Darkness In The Flames (39 page)

Her brother lost to his duty as a soldier in Europe. Her father destroyed by the dishonor of gaming debts. Her own honor ripped from her by a lustful man who invaded her bed and her body over her innocent protestations. A handsome man whose charm hid his desires, a well-read and literate man who had smiled his way into her room and from there into her body, claiming her virginity, her innocence and her position as governess.

And then he’d ignored her plight as she was discovered by a jealous maid and tossed from the house as a whore.

Penniless, she’d barely survived on the occasional kindness of strangers until chance led her path to cross the Dowager’s. She’d entered FitzAdams Towers with hope that her life might now change for the better.

It
had
changed. But not for the better.

This fact was made abundantly plain as she tapped on the door of Isolde’s room and entered.

Only one set of drapes admitted sunlight, but it was enough. Isolde was almost naked, her shapely body concealed by a mere wisp of silk. Black and lace trimmed, the peignoir was held together by one ribbon laced beneath Isolde’s breasts.

She smiled and welcomed Verity. “At last. Now the party can commence. Come here, Chandler.”

“Ooh. How lovely. Three of you.” A high-pitched voice sounded from one side of the room and Verity spun to see Gawain reclining on the couch, eyes glittering as he looked over the women.

Isolde laughed back. “Chandler, this is Emily. She’s my new pet.”

Verity looked to where Isolde was pointing. A woman knelt on the carpet, a loose white chemise billowing on the deep red tones of the Aubusson. Her breasts were full and barely covered by the flimsy garment and her head was lowered. Her hands rested on her outspread knees.

“She’ll do anything I ask of her. Isn’t that nice?”

Apparently no answer was required, since Emily dipped her head. “It is as you wish,
Maîtresse
.”

“Hmm. I wish…what do you think, my dear?” Isolde glanced at Gawain.

“I wanna see ‘em naked. And fucking.” Gawain giggled. His breeches were undone and his cock stirred at the thoughts his words must have engendered. “Maybe I’ll play with ‘em too.”

Isolde snorted. “I doubt it, darling. But you can certainly watch.”

Verity’s heart thudded at the implications. This wasn’t going to be a case of punishment or whipping. This was going to be something Verity had hoped to avoid at all costs. Something she would never willingly engage in or be a part of.

But it seemed as if it might now be something she could not escape.

“Take that off, Chandler. You have a good body. Let’s see it.” Isolde leaned negligently against the back of Gawain’s chaise and pointed at Verity’s gown. “Emily…help her.”

“
Oui
,
Maîtresse
.”

The girl stood and looked at Verity. There was a gleam in her eye, a hunger about her countenance that was unsettling. She moved to Verity’s back and unlaced the ties securing Verity’s garments, tugging at them and managing to stroke Verity’s skin as it was revealed.

“Lady Isolde, I…” Verity attempted a protest, clasping her bodice to her breasts as it loosened precariously.

“Quiet girl. You are here to do my bidding.” The command was sharp and brooked no further argument. “I can have you out of here within the hour. You know that. Obey me.”

Trapped, Verity had no alternative but to submit while Emily enthusiastically stripped her naked.

“Oh,
Maîtresse
. She has the lovely skin.
Très
…how you say…
doux
…soft?” Hands ran down Verity’s spine and lingered on her buttocks. “See? How white and round they are.”

Verity closed her eyes and clenched her teeth as her bottom was fondled and stroked, gently at first then with more intent. She gasped as firm hands pulled her cheeks apart.

“
Et voilà
. She is so
tight
here…” A finger thrust into Verity’s backside, penetrating her a little way and making her jump and gasp.

She flushed as her body betrayed her with a twinge of arousal.

“I should like to take her here. With a toy or perhaps my fingers first…” Emily continued her exploration.

“Would you?” Isolde sounded amused. “Perhaps, my little one. Perhaps. It might be fun? What do you think, Chandler?”

Verity stayed silent. To respond would be to invite disaster or worse.

Thankfully the fingers withdrew, but Emily wasn’t finished her investigations. She pulled sharply at Verity’s gown, stripping her bare and then moving to stand in front of her. “Oh
mon Dieu
.”

Verity closed her eyes for a moment as hands found her breasts, knowingly lifting them with a sure hand and then teasing the nipples. “Oh
oui, Maîtresse
. This is a fine friend to play with indeed.
Merci
.”

“A little play perhaps, my dear. Just a little. Warm her up while we watch.”

Caught now, Verity opened her eyes once more to see Emily shrug from her chemise and stand naked as well. She closed the gap and brought their breasts together, rubbing their nipples softly at first, then harder, moaning as the sensation of soft skin over soft skin hardened nipples and aroused her.

“So good…” The whisper fell from her full lips and she licked them, staring all the while at the place where their bodies touched. “You like,
oui
?”

“No. I do not like.” Verity hissed out the words.

Emily laughed. “You lie badly,
Mademoiselle
. This is making you as hungry as it does me.
Je connais.
I know. …”

Did she know? Verity tried to separate her brain from the scene. Tried to analyze her reactions, her emotions. The disgust that threatened to choke her was at odds with the unwilling arousal that was dampening her pussy and moistening the skin of her thighs.

Was she so lost in Isolde’s wanton world that she had fallen this low? So damned that the caresses of another woman could excite her sexually?

As Emily’s lips lowered to Verity’s nipple, one thought rattled harshly through her brain. Thank God Nick had left. He would never touch her again if he knew to what depths she was now sinking.

A warm tongue found her and circled her with the tender knowledge that only one woman could bring to another. A surety of movement, a certainty of what would be pleasurable.

Verity had no skills to resist.

Hating herself at that moment, she surrendered, unaware that in another realm the object of her thoughts was doing the very same thing.

*~*~*~*

Nick delved into Thérèse’s body with his tongue, eager now to end this charade of sex. Her taste was familiar, almost comforting, food for the endless hunger that plagued him.

His jaw began to ache as his fangs lengthened and unable to stop himself he sank them into the fragile skin of her pussy lips.

She screamed with pleasure. “Aaah, Nick.
Yes
. So fine, my lover, so fine.”

Squirming, she thrust herself onto him, pushing her mound into his face, grinding herself in a frenzy of delight. “More. More. I need more.”

Her blood flowed, mixing with the juices of her sex, blending into the strangely satisfying liquid Nick craved. That this craving came from the darkness Thérèse had herself created within him, he had no doubt.

But it was there, all the same. It held him in her thrall, kept him coming back to her and kept him doing—
this
. It might have been a mere dream she’d planted in his resting mind, but to him at that moment it was as real as anything could be.

His cock shot pains of need through his body and he groaned, desperate to release himself within her. She shuddered and trembled above him, knees clamped tightly around his head, holding him where he could penetrate and feed at the same time. She urged him on with her sighs and whimpers of pleasure.

“Feed, Nicholas. Drink me. Eat me. I want to come, to come and come and come…”

A spasm shook her and Nick felt the orgasm as it rattled her body. He paused, hoping this would be enough.

But for Thérèse once was never enough. She pulled herself from his mouth, uncaring of his fangs or the blood that was slowing now. Such wounds healed with astounding speed, as Nick knew only too well.

“Now fill me—fuck me—
hard
, Nick, hard as you can…” She slid downward, her pussy a slick of cool moisture wetting his chest and belly. With grace and a fluid speed that would have been impossible in the mortal world, Thérèse sank down onto his waiting cock, encompassing him with cold soft flesh.

There was no warmth, no heat. None of the passion he’d felt when entering Verity’s boiling body. There was an undeniable hunger, yes. His fangs ached and Thérèse’s were now protruding whitely from her lips.

This was a fuck that would satisfy a simple need. It was not a fuck that would satisfy what was left of his soul.

He knew that now, knew the difference between what
this
was and what he’d shared with Verity. The separation between his so-called life as Nick Blaine had become clear the moment he’d touched Verity’s body.

Thérèse was a nightmare, a controlling creature he could not obliterate from his mind. But now he knew with absolute certainty that there was passion still awaiting him. There was warmth, the heat of a woman, desire, lust and—possibly—love. He’d found the beginnings in a pair of whiskey-brown eyes.

She was a candle sent to light his darkness, the darkness that was now fucking him with vigor. His body was responding—physically he knew that for every action there was an equal and opposite reaction. It was a basic scientific fact.

He was helpless to fight this—this invasion of his sensuality. His orgasm would come, he would empty himself into Thérèse and this dream would finally end. This was almost a mind-rape, a taking of that which was not willingly given.

Nick forced his thoughts away from Verity, still afraid that the demon on his cock would sense his emotions. He would protect Verity from this horror at all costs.

He blanked his mind and simply focused on the sex, thrusting upward with force, slamming his body into Thérèse as she ground herself down onto him.

“Yes, Nick, oh yes, oh
yes
…” She froze, red hair flying wildly, breasts swollen, nipples red and hard.

The spasms began again, rocking them both this time with their force. Thérèse came violently, a shriek on her lips, clamping onto Nick’s cock and dragging his own orgasm from him.

She dropped to his body, holding him inside her as she sank her sharp fangs into his shoulder.

He did the same, driven by the blinding impulse within him to take sustenance from his creator.

Hating himself, hating his dreams and above all hating Thérèse for creating this nightmare, Nick fed. The rush of sensation swamped him, mingling with an orgasm that emptied his balls and eased his need.

Her darkness flooded in to his mind on a rush of her body’s essences, just as his released to fill her darkness. No real blood could be any more stimulating than this dream feast. No living victim could assuage his thirst as well.

Thérèse knew. It was how she bound her victims to her for an eternity filled with her sexual adventures, orgasms and degradation of the soul.

In that moment Nick made a silent and private vow. He would free himself of this curse—somehow, someway, he would fight it
and
her. He would unchain himself from the vicious demands she made, rescue the part of his existence she held captive and perhaps end this almost-death he experienced in place of life.

No matter if he died or found another solution.

In that moment, as his cock sagged limply and the vision of Thérèse with his blood on her lips and fangs faded into nothingness, Nick promised himself one thing.

Freedom.

And just maybe—
Verity
.

As if his wishes had conjured her image, Nick saw her for a split second before he succumbed to his deathlike sleep.

He gasped as her naked body flashed before his mind’s eye, intertwined with other limbs, other hands, other mouths. Women’s bodies merged and flailed and merged again.

Then darkness fell.

When he finally awoke several hours later, Nick’s emotions were turbulent and confused. Had he seen something? Had he dreamed something in the fetid aftermath of Thérèse and her sordid fucking?

Did Verity need him?

He could not answer any of these questions. Only one person could. It was time to find her once more—trying to keep away was pointless.

She was his destiny.

Chapter Nine

Unaware that she was now Nick’s destiny, Verity was having troubles of her own.

She struggled to maintain her dignity and not flinch as Emily found new and exciting places to explore. She also fought against the flood of sensations the other woman’s hands were arousing—clever hands that knew exactly where to caress and how to stroke for the maximum effect.

Verity tried to keep her distance, mentally if not physically. This was not what she wanted. If it had been Nick’s hands, Nick’s mouth—well, that would have been a different kettle of fish.

It was a situation fraught with danger too. She dared not risk Lady Isolde’s wrath—too much lay at stake. Tonight’s excursion, for example, something that Verity was now desperate to undertake. If they managed to gather a substantial haul, then Verity would quit FitzAdams Towers without further ado.

She could leave this place and its perversions far behind her. Start a new quiet life somewhere distant and let these memories dissipate into her past. Although she hoped her memories of Nick wouldn’t fade too.

Isolde moved then, distracting her, but thankfully giving her a reprieve from Emily’s attentions.

“My turn, I think?” Isolde untied the ribbon fastening her robe, exposing her body and beckoning Emily to her.