Haunted Seductions

by Sahara Kelly

  HAUNTED SEDUCTIONS

  Sahara Kelly and S.L. Carpenter

  Copyright © 2019 Sahara Kelly and S.L. Carpenter

  Cover art © 2019 S.L. Carpenter for P & N Graphics

  Dedication

  We’d both like to dedicate this story to our spouses. They tolerate our weird ways and our extended phone time, and for that we are eternally grateful.

  Authors’ Note

  The “Ghost” orchid referred to in this story is a real flower that probably originated in South America long ago. Also called the “Frog” orchid, it blooms during the summer months, producing white flowers with two elongated petals—not unlike frog’s legs.

  Although it was discovered and officially named in 1844, we have taken liberties with the timing of that discovery, since it is likely this flower existed and thrived long before that date. The Ghost orchid is an epiphyte—a plant that derives its nutrients from the air, not the earth. Thus it grows as a small bundle of roots clinging to a convenient tree. When in flower, its white blossom hovers high above the ground and has been described as “dancing on moonlight” like the ghosts after which it is named.

  Unfortunately, it is found today only in South Florida’s Fakahatchee Strand (and possibly deep in the Everglades) and is on the endangered species list. Propagated by the giant sphinx moth—another Florida native—it is a treasure that may well be lost within a generation or two, since its growth in controlled environments has thus far proved unsuccessful.

  Originally published in 2005 as Haunting Love Alley, this book has been revised

  and updated for this edition.

  Chapter One

  Early 1800’s Louisiana

  “Baptiste?”

  She forced the word past lips that were swollen and stiff with her own blood.

  “I’m here, cherie.”

  And he was. A warm palm soothed her cheek, gently brushing away a lock of her hair and then returning with a cool cloth to ease her pain.

  “I’m glad.” Her homme de nuit was with her. Man of the night. As dark as the shadows that hid the bayou, with a voice deeper than the inky black waters, Baptiste certainly lived up to the name she’d bestowed upon him.

  “Shhh…” He wiped her face again, careful not to touch the cuts or bruises and somehow she managed a smile. How she relished his caress, and how familiar to her it was now. As familiar as his scent, his smile, the length of his arousal and the height of her passion as he thrust himself to the hilt inside her.

  He was her deepest desire, the father of her child and the only man in this world she had ever loved—would ever love. With one small exception. “Baptiste, is he all right?”

  “Etienne?” The question needed no answer. “Yes, he’ll soon be well away from here. Heading north with Louise. We will go north too, my love, and we’ll meet them in Virginia. It is all arranged. As soon as you are healed.”

  She drew in a breath, wincing as knives of pain sliced through her chest. “It’s a wonderful dream, Baptiste. A wonderful dream.”

  She felt the light splash of tears on her face as he bent closer. “Shhh.” He stilled her once more with the lightest brush of his lips across hers.

  “I will not be going north.” She struggled to speak. “I will be with you in spirit, my love, but not in this body.”

  “Ahhh, Claudine…”

  She opened her eyes with difficulty, the swelling forcing her to squint to make out his face. “Don’t cry, my love. My only love.” A sigh crossed her lips. “Baptiste. Promise me something…” Her voice firmed a little as she found a reserve of inner strength. There was a task she must accomplish before surrendering to her fate.

  “Anything, cherie. Name it.”

  “Do not avenge me, please?” She held her breath as silence fell in the room. “I mean it, Baptiste. No gris-gris. No Voudou punishment. Monsieur Franklin has powerful friends and much influence. Too much influence. He would wreak havoc on my girls, my servants…then he’d hunt down you and Etienne… I could not stand it, my love.”

  “Ahh, cherie, what you ask, it is so difficult.”

  Claudine could hear the pain in his voice. “I know. But you must promise me. It is all I ask.” She groped for his hand. “That, and your love. Forever.”

  His hand clasped hers, and she took comfort from the warmth of his skin. She always had. One look into his liquid black eyes and she had been lost to this man, willingly giving her body and her heart to him knowing he would cherish her forever.

  As the madam of an elegantly isolated house, Claudine Lavalieres had made her own rules. The Lavalieres place had become known to one and all as “Love Alley” in a simple corruption of the French pronunciation and the function of the estate.

  Her choice of lovers was hers alone, as was her right. She cared deeply for her girls, and kept as clean and respectable a house of ill repute as possible in these days of disease and negligently disreputable personal behaviors. Drunkenness was not acceptable, violence against her girls resulted in immediate removal from the premises and her prices were high, but not out of keeping with the current market. She’d rather charge a little more for her girls and ensure clients who could pay. It was better to be on the higher-priced end of this market. It deterred those Claudine considered unwelcome guests.

  All had been smooth sailing until Lloyd Franklin had arrived at Love Alley. His first few visits had been unremarkable, although his eyes began to follow Claudine with a somewhat unnerving intensity. She’d ignored it, preferring to believe he simply admired her features.

  But it was more and within a few months he made his desires plain. He wanted to fuck Claudine. And he considered that it was his right to do so, since he could afford any price she named. His determination to take the madam to bed had turned sour when he’d been refused, resulting in his anger, his obsession with her and his discovery of her secret “family”—Baptiste and their son, Etienne.

  Franklin’s fury exploded, but Claudine knew none of this when she’d admitted him to Love Alley earlier that evening. He was a wealthy member of Louisiana society, and she saw no reason to refuse him admittance. His money was as good as anybody else’s, and if he found a girl he really liked, then all well and good. He would return regularly, as did several other gentlemen from the area around Bayou Chanson.

  No, she’d not guessed at the depth of Franklin’s fury—he’d hidden it well until they were alone. And then…

  She shuddered as she pushed the images away from her mind. He’d beaten her, raped her then beaten her again. There had been no mercy and she’d smelled the fumes of brandy beneath his minty tongue.

  Alcohol and thwarted desire had driven him to the brink, and the knowledge of her affair with Baptiste had pushed Lloyd Franklin over the edge of sanity. He’d sated his lusts within her body, and sated his fury with his fists.

  Then he’d left, calmly flicking a few coins on the bedside table.

  And Claudine had been forced to endure. One cry, one scream of pain and the servants would have come running—along with Baptiste. The result would have been instant death for Franklin. Of that, Claudine had no doubt.

  And life would have ended for Baptiste too. Inevitably he would have been hunted down and slaughtered. Along with their son, Etienne.

  Their passion was forbidden, their love an abomination in the eyes of Louisiana.

  For Baptiste was a black slave.

  And Claudine had given him her heart.

  *~~*~~*

  Baptiste choked back his grief as he held his love and watched her life ebb slowly away.

  How could he promise not to avenge her? She was his goddess, his woman, his life, the mother of his child—how could he possibly allow her killer
to walk free? He did not understand how a man could do this to a woman and still call himself a man.

  He ached to put his strong hands around Lloyd Franklin’s neck and choke the life out of him, slowly and inexorably. To watch the awareness in his eyes as he stared into Baptiste’s face, shared Baptiste’s pain and sorrow.

  And yet he knew he would promise her this. Franklin’s punishment would come at the hands of the Lord—or somebody else. Just not him. Because he would stand by his word.

  Because he loved her beyond reason, beyond sanity. Because his life had been nothing before she entered it, and other than his son, there would be little to care for after she departed.

  “I love you, chère. More than words can express.” His hand lay dark against the pale whiteness of her shoulder, the bruises and blood an obscene slash of color that had no place on her perfect body.

  She managed another smile, her green eyes glinting through the swollen folds of her eyelids. “I know. And I love you. I gave you my heart when we first loved, Baptiste. I have never regretted it.”

  “I promise, on our love, that I shall not avenge you, Claudine, though my heart breaks to make this vow.” The words were dragged from his throat as his grief poured through him.

  She eased down slightly into her pillows. “Thank you, mon amour. Thank you.”

  For a second or two Baptiste’s vision blurred as tears flooded his eyes and he thought his woman shimmered oddly in his arms. Then his focus returned and he knew the end was near. Her injuries were severe, too severe for even his magic to heal.

  “Give me your mouth, Baptiste. I have a long journey ahead of me. I would start it with your lips on me…on our special place…” She was weakening, yet strong enough to ask for his kiss.

  He leaned to her and gently pressed his lips to hers, then moved, easing her tattered gown from her body. Her breasts were bruised, but there was one spot, just beneath her left nipple, where her heart beat and where Baptiste now ran his tongue softly against the thready pulse. The skin was silk to his touch, unmarred by violence, a pure place of passion, desire and everlasting emotions.

  “Ahhh.” She sighed, her chest rising shallowly as her breath rattled awkwardly in her throat.

  Baptiste’s agony swept through him, a fiery eruption of pain. He reached for his amulet, a small locket containing an even smaller bag of mysteries. He had never taken it off in his entire life.

  He would now.

  Calling on his Voudou gods all the way up to Maitresse Erzulie, along with every incantation and blessing he knew, Baptiste opened the locket and held the tiny bag to the lips of Claudine Lavalieres as she fought for the last moments of her life.

  “Breathe your desire, mon ange. Tell your passion to the ancient gods, and I promise you our love will never ever die. I won’t lose you to something as simple as death. We will be together again. Always.” The need in him burned, the room around him faded and all he could see was a strange light shining on Claudine’s face as she moved slightly toward his hand.

  “I love you, Baptiste. I will love…you…forev…”

  The light flared brilliantly, blinding Baptiste. He blinked, surprised by the heat that the amulet was radiating as he held it to Claudine’s lips.

  As it faded, he realized that Claudine’s soul was fading with it. Her body was still, her pulse gone, her breasts unmoving.

  He closed the locket and folded it into her cooling hand, cupping it with his own warm ones. “Your spirit lives on, chère. Our love lives on. Forever.”

  There was no answer, and in truth Baptiste expected none. He knew. His soul cried out its grief and found an answering cry boiling deep in his lungs.

  Baptiste, runaway slave from Haiti, servant of Claudine Lavalieres, father of her child and Papa Lo to the local Voudou community, opened his mouth wide and roared out a desolate scream of mourning.

  *~~*~~*

  Two hundred years into the future, a woman shuddered awake, the sound of his cry ringing in her ears. There were tears on her cheeks as she sobbed, the loss of the woman in her dream too real to be dismissed.

  “Fucking hell.” Through her grief, Cory Lavalle once again cursed her gift. If only her psychic skills worked as well for her clients as it did in her dreams.

  Determinedly, she blew her nose and shrugged away the images of a dying woman and her devastated lover. Who they were or why she kept dreaming about them, she had no frickin’ idea.

  And it was getting on her damn nerves.

  Chapter Two

  Present day

  Her long soft hair tangled between his fingers as her lips wrapped around his cock. The constant pull of his flesh in her mouth begged for him to let go. She was merciless.

  He groaned loud and all the nerves in his body electrified and jolted through his bones to his spine. She released him from the suction of her mouth.

  All his muscles loosened and he lay back on the fluffy satin bedspread, closing his eyes on a thought. Mmm…my fantasies are made of times like these when an exotic woman shows pleasure beyond compare. Peeking through slitted eyelids he saw long black hair dangling over her face and brushing over his stomach and thighs like the softest paintbrush. It tickled and caressed all at once. The addition of her licking his burning flesh only added to the extreme bliss he was feeling.

  Louis was naked, aroused and crossing the line of having his soul ripped from his body in a passionate seduction of the mind and spirit.

  Swirling in the comfort of his passion, he felt a gentle tug around his wrist. With a sigh he smiled then filled his lungs with the fragrance of the woman’s body as she hovered above his head. He could feel the heat radiate from her skin followed by the wetness of her pussy on his abdomen as she straddled his body.

  He felt another tug on his other wrist. He cleared his mind and realized she’d strapped his wrists to the brass headboard. Before he could open his eyes, she lowered a sheet of silk over his forehead, blinding him.

  Dropping a gentle kiss onto the thin fabric, she whispered with their lips touching, “Just relax. Every fantasy has its price.”

  Louis jerked his arms forward. The headboard held him firm and he was blind to what she was doing. All he could do was lie there and wait. He couldn’t scream or fight it. He was seduced, taken advantage of and now helpless.

  Louis licked his now dry lips. The silk remained over his head and his panting and struggling only got him hotter and more uncomfortable.

  He couldn’t hear anything in the room except a scratching sound. The light could barely penetrate the silk but he could see there was brightness around him.

  After a grating rasp echoed around his ears, he recognized the sound. It was wooden matches being struck.

  Oh shit, she’s going to burn my house down and leave me in it.

  He felt a finger press against his lips. He was to remain silent. He wanted to ask what she was doing—what she wanted? He was dumbfounded and stripped of all his barriers and inhibitions.

  Shaking his head, Louis thought he might be able to get the silk off his head. Then it suddenly became dark. Only the dim remnants of lights could be seen through the fabric.

  Oh fuck. Now what?

  Louis felt the bed move. Then he felt smooth skin brushing against his tied arms. Inhaling, he knew what was above him. She squatted down, resting her wet pussy on the silk fabric above his face. Her arms held her weight just inches from him and the headboard creaked as she lowered herself.

  He pushed his tongue out into the fabric and along her wet slit. The scent and taste of a woman were his weakness. How a woman’s body smelled during arousal was the simplest and best aphrodisiac and his cock sprang back to life. She was playing with him.

  Louis could hear the muffled moans as he continued to flick his tongue at her. Like eating pussy through panties, the fabric became the only barrier between them. He could taste her juices as they soaked through.

  With a deep, lustful moan, he felt her lower more and squish the lips of her puss
y against his face as she wiggled her tightened ass.

  Louis was in heaven but he was fighting the hell his cock felt because he was aroused beyond any boundaries and limits of need. As she slid her pussy from his face, the silk stuck to her wet folds. Like peeling a blanket off a bed, Louis could suddenly see what was around the room. There were candles on every table, mantle and along the dresser. They reflected in the mirror dazzling him, and he could barely see the woman standing at the dresser and pouring something into her hand. She looked into the mirror as his vision cleared and he saw her stare back at him.

  She turned, moving toward him, her hair hanging long and dark along her body. The space between her legs glistened from the flickering light of the candles as they shone on the wetness welling from her sex.

  She held her hand above his head and Louis could smell the sweet fragrance of wine.

  She lowered it to his chest and let a few drops fall from her palm onto his skin. The cool wine almost sizzled against the heat of his flesh. She dribbled a few more drops onto his stomach and then poured the rest of her handful onto his throbbing cock. The splash trickled between his legs, cooling the inferno in his balls.

  Jerking hard on the ropes, Louis said nothing, knowing his eyes were saying everything that needed to be said.

  She just kept her hair hanging over her face and the glittering of the whites of her eyes pierced through the darkness and into Louis’s mind.

  Moving to the foot of the bed, she reached over to the dresser and grabbed the bottle of wine, then stepped onto the bed and stood over Louis. Admiration flooded him as he looked up to the statuesque frame above him. Her eyes twinkled through the darkness. She threw her head back, exposing her breasts and tilted the wine bottle onto her chest letting the red liquid slowly trickle down her breasts and between her legs. The wet trails down her thighs and calves were a sweet blend of the wine and her pussy and offered a bounty Louis ached to taste.