to take her hand and rush off to the chapel, to make them one.
“What about our families?”
The wedding was planned. The guests had arrived. The union would take place as planned, she knew. Their marriage was to end the fighting, the death, and the chaos.
“We get married again as planned.”
He tipped his forehead against hers. “You tempt me beyond words.”
“So follow through. Let’s—”
She quieted at his soft curse. Pulling back another fraction she saw what set him off. They’d taken longer than they’d meant to, to say good-bye. The sun was rising.
He jerked her against his body, slanted a firm kiss across her lips and then stepped away. Even as he was retreating, he made sure she didn’t fall. That was the kind of man he was; careful even as he was being a little reckless.
As his hand dropped away from her cheek, he blew her a kiss. “Until tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” she repeated softly and they both flashed.
Chapter One
Present day, Mystic Isle
“Hello lady wife.”
Valencia Fabelle froze atop her crystal encrusted Manolo Blahniks. She would recognize that voice till she took her last breath. Two hundred eighty-nine years and ten thousand miles did nothing to lessen its potency.
Her body flushed just as it always had at the deep voice, the richness that was finer than the finest caviar, more delicious than the sweetest Swiss chocolate. Her lungs seized, her heartbeat accelerated and her nipples tightened beneath the silk bodice.
Evidently the others in her small group felt the effects of the honeyed sound as well. Or perhaps they were more shocked at his words. Valencia had always, as far as they knew, been single and celibate.
If only they knew the truth.
Their conversation ceased and Valencia felt their gaze shift from the man at her back to her. It was the opening night gala for her latest Shimmer store and she’d planned this party to the last detail. Special lights twinkled overhead, Avery stood atop a black platform with the most special pendant in Valencia’s collection around her neck. In the corner, the string quartet played a perfect mixture of classics and modern instrumentals.
She’d anticipated everything…except him.
Izzy’s blonde eyebrows were high above her lioness mask, Coco’s goblet halted halfway to her lips and Ceara’s jaw was dropped open so she looked like a fish on a platter.
Licking her lips ever so slightly, Valencia dug deep for the grace she’d relied on for centuries. A vampiress gives nothing away. Never let them see you quiver, her late mother’s voice whispered through her mind.
She kept her expression carefully neutral as she pivoted atop the seven centimeter heels. The train of her skirt twisted around her legs like a tourniquet. And there he was, tall, lean, and more handsome than she remembered.
And arrogant enough to show up to a Masquerade sans mask.
Dameon LeBeau.
A few centimeters taller than her, even in her heels, refined with hair just this side of jet black and eyes so blue they could seduce the sun. Between his dark brows and the perfect sensuous slant of his lips, she’d always been able to read his expressions. Right up until the night he broke her heart into a billion tiny shards.
He had that same blank, yet carefully constructed facade in place now. Shoulders back with an air of supreme wealth and cool aloofness, he studied her. But there was something else lurking in those eyes that had once stared deep into hers as they’d made love over and over.
Challenge.
A half dozen responses sprang to her lips as she stared him down. Though she’d imagined this reunion hundreds of time, she chose her words carefully.
‘I’m not your wife’ wouldn’t do.
Nice try.
After all this time…
One has to get married before one can be a wife.
No. None of those would put him in his place either.
If I’m you’re wife, where’s my ring had a nice, well, ring to it. But Dameon was wealthy enough to buy any ring in her store right here and now. And it would be just like him to make a spectacle of her.
No, she settled for the words that she knew would damage his pride just as he’d destroyed hers.
“I’m sorry. Do I know you?”
There was the briefest flicker of surprise and dare she hope, pain, in his eyes and then he gave her the most wicked smile she’d ever seen. Wide, full, bright white teeth with a flash of fang, he reminded her of the rakish man who’d stolen her heart and claimed her soul beneath a harvest moon. The effect now was no less staggering.
Her toes curled in her shoes and she briefly forgot that she was supposed to hate him.
He took a single step closer, bringing a whiff of expensive cologne with him that made her tingle inside.
“Ahh, you slay me, ma chérie.” He held a hand over his chest where his heart should have been, if he’d had one.
Though his gaze didn’t stray from her face and he kept his hands to himself, her body reacted. Of its own will, her shoulders swayed forward ever so slightly, a delicious heat swept up from the small of her back, snaking over her shoulders before finally lacing around her neck. For the first time in a long time she felt breathless…and aroused.
Annoyed at her body’s obvious interest, she straightened her spine and stared him down through her peacock mask.
Around them, the masquerade continued as if her whole world hadn’t just tipped off its axis. But in reality, it felt more like the earth’s rotation had come to a full stop, perhaps even started spinning in reverse. That would explain why a thousand memories suddenly flooded her mind, yanking her into the past, a past where she’d almost been a wife. In that past she’d given her heart away and in the present, the people dancing and laughing around her hadn’t a clue. Most of them didn’t even notice the showdown in the middle of everything.
She held a hand to her cleavage, just beneath the diamond infinity necklace and cocked her head to the side to show off the column of her throat. With her short hair and delicate platinum tassel earrings shimmying against her skin, he’d no doubt remember the many times he’d kissed her there. And his promise to drink from her on their wedding night.
“The problem is,” she said in her huskiest tone, “I've been ma chérie to so many tall, dark and handsome types, I'm afraid it's hard for me to remember who is who. But one has to be married before one can be a wife.” Truth be told, she’d felt like his wife in every sense of the word. “You must have me mistaken for someone else.”
Once again his brows pinched just enough to let her know that the sharp end of her words had hit their mark. But the wound healed quickly and the corner of his lips tugged upward into a sexy smirk.
So this was a game for him. He prodded, she sliced back. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
He let his gaze travel down the length of her necklace, down the plunging neckline of her royal blue silk dress. If she wasn’t mistaken, his gaze lingered on each of the delicate peacock plums that hugged the bodice. He didn’t stop there. No, he was quickly on to her hips and finally to her toes.
She silently thanked her foresight to wear the elaborate peacock costume because right now she didn’t feel quite so naked under his thorough survey. She was ashamed to admit she liked hiding behind the blue and green feathered mask especially when those brilliant blue eyes returned to her face.
“We both know that's not true, Val-dear.” He strung the last two words together so they were one; an endearment just for her he’d told her so long ago. She’d believed him, had fallen for him and his sack of lies until there’d been nothing left of her heart.
Even as he frowned, he was the most handsome man she'd ever seen. Tall, lean, with broad shoulders and narrow hips, he was born to wear a suit, looked to-die-for in a tuxedo.
He leaned closer and another swirl of his cologne made her weak in the knees. The corner of his mouth hitched up a little higher.
Mon Dieu he smelled fantastic. Her breath halted halfway up her throat and she despised that his nearness affected her so. He should be dead to her. He was dead to her. He had nailed his coffin shut years ago.
But somehow he was back with a challenge. What had he said? We both know that's not true…
Yes, well…
“We do?” she asked, her voice frosty, trying to focus on the here and now, to remember all the reasons she should not, could not trust him again.
Even though her new store was full of people, his nearness was far too intimate for her liking. It was all there in his eyes, the tilt of his head, the way he leaned into her space as if he owned it. Owned her.
The room was dark thanks to the black panels on the walls and ceiling. She glanced at the L shaped counter that ran the length of the side and back of the store. Her employees were busy showing and selling pieces. The pale marble floor sparkled in the candlelight. Her guests flowed freely in and out of the wide hallways of the Mystic Isle hotel. But the main attraction was the jewelry.
Well, she’d intended for the main attraction to be the jewelry, but right now she felt like the bug beneath a microscope thanks to Dameon’s poorly timed declaration. Indeed she could feel her friends sneaking covert glances as they attempted to carry on with their conversation. And Latham was watching them from his spot in the south doorway.
“I would recognize those lips anywhere,” he whispered and the sound was so seductive she got a little lightheaded.
“You would, would you?”
He continued to hold a hand over his heart and she noted how trim and polished his nails were. He’d always sailed past the nines and dressed to the tens. Only the best for Dameon LeBeau.
“I’ve missed you, Val-dear.” For a full second she thought he sounded almost sincere. But there was nothing sincere about him. She should have known how ruthless he was, but he’d hid that side of himself as he’d wooed her.
Dear Lord, she’d let herself be wooed. She’d willingly fallen under his spell. But that was then. This was now.
“V?”
Ceara Blackwell's voice was soft and quizzical. Thank gods for her friends and their impeccable timing. She half turned back to the circle and off
ered them a tight smile.
“Aren't you going to introduce us to your friend?” Coco Jeffres asked; her blue eyes bright against her dark skin. She watched them with unabashed curiosity.
Even though they all wore masks she noticed the way they were looking Dameon up and down trying to figure out who the devil he was.
She lifted her chin again and took a fortifying breath, preparing for her old life to collide with her new one.
“This is Monsieur LeBeau. He was just leaving.”
Dameon made a tsking sound and slid a possessive hand to the small of her back. Despite the layer of silk between them, she felt his touch like a brand. It went deeper than skin straight to the heart of her, reminding her body and mind just how he’d possessed her. How easily he could own her again in all the ways that mattered.
Coco’s mate, Grayson West, must have noticed her stiffen beneath Dameon's palm because the big werewolf took a menacing step forward. Valencia appreciated the warrior’s protectiveness.
“Still the same bossy Valencia,” Dameon murmured.
“If the lady said you're leaving then you're leaving,” Grayson ground out.
“It's all right, Grayson,” Valencia said, not wanting to cause another scene. “If you'll excuse us...”
Her coven mates and their men nodded…slowly, cautiously. Valencia’s heart swelled at their concern. She’d never needed anyone’s protection. Except for the night before her wedding; her heart had needed protecting from the man with his hand at her back.
Valencia was halfway across the floor, weaving between dancing couples when Dameon clasped her upper arm and pulled her to a stop.
“Dance with me.”
Chapter Two
Dameon’s request was soft, like the sheerest silk, but potent as an anvil. If Valencia hadn’t already been stopped by his touch, his tantalizing tone would have done the trick.
Once upon a time, he'd made requests, spoken to her like he treasured her above all else. His touch hadn't just been gentle, it'd been reverent.