Enchanting Absinthe (Sex with Strings, Book Four) (3 page)

Then he began moving. Slow, sure strokes that sent sparks of desire through her body. The spell swept over her skin, doing the job his hands and lips should’ve done. But with her eyes closed, he was everywhere. Around her, in her. She breathed him in, sweat and something else more basic, more earthy. The thought was snatched away as he brought her closer. His breath tickled her neck as if he was thinking of biting. She didn’t care if he did. Her head tilted slightly and a moan lodged in her throat.

But his lips never brushed her skin. There was something almost businesslike about the way he fucked—oh, he was making it good. Every thrust of his shaft teased her clit and the magic eddied around her like the touch of a second lover. Yet it felt as if he was going through the motions instead of having fun. He should be enjoying himself, this was his spell. She let a little of her own magic free, a simple suggestion to relax.

The power that had been building between them flared. It fed off the enchantment like a hungry lover. The room could combust any moment. If she opened her third eye she would see the purple flames writhing over her skin.

It didn’t matter that she felt as if she could melt all of the polar icecaps. It wasn’t enough, she wanted his teeth on her skin, his lips to crush hers and steal her breath.

As if responding to her unspoken suggestion, his fingers laced with hers on the table. Her tightly covered breasts rubbed against his chest. His breath on her skin teased when she needed his kiss.

This was the most he had touched her. His spell touched her clit and circled in a slow and maddening pace. His thrust became faster and shallower. His lips touched her neck, not a kiss and not a bite, but the contact was all she needed. She was Shaman and they thrived on physical contact. She couldn’t stifle the cry as she came hard, her core clenching around his cock. The flames were immediately absorbed into her skin. Hot and fast.

His hips pumped and he groaned his release, but she was miles away, lost in her own pleasure and the power burn. Slowly she clawed her way back to reality. The enchantment slid away along with any remaining power residue. Claire exhaled, enjoying being boneless and caged by his body on the table. The fever from absorbing power was only temporary, much like the afterglow.

He was still inside her. And he wasn’t pulling away.

Claire didn’t move. For the first time she felt only Absinthe, his hands over hers, the thud of his heart echoing hers. He was hers, no magic, nothing but simple lust and two people giving in to desire. It had been good to let go. She’d needed it. Now his body fitted against hers the way she liked. He didn’t overpower her with size and he hadn’t fanged up like she’d expected a Vamp to do. In his arms, her body was hot and liquid and deliciously relaxed.

She peeked under her lashes. His eyes had lost their luminescence. In its place, confusion, as if he’d gone too far. His rough fingers brushed against her hands as he reclaimed some distance. He didn’t want to be touching her, that wasn’t part of the act.

Claire tilted her head and looked at him. The light cut across his face, emphasizing already sharp lines. Before she could speak, his eyes became as unreadable as polished emeralds. He pulled out.

“Uhh.” She sighed at the loss. He left her empty and aching—in the good way. But part of her was still hungry.

Absinthe turned and tossed her the towel while he threw the rubbish in a bin she couldn’t see in the dark, but he wouldn’t have that problem. Her fingers closed around the towel and too quickly her skin absorbed his scent. Even if she scrubbed in the shower for days, she’d still smell him on her skin. Plus she’d never forget what could only be described as the oddest enchantment she’d ever felt.

She cast her gaze over the floor. Somewhere in the shadows were her briefs. Being Vampire, he would be able to see them, but she wasn’t going to ask. She watched as he rummaged around and pulled out a shirt from the pile of clothes, then pulled it over his head—buttons still done up. Even now there was something smooth and mesmerizing in his movements. But there was no magic, except the slight nudge suggesting she leave.

William ran his fingers through his hair and glanced at the cute woman with the sharp copper-colored bob. She hadn’t moved. He checked his enchantment, but it no longer held her, she was free to go. In fact it was encouraging her to go. He was always very careful to give his liaisons every chance to leave before he got inside them. He made damn sure he wasn’t the bastard his father was.

Yet he knew what he was doing wasn’t normal. He had his father to thank for that. His father had been Shaman and had decided to create the magic he needed by forcing William’s Vampire mother to participate. Nine months later, he’d been born. A constant reminder of what had happened. He’d left home long before he’d had his first taste of blood.

“Hope you had a good time.” He reinforced the words with another gentle push of magic. He’d given a fan what she’d wanted. Put a smile on her face tonight, and in the morning she’d wake up with a slightly fuzzy memory of him and their time together. In exchange he’d gotten sex, if not blood. One need satisfied.

The woman slid off the table and smoothed her short skirt down as far as it would go—not far, but she had nice legs. The kind that looked good wrapped around a man’s hips.

He glanced at her again, taking in the lift of her eyebrows over her brown eyes and the sweep of her collarbones and the way her corset pushed her breasts up and out. For a moment he was tempted to run his finger along the edge where the flesh peeked out of the fabric to see if she’d flinch. Instead he kept his hands by his side. He never usually looked twice. Yet now he couldn’t look away. Even in the audience there’d been something about her that drew his eye.

Every time he let himself linger with a lover they discovered he wasn’t right. The Vampires didn’t like his Shaman blood—tasted too much like dirt apparently, and ever since his conception Vampires and Shamen didn’t mix. And Weres were out of the equation.

Humans were perfect for the simple reason they didn’t believe in magic or Vampires, so he couldn’t get in trouble if he enchanted someone. Plus he wasn’t tempted to fall for one, again. Margarite had been damaged beyond help after living with him and his unnatural magic.

The woman picked up his beer and took a long swallow. His gaze landed on the pulse at the base of her throat. The sound of her heart was tempting, more than it should have been, he didn’t need blood. He’d had some before the show, but it hadn’t been fresh from the vein and it hadn’t been pulsing with etheric the way this woman’s was after having sex. He tore his gaze away and tried to ignore the ache in his jaw as his fangs put pressure on his teeth. He couldn’t trick her into offering a taste.

“I did have a good time.” She took another sip of beer, then she pressed the bottle to the swell of her breast as if needing the cooling effect. Still she didn’t leave. Why? What more did she want from him?

William dragged his tongue over his bottom lip, suddenly feeling thirsty even though he knew the beer would never do when what he wanted was running hot and red in her veins. “Can I have my drink?”

“Sure.” She took another mouthful and made no effort to hand the bottle over.

His eyebrows moved, then he quickly disguised the frown before it had fully formed. This wasn’t supposed to happen like this. They had sex and the groupie left, happy for the five minutes he’d spent with them, and he got the need for a fuck out of his system. He blamed his Shaman blood for that extra dose of lust, like a mosquito bite that always needed scratching.

“What would you like?” she asked. A grin played on her lips and he knew she wasn’t talking about the beer. She knew about Vampires.

He laughed, a dark melody. “Not interested.”

A lie, he was. More than he should be. She should’ve been gone by now and yet she stayed, which meant he couldn’t leave until he knew what she wanted.

She tipped her head slightly. “I could teach you a trick or two.” She took two steps toward him, hips swinging. Then she stopped and drained what was left of the beer before offering him the empty bottle. “Nice, but it never lasts long enough.”

William blinked. Was she suggesting his performance wasn’t up to scratch? How was that even possible? He’d given her everything. The spell had made sure she’d experience pleasure and climax. He closed the distance. His fingers, calloused from years of playing violin, wrapped around hers and the bottle. His other hand snaked around the back of her neck. He pressed his lips to hers.

Personal, too personal. But maybe that was what she wanted. It was what he wanted, to cross that line and for a moment hold someone in his arms. One kiss wouldn’t hurt. His tongue swept over her lip and her mouth opened. Her tongue darted out, caressing his and leaving no doubt what she wanted from him. It had been a long time since he’d given himself permission to be close to someone.

She tasted of his beer and smelled of sex. His blood heated. He wanted her again. Wanted more of her. His fangs lengthened and the magic built, feeding on the emotional energy, ready to lull her into that false sense of security so he could take what he wanted. He pulled away and drew in a breath.

That was why he wasn’t safe. His father’s blood was like poison. Always there and always tempting him to do something morally questionable. He smiled at the woman, she didn’t know how close she’d come to being swept into his spell again and losing her mind.

“I doubt there is anything in your repertoire that I haven’t done at least a dozen times.” He took the empty beer bottle from her. Then realized how harsh he’d sounded. Not good. He didn’t want to be remembered as a bastard. He wanted them to remember him as a considerate lover, a nice guy—even if he did have an endless string of affairs.

“What’s your name?” he touched her cheek with the back of his hand and smiled, revealing his fangs.

Her gaze flicked to his mouth and she swallowed. “Claire.”

Claire, such a pretty name. It suited her. “You know what I am?”

She nodded. “Vampire.”

How many other Vampires had she let bite her? Is that what she looked for in a man? A set of fangs? At this moment he didn’t care, it had been a while between bites, and if she tasted as lovely as she looked, it could be a very pleasant night for both of them.

“You want to be bitten?” His fingers trailed over her pulse. It was the beat of a song, calling to him and needing to be played.

Her gaze didn’t leave him as she nodded again. If she’d said no and bolted for the door, that would’ve been much safer—for both of them.

“You want to come back to the hotel?”

Her lips curved. That was exactly what she wanted. And once she was there? What if he enchanted her again? Did it matter when she was willing? One night wouldn’t hurt her.

“You agree to let me bite you and fuck you?” His hand slid down her neck to the top of her breast and traced the curve of soft flesh. Her heartbeat echoed in his ears, still fast and driven by lust, as if she wasn’t sated.

“Yes.”

It was too easy. She was offering herself on a plate. His fangs ached and his cock was hard again. He should be the one walking away; he was four centuries older and supposedly wiser. Maybe she had enchanted him. Ah hell. It had been too long since he’d woken up with someone in his bed. If she was volunteering, who was he to refuse?

Memories of previous lovers rose unbidden, but he ignored the warning. He wouldn’t hurt her and one night wouldn’t break her mind. One minute with her and she’d broken his will.

“What are we waiting for, Claire?”

Chapter Three

Claire smiled while her stomach spun like a ballerina. This was not part of her original plan. Her plan had ended two minutes ago, even if she had wanted it to go on. This was his plan.

She raised one brow as if daring him and not herself. “What are
you
waiting for, Absinthe?”

Without a word or touch, Absinthe led her out the back door of The Red C. His driver and car waited. Claire stopped at the threshold, her foot keeping the door open. While sex in the club was safe, leaving for somewhere else, no matter how tempting, was dangerous.

“Where are we going?” She managed to keep her voice from betraying her nerves. There was a big difference between hooking up for fun and continuing. But the magic burning in her body wanted company—not that he was using his at the moment.

“The Orion.” Absinthe opened the rear car door and turned to look at her. He extended a hand to Claire.

She eyed the sleek silver car and the waiting Vampire. Dressed all in black except white skull-and-crossbones-print sneakers, he looked like sin made flesh. It was a ride she couldn’t refuse. She took a step and the door to the club slammed shut behind her.

In a few paces, she closed the distance and took his hand. This time he didn’t pull away, his fingers curled around hers. She slid into the car, thankful it was a sedan and not a 4WD given that her underwear was on the floor of the change room, never to be seen again.

As soon as the door closed, the car pulled away. Neither of them spoke, they just watched each other. Unable to stand it any longer, Claire broke first and placed her booted legs across Absinthe’s lap, well aware he could see perfectly well in the dark and up her skirt.

He pushed her knees apart a fraction. “Make it worthwhile.”

Her heart skipped a beat, but she didn’t close her legs and he kept his eyes on her face. Absinthe half smiled, his fingers toyed with the lace on her boot, twisting the tail of the bow around his finger as if his fingers were so used to moving they couldn’t keep still.

The driver interrupted the silence. “Front or back, sir?”

Absinthe ran a finger nail down the length of her boot. “Back.”

He glanced at Claire, but she didn’t give any sign of concern. Her pulse was bouncing along in a gleeful expectation of fulfilled lust. His hand slid higher to her knee, letting is fingers trail over the soft skin of her inner thigh. Her gaze lowered to watch his hand.

How far would she let him go?

Because of who he was, they usually let him do anything he wanted. She was only here because of who he was, and any other night she wouldn’t have looked twice at him in a club. He winced at his own bitterness. Maybe she would’ve, but she wouldn’t have been so compliant.

A few more weeks of shows and then Absinthe wouldn’t exist anymore.

He much preferred Absinthe to William or any of the other names he’d used over the years. Absinthe was untouchable, whereas he was far too fragile. Inviting her back was dangerous. His hand slid higher up her thigh and she drew in a breath.

She’d already tasted his magic, but he let it free again. The spell crawled over her skin, caressing where he couldn’t reach. Her eyes narrowed as if she knew what he was doing. Maybe she did. She knew about Vampires, maybe she knew about magic too.

In one fluid motion, she shifted and sat on his lap, her knees resting on the seat, her breasts in front of his face. He gripped her hips and pulled her against him so she could feel his cock pressing against his pants. Claire gasped, her lips parting. They’d look very nice wrapped around his shaft.

Later.

She wanted a more personal experience, that’s what he’d give her. His fangs lengthened at the thought of tasting her. This close he could smell the sweetness of her blood. He leaned forward and kissed her. Slowly. He took his time learning the shape of her mouth, the way her tongue moved against his and the way her breath caught when his fangs touched her lip as if she was expecting him to taste her blood there and then.

How wrong she was. He wasn’t going to bite her straight up no matter how much he wanted to. Expectation was half the fun, the foreplay that he hardly bothered with when fucking backstage, that he missed and craved. He couldn’t remember the last person he’d held this close. A blur of bodies and faces that ended with him alone. His hands skimmed over her ribs, the satiny fabric smooth and cool, even though her skin was fevered.

He kissed down her neck, her head tilting to allow him better access to her throat. William placed a final kiss over her pulse, savoring the taste of her skin, and leaned back. The color would’ve faded from his eyes, making them white with lust, but he didn’t care and he didn’t bother fighting it. She was used to Vampires.

“Do you get bit often?” While he was used to the attention because of what he did, he wasn’t used to it because of what he was. The idea that she was extra keen because he had a set of fangs really didn’t sit well. Groupies were one thing; humans who deliberately went after Vampires because they got addicted to the bite were another.

“No.” Her fingers crept up his chest and undid one shirt button. “Just once, years ago.”

“Years ago?” What was she, twenty-five? But to humans every year counted. “Did you like it?” Was she thrill seeking?

She gave a little shrug that jiggled her breasts. “Like anything, I guess it depends on who is doing the biting.” Her eyes were dark as she leaned closer and placed a kiss on his lips. “You’re trying to work out why I’m here.”

“I am.”

“I’ve always wanted you.”

He couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up. God, the number of times he’d heard that before. “Yeah. I thought we covered that at the club.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “And I thought I’d said that wasn’t enough.”

He pushed her onto her back on the seat and leaned over her. Her heartbeat picked up, but he couldn’t be sure it was fear, when all he could smell was lust.

“What do you want from me?” He moved closer as if to kiss or bite depending on his mood. He’d do neither but she didn’t know that.

Claire didn’t push him away, but she didn’t offer her throat this time either. “I want to see the man behind the makeup.”

William blinked. Fans usually assumed Absinthe and William were the same. They expected him to strut and perform, even when he wasn’t working. “I am not the same as I am on stage.”

“I don’t expect you to be.” Her fingers grazed the skin of his belly, making his muscles draw tight.

“You may not like what you get.” No one else ever had.

Not even Owen had stuck around after William had accidentally enchanted him. The bitter fighting that had followed hadn’t eased the ache. Time had healed the wounds, but not erased the memory. Even though they got on well now, there had been many acrimonious centuries between. He was a freakish half-breed. Some days he didn’t care. At times like this he did, because he knew no matter how much he might want more than one night, a week, a few months, whatever, he couldn’t have it. The longer he was with someone, the higher the risk he’d end up bending their will to his until they lost their own desires and lived only to serve.

No one could love him without becoming a broken toy. His mother hadn’t even been able to love him, and among Vampires children were valued above all because they were so hard to conceive.

It was easier to not care and drift from lover to lover, never staying long enough to do harm. But he wasn’t young anymore. He was into his fifth century. He couldn’t keep going like this, but he didn’t know how to change. He gazed down at Claire, glad she couldn’t see his thoughts and realize how screwed up he was.

“Why don’t you let me decide that,” she murmured.

The car swung around a sharp corner and William braced his arms to keep from tumbling off the seat. He preferred carriages, they moved slower, but no one drove them anymore and he hadn’t bothered to learn how to drive a car. The vehicle came to a stop. He could tell the driver to take her home and be done with it.

“Last chance, Claire. Do you really want to come up?”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“I’m just making sure you know what you’re getting into.”

“I know what I agreed to. Fucking and biting, right?”

William stared down at her for a moment longer, then shook his head and moved off her. He was beginning to wonder if the cute guy with the green hair would’ve been a less troublesome choice to enchant. Maybe, but he’d really wanted a woman tonight. However, Claire was proving to be just a little more than he could handle. He opened the door and held it for her as she managed to get out without flashing her panty-less behind. His bad luck.

Maybe he was just unused to being challenged. They were either awestruck or so easily enchanted they agreed to anything. He smiled as he watched her walk toward the door. Maybe he’d been looking for a little trouble and that was why his magic had settled on her so fast. He shut the car door and followed her to the rear entrance of the hotel. Maybe Claire was just what he needed to shake up his routine and remind him there was more to life than Lucinda’s Lover.

* * * * *

Claire’s cheeks ached from the grin that kept creeping up. She was in Absinthe’s hotel room. And not just any hotel, but the most exclusive non-human hotel in Sydney. Her blood fizzed with excitement. She’d got here. She’d not only hooked up with Absinthe, the lead violinist of Lucinda’s Lover, she’d gotten an invite back to his hotel.
Thank you, Fate.

Even in the low lighting, she could see that the hotel room was bigger than her flat. There was even a baby grand piano in the living area. She ran her hand over the back of the plush cream sofa. He walked through as if not noticing the luxury around him; no doubt he was used to it everywhere he went. And he was probably used to girls like her falling all over him, if they weren’t under his spell. Although she had the distinct impression very few made it this far.

Why her? Did he know she’d faked being enchanted? Or was it because she’d offered blood? She swallowed and touched her neck where he’d kissed.

Once he bit her, he’d know what she was. He’d know she was immune to his spell and then the game would be up. All Vampires knew Shaman blood tasted of dirt, the same way they knew they couldn’t bite a Were without going insane. It’s what they were taught. The same way she’d been taught that being with a Vampire was wrong because of some ancient battle and archaic ruling.

A shower started. She glanced toward the bedroom. Well, she’d best make the most of it before he worked out what she was. If she was quick, she could be in Absinthe’s shower. And maybe she could delay the inevitable bite. For a moment she considered being up front and telling him, but then he hadn’t exactly been honest with her. He hadn’t even admitted to using magic. She shrugged. She was here for sex, not the swapping of secrets.

Claire pulled off the bustier and let it fall to the floor. She put her foot on the piano stool and unlaced her boots, her fingers fumbling in the dimly lit room as she tried to rush. Only the lights from Sydney Harbor broke the darkness.

Vampires and lights. They didn’t need them and forgot everyone else did.

She closed her eyes and made herself take a full deep breath to center herself. Absinthe was just a man. His fame wasn’t him. Yet she couldn’t tamp down the nerves that made her stomach tremble as if it was a bag filled with butterflies. She shook her head.
You are no better than a groupie, Claire
.

Who was she kidding, she was groupie. And she was living the dream. She grinned and opened her eyes. A vase of white long-stem roses sat primly on the piano. Nature tailored to suit. They were dead without realizing it yet, but she could feel their loss of life with every breath.

Claire reached out and ran her hand over the flowers. Their fragile velvet petals caressed her palm. Some of the magic she’d absorbed earlier, from the concert and sex, slipped from her fingers and into the roses. To her it was as natural as breathing, part of the circuit that power flowed through her and back into the Earth. The magic would give them another night of life as if they were in the ground. After that, they’d wilt and fade like any other dead plant. She much preferred flowers in the garden.

The flowers shimmered as if taking a gasp of air, their thanks rippled through her. Smiling, she stripped off her skirt, leaving it just outside the bedroom door. With her eyes adjusted to the dark, she walked past the bed and went into the bathroom. The door was open, so she didn’t wait for an invitation; instead she pressed down any remaining doubts and pushed open the glass shower door.

“Thought you’d changed your mind.” His voice washed over her, smooth as silk.

“Admiring…” Her gaze traveled over his body. Water rolled easily over him, following the contours of muscle beneath that caramel skin that begged to be licked. Her eyes trailed down the line of black hair that started at his navel. His cock was hard, jutting forward, waiting for attention. “The room.”

Absinthe was every part the grunge god he portrayed onstage. But washed clean, no music, no makeup, no magic, she saw the man. So disconnected, having a stranger in his room passed for intimacy. Fingers unraveled the fibers of her heart. She extended a tendril of power, intending only comfort. He ran a hand through his hair and brushed it away as if he could see her concern.