Devereux continued to stare down at the paper.
“Well?” Elliott asked.
“Yes, yes. Very well. I am going.” Devereux rose from the booth, and walked toward a supply closet next to the bar. He looked back over his shoulder at Laurence and Elliott, who waved enthusiastically and made adolescent hand gestures. He shook his head and let himself into the closet. Why the hell not? How bad could it be?
***
“He’s really going to be pissed off at us, you know,” Laurence said, mentally signaling one of the women who’d turned to watch Devereux’s departure. Since his master was no longer there to protect, the guard had wandered off. “Lucky for us Devereux is too polite to read our thoughts. I don’t think I could block anything from him if he truly wanted to know.” A petite, pink-haired woman hurried up to the booth. Laurence opened his arms, pulled her onto his lap and licked her neck.
“Well,” Elliott patted the seat next to him and a voluptuous blonde scooted in. “Jung said it would be better for Devereux to be angry than depressed. He’s our friend. We have to do something.” He turned the woman’s face so he could lock eyes with her, then her head dropped back against the seat. He sank his fangs into her neck and drank.
“I suppose.” Laurence lifted his guest’s wrist, gently pushed his incisors through her skin and sucked. After a few seconds, he raised his blood-covered mouth. “Carl’s usually right about these things. But you’ve got to swear that we’ll never tell Devereux we knew what the women planned for him. He’d never trust us again. I’d rather have him believe we’re idiots.”
“Yeah,” Elliott mumbled against the blonde’s skin. He retracted his fangs and barked out a laugh. “That’s a no-brainer.”
Date #1
At the stroke of midnight, Devereux thought himself to the designated meeting place for his first rendezvous: the ruins of a castle in Northern England. He recognized the place and smiled. He’d been there many times before for pagan rituals and vampire celebrations, but not for at least a century. Everything looked the same as the last time he’d been there, with perhaps a bit more overgrowth.
A dense forest surrounded the ruins, which provided extra privacy and quiet. Add to that the waning moon, and the environment was perfect for clandestine activities.
Devereux strolled around the perimeter, appreciating the silence, looking for signs of the presence of his first date. Since he couldn’t detect the energy signature unique to vampire brains, he assumed he’d arrived first. He leaned against a tall stone that used to be part of the castle’s chapel, attuned his keen vision to the dark landscape and waited, recalling some of the more memorable nights he’d spent at this place.
As he rummaged through his memories, he became more and more enthused about the possibilities for the evening. Maybe it was time to have some fun. He chuckled, thinking that there were quite a few women associated with these ruins he’d be pleased to see again.
First among them was Belinda, the beautiful harpist with whom he’d shared many a sensuous Beltane celebration. He closed his eyes and recalled her full, rosy-nippled br**sts bouncing as she rode him energetically. Or Celeste, the gorgeous seamstress who gave new meaning to measuring one for clothing. He felt a sensory rush as he remembered her nimble fingers stroking every inch of his body. Then there was the delightful Orlene, and her uninhibited — and vocal — enjoyment of sex. His smile widened. Together, they’d rewritten the book on erotic pleasure.
Oh, yes, he thought, his body stirring in anticipation, he’d have to show his appreciation to Laurence and Elliott for this brilliant idea. He wondered why he’d resisted his carnal urges for so long.
A noise, like the cracking of a branch underfoot, drew his attention to the nearby clump of trees, but as soon as he turned his head to investigate, feminine laughter sounded on his other side. “Devereux, my sweet. It never used to be so easy to sneak up on you. I hope all your reactions aren’t so slow.”
He recognized the voice immediately and his stomach tightened. Oh, no—
Maeve.
“Yes, my darling — after all these centuries, your favorite goddess has returned.”
Unaccustomed to someone being able to read his thoughts so easily, he slammed down even more protective barriers around his consciousness, hoping that might afford him at least a modicum of personal privacy. Not that anything he did would really keep someone as powerful as Maeve from doing whatever she wanted. As he well remembered, nothing could keep her from her painful agenda.
Maeve laughed and glided toward him. “Well, now. I do appreciate that you’ve become stronger in my absence, but what is this sudden anxiety, my dear? We both know it isn’t me you’re afraid of.”
She was right about that. Maeve really was a goddess, in every way: a supernatural creature with powers that dwarfed anything a mere vampire could contemplate. The problem wasn’t her taking away his willforce. It was him surrendering it.
She looked exactly the same: breathtakingly beautiful, very tall, with hip-length dark auburn hair, silver-flecked green eyes and a lush, curvaceous body, which was fully displayed in her see-through robe. Maeve was the most potent goddess still in existence, the only immortal on earth powerful enough to control him. He had no choice but to do whatever she wanted. And because she’d never been human, that could be scary territory.
The last time they’d been together, he’d barely escaped with his life. Or his unlife. Already he could feel his self-control slipping away as his body became aroused by her essence.
“I was not expecting you, Maeve.” He stalled for time as she undulated toward him, trying to figure out how to postpone the inevitable. His useless heart pounded without his conscious decision to allow it to beat, a side-effect of being near Maeve. It reminded him of being human and experiencing terror, centuries ago. “How did Laurence and Elliott get in touch with you?”
Did they betray me on purpose? How could they? They know the story.
She gave an evil, gorgeous grin, her eyes sparkling wickedly, and read his mind. “They didn’t realize it was me they were talking to. I disguised myself and pretended to be that tedious Elizabeth woman you had an affair with. The one who went berserk as a result of being turned and killed all those young girls so she could bathe in their blood. I hear you spent a couple of years trying to bring her back from the edge of madness.”
Devereux tried to shut out her voice — to distract himself, to stop himself from being pulled into her web — by mentally counting the coffins stored in the basement of The Crypt. He barely made it to twenty before his effort failed. Her words took on a life and a shape of their own, caressing his ni**les from a distance. He groaned, his body tingling with need.
“Oh, my.” She batted her long eyelashes and licked her full lips. “I see you’ve started without me. Anyway, your friends were very excited about setting you up with that obnoxious cow. They seemed to think you needed help finding women. They were so pitifully eager to give you a good time that it was easy to manipulate them.” She snapped her fingers. “Bathory! That’s her name. I didn’t see any reason to let them spoil my surprise so I kept them in the dark.” She stepped close and rubbed herself against him. “Besides, you have been so naughty, avoiding me.” She retreated a few inches and he felt the tingle that let him know she was studying him with her supernatural senses. Her aroma wafted on the breeze and he groaned again. She smelled like lavender with a cinnamon edge, which was her natural fragrance. Impossible to resist. At least for him.
He made another valiant effort to regain control of himself, which took more strength than he possessed. “You know why I avoid you, Maeve. When you are near, I have no will of my own. I become your slave, and I do not want that.” A willing slave, but a slave nonetheless. Already his erection strained against the zipper of his pants. His hands moving of their own accord, he unbuttoned his jacket and dropped it on the ground.
“Oh,” she ran her hands over her br**sts, “but I do. I’ve rarely encountered anyone who could please me as you do. But let me ease your mind. I will be here for only a brief time. After we give each other unimaginable ecstasy, I will set you free. For now.”
Entranced by watching her touch herself, but expecting her usual deception, he frowned. “Why would you do that?” He knew he shouldn’t give her any ideas, but he couldn’t believe she was being so reasonable. Without thinking, he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. “I always had to escape before. What is different about this time?” Who was he fooling? He hadn’t escaped so much as she’d temporarily lost interest and let him get away.
She caressed his bare chest with her eyes, then her hands. “Things are very complicated right now,” she admitted. “There are two minor gods fighting over me and I’ve enjoyed using both of them. I can’t let them damage each other. I have plans for them so they both must remain healthy. Therefore I mustn’t be gone long. In fact, I’m sure they’re both out looking for me already.” She leaned in and nipped at his lower lip with her white teeth. “It’s a good thing you have all that vampiric speed and resilience.”
He was surprised by the sound of his pants unzipping, the only noise in the stillness. He looked down, expecting to find her hand on the zipper and saw only his own. And as if he were watching from outside his body, he saw himself shimmy the leather pants down his legs. He stepped out of them and nudged them aside. His muscles tensed with the inner struggle.
No. I will not willingly be her puppet.
Feeling both excited and angry, he stood, na**d and aroused, frantically searching through his centuries of knowledge, looking for anything he could use to break the compulsion.
She sauntered around him, sliding her hands along every surface. “Yum, my dear. I believe humans these days describe someone like you as a hard body. Perfect.”
He groaned, not sure if it was from pain or pleasure, because he knew she would force his need to build until she was ready for him to release, no matter how agonizing for him.
“I see you still have no fondness for undergarments,” she said, with a dark chuckle. “That’s another thing I always appreciated about you: fewer layers to peel off.” She looked around, tapping her finger on her chin. “Let’s make ourselves more comfortable, shall we?”
She flicked her wrist, and suddenly they were inside a candle-lit bedroom. Red and gold brocade covered the walls, which were lined with paintings of Maeve in her various incarnations. She’d gone by many names in different cultures: Aphrodite, Hecate, Artemis, Bast, Freya, Morrigan, Kali, Shakti, among others. A large colorful sculpture of her favorite, the winged goddess Isis, filled half the room. In the center was an expansive bed with a blood-red duvet, turned down in readiness for nocturnal activities.
Though still struggling to resist, Devereux found himself jumping onto the bed and holding his arms out to her. He was ravenous for her body. The result of that interior war made his motions jerky and unnatural.
I feel like a fool, and uncomfortably like a human under vampire control.
She laughed. “Such a warrior. Even though you know better, you still fight me.” She sashayed around the bed, her wicked smile in place, clearly enjoying the view. “You are an exquisite male specimen, Devereux. Beautiful. Those blue-green eyes, that face. Really quite on a par with the minor gods.” She stared at his erection. “Hmmm. Perhaps the major gods.”
Wanting her more than he could endure, he reached out to touch her, but she danced away, laughing, as the intensity of his need grew, until it was so strong he was tempted to take matters into his own hands — but his obsessed, controlled brain wouldn’t let him. Only sex with Maeve would satisfy. Only the feel of her skin against his would relieve the rising tension.
“Maeve, please.” Hating to hear those words coming out of his mouth, but unable to stop himself, he managed to force the last part of his brain that was still under his control to add, “I thought you were in a hurry.” All he could do now was try to speed up the process, get it over with, despite the fact that his body — especially his aching penis — wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his existence ha**ng s*x with the goddess.
She leaned in and licked her way across his chest, claiming each nipple, sucking greedily as she wrapped her fingers around his shaft and slid her hand up its length. “You’re right.” She crawled onto the bed, pulled the filmy robe over her head and stretched languidly, giving Devereux an unobstructed view of the body he craved. “Take me,” she mewled.
He made a growling sound and, quick as a snake, grabbed her, gathered her close, and pressed his hungry mouth to hers. He rolled on top and rubbed himself against her, already moaning in ecstasy, ready to burst.
Almost delirious with lust, they tumbled across the bed, switching positions every few seconds until Maeve ended up straddling him. Finally she impaled herself, and he eagerly began thrusting. They groaned as the orgasmic wave built, and within seconds they both screamed their release. Devereux’s body shook from his staggering surrender and his blood-lust rose.
Crazed, he pulled her down, his fangs pierced the vein in her neck and he sucked, drawing in the unearthly elixir. He was almost certain that drinking her blood in the past was the main reason he attracted so many women. Her blood held magic, and she’d changed him. He didn’t know if it was a good idea to drink more, but he couldn’t help himself.
Appearing blissed out, Maeve wailed, making inhuman noises.
In the midst of the chaos, Devereux thought he heard the sound of men yelling nearby. Assuming it was simply his fevered brain reacting to the supernatural sex, he stopped trying to make sense of it and kept sucking on her neck, before turning his awareness to his erection, which she’d never allowed to deflate.