Ensnared: A Vampire Blood Courtesans Romance

by Rebecca Rivard

  He shrugged. “That is the price I pay. But I have no complaints. I chose this life.”

  “Why?”

  His gaze turned inward. “Who knows? I was young. Like you, I’d lost all my family, although with them it was a war. The soldiers came and they killed everyone. Only I survived, because I was in another town that day. I left, became a traveler, and one day a vampire saw me—a count. He wanted me for my body at first, but then as time passed, he came to depend on me and eventually he made me his heir. I became lord of our clan after he was staked by one of our own people.”

  He looked at me. “But would I do it again? Most days, I believe I would, oui. But some days”—he shook his head—“I recall all that I’ve lost and wonder if it was worth it.”

  My heart squeezed. I cupped his face. “I’ll never forget you, Remy. Never. I swear.”

  “Non?”

  But he allowed me to draw him down. We kissed, and then his body was on mine, pressing me to the mattress. We stopped speaking then, but the conversation continued.

  Here, touch me here.

  Yes, like that.

  Perfect…

  Then he muttered, “I can’t help myself. I have to drink from you.”

  “Please. I like it.”

  He muttered something that sounded like ‘foolish human,’ then pinned me to the mattress and sank his fangs into my neck.

  Pleasure whipped through me. My breath sobbed out. Remy thrust into me, hard and fast, his body angled so that with each stroke, he took me higher.

  I lifted my hips to him and whimpered incoherently. “So good…” Because it was, each time better than the last.

  “Take it, Star. Take me.” Remy gave a hard suck that I felt from my head to my toes, matched by an equally hard thrust of his cock.

  I arched my back and cried out his name as I came in the most powerful orgasm I’d ever had.

  “Mon coeur…my heart…” Remy slowed, allowing me to wring every last drop of sensation until I relaxed. He lifted his head from my throat and kissed me, keeping up that slow rhythm until my body tensed again.

  My head moved from side to side. “It’s too much.”

  “No, it isn’t.” He flipped me on my stomach and brought his hand between us, teasing me with long, sure fingers.

  “How can you know?” My breath hitched. “Oh, God…that’s it…don’t stop, please don’t stop.” I lifted my bottom to him.

  “No,” he said, “I won’t. Now come for me again, Star.”

  His fingers played with me. I shook my head against the mattress but he kept it up, his fingers gentle but relentless, until I was up on my hands and knees, and begging him to take me harder.

  He muttered something harsh, grabbed my hips and slammed into me until I came a second time in a long, drawn-out climax that seemed to go on forever, Remy right behind me.

  He stilled and hung limply over me a minute, then pressed a kiss to my spine. “Thank you,” he murmured before rolling onto his back and drawing me into his arms.

  “Sure. Anytime.” I let out a contented sigh and pressed a kiss to the side of his jaw.

  “Sleep.” He stroked my hair. “Sleep.”

  I nodded and closed my eyes. As I fell asleep, it occurred to me that Remy was stronger than my father in every way: emotionally, physically, mentally.

  But unlike with my father, I wasn’t the least bit afraid of Remy.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN: Remy

  The guilt had returned ten-fold. But I was experiencing another, even more unfamiliar sensation…the urge to ease someone else’s pain.

  The first step was to find Tommy Salazar. Before I fell asleep that morning, I set my best men to hunting Salazar down. Their orders were to bring him to me the moment they found him.

  “Alive?” the man in charge asked.

  I hesitated, then reluctantly said, “Oui. But do whatever is necessary to get his cooperation.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  I ended the call. Tommy Salazar would come willingly—or they would break his bones, one by one, until he agreed. It didn’t matter to me, because by the time I was through with him, the bastard would wish he’d never been born. I would keep my promise to Star, but Salazar was going to pay for every mark he’d ever made on his daughter.

  In the meantime, I took a long look at myself and wondered if I was much better. After all, I’d trapped Star into being my courtesan. Yes, I treated her like a princess, but I knew damn well she’d never have signed the contract if she hadn’t thought she had no choice.

  A better man would let her go.

  But I’d never pretended to be a good man.

  The hell of it was, it wasn’t just lust. I liked the woman—her sass, her wry wit, the way she wasn’t afraid of me like most humans. I’d never smiled so much as I had these past few days.

  I toyed with the idea of helping her career—from what I’d seen, she was a talented artist, and I’d mentored other artists in the past. Perhaps when our thirty days were up, I’d set her up with her own studio.

  But why let her go at all?

  For once, I wasn’t growing bored with a courtesan almost as soon as I had her. Perhaps I should extend the thirty days to sixty—or even more?

  But I didn’t ask—not yet. Because I wasn’t sure she would agree. Most of my courtesans had begged to stay, both for the money and the sex. With Star, though, I couldn’t be sure. You didn’t cage a woman like her, even if the cage was made of gold and lined with the softest velvet.

  Meanwhile, Star was mine, and I vowed to do everything in my power to keep her happy. We took a long walk each evening, and I forced myself to feed less—no more than twice per day. I ordered regular meals for her and made sure she ate them. When I discovered she’d never had a massage, I arranged for a couples massage in our apartment—although that ended with me ordering the therapist out of the room and bending Star over the table to take her.

  A week passed. The two of us fell into a rhythm of staying up most of the night and sleeping most of the day, although she usually fell asleep before me and then woke a few hours before I did. I used my free time at night to tend to my business empire, and Malik reported that Star used her time during the day to sketch and read, and work out in my private gym.

  At the beginning of the second week, Charles Ricker, a local vampire, sent me an invitation to the opening of a show at his art gallery.

  “How would you like to go to a show at the Ricker Gallery on Thursday?” I handed Star the postcard with the invitation. “It’s called ‘Illumination.’”

  The card contained a personal message from Charles saying he’d be “honored” if I attended. Star’s eyes rounded as she read it. “You know Charles Ricker?”

  I nodded. “I’ve bought a number of pieces from him over the years. If you like, I’ll introduce you.”

  “Oh I’d like—but what am I going to wear?” She rushed into the hall to rifle through the clothes I’d bought her.

  I quirked a brow and followed her. Up until now, Star had spent most of her time in jeans, unless I specifically requested she dress for dinner. But apparently meeting the owner of the Ricker Gallery rated higher on the apparel scale.

  She frowned at me over her shoulder. “You could help, you know. I hate to admit it, but you have better taste than me.”

  “I would be delighted.” I considered the choices, then took out a sleeveless sheath of black lace over a cream slip. “This.” It was one of my favorites, but she had yet to wear it.

  She held it up to her body and gave a decisive nod. “Perfect. Thanks.”

  Later that day, as she closeted herself with the stylist I’d arranged to do her hair and makeup, I waited impatiently to see what emerged.

  How…odd. I was actually feeling anticipation.

  I examined the feeling. In the seven hundred-plus years since I’d been turned, I’d pretty much seen it all. But this little human awakened long-dormant feelings in me.

  The two women emerged from
the bathroom. The stylist murmured goodbye and saw herself out.

  I barely noticed, my gaze on Star.

  “Mais tu es belle,” I breathed.

  She was almost unrecognizable as the waif I’d first seen on a Baltimore stoop. Her black hair had been cut and styled into a sleek wave that curved under her chin, hiding the mark where I fed from her, and the stylist had done something that made her dark green eyes shadowy, mysterious.

  And I’d been right about the black lace sheath. It fitted her like a second skin, showing off every sexy curve.

  My fangs lengthened.

  Star smoothed her palms over the skirt. “You like it? It’s not too much?”

  “Not at all, my dear. The dress is…perfect.”

  She glanced at my face. My fangs were fully elongated, my mouth slightly open to accommodate them, and my cock was already half hard.

  Her lips curved in a small, secret smile. “Merci, Monsieur de la Lune.”

  “Come here.” I held out my hand. She moved forward and I drew her into my arms. “I could take you right here,” I said, running my hands down her back to her lush ass and squeezing. “But I won’t. It would be a pity to tamper with such beauty.”

  I bent her over my arm and gave her a long, sensuous kiss, then reluctantly set her from me.

  She blinked up at me, her expression dazed. “Remy—”

  “Later, ma mie.” I gave her a last soft kiss and then reached into my pocket. “I believe I have something to go with the dress.”

  I opened my hand to show the gold collar that I’d had flown in from Paris: five hammered medallions linked by a delicate chain. On the center medallion, I’d had the jeweler inscribe a shooting star.

  She sucked in a breath. “Oh my God. I love it.” She touched the shooting star wonderingly. “You must’ve had it made just for me.”

  “Something to remember me by.” I’d ordered the necklace the morning after we’d gone to the restaurant. Because Star had promised never to forget me, and for once, I wanted that to be true.

  She fingered the necklace. “Oh, I’ll remember you, Remy,” she said.

  My heart cracked a bit at that—or whatever passed for a heart in a vampire as old and cold as me.

  To cover my confusion, I made a circling motion with my finger. “Turn around and I’ll put it on you.”

  I arranged the collar around her throat and closed the clasp. “There.” Snaking an arm around her waist, I pressed a kiss to her neck. My still-prominent fangs broke the skin. Twin droplets of blood welled and I muttered an apology.

  Star merely raised an arm and pulled me closer. “It’s too much,” she said. “I shouldn’t keep it.”

  “Why the hell not?” I growled. “I can afford it.”

  I lapped the sweet-salty droplets from her neck. The scent of her went straight to my cock. I pressed myself against her soft round ass, tempted to say the hell with it and jerk up her skirt, take her right there against the wall.

  Her grasp on my head tightened. “I shouldn’t,” she repeated, “but try and take it back and I’ll break your effing fingers.”

  I gave a bark of laughter and then released her. I wanted her badly, but not like this. I wanted to take my time with her—and besides, it would be a shame to muss her when she looked so beautiful.

  I gave her a courtly bow. “After you, ma chérie.”

  The Ricker Art Gallery occupied a prime location just north of the Inner Harbor in Mount Vernon. I recalled when Mount Vernon had been home to wealthy industrialists who’d built the large, beautiful stone mansions that studded the neighborhood. What, I wondered, would those brash, self-made men have thought of their expensive homes being turned into restaurants, art galleries and shops? Some of them would’ve been horrified, but I suspected at least a few of them would’ve approved—they were businessmen, after all.

  By the time we arrived at the gallery, people were spilling out the doors. I handed Star out of the limo and ushered her to the door. The crowd automatically parted for us. Even when humans don’t realize they’re in the presence of a vampire, they tend to give my kind a wide berth, recognizing us for the predators we are.

  Inside was a mix of collectors, local artists and others I recognized from the local art scene. I spotted the critics for the Baltimore Sun and the Washington Post, deep in conversation in front of a work made up of a grid of tiny LED lights.

  My pupils narrowed to pinpoints. All the works were made of lights of some kind, the cumulative effect so bright it hurt my eyes.

  As I put on a pair of dark sunglasses, I noticed three vampires from Charles’s coven eyeing me from across the room. I nodded at them but stayed with Star. My rank was far above theirs. They wouldn’t approach me unless I gave them leave, and I was damned if I was going to introduce them to Star.

  Meanwhile, my companion looked around with big eyes. I set a proprietary hand on her lower back and smiled down at her. She was so adorable sometimes.

  “Would you like a glass of wine? Or champagne, perhaps?”

  “Champagne, please.”

  I took two glasses from a nearby waiter and handed one to Star. As we strolled around the gallery, I kept her close. The vampires weren’t the only men in the room appreciating how she filled out the lacy little dress. My fangs lengthened again, but this time in warning. I forced them to recede.

  Star didn’t even notice; she was too busy eyeing the art.

  “I wonder how he did that?” she muttered, and then on the next piece, “What do you think she means here?”

  Her enthusiasm sparked mine. We stopped in front of a neon tube twisted in an endless blue loop and debated whether it represented infinity or light itself—or both.

  We agreed on that piece, but on the next one, we took opposite sides. She threw up her hands and told me I was out of my mind.

  I grinned down at her. “Say that again,” I murmured next to her ear, “and I’ll show you how crazy I can be.”

  A waitress approached and I traded Star’s empty champagne glass for a full one. She took a sip and closed her eyes in pleasure. “Wow, that’s good. I don’t think I’ve ever had champagne before—not real champagne, anyway.”

  “My lord.” It was Charles Ricker. “I’m so glad you stopped by.”

  “Ricker.” I inclined my head. “The pleasure is mine.”

  Ricker was a lean blond with short hair and hungry silver eyes. His gaze raked over Star and settled on her neck. “And who’s your little friend?”

  My lip curled. Young vampires—Ricker had been turned less than twenty years ago—could be so obvious it was embarrassing.

  Ricker glanced at me and gulped at whatever he saw in my face. Good—he should’ve known better than to slaver over my woman.

  Meanwhile, Star inched closer to me. I put an arm around her shoulders, disinclined to share her, but I’d promised.

  “This is Star,” I told him. “Star Salazar. Remember her name—she’s a talented artist. You’ll be hearing more from her.”

  A blush touched Star’s cheeks. “I’m not so sure about that.”

  Ricker was staring at the pretty color on her cheeks. It was like waving a red flag before a bull. My fangs pricked my lips again, and all I wanted was to drag my little courtesan somewhere private and taste the champagne bubbling in her veins.

  Come to think of it, I wasn’t all that much better than Ricker.

  I growled at the young vampire and he dragged his gaze back to me. “What do you think of the show?”

  “It’s most interesting,” I replied. “We’re both enjoying it.”

  “It’s freaking awesome,” Star interjected. “This is the next wave. I wouldn’t be surprised if it sells out tonight.”

  Naturally, Ricker loved hearing that, and the two of them fell into a discussion of the nearest work which ended with him pressing a third glass of champagne on her and then inviting her to return another day for a private viewing.

  “Anytime,” he added with a heated look at
her throat.

  Star glanced at me. I sensed her uneasiness at agreeing to a private anything with Charles. Smart woman.

  “Thank you, Charles.” I pulled her a little closer. “We’d be happy to return for a private viewing.”

  The other vampire’s face fell, but he was too much of a businessman to upset a major collector. “Of course, my lord. Have Malik contact my assistant and set up an appointment.”

  “I will.” With that, I steered Star out of the gallery and to the limo, where my driver and Malik were waiting to take us back to the hotel.

  I’d been patient long enough. I pushed the button that lowered the privacy screen between us and the front seat, and pulled Star onto my lap.

  “Damn Charles Ricker. And damn that crowd.” I buried my face in her neck as I dragged up her skirt. “I couldn’t wait to have you alone.”

  “Yeah?” Her head fell back against my shoulder. “Thank you for taking me, though. It was freaking awesome.” She giggled. “I already said that, didn’t I?”

  “Oui. But now I have need of you.” I nudged the necklace aside and sucked the tender spot above her collar bone as I slid my fingers into her panties. “Here”—I stroked her hot, moist slit—“and here.” I nipped her collar bone.

  “Right here in the limo?” Her tone was interested.

  “Malik knows better than to disturb us.”

  “I’ll tell you a secret.” She slid her fingers into my hair and pulled me closer to whisper in my ear. “That champagne? It went right to my head.”

  “Then you won’t mind if I have a taste.”

  She waved an airy hand. “Be my guest.”

  That was all the invitation I needed.

  * * *

  The call from Paris came the following afternoon. I had just woken up when my phone buzzed.

  I glanced at the screen. It was from one of my top people in France—my third in command.

  “Oui?”

  He informed me that all hell had broken out in Paris, with vampires attacking other vampires.

  Worse, my second, a vampire named Germain, was part of it.

  I’d have to go home before I lost half my clan.