Ensnared: A Vampire Blood Courtesans Romance (6 page)

He pried the pad out of my fingers and flipped to the second
sketch. “See, here—where you used a few lines and shading to show the motion of
the crowd. I can feel their energy, their enjoyment of the beautiful day. In color,
it would be even better.”

I bit my lip. The critic in me was mortified that a sketch
I’d tossed off in ten minutes was being viewed by anyone, let alone a collector;
but the artist, that small, needy heart of me that was starved for praise,
glowed at his words.

“You will use the bonus money to work at your art?”

“Yeah.” I nodded, my eyes on the third sketch, a bicyclist weaving
through the pedestrians.

“Good. It is yours then.”

“What?” My gaze jerked up.

He had an odd expression on his face. I realized he was
embarrassed—or at least, as much as a vampire could be.

“I’ll direct Malik to deposit the bonus to your account
today.”

I shook my head disbelievingly. “But why?”

He moved a shoulder. “A whim.”

My mind whirred. I’d have money? Real money? Enough to work
as an artist full time—for a year, maybe more?

“Holy crap. I mean—wow.” My grin split my face. “I—I don’t
know what to say. Thank you. Thank you very much.”

He set the pad down and drew me into his arms. “You are most
welcome.” His hands slid under the shirt to squeeze my bare bottom. “But I have
an even better way for you to thank me.”

I walked Star backward until her back was against
the dining room wall. My hands went to the black rayon shirt.

My
black shirt.

Something darkly possessive in me liked seeing her clothed
in nothing but one of my own garments.

I’d rarely offered a courtesan a bonus—and fifty thousand
was double what I’d ever paid before. And then I’d given her the bonus before
she’d even spent twenty-four hours with me.

But I trusted Star. The woman radiated honor.

I was used to buying everything—even loyalty—and what I
couldn’t buy, I compelled with a combination of fear and magic. But Star was
different. I wanted her to trust me in return, to give herself to me freely. No
strings attached.

There was something about her… I’d resisted it, tried to keep
this strictly business—my cash for her body.

But to hell with it. A smart businessman knew when to follow
the rules—and when to toss out the book and act from the gut.

Sometimes even a jaded, too-long-lived man can surprise
himself.

But that didn’t mean the woman wasn’t going to earn every
penny.

I toyed with the top button of the black shirt. “I like you
in this. I may keep you in a shirt and nothing else for the next month.” I
undid the top three buttons and teased one of her pretty bronze nipples into
arousal. “But you look even better with nothing.”

I undid the rest of the buttons with vampire-quick speed so
that the shirt fell open as if by magic.

Star moved her head from side to side against the wall,
making low, sexy sounds of pleasure.

My fangs lengthened. My beast wanted to bury them in her neck
and suck for hours. To sink balls deep in her tight, wet passage. Pin her to
the wall, helpless and enthralled.

But the man knew that would kill her. Still, the beast was
roused. It took all of my considerable control to master it.

I drew a slow breath, then another. When I thought it was
safe, I fastened my mouth on one of her pretty furled nipples. Licking and
sucking.

She groaned. “I can’t. Please…”

“
Non
?”

I slid a hand between her thighs, testing her arousal. She
was slick and wet.

I smiled.

My fangs were at full length now, preparing to feed, and her
eyes widened. I scented her spike of fear, and the part of me that had once
been human felt…regret.

I closed my mouth and wrested the beast back under control.

“It’s all right.” I speared my fingers in her hair and
pulled her head gently to the side. “Don’t be afraid—I would never hurt you. I merely
want a taste.
Un petit goût
.” I’d switched to French without knowing it,
something I only did under stress—or when wild to feed.

I fastened my gaze on her soft golden skin and repeated in
English, “A small taste,
ma petite
. That’s all.”

Star’s throat worked. I steeled myself for rejection. I was
over the line, even if she was a blood courtesan. I was feeding too frequently
and I knew it, even if she didn’t. Keeping her dazed and needy so she thought
only of me.

Tomorrow
, I promised myself. Tomorrow I would give
her a break—take only the minimum blood I needed for survival.
But right now…

I nuzzled her skin. “Lord, I want you.”

“Yes,” she murmured. I scented another spike, but this time
it was the hot spice of desire.

Thanks the dark skies.

Her head tilted sideways in surrender. Her hand came to my
nape, pulling me closer. “Please, Remy. Go ahead.”

A growl rumbled in my chest. I cursed the beast that made me
feed even as I undid my pants and prepared to take her against the wall. “It
will be good for you. I promise.”

“I know.” She slanted me a look from smoky green eyes. Her
lips were still swollen with my kisses from the night before. Every part of her
smelled of me.

And still it wasn’t enough.

Then I forgot everything but the woman and my need. Lifting
her by the hips, I thrust home at the same time as I sank my fangs into the sweetness
that was her throat—and fed.

We didn’t leave the room for three days.

Remy mentioned he was in Baltimore for business, but he
seemed to have as much time as necessary to take me every way possible. From
time to time, I surfaced and wondered about the outside world, but mostly I was
lost in a sensual haze, learning his body and being explored by him in turn.

At dusk on the third day, I woke to hear him in the shower.
I pulled on a silky purple bathrobe that had appeared from somewhere and walked
to the windows. Far below, people strolled along the harbor front. I set my
hand on the thick glass and stared down at them.

That almost claustrophobic feeling from the first day
returned.

Did the man never go outside?

Remy entered the room. When I didn’t turn around, he came up
behind me and caressed my upper arms.

“You’d like a walk, yes? You look like you’re going to jump
out the window.”

It no longer surprised me how he seemed to read my mind. I shrugged.
“I’m not used to spending all my time in bed.”

“I know. That’s one of the things I like about you.” His
lips brushed my neck. “Your energy. But you make a beautiful courtesan.”

I stiffened. I’d thought we’d gone past that stupid contract,
that I was his lover, not his freaking courtesan. But maybe it was good that
he’d reminded me.

This is just sex, Star. No hearts involved.

“Go take a shower”—he smacked my bottom—“and when you come
back, we will go for a walk. But first, I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” I tried to infuse my voice with enthusiasm.
“Does it involve clothes?” Because otherwise I was going to have to wear the
shirt and skirt I’d arrived in, and as far as I was concerned, I’d like to burn
the whole outfit.

“No guessing. Go take your shower.”

I nodded and headed for the bathroom, but when I was alone
in the shower, I leaned against the wall and dragged in a breath.

It’s just sex, Star.

For a long minute, I let the hot water pour over me. Then I
straightened and finished washing before wrapping myself in one of the fluffy
white towels. As I left the bathroom, Remy entered the hall, dressed in black
jeans and a silver shirt that set off his eyes. He looked rich, sexy and
impossibly beautiful.

Then he grinned and my chest clenched.
Lord, I was in
deep shit.

“Ready for your surprise?”

I summoned up a smile. I’d die if he guessed I was halfway
in love with him. “I am.”

And I
was
kind of excited. Malik and a couple of
flunkies had arrived earlier in the day with a pile of mysterious packages.

“
Et voilà
.” Remy opened the closet door with a
flourish.

I blinked. I’d expected him to be generous, but the closet
was stuffed with more clothes than I could wear in a year: soft sweaters, all
kinds of shirts, skinny jeans, and assorted other pants, skirts and dresses.
All in my favorite colors: vivid golds and greens and reds and pinks, along
with some black for contrast.

“How did you know my size?” I fingered a sleeveless black
lace dress. Somehow I knew it would fit like it had been sewn just for me.

“I have an eye for a woman’s body,” he said with typical
Remy arrogance. “You are happy?”

“Oh, yes. It’s too much, but they’re beautiful.”

He smiled and handed me a shopping bag labeled with the name
of a sexy lingerie store. “You’ll need this, too.”

Inside were a dozen sets of bra and panties along with
several tiny nightgowns. “Wow.” I scooped up a handful of the gauzy little
nothings and let them trail through my fingers. “I feel like effing
Cinderella.”

Remy gave a bark of laughter and, taking the shopping bag
from me, set it on the floor and then dragged me close to kiss my still-open lips.
“Such a mouth you have. But I promised I would supply your needs, and I’m a man
of my word.”

He released me and took a copper satin bra-and-panty set
from the bag. “Wear this.”

I rubbed the silky material between my fingertips. I suppose
I should’ve felt as if I were being bought—and I did, a little—but the man
clearly had money to spare.

I glanced at Remy. His gaze flickered a hot blue. My inner
thighs clenched. I’d learned what that look meant.

I might be Cinderella, but he was no Prince Charming. No, he
was more like the wolf.

I turned toward the bathroom, but he shook his head. “
Non
.
Here, where I can see.”

He propped himself against a wall and crossed his arms,
watching as I removed the towel and tossed it into the bathroom. The only light
in the hall came from the bedroom a few feet away so that except for those hot
eyes, he seemed to disappear into the shadows.

I unclasped the bra, conscious of his gaze. My face heated,
but so did my lower belly.

I decided to put the panties on first. I hung the bra over
the nearest doorknob and stepped into them, feeling awkward and
self-conscious—but excited, too.

I glanced at Remy. He’d banked the heat so that his
expression was cool, but his cock was straining at his jeans.

And suddenly I didn’t feel awkward at all. Instead, I felt strong,
powerful. Sexy.

“That’s it,” he husked. “Put them on. For me.”

I eased the panties the rest of the way on and took my time
adjusting them.

Next, I held the bra up to my breasts and slanted Remy a
look up from under my lashes. “I could use some help.” I turned around and
presented him my back.

He was across the hallway before I was finished speaking.
One long-fingered hand splayed over my stomach, while with the other he moved
my hair aside to expose my nape.

“Such a bad girl.”

“You think?” His erection poked my bottom. I wriggled against
him. “But you like bad girls, don’t you?”

He muttered something in French, jerked down my panties and
sank his teeth into the side of my neck just below my ear.

It was another two hours before we made it outside.

* * *

When we finally emerged from the hotel, a light rain
was falling. All around us, people scurried for shelter, but I just shoved my
hands into the pockets of my new leather jacket and took a deep breath of the
damp air. It smelled of asphalt and exhaust from the constant stream of cars
moving down Pratt Street, but it wasn’t the canned air of the hotel and that
was good enough for me.

Remy paused under the awning. Malik, who’d been waiting in
the lobby, stepped forward with an umbrella. Remy held it over the two of us as
we strolled along the waterfront, Malik trailing a few yards behind.

We’d only been in the hotel a few days, but before that I’d
been working nights for a week and sleeping half the day. Now we passed a pear
tree in full bloom and I blinked at the delicate white blossoms.
When had
spring arrived?

“You need fresh air,” Remy murmured. “From now on, we will
go outside each evening.”

His tone was matter-of-fact—the vamp taking care of his food
supply—but when I glanced up at him, I surprised an expression that was oddly
tender.

He looked past me, his face settling into its usual cool
lines. “I believe this restaurant has an acceptable wine list—for America, that
is. Would you like to go inside? Perhaps to have some dinner?”

“That would be nice.” I touched my stomach. “I could eat a
horse.”

His lips quirked. “We’ll see what we can arrange.”

He turned his head to speak to Malik. “We will be dining
here. Obtain us a private table—and then you may have dinner yourself.”

“
Oui,
monsieur
.” Malik strode past us into the
restaurant. Remy was facing me, so he didn’t see the look Malik sent me as he
went by.

But I did, and what I saw made me shiver. Because his eyes
were narrowed with dislike.

The host led us to a small, private table in the corner. I
opened the menu and studied it. Not that it did me any good: I hadn’t a clue
what sea urchin tasted like. Ditto for quail and cauliflower mousseline. And
there weren’t even any prices.

Remy glanced at me. “Why don’t you try the salad with beets
and goat cheese?” he suggested. “And if you like fish, the chef prepares an
excellent sea bass.”

“Sounds good.” I shut the menu, relieved.

The waiter arrived, and Remy gave him my order, adding, “And
a glass of Sauvignon Blanc to go with the sea bass.” For himself, he ordered a
dry red that I’d never heard of.

Remy had taken the seat to my right, so close I could feel
his thigh against mine. The wine arrived and he raised his glass. “To my
beautiful little Star.”

I touched my glass to his. “Thank you.”

He took a sip of his wine, his black eyes on mine. My mind
flashed to that first night in the hotel, and the two of us drinking the wine.
My body heated. I squirmed on the chair.

Remy gave a small smile and set his glass on the table. He
set his arm on the back of my chair and played with my hair.

“Tell me about your family. There is no one? But your
father, he’s not dead, is he?”

I stared down at the table. “No,” I said between tight lips.
“But he’s dead to me.”

He stroked my nape. “I’m sorry,
ma petite
.”

“For what? That I had a bastard of a father? That’s not your
fault, is it?”

“No, but I’m sorry anyway. Especially that there was no one
to help you.”

I swallowed noisily. “Mom tried. But he was too strong for
her. And I don’t just mean physically—he was just too effing strong. And then
she died.”

“There was no one else? A relative?”

“None close by. My dad didn’t get along with his family, and
most of them are either in the Philippines or in California. My aunt tried to
help—Mom’s sister—but it’s hard to get custody from a birth parent. And then we
moved from New York to Washington, DC and no one knew where we were. When I
left, I didn’t tell my aunt because I didn’t want to make her lie to my dad—or
the police. If my dad even called them.”

“And your father? Where is he now?”

“I don’t know. A few years ago, I was in DC and I went by
our old apartment, but he was gone. I had nightmares for weeks, thinking he was
in Baltimore looking for me.” I shook my head. “Stupid, right?”

“I can find him for you.” Remy’s fingers continued their
slow slide over my nape. “Make sure he never hurts you again.”

I gripped the stem of my glass. I was tempted. So damn
tempted.

Even now—seven years later—when I saw someone who looked
like my dad, or heard a man with a Filipino accent, my heart kicked into
overdrive.

But no. I wasn’t that kind of person. Except—“I worry
sometimes. That he’s found someone else to beat on.”

Remy nuzzled my hair. “I’ll put a man on it. You’ll feel
safer if you know where he is. Tommy Salazar, yes?”

Somehow I wasn’t surprised he knew my father’s name. “I—all
right. Yes. I would like to know.” And I
would
feel safer. “But don’t do
anything without telling me, all right?”

“Very well.”

“Just like that?” I leaned back so I could see his face.
“You swear you won’t do anything?”

He moved a shoulder. “This is your decision. But understand
that all I’m promising is that I won’t do anything without your knowledge. I
may take action whether you want me to or not.”

I shook my head in reluctant admiration. “You’re a tricky son
of a bitch, aren’t you?”

“You don’t live as long as I have without learning a few
things.”

I traced the line of his jaw. “I can see I’ll have to watch
myself around you.”

He just smiled. His hand tightened on my nape, drawing me to
him until I was perched on my chair, leaning into him, our mouths so close I
could feel his lips a hairsbreadth away.

His tongue slid over the seam of my mouth. “Open to me,” he
murmured.

My mouth opened and his tongue swept inside. He tasted of red
wine and something uniquely him. Sparkles fizzed through me. I fisted a hand in
his shirt and sucked on his tongue.

He groaned against my lips. “
Ma petite
…”

“Excuse me. Sir, madam.” The waiter had arrived with my
salad.

Remy released me and waited until the waiter had gone again.
“You’re strong.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I admire that about
you.”

I drew a deep breath, my head still swimming from that kiss.
“How do you know? We’ve only known each other three days.”

“I know. I see it in everything you do. You didn’t let that
bastard steal your smiles. You got out, and you’re going to make something of
yourself. Trust me, I know.”

“Thanks,” I muttered and picked up my fork, but inside I was
smiling. Remy was so strong. To hear him say that I was, too, was the best
compliment he could’ve given me.

* * *

That night, Remy was sweet, almost gentle, as if
trying to make up for all the bad things in my life.

I could’ve told him he didn’t have to. Like he’d said, I’d got
out. I’d survived, and I was proud that I’d done it on my own. If the price for
that was the occasional nightmare, well, I’d lived through much worse.

But I enjoyed it all the same.

As soon as he got back to the hotel, he drew me to the
bedroom and kissed me, over and over until my knees were weak and my brain hazy
with pleasure. Then he undressed me and laid me down on the bed before removing
his own clothes and crawling on top of me.

I reached for him and he pressed my hands to the mattress on
either side of my head.

“Tonight, I want you to enjoy. All right?”

His dark hair curled over his ears and down the side of his
neck. His eyes were very black, his expression earnest. He looked young, almost
human.

I nodded solemnly.

“Do you like this, Star?” He moved his hands over me, his
gaze intent, as if he wanted to learn my deepest secrets. “And this?”