Ensnared: A Vampire Blood Courtesans Romance (8 page)

“Right here in the limo?” Her tone was interested.

“Malik knows better than to disturb us.”

“I’ll tell you a secret.” She slid her fingers into my hair
and pulled me closer to whisper in my ear. “That champagne? It went right to my
head.”

“Then you won’t mind if I have a taste.”

She waved an airy hand. “Be my guest.”

That was all the invitation I needed.

* * *

The call from Paris came the following afternoon. I
had just woken up when my phone buzzed.

I glanced at the screen. It was from one of my top people in
France—my third in command.

“
Oui
?”

He informed me that all hell had broken out in Paris, with
vampires attacking other vampires.

Worse, my second, a vampire named Germain, was part of it.

I’d have to go home before I lost half my clan.

I bit out a curse that made the man on the other end stutter
an apology. “I—I’m sorry,
monsieur le comte
, but there was nothing I
could do. Germain—he’s too strong—”

“Yes, yes,” I said impatiently. “You did the right thing in
calling me. I’ll be there by tomorrow morning.”

My next call was to Malik. “Get in touch with Jean-Michel.”
He was the pilot of my private jet. “Tell him we’ll be leaving for Paris in
two—no, three hours.”

He nodded, and I shut the door and went to tell Star.

I found her in the dining room staring out at the harbor. It
was late afternoon, and golden sunlight danced over the dark green water. She had
a palm pressed to the window as if trying to absorb the life and light in the
scene below. I was reminded of that shooting star tattoo on her hip.

I scowled. Did she have to act like she was in a goddamn prison?
I’d done everything I could to make her happy.

But this wasn’t her world. She was young, full of energy. A
sunflower kind of woman…

God, I was a bastard for forcing this on her. Lord help me
if she ever found out the truth.

Guilt made my tone abrupt. “I have to leave for Paris in a
few hours.”

“Paris, France?” She turned around. When I nodded, she
grinned. “Awesome. I’ve always wanted to go—”

“You’re not coming.”

Her face fell. “You’re leaving me here?”

I wasn’t used to explaining myself to anyone, but I found
myself saying, “It’s for two or three days only. My clan—there is a…situation
in Paris. Business—you’d only be bored.”

“In Paris? Are you kidding? How could I be bored?”

I blew out a breath. “I’m sorry, but I must say no.”

“Okay.” She shrugged, and I sensed her hurt, but I wasn’t
going to budge on this. It was for her own safety. The last thing I wanted to
do was take a soft, innocent human like her into a nest of warring vampires.

“You can stay at the hotel. Order anything you like—do some
shopping, perhaps. How does that sound?”

She moved a shoulder. Then she brightened. “I know, I’ll go
back to the apartment. I have some things I need to do any—”

My stomach iced. “Absolutely not.” There was no way in hell
I was letting her out of my protection. She was a marked woman, whether she
knew it or not.

She folded her arms over her chest. “Why not?”

“Your apartment—it’s not safe.”

“Hey, I know it’s not in a pricey neighborhood like this,
but it’s not like I’m not used to it.”

I growled. “Damn it woman. This is not up for argument. You
will stay here in the hotel.”

She glared at me. “And if I leave?”

I stepped closer. “I wouldn’t, if I were you.”

Our gazes locked but I wasn’t going to back down. Not on
this.

“You
will
stay in the hotel,” I said, my voice dark
with compulsion, “until I return.” She swallowed and I relented enough to say,
“Damn it, Star. This is for your own safety. Allow me to take care of you.
Please.”

Her chest heaved. “Why would you want to? I’m just a paid
body for you to fuck—and feed from.”

“Perhaps,” I growled back. “But for this month, you’re
my
body. My woman. And you
will
let me protect you.”

I increased the force of the compulsion.

“Stop it.” She smacked my chest. “You bastard, don’t you
dare try to force me.”

“Then don’t be foolish. I am a count, ruler of a vast clan
of vampires. My enemies would love to feed on my woman, but they can’t touch
you as long as you are with me. The hotel is safe too—I own it, and the
employees are all mine. But as soon as you go back to your own apartment, you
become vulnerable. You might as well paste a target on that pretty neck of
yours.”

She scowled at me another few seconds and then blew out a
breath. “Fine. Whatever you say, Count. But what am I going to do while you’re
gone? Lay around in bed and eat chocolates? I want to paint. I
need
to
paint.”

“That is the problem? You want to paint?” I waved a hand. “Then
you will paint. We will make you a studio.”

“What do you mean?”

“Tell Malik what you need. By tomorrow morning, it will be here.
And I mean anything. Make the studio of your dreams—the money is nothing.”

“Maybe for you,” she muttered.

“I only want for you to be happy.”

She scrutinized me. “But why? I signed a contract. You’re
paying me a ridiculous amount of money. We both know that if you wanted to, you
could lock me in here while you’re gone. No one would stop you.”

I shrugged. I wasn’t sure myself why I got so much pleasure
from indulging this woman. “Call it a whim. You please me, Star. And I like to
encourage talent such as yours—it is a hobby of mine.”

I curved my hand around her nape. Her eyelids lowered and
she arched into my touch, making soft sounds of arousal that were like hot
licks over my balls.

Her eyes opened, the green dark with wanting. She moistened
her lips. “When do you have to leave?”

“I could stay another hour—if you ask nicely.”

Her tongue swiped over her full red mouth. Her gaze darted
to where my erection tented my boxers. “What do you mean, ask nicely?”

For answer, I set my hands on her shoulders, urging her down.

Understanding dawned and she went to her knees before me. I
watched as she ran a finger up my length, teasing me through the black silk.

“That’s it,” I said in a guttural voice. “Take me in your
mouth, little one.”

But of course, she didn’t obey—not my Star. Instead she ran
her lips over my erection, wetting the silk with her tongue. I fisted my hands
at my sides so I wouldn’t grab her and force her to suck me. I wanted her to do
it willingly.

She set her lips against the head of my cock and made a
humming sound that moved through the cloth as if it were tissue. I swore in
French as the vibration went straight to my balls.

“You like that, huh?” she murmured against me, sending
another hum of sensation through me.

“
Oui
. But I would like even more for you to do it
against my bare skin.”

She sent me a cheeky grin. “That can be arranged. If you ask
nicely.”

I just quirked a brow. She chuckled and eased my boxers down,
helping me step out of them. One warm hand closed around my cock, while the
fingers of her other hand teased my scrotum.

I stifled a groan. “Good girl. Touch me. Exactly like that.”

I watched her mouth hover near the tip. She ran her tongue
around the flare, then licked her way down to my balls and then up again. When
she reached the head, she sucked me into her mouth for a second and then
released me with an audible pop. A shock of electricity shot up my spine and my
whole body went rigid.

The hell with this.

I fisted my hands in her shiny black hair and pulled her
head back so that I was looking into her eyes. “Suck me, Star. Now.”

She slanted me a look up from under her thick lashes. “Beg
me, Count.”

I don’t know what made me do it.

Maybe it was because Remy had gone all lordly on me. And
then to top it off, he’d tried that compulsion shit on me. He hadn’t tried that
since that third night when we’d gone out to dinner together.

But damn it, the man was going to Paris—without me. I told
myself I was only disappointed because I’d always wanted to see France, but I
was going to miss him. And that pissed me off more than anything. I might be
only one in a long line of courtesans, but I’d promised myself I’d never beg Remy
de la Lune for anything.

So I turned the tables on him.

But of course, Remy didn’t beg. Not
Monsieur le comte
.

Instead, he flashed his fangs, and said, “Star,” in a voice
that sent a shiver down my spine.

I swiped my tongue up his hard cock again. Teasing him.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to do this for him, because I
did. When he’d urged me to my knees, I’d gone willingly. He was so generous
about pleasuring me that I was happy to return the favor.

I stroked my hand down his taut stomach, then wrapped my fingers
around his erection. It jumped in my hand. I drew a slow breath, inhaling his
musk. Already his scent was familiar to me, an earthy spice that made my
insides knot with desire.

I set my mouth to the hard, hot line of him. His whole body
went tight. I smiled to myself and hummed against his cock.

He groaned at the vibration. “Suck me,” he ordered, his
patience gone.

I ignored him to trace a slow line up and down him with my
tongue.

He closed his eyes and muttered something in French, and my
lips curved. I wanted this as much as him. But some devilish part of me made me
throw his own words back at him.

“Beg me, Count.”

His fingers tightened on my hair. I took a tiny taste and he
groaned again.

“You know what to do,” I murmured against his erection.

He bit out a curse. “The hell I do.”

“Suit yourself. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” I kept up
the teasing licks and sucks until he speared his fingers through my hair and
pulled my head back.

Our eyes met. His pale, inhuman gaze seared me. “Suck me.”

I moistened my lips. Part of me was amazed at my
boldness—this was a vampire, after all. A man who could break me like a twig if
I pushed him too far.

But then, I’d always had a reckless streak that even my dad
hadn’t been able to beat out of me. Or maybe it was
because
of those
beatings that sometimes I just didn’t fucking care. And besides, I was certain
Remy wouldn’t hurt me—not physically, anyway. I had an instinct for that kind
of violence—the kind that preys on small, helpless things—and I didn’t sense it
in Remy, however dangerous he was otherwise.

His gaze was on my mouth. I waited until he brought his eyes
back to mine again and then gave him my best innocent look and murmured, “I’m
waiting.”

He regarded me through slit lids, and I suppressed a shiver.
But that reckless streak wouldn’t let me back down.

He made a low, feral sound. “Damn you, woman. I don’t know
why I put up with this.” Then he rocked his pelvis against my lips and growled,
“Please.”

Good enough
. I put my mouth on him and sucked him
inside.

He hissed and said, “Good girl,” which for some reason made
me hotter.

His hands came to my head, holding me in place as he slowly
rocked in and out of my mouth. “Fuck. You feel so…tight.”

He’d lost his smooth tones. His voice was harsh, gritty, and
I was so damn proud that I’d made him lose control.

And then he switched to French again, and I liked that even
more.

I settled in to suck him in earnest. I could tell he was
almost there when he stopped me, and he drew me back up. He jerked off my
clothes and then said in a soft voice, “On your hands and knees.”

When I obeyed, he came to his knees behind me, grabbed my
hips, and took me there on the carpet, hard and wild.

I pressed against him, nearly sobbing with pleasure.

“That’s it,” he said, thrusting in and out of me. “You are
so beautiful. I want you too much…all the time.”

“Yes,” I moaned.

“Say you’re mine.” He fisted a hand in my hair and pulled it
back. “Say it, woman. Say you’re mine. Mine only.”

I bit my lip. Sweat beaded on my spine. “Yes,” I cried to
the hard rhythm of his thrusts as he rammed into me. “Yes…yes. I’m yours…I’m
yours.”

Remy buried his teeth in the side of my neck and I screamed
as pleasure shot from my head to my toes. “
I’m yours
.”

I collapsed on the carpet, Remy next to me.

As I dragged in a breath, I finally understood why those
other courtesans had been willing to beg.

A man like Remy could become an addiction.

* * *

True to his word, Remy ordered Malik to turn one of
the unused bedrooms into a studio, and the other man made a few phone calls and
it was done by noon the next day.

To my surprise, Remy left Malik behind to guard me. I
objected—anyone but Malik—but Remy only gave me a hard kiss, told me to behave
myself, and left.

I told myself I’d imagined that look, but I’d survived my
dad. I’d learned to be hypersensitive to atmosphere and expressions. Malik
definitely didn’t like me. What I didn’t understand was why, until it occurred
to me he was jealous of me and Remy. I’d figured a vampire was always like this
with his courtesan, but maybe Remy
did
find me special.

I shrugged off Malik’s dislike. What did it matter? In
another ten days I’d be gone, and Malik would have his master to himself
again—until Remy hired the next courtesan.

Which I refused to think about.

Malik wasn’t any happier to be left behind than I was to
have him guarding me, but the man was a professional. Other than checking in
with me twice a day to make sure I had everything I needed—and trailing me
whenever I left the hotel—I didn’t see him.

Meanwhile, I had a studio to die for. Remy must have told
Malik to get me one of everything in the store, because when the order arrived,
it was three times what I’d asked for: easels, canvases of every size, tubes
and tubes of acrylic paint, brushes in a range of shapes and sizes. There was
also acrylic gel and a special glue that I could use to affix photos and other
objects to my paintings.

The bedroom itself had large windows that let in plenty of
natural light, and an electrician had installed special lights with dimmer
switches so that I could adjust the inside lights as needed. 

I confiscated a white cotton shirt of Remy’s, put on a pair
of my new jeans and got to work. For the first two days, I painted nonstop, only
coming out of the bedroom to eat and sleep, and take a walk—at noon.

It felt strange to be outside under the sunshine. I’d always
been a night owl, so it hadn’t been hard for me to adapt to Remy’s hours.
Still, it felt good to have the sun on my face. I walked for several miles each
day, trailed by a scowling Malik, before heading back to the Inner Harbor and
the hotel.

The painting was going well. I did a couple of quick studies
and then started on the biggest canvas, six feet wide and three feet tall. I
started with deep, moody colors: navy blue, forest green, black. Next, I bought
a stack of magazines and cut them into pieces, gluing glossy bits of paper here
and there.

It still wasn’t right, so I added streaks of electric blue,
like Remy’s eyes when he was in full vamp-mode.

I was painting Remy, of course. Not his physical body, but
his energy. The darkness that lived in him, but also the generosity. Because
nothing in that contract had required him to create this studio for me—or to
encourage my painting at all, for that matter.

By the third day, Remy still hadn’t returned and he hadn’t
called me once. And damn it, I missed him. I felt empty, flat without him, like
the world had lost some of its color.

On top of that, I was worried. Because right before he’d
left, he’d said something to Malik that made me realize he was going back to
France to put down a rebellion in his own clan. He’d stopped talking as soon as
he’d realized I was in the room, but I’d overheard enough to realize he was
walking into a civil war.

I shuddered. I couldn’t even imagine what war between
vampires looked like.

For the first two days, I refused to ask Malik about Remy. Because
no news was good news, right?

On the third morning, I broke. When Malik checked in with me
after breakfast, I said, “Have you heard anything from Remy? Is he okay?”

Malik unbent enough to incline his head. “Monsieur de la
Lune is well, thank you.”

“But when will he back?”

“I cannot say.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

Malik just stared back steadily.

“You know,” I said, “I’m not the enemy.”

But he just lifted a heavy black brow and bowed himself out
of the room.

I growled in frustration, and then pulled on the shirt I was
using as a painting smock and strode down the hall to my studio.

A large painting like this usually took me weeks, but this
one poured out in a feverish burst of creativity. By the fourth day, I was
almost through.

That last day I forgot everything—even food—as I tried to
get Remy down on canvas. I even ripped up the sketches I’d secretly made of him
one day when he was asleep and glued them here and there on the painting,
forming a huge spiral that twisted toward the center.

But it still needed something. I ran a hand over my hair,
forgetting the paint on my fingers, and then it came to me. I grabbed my brush
and added a fiery shadow at the center of the spiral. Two people, intertwined
in a dark, sexy embrace. Remy—and me.

There
. Then I stepped back and eyed it, then heaved a
breath. I was done.

I set down my brush and paced restlessly around the room,
still humming from having made the best painting of my life. My stomach growled
and I realized I was starving. I glanced at the windows. From the angle of the
sun, it was close to seven o’clock and I hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

I cleaned the brushes, scrubbed my hands, and did my best to
get the streak of red paint out of my hair. Then I ate a big dinner before
setting out for a walk.

I didn’t plan to go AWOL. Remy’s little talk about vampires
wanting his woman had convinced me to fall in with his orders.

But as I entered the lobby, Malik was waiting. He nodded, back
to his usual expressionless self.

“Any news on Remy?” I asked.

“He is fine,” Malik said. “That’s all you need to know.”

I nodded, but inside, I was boiling. Four whole days with no
word from Remy—not even a quick
hi, how’re you doing?—
and Malik was
about as communicative as a concrete block.

The hell with it. Suddenly all I wanted was to go home, if just
for a couple of hours. After all, I’d been walking around with only Malik as a
bodyguard for the past few days and nothing had happened.

And besides, I wanted to stick it to Malik. Maybe that was
immature, but I was coming down off a painter’s high and not thinking clearly.

It wasn’t hard; Malik was there to protect me, not imprison
me. He wasn’t expecting me to give him the slip.

Fortunately, I’d shoved my wallet and phone into my jeans,
thinking I might do some shopping like Remy had suggested. I inserted myself
into a crowd of Japanese tourists, then when they passed the Harborplace, darted
in one end of the mall and out the other. A few seconds later, I was in a taxi on
my way back to my apartment.

The driver dropped me on the corner. He offered to wait, but
I shook my head. “No thanks. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

As I walked down the street, I looked around me. So much had
happened, it seemed like I’d been gone a year. But there was my neighbor,
ensconced in her usual lawn chair on her stoop, and across the street, four
kids were kicking a soccer ball back and forth in the deepening shadows.

Everything was normal. Only I had changed.

I reached my house and walked up the stoop, then had to
knock on the door because I’d left my key in my backpack at the hotel.

Fortunately, Jim was home. “Star!” He gave me a hug and then
stepped back to allow me in. “How are you, hon?”

“I’m good.”

Jim was blond and buff, with a cute little goatee. He raised
a sandy brow, taking in my new red sweater and skinny jeans. “We’ve been
worried about you, but I see you found a sugar daddy.”

My cheeks heated. “Art patron,” I muttered.

“Do tell.”

I liked Jim, but I knew if I told him about Remy, the entire
neighborhood would know by the end of the evening that I was shacking up with a
vampire.

“It’s complicated,” I said with a shrug. “Look, I forgot my
keys but I want to pick up a few things. Can I get the spare key from you?”

“Sure.” He went into his apartment and returned with the key
a minute later.

I took it and then smacked my forehead. “Shit. I forgot the
rent.”

“Already been paid through the end of the year.”

My mouth dropped open.

“Guess he didn’t tell you.”

“No.”

“Well, happy birthday and merry Christmas.”

“Yeah.” I shook my head. How could you stay pissed off at a
man like that? “Well, I have to get going.” I turned and ran up the stairs.

“Just one thing,” Jim called. “When will you be back for
good?”

“June sixth.” I swallowed, because that wasn’t so long now,
and continued on up to the attic.

Jim’s voice floated after me. “And Star?”

“Yeah?”

“You go girl.”

I gave a bark of laughter. “Thanks,” I yelled back. “I
think.”

Inside, my apartment smelled of stale air and turpentine. Nothing
had changed, but like my street, it felt weird, like someone else had lived
there. So much had happened since that night at Oakley’s. I ran my gaze over
the paintings propped along one wall. They weren’t bad, but they didn’t have
the power of the one I’d done of Remy.