by Claudy Conn
CONTENTS
Copyright
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
About Claudy
Copyright Page
Can’t Stop—Smoke
By Claudy Conn at Smashwords
http://www.claudyconn.com
Copyright © 2019 by Claudy Conn
Edited by: Alicia Carmical
Cover Artist: Dawn Sullivan
All rights reserved
Published in the United States of America
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Names, characters, and events depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.
Prologue:
THE FIRST TIME I SAW him, I stood in a dark corner of the lower galley of the paranormal club known as Hazard.
The dance floor overflowed with every kind of supernatural that resided in New Orleans. The pulse was erotic. Everyone seemed bent on letting loose and having a good time.
And then, he stepped out of a black cloud.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away as I watched him walk up to the massive bar, with a swagger all his own. He surveyed the surroundings of the infamous club. His glance went wide, and then high to the upper galley where all the tables and chairs were taken.
Besides freezing me in my tracks with his holy good gosh, good looks, I noticed he didn’t smile. His expression seemed…confident, maybe even arrogant. He behaved as though he owned the world jazzing all around him.
He actually did. He owned Hazard, and maybe, some of the patrons as well.
I had heard a great deal about him. His name was Grail Wilder, though the supernaturals called him, “The Dark Lord”. The talk was that he was the most dangerous supernatural in all of Louisiana, but especially here in his home base of New Orleans.
I had heard very few paranormals ever tried to cross him and those that did…if they lived, regretted that decision.
I looked him over again. I was intrigued by the height and breadth of the man, by the black layered waves of hair that fell to his shoulders, by his mannerisms. Something about the way he moved sent shivers through me.
I had come to this place—this club that catered to any and all paranormals out of sheer boredom.
I wasn’t bored anymore.
I tried not to stare at him and picked up my shot of vodka and drank it down.
A bushy-haired guy who barely hid the fact that he was a werewolf sidled over to me and said, “Hey blondie, can I buy you another?”
“No, but thanks,” I told him. I didn’t come to mingle. I didn’t come to dance. I came to Hazard to have a look at the Dark Lord. I had heard enough to make me curious.
He shrugged and said, “Maybe another time.”
He was nice. I don’t do nice, and for that matter, I don’t do bad either. Sadly, I haven’t done anyone in a very long time. I have my reasons for being a loner, but I like to be kind when I can, so I said, “May…be.”
He grinned and I glanced back at the man I had been inquisitive enough to come to check out and was taken aback to find that the Dark Lord’s bright blue eyes were on me. Wait, not just looking my way, but looking me over. I shivered again.
Our gazes locked and against my will, that shiver turned into a tingle that shook my nerves with anticipation. Anticipation? Oh yeah, because he was walking right toward me.
A sexy redheaded giving off the scent of a witch, in a sequenced spaghetti strapped blue dress, stepped in front of him. She put her hand to the V opening of his black silk shirt which opened and neatly displaying a series of tattoos over his wide and tantalizing chest.
The redhead who was a good four inches taller than I, got onto the toes of her silver four inch high heels, put her arms around his neck and kissed him full on the mouth.
I was surprised to see that he didn’t join her in that kiss. Instead, he picked her up by her trim waist and set her aside and continued coming at me.
All my girly parts were on high alert. He was hot. Damn oh damn, I was hot for him. This was wrong, all wrong. I didn’t come here for a…connection. I don’t get involved and sex, well, for me, that is getting involved. Aw hell. Here he was, and I felt myself turn into a burning mess of desire.
He towered over me. He would because though I am just five-five standing on bare feet, he looked to be six ft. six.
His scent engulfed me. It made me take a longer sniff. What was that? Not brimstone, and yet, something burning, alluring and masculine. Yes, I picked up on sage and all at once it came to me in a rush and I knew, it was the scent of campfire wood, maybe pine, slowly burning. Oh, but his scent wound its way around my body and all I wanted to do was lean in and keep sniffing.
He moved with easy grace for such a large man, but his manner was predatory. I got a mental picture of myself in his embrace and the fantasy made my knees feel like jello. Sinking into his arms would be so comfortable…?
That made me smirk to myself. Comfort? He looked like he could give a whole lotta comfort to a woman. I couldn’t stop myself from breathing in his aura as he got closer because his scent—aura, whatever, was intoxicating.
“Finally,” he said quietly. “I have been waiting for you, Ms. Smokie McGuire.”
How did he know my name? What did he mean, he had been waiting for me?
“Have you?” I answered at my coolest though I didn’t feel cool, not one bit.
He smiled and it occurred to me that he was so very sophisticated. He purposely and slowly looked me over from the top of my blonde head to my little silver heels and offered, “I’m Grail Wilder.” He cocked his head towards the crowded dance floor. “I would love for you to dance with me before we sit and talk.”
Holy shit! Dance with him? Sit and talk? Sorcerers of his reputation never bothered with creatures like myself.
You see, I’m a vampire with only two years under my belt.
I was turned against my will by my best friend, Sharon, because she didn’t want to see me die. I would have died. A powerful vampire had selected me for a snack, and that snack ended up being a seven course dinner.
Sharon got to me in time, just before I took my last breath. I didn’t want to be a vampire. I begged her to let me die, but she wouldn’t. She said she couldn’t.
My best friend, a born-vampire, said it was all her fault that he had gone after me. She told me in that moment where I was barely hanging on to my life that he had wanted to hurt her, by killing me.
My college days with her flashed through my mind. My life swept through me in fast motion. I told her no. I didn’t want to be a vampire, even to live…
I had been too weak to stop her.
She cried and her tears spilled over on me, “Forgive me, Smoke. I just can’t let you die.”
I saw her slit her wrist. She poured her blood down my throat. I choked on it and tried to spit it out, but in that moment, I died.
As I said, Sharon is
a born vampires and they are both powerful and rare. They are also revered, feared, and envied by made vampires, especially ancient ones. Sharon’s blood, the blood of a born vamp, well it gave me lots of advantages.
Sharon trained me through those first weeks of bloodlust. She taught me what I needed to know and how to survive without killing for blood. She had never turned a human before. It was against her ethics. So we were both surprised to discover that I inherited through our blood link, many of her powers.
I would have been dead if she hadn’t turned me. In spite of that fact, I hadn’t wanted to enter the supernatural world. So I kept to myself. I didn’t want to be a vamp, powerful or not. Vamps are bloodsuckers and now I was one of them—sorta.
But…not dying was in the end, a good thing, so I forgave her.
There are perks to being a vampire, like being able to eat as much chocolate as I like without gaining a pound. Yeah, Hollywood has it wrong. Vampires can eat. There too, being one of the undead I have although very pale skin, it is silky soft. My eyes which used to be a nice enough shade of green when I was a human are now glittering emerald pools. Took me a time to get used to controlling what my eyes can do to humans. I don’t want to compel them. I don’t drink from live sources. I don’t need to feed very often and when I do, blood bags in the fridge work just fine. I keep myself muted all of the time because I don’t want to draw attention to my enhancements. I have speed and strength, and as born vampires can walk in daylight, apparently that is yet another perk from Sharon. So yeah, not so bad being a vamp.
As I had drifted off with my thoughts and the determination not to dance with Grail Wilder, I found his hand sliding down my arm to regain my attention.
“Where did you go, Ms. Smoke?” he asked.
“Oh…just remember how…I ended up here. But, no…I don’t wish to dance, thank you,” I said with resolution.
The Dark Lord had my hand. Could he tell he was sending a series of mind-blowing tingles through my body?
He tugged at my hand, but miraculously, I resisted. I was certain if I danced with him, it would turn out to be more. He had the look of a male on the hunt. I didn’t want to be his prey. I didn’t want to get involved. I had come here just to watch.
Wilder stopped and eyed me, “It is just a dance, Smoke…I promise.”
“I…don’t think so,” I told him. “I get…er danger signals near you and I believe in following my instincts.”
“I won’t ask you…not tonight at any rate to give me more than a dance,” he said and just like that I was in his arms. Totally up against his hard body, moving in a way that was sexually suggestive and brought to life a need in me I haven’t felt in a very long time.
I noticed couples sliding well away from us as we moved, although we moved almost in place.
I have to say, being in his arms was heart-stopping. I mean, honestly enthralling. Something about his touch erased my inhibitions and made me want to end my sexual abstention and fuck the hell out of him.
No, no, who just thought that? Not I…no, I didn’t, couldn’t think like that.
I tried to regain my common sense. I have never been the kind of woman who just falls for a pretty face and a hard body.
Yet, here I was, falling.
He held me so close, I couldn’t breathe and the truth was, I wasn’t trying. We glided along the dance floor as a unit and his nearness made reasonable thought impossible. Something primal had sudden been born inside of me and wanted out.
The beat was hard, and grinding, taking the music through me with erotic rhythm. His arousal was evident against my belly and even through our clothes, turned me into lust-filled hungry woman. Damn, but everything about him called on something needy inside of me.
His hand was on my bare back and I was all too aware of his touch on my flesh. The connection sent a flurry of uncommon desire and all I could think was ‘fuck him—fuck him now’.
I never have thought, felt like this. I haven’t been interested in sex since I was turned. Not that I was that interested before I was turned. Sharon used to call me a late-bloomer.
As his fingers sent ripples of feral desire through me and tingles over my spine, I cursed myself for wearing the cocktail dress with the open back. Why had I done that? Had some instinct whispered I would meet the Dark Lord tonight? Was something else going on here like…fate? That is another thing. I don’t believe we fall into things because of pre-destiny. I believe we make our own fate and hell, seemed like I was making mine this night.
I was too aroused by his touch. Holy shit, I was in trouble. I had thoughts about unzipping his black silk pants…and…
No. Get control Smokie, get control.
When Sharon had first turned me, she had been shocked that I had no lusty inclinations. She said the newly turned always did. Now, I was shocked by all the primal lust rushing through my body. Maybe she was right and I was a late bloomer?
Grail’s touch was experienced, gentle, and burned through my flesh. He was an expert with those strong long fingers of his which lightly moved over my back. I wondered if he had put a spell on me.
“Have you put a…?” I started to ask.
He interrupted, “A spell?” He shook his head. “I don’t use spells to get a woman onto the dance floor.” His hand moved to my hip and I looked up at his handsome face. He was smiling and those blues of his were bedroom lit, low and inviting…oh no, not going there!
His smile was mesmerizing. No I don’t suppose he needed a spell to ever get a woman to bed anytime he wanted.
I couldn’t speak and even swallowing was difficult, but I needed easy conversation, so I finally squeaked out, “Grail? Like in Holy Grail?”
“Something like that,” he answered without smiling.
His answer surprised me. “Oh wow, you must have been teased in school.”
“I didn’t go to your average school…at least, not human school and no one teased me in the paranormal school I attended.”
I digested this and was still trying to imagine him as a young boy in a supernatural school when he broke into my thoughts and startled me once again.
“I saw you last week, Smokie…when you saved that child from the rabid vamp. I was impressed.”
“Oh?” He saw me?
“Vampires are usually too self-involved to care about humans, but you used your vampire speed without concern for yourself and did a number on one of your own kind.”
I looked away from his intense scrutiny. “That vamp wasn’t what I consider one of my kind. I’m pretty much a loner. I don’t hang with anyone, especially other vamps. The creepo one, who was after the boy, drinks from live sources and he was going to drain a child. A child!”
“Ah yes, I suspected that you don’t drink from live sources. After all you were turned by Sharon.”
“You know Sharon? Is she a friend of yours?” I couldn’t see Sharon being friends with the Sorcerer they called the Dark Lord—the one that was accepted as the King of the Dark supernaturals of New Orleans. But then, I didn’t think I would end up dancing with said, Dark Lord, this evening.
“Know her, yes. Friends? Not exactly,” he said evasively. “How long have you known her?”
What was going on here? Why was he asking me all these questions? What did he want?
Suddenly, I knew I had to escape. “I have to go.” I broke away from him right there on the dance floor and ran towards the exit.
I didn’t look back, yet I know he watched me go. He wouldn’t follow, would he? Nah. That wouldn’t be something the Dark Lord would do, would it?
Vamp speed took me onto the street and halfway home. I stopped to make certain he wasn’t behind me. When I turned back for home, I jumped and squeaked out a scream that filled the still night air.
The Dark Lord stood right in front of me, in his black silk shirt and black silk pants, his arms crossed at his broad hard chest. He looked…amused. Better than angry, was my first thought.
“We weren’t done ta
lking, Ms. McGuire,” the Dark Lord said as he advanced on me.
~ One ~
“OKAY…YOU ARE OUT OF line following and startling the hell out of me. I mean, what is up with that? Are you some kind of warlock-wizard stalker?”
“Not a warlock, and a bit more than a wizard, but when I have a prey in my sights, yes, you could call me ‘some kind of stalker’,” he answered and his tone was damned glib.
“Well, listen to me, ‘some kind of stalker’, just because you are the New Orleans Big and Bad, when it comes to me, you just can’t do whatever you want,” I told him as I folded my arms across my chest. Could he zap me into oblivion? Dying was relative. Living forever, so far, a little lonely and not all it was cracked up to be.
He smiled and said, “Actually, that’s right. As the Big and Bad, as you called me, I can do pretty much anything I want, and you are…er…just now, you are only a vamp, and a young one at that.”
“Even so, not with me, no how, no way. And what do you mean, ‘just now’,” I bluffed robustly. I am good at bluffing.
He sighed and it was a drawn out sound, one that held some exasperation. His blue eyes were bright as he gave me a cajoling look and said, “Come Smokie, let’s sit and be comfortable.”
“Sit and be comfortable? Where?” I shouldn’t have asked, but, he had surprised me.
The next thing I knew, I was wrapped up in his arms, ensconced in a black cloud where I could see only him, feel only him and poof we were moving through space and I imagine, even time. Holy shit, but he was powerful, and his arms wrapped around me was driving me crazy.
A moment later, we were in a huge, fashionable industrial styled living room. I took a moment to get my bearings and marched to a window.
The Garden District? He had a home in one of the most exclusive areas of New Orleans! Well sure, he had the money…but who expects the Dark Lord to have a place anywhere but in or around the French District?
I looked back into the huge loft sized room and wondered if I could use my vamp speed to get away. He had already out-paced me when I left his club. So, yeah, he was faster than I am. Probably not a good idea to try and run just yet. Maybe it would be easier to just hear him out and then take my leave?