Her Vampire Addiction (Midnight Doms Book 9) Page 2

  Then why are you still atoning? a tiny voice in the back of my mind asks me insistently.

  I’m not atoning for anything, I argue back. I just like to look out for people. The world is a dangerous place—I should know—and, especially in this day and age, there’s not enough kindness. Chivalry. There aren’t enough heroes.

  There was a time when women were regarded as the precious, sweet, fragile creatures they are. When they were treated differently. Now, they strut around believing they’re equal to men in every way. Certain they can handle themselves, regardless of what happens. I wish it were so, but all too often, they overestimate their abilities and someone has to step in and rescue them.

  It might as well be me.

  “Help!”

  Immediately I’m off my stool, tense, alert, my mind automatically triangulating the direction of the sound. It was faint but plaintive, easy enough to catch. Then I hear it again.

  “Help!”

  Help is never a safeword. Within moments, I’ve reached private play booth number three and yanked the curtain back. “What’s going on here?” I growl, immediately clocking the pretty blonde who’s wearing nothing but a thong and high heels, and Ethan, who has one hand around her throat and one of her nipples between his thumb and index finger. The woman looks terrified.

  “We’re playing, Maximus,” Ethan rasps. “Nothing to see here.”

  “Is that so?” I raise an eyebrow and address the woman directly. “Did you just call for help?”

  A mortal might not have noticed the way Ethan’s long fingers tightened ever so slightly around her slender pale throat. I’m not a mortal. The blonde remains silent but gives the tiniest nod of her head.

  “Playtime’s over, Ethan,” I tell him. “Let her go. Now.”

  We stare at each other in that inherently male challenge of aggression men have been exchanging since the beginning of time. Ethan licks his lips and his gaze returns to his captive.

  “I won’t ask you again,” I say.

  The blonde whimpers as he releases her nipple, but his other hand remains on her throat.

  “Sabina,” Ethan croons, “please tell this gentleman that you’re here of your own free will.”

  Her long, mascaraed eyelashes flutter as she fights to drag her gaze away from him and that’s when I realize: Ethan has her in his thrall. The fucker has compelled her, and even though she’s obviously fighting it, she’s no match. No human can ever completely resist a vampire’s thrall.

  “You son of a bitch,” I growl. “You stop that right now, or I swear I will kill you.” I can almost see the wheels turning in his head as he decides his next move. He knows I’d be happy to make good on my threat. Consent is a fluid thing in Club Toxic, but all vampires who enter are well aware that using their thrall to coerce humans into doing their bidding is not something that is ever taken lightly.

  With a pathetic huff, like a dog whose bone has been torn from its jaws, Ethan releases the girl’s throat. Her knees immediately give way and she sinks to the floor like a ragdoll. I don’t think, I just act, blurring to her side and catching her just before she hits the ground, well aware that Ethan will use that opportunity to escape.

  Sure enough, by the time I’m kneeling beside the blonde, cradling her in my arms, the fucker’s gone. No matter. I’ll deal with him later. Once Lucius hears of this, he’ll be happy to give me permission.

  The blonde is staring vacantly up at the ceiling, her eyes glazed, her waterfall of silky hair cascading over my arm. And even though my protective instinct is now in full swing, her expression is so like the one she’d be wearing if I’d pushed her to the edge of bliss, her skin is so soft and warm, and her pert breasts are pointing so deliciously to the sky that I can’t help but feel myself harden.

  Her scent is a tantalizing mixture of fear, fresh sweat, and expensive perfume. There’s also an underlying tinge of arousal, and I find myself wondering what the fuck Ethan did to get her to accompany him down here in the first place. Even more strangely, the thought of him giving her any kind of pleasure makes me madder than the knowledge that he hurt her.

  What had he called her? Sabina. A Roman name. Fascinating. “Sabina,” I say, resisting the urge to reach into her mind and wake her up. That would be hypocritical.

  She lets out a tiny moan, and my cock jerks in response. It’s been too long since I indulged my most primal urges, I tell myself. That’s why she’s having this effect on me. I like rescuing women but I don’t usually want to fuck them—at least, not this badly or this soon.

  “Sabina.” I’m using a firmer tone of voice now. “Wake up.” I’m impervious to the cold seeping through my suit pants as I kneel on the ground and cradle this half-naked woman, but I know the same can’t be said for her. The ground is leeching away more of her body heat by the second.

  When she still doesn’t respond, I let out a huff of annoyance. “Fine. Have it your way.”

  I’m a big guy, but even if I weren’t, I’d find her easy to lift. Being a vampire has some advantages. Scooping her up with one arm beneath her shoulders and the other beneath her knees, I stand and move over to the bench tucked in the corner of the private booth before sitting down and settling her in my lap. That’s better.

  She seems not to have registered that I’ve moved her. I let my gaze wander over her body, drinking in the slopes of her breasts, and the sharp way her torso dips in to a surprisingly slender waist which then curves out to broad, round hips. A diamond is winking in her belly button, and beneath the scrap of purple lace which people today seem to consider adequate underwear, I can make out the texture of her pubic hair. Her thighs are creamy, marred only by a tattoo of a lily on the left one.

  Gods, I’m hard. And I can’t sit here forever. For one thing, I’m on duty. And for another, if I wait much longer, the temptation will be too great and I’ll do something self-indulgent, like reach between those creamy thighs and bring her back to consciousness by making her come harder than she ever has in her life.

  The nipple Ethan pinched is a mite more swollen than the other and I have a sudden urge to taste it.

  This has to stop.

  “Sabina.” I give her a little shake, wondering whether she’s even aware that she has a Roman name. What the fuck did Ethan do to her just before he left? She was more conscious than this when I arrived on the scene.

  In the end, I realize I have no choice. I reach briefly into her mind—hating myself for having to do so—and jolt her awake.

  Her eyes snap open and she blinks several times before turning her dark blue gaze to me. Careful not to look directly into her huge pupils, I whisper gently, “You’re all right. You’re safe.”

  “What happened?” She bucks suddenly, trying to jerk herself out of my arms but I hold her easily.

  “Hush, little one. It’s all right. You’re in Club Toxic. You were attacked but you’re safe now. I’m a bouncer here.”

  “What?” She’s still blinking, then glances down at herself and I can all but hear the blood rushing to her pretty face when she realizes she’s missing her dress. “Let me go, you pervert!”

  “Hey!” I say in a no-nonsense tone. “There’s no need for that. I’ll let you go in a moment but first I need to make sure you’re all right.”

  She gives a little snort. “Sure. I’m fine. I’m lying practically naked in a complete stranger’s arms in what looks very much like a changing room, but other than that…”

  I bite back a grin. She has spirit. I like that. Still cradling her with one arm, I shrug awkwardly out of my suit jacket.

  “You don’t have to do that,” she says, once again struggling to get up.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “You don’t! Just let me up and I’ll put my dress back on.” She follows my pointed gaze to where her outfit lies shredded on the floor. “Oh.”

  “You don’t remember that happening?” I cover her with my jacket, a pang of regret shooting through me at the thought I’ll never see those pe
rt, pink little nipples again. What’s wrong with me? I see tits all the time. And hers are cute, but they’re not that special.

  “I don’t,” she says softly. “Thank you for this.” Drawing the jacket up to her pointy chin, she tries to meet my gaze and I make sure to look at the spot between her brows instead of directly into her eyes. Otherwise, I might be tempted to compel her to throw the jacket back off, spread those creamy thighs wide open for me, and—

  “You’re welcome. What’s the last thing you remember?”

  A little crease forms in her forehead as she thinks. “Going down a very long staircase. A shadowy man.”

  Her face is so expressive, I can all but see the thoughts as they form in her mind.

  “There is a BDSM club down here! And he… Ethan… he wanted to play but we didn’t talk first, didn’t negotiate, nothing.” She glances around the booth, almost as if she expects to see him standing in a corner. “Where is he, anyway?”

  “He won’t bother you again.” He won’t bother anyone again ever, if I have anything to do with it, but there’s no need to frighten her. She’s obviously confused enough.

  “What’s your name?”

  The question takes me by surprise. Instead of focusing all her attention on her current predicament, she’s asking about me. “Maximus,” I say.

  The corners of her full, pink lips quirk up. “Like a gladiator?”

  I was a centurion, actually, but I merely nod. This isn’t the first time I’ve had this conversation. “Something like that.”

  “I like it. I suppose everyone calls you Max, for short.”

  Unable to stop myself, I lower my voice, using the tone I reserve for wayward little sweetbloods. “Only once. Nobody ever dares to do it a second time.”

  A tiny shiver runs through her, and I’m surprised by how strongly she affects me. Then she visibly pulls herself together. “Well, Maximus, thanks very much for coming to my aid but I think I’d better be heading off home now. If you would kindly let me up…”

  “You may get up but you’re not going anywhere just yet,” I say firmly. “You’ve been through a bit of an ordeal.”

  “All the more reason to head home and get into my jammies,” she says, taking advantage of my brief inattention and slithering out of my arms before I can stop her. “A mug of hot chocolate and a good book, and I’ll be fine.”

  “Did you drive yourself here?” I watch, faintly amused, as she stands before me, wobbling slightly in those ridiculous shoes, clutching my suit jacket uncertainly to her chest.

  “I did. So?”

  “How does your head feel?” I counter, wondering why she’s being so damn stubborn.

  She blinks, and the hand not holding my coat comes up to touch her forehead. “A bit woozy. Must have been the wine. You’re right, I should probably wait a bit. I don’t suppose you guys serve coffee here?”

  “I’m sure I can organize some for you.” Not many of the patrons ask for coffee but some of the human staff members insist on having it available. I’ve acquired a bit of a taste for it, myself.

  “That would be great. Thank you. Um. I don’t suppose I could borrow this for a while?” At my raised eyebrow, she indicates my suit jacket. “I’ll bring it back tomorrow.”

  I rub my own forehead, wondering why she’s getting to me so much. “Sure.”

  She hesitates for a second, obviously trying to decide whether or not to turn around. I bite back another grin. “I’ve already seen it all, sweetheart,” I say.

  The flush staining her cheeks is delicious. “Oh,” she says in a small voice, whipping the jacket over her shoulders and shrugging her arms into the sleeves as fast as she can.

  “Don’t be ashamed. You have a stunning body.”

  Her blush deepens and I realize that, for the first time in a long time, I’m craving a specific person’s blood. Hers.

  “Thank you,” she whispers, pulling the grey coat tightly around herself. Even though she’s quite tall, it comes to mid-thigh, and the sleeves almost cover her hands completely. She looks like a child playing dress-up. “I’m Sabina, by the way.”

  “A Roman name,” I say. “Did you know that?”

  “I didn’t! What a coincidence!” She bends to pick up the remains of her tattered dress—giving me a tantalizing glimpse of full, creamy white buttocks—and frowns. “I guess I can toss this.”

  “I’m sorry about Ethan,” I say. “But if you barely knew him, what on earth possessed you to come down here with him?” I’m interested to hear what she says. While I don’t doubt that he lured her down by using his compelling ability, I wonder how much she remembers, and whether she’ll admit to anything else. She doesn’t disappoint me.

  “Curiosity.” She shrugs and then gazes down at her feet. “I heard there was a BDSM club down here. I wanted to see whether the rumors were true. And he seemed all right. A bit stiff.”

  I let out a bark of laughter. “That’s one way of putting it. Come on then, sweetheart, let’s go to the bar and I’ll see about getting you some coffee.” Worried that she’s still unsteady, I reach out to take her hand but she yanks it away.

  “It’s fine,” she says. “I’ll follow you.”

  Infuriating is the first word which comes to mind but I suppress a sigh. “If you don’t want me to touch you, I won’t, but I’m not letting you out of my sight. So you lead the way and I’ll be right behind you.”

  “I’m a grown woman!” Her eyes flash with something akin to annoyance. She’s certainly woken up from the groggy state she was in just a short while ago.

  Refusing to rise to her bait, I lift an eyebrow and direct a pointed glance at her chest. “I had noticed.”

  Her huff as she turns and shoves back the curtain is nothing short of adorable. Ignoring her reaction, I simply follow her as she wobble-stalks toward the bar.

  Sabina. I turn the name over in my mind, savoring it. And there was me thinking this would be yet another boring evening…

  3

  Sabina

  If there’s one thing I cannot stand, it’s being made to feel helpless. Vulnerable. Unable to look after myself. And if there’s one thing the incredibly attractive man behind me is doing, it’s making me feel just that. It’s infuriating.

  If it were up to me, I’d slink back up the stairs, sneak past the partygoers, and head straight to my car. Sure, I had a glass of wine, but that was quite some time ago now and I feel fine. Well… not fine, exactly, but definitely not inebriated.

  What the hell did that Ethan guy do to me, anyway?

  But this Maximus is as stubborn as a dog with a bone, and there’s no way I’ll be going anywhere while he’s watching me. Moreover, I feel kind of safe with him, so what harm will it do to stay just a little longer? After all, I was passed out in his lap, practically naked, and he didn’t take advantage, and I could really use a cup of coffee. My head feels so weird. Kind of buzzy but quiet at the same time. And there’s a definite gap in my memory. I remember flashes of coming down here with Ethan, but they’re more like slides in a reel than a cohesive movie.

  We reach the bar and I sink gratefully onto a nearby stool. My feet are killing me, and I vow never to wear these stupid heels again. A pretty Goth bartender casts a skeptical eye over my outfit and I only just refrain from rolling my eyes. After all, this is a kink club. There are people who are literally naked performing the most explicit sex acts just feet away. Maximus leans over my shoulder and I catch a whiff of expensive aftershave. The man smells almost as good as he looks. Damn him. I do not need to be rescued.

  “Two coffees, Alaya. Thanks, hon,” he murmurs to the girl.

  “Sure thing.” She smiles sweetly at him and bustles off.

  “Now, you turn to face me.” Oh god. He’s using that tone of voice again. That low, dominant tone which makes my knees turn to water and my heart skip a beat. He’s usually more soft-spoken, which only highlights the difference. “Atta girl.”

  I let him swivel the stool around until I
have my back to the rest of the club and all my attention is focused on him. He’s tall—well over six feet—and has the broad shoulders you’d expect in a bouncer. Now that I’m wearing his suit jacket, he’s left in a white shirt and a grey silk tie. It seems like very formal attire for a kink club but I remember the doormen outside also wearing suits. Maybe it’s a uniform of sorts. It’s a shame this evening deteriorated so fast and so badly. I really had been hoping for a good play session.

  For some reason, the only time my chattering brain goes quiet is when I lose myself in the sensations of pain and pleasure a good dominant can provide.

  “How are you feeling now?” he asks, his gaze fixed on my face. I feel strangely exposed and vulnerable under his assessing attention. I don’t like it.

  “Like I already said, I’m fine,” I tell him. It comes out more sharply than I had intended and I don’t miss the flicker of aggravation as it crosses his handsome features.

  “Your coffees, Maximus,” the girl behind the bar says, setting two mugs down and bustling away. I hadn’t realized we were right in the corner with even the closest people out of earshot.

  “Thanks,” he tells her, then returns his attention to me. His blue eyes are steely. “You should watch your tone,” he says in a growl. “If I hadn’t heard your cries for help and come to your rescue, right now you’d be—”

  He stops speaking abruptly and I get the distinct feeling he’d been about to say something he shouldn’t.

  “I’d be… what?” I press, genuinely curious now.

  “Never mind.” Rubbing an impatient hand over his closely cropped dark hair, he reaches behind himself, takes one of the mugs and hands it to me. “Drink up.”

  There’s something very strange about this whole situation. As the fogginess in my mind clears, I begin to feel more and more that this isn’t a typical BDSM club. There’s an underlying sense of danger I hadn’t noticed before. It’s in the air, and in the eyes of some of the people I passed. Overcome with curiosity, I swivel around on my stool and take a good look at my surroundings for the first time since entering the club.