KissBeforeDying

Kiss Before Dying

Aline
Hunter

Vampire Lord Sebastian Arsov is everything Katja has ever
wanted. Unfortunately, after ten years of servitude as his blood slave, she’s
being returned to mortal society. In order to experience a night in his bed she
decides to make the ultimate sacrifice. Disguised by a hint of magic, Katja
enters Sebastian’s chambers to immerse herself in pleasures she’s been long
denied. Before the sun rises, she’ll discover what it’s like to be loved by the
man who’s weaved his way into her heart, mind, body and soul—even as she
succumbs to the bite that will end her life.

A
Romantica®
paranormal erotic romance
from Ellora’s Cave

Kiss Before Dying

Aline Hunter

Dedication

To my editor, who believes in my work and asks for more.
Ann, you’re the bestest.

Chapter One

Tonight I will have him, my Master and vampire lord. And
tonight I will die.

As a blood slave I have never known passion or pleasure. We
are never to know what it means to be taken into bed. Our virginal blood is our
worth, given in exchange to the lords who offer the most lucrative bargain for
ten years of our servitude. When the time is served, our minds are cleansed of
the past and we are allowed to return to the dregs of a society that know
nothing about them.

Most blood slaves are born of the human families who—for
generations—have served the lords and ladies of the keep in a place hidden
within the mortal realm. These most cherished servants are treated with the
utmost respect, for their bloodlines nourish and provide for their keepers and
ensure survival.

Then there are those like me.

Mortal females snagged from a life of poverty, desolation
and misery. There is no choice for us. Once we’ve been marked, all that is
required is an unexpected happenstance with The Collector to seal our fate. The
vampire slave hunter is known for his exceptional eye for beauty and grace, as
well as his ability to see the aura of purity as it radiates from the source.

Although I resisted my entrapment, spewing every vile word
in my vocabulary and demanding to be released, it wasn’t long before I met my
Shellar
—the
stunning male who paid the price for my companionship and thereby held all
rights where I was concerned.

Lord Sebastian Arsov.

It seemed destined that we should meet, as though it was
meant to be. The moment I first laid eyes on him, I knew I would never be able
to fight that which would occur regardless. With thick white-blond hair, vivid
and impossibly bright mushroom blue eyes, a face beautiful enough to grace
heaven and a chiseled body that moved with such intent and precision he
actually appeared to ripple, Sebastian was unlike anyone or anything I’d ever
seen.

Yet it was his tenderness in that first, tentative contact
between us that proved to be my undoing. He enraptured and enthralled me, and I
knew I had to be with him. No matter the price, regardless of the cost.

No longer am I content with his fangs at my throat, followed
by the most heartbreakingly tender pulls as he feeds at my veins. I need more
than the hours spent conversing privately about his past and my future while
wrapped in sheets that know nothing more than the most innocent of touches as
we sleep side by side.

The dichotomy has changed.
I
have changed. The
seventeen-year-old girl taken from a harsh life on the streets has gone,
replaced by a woman full-grown.

I want his kiss of sexual longing at my neck while his large
hands explore my breasts. I want to feel the fullness of his cock buried deeply
inside my untried body as his moans of pleasure echo inside my ears when he
finds release.

Months of preparation have brought me to this place, sitting
in a tapestry chair, to appear before him when he enters, having committed a betrayal
of sorts. For the time with my lord is nearing an end, and the thought of never
remembering Sebastian is more than I can bear, something I’m not willing to
allow.

Although it will mean my death, I am content in knowing our
last moments will be shared together, in the most intimate and beautiful of
ways. And my beloved
Shellar
will be none the wiser until the deed is
done and the piper is paid his due. It is vampire law. You must not bed those
you drink from—as you can never fully wipe their memories clean—unless their
lives are taken during the physical union.

Blood drinkers survived by one rule above all.

No one must know they exist.

It was amazing, when I thought of it. Mortals fail to
recognize the supernatural creatures around them. Despite the fact they are as
beautiful as the stories depict, lovely in their absolute grace and sensuality.
But they are often isolated and separate from all those around them, which
makes the vampire race lonely creatures.

Often Sebastian longed for nothing more than conversation as
we sat before the roaring fire. It was how we spent a majority of our time,
sharing and nourishing our chaste yet endearing friendship. We were as close as
lovers, even though we’d never taken our relationship to that level and—if
Sebastian had his way—never would. My Master wouldn’t consider such a thing. My
life, to him, was worth far more than my death. A night of love and pleasure in
his arms wasn’t worth the sacrifice involved.

I knew that, had tried to accept it.

Until I realized I’d only been lying to myself.

The large oak door opened with a protest of squeaking
hinges, interrupting my thoughts and memories. Sebastian entered the
bedchamber. His massive frame took up a large portion of the bedroom, as did
his intimidating presence. He pulled the door closed, walked to the center of
the room and stood before me. I knew what to expect. I had seen him come to
those fortunate enough to grace his bed in those early days of my tenure. I’d
been jealous of each one, even if it had been wrong to resent the poor
creatures. True, they’d experienced what I longed for. They’d known the touch
of my master as a lover. Yet even as they gloried in the pleasures of his body
it was I who shared a portion of his mind. We’d become connected through blood,
even if we were destined to be nothing more than friends. The only time I left
his chamber was when he entertained, taking women to his bed, breaking my heart
each time in the process.

As required, I donned a black mask embossed with blood-red
jewels that revealed only my cherry-stained lips and darkly kohled chocolate
brown eyes, which worked in my favor. It was essential to keep my identity
hidden. Fortunately the lords preferred to think of their bed partners as
little more than disposable pleasures. None of them enjoyed killing, even when
it was necessary. The mask also held an enchantment, obscuring my unique scent.
Otherwise Sebastian would easily recognize the fragrance of my blood and, by
association, my identity.

To enhance the illusion, I chose a long pale blonde wig to
disguise the brunette waves collected beneath. Sebastian loved my hair. He
claimed it was a prize of its own. Masking those heavy strands was as important
as obscuring my face.

He continued standing in front of me, impossible to ignore,
observing me with a trained and critical eye. He was covered in expensive
materials, each piece custom fit to his frame. The black jacket molded to his
wide shoulders had been left open along the center to reveal the crisp white
shirt beneath. Pearly white buttons were opened at the collar, displaying a
tantalizing flash of flesh.

“Rise,” he murmured in a thick voice, slightly accented and
entirely erotic.

The mere word caused my thin panties to become drenched with
hot, liquid arousal. I shivered, goose bumps making me painfully aware of my
sexual need. Wantonly, I envisioned the lips that uttered the order against my
breasts—sucking, biting, exploring. My nipples hardened at the prospect,
forming into beaded points. I shifted uncomfortably in the chair, clit
throbbing, trying to steady my breathing.

Sebastian chuckled at my reaction. “Rise, little beauty, and
come to me.”

This time, I did.

The four-inch heels I’d chosen were odd to walk in, but they
were necessary to add to the illusion and to alter his perception. I purposely
rotated my hips with each step, every stride bringing me closer. I had to force
myself not to peer into the magnificent face of the man I had decided to give
myself to.

The man I was willing to die to be possessed by completely.

“You are exceptional,” he breathed. Reaching out, he pushed
aside the thick red velvet cape around my shoulders to reveal the—until now
unseen—treasures hidden beneath.

The heavy material clung to the clasp at my throat and
allowed him uninhibited access to my body. He started at the base of my neck,
fingers skimming across the surface of my chest. One large hand cupped my right
breast. He massaged the mound through my thin corset as his thumb caressed the
hard bud beneath. Knowing he enjoyed hearing the sounds of the pleasure he
created, I didn’t mute my soft moan.

“Tonight I want to hear my name on the tip of your tongue
each time you come.”

It wasn’t difficult to make my voice husky and
unrecognizable, not with the heat in his gaze, his attention riveted entirely
on me. “Tell me your name, sire.”

“Sebastian.”

I repeated the word in a heady tenor, voice quaking,
“Sebastian.”

As his face descended, I waited, captivated. How many years
had I longed for that plush mouth against my own? To know exactly how he tasted
and smelled? His blood was thick, spicy and masculine.

Would the rest of him be as well?

Just before our lips made contact, he whispered, “Tell me
your name, sweet.”

Panic almost ruined everything but I quickly recovered,
remembering the ruse, how important it was for my plan. “Arianna,” I expelled
in a rush, using the middle name I had never revealed to him or any other in
his enclave.

“Arianna.” He sampled the name, rolling it off his tongue.
“A beautiful name to match a sensual vixen.” His grin made my pussy spasm, heat
building between my thighs. “I approve.”

Lips met and parted, tongues darting out. As expected, his
taste was intoxicating.

The headiness of his nearness swept through my entire body.
The laps of his tongue were tender, brushing against mine as he coaxed a
response. Unwilling to disappoint I mirrored his actions, thrusting my tongue
into the cavern of his mouth, reveling in his throaty groan of approval.

His hands trailed down to my waist and cupped my ass. Each
squeeze became harsher, nearly bruising, but it was the most delicious kind of
agony. Years of longing were finally being fulfilled and I wanted to experience
it all—both pleasure and pain. The slick wetness between my legs became a
raging fire and I moaned at the empty ache.

“Christ, your scent,” he growled, lifting me into the air
and forcing me to wrap my legs around his muscular waist as he strode purposely
for the bed.

The massive four-post structure was situated against the far
wall, next to the old stone fireplace. Sebastian kept his resting place there
for the sake of his bedmates, to keep them warm. His body temperature depended
on the stretch of time since his last feeding. As I was his provider, I knew it
had been several days. It was to be expected that he went to his lover thirsty.
Bedmates were loved well before they were drained. Afterward their bodies were
taken to the basement and turned into ash inside the incinerator.

Those thoughts were cast aside when Sebastian released my
ass and brought my heeled feet to the dark wood floor. He unlatched the toggle
at my throat and the red velvet cape pooled at my feet in a cascade of crushed
crimson. The outfit beneath matched the material. The red-and-black lace,
combined with patches of matching velvet, molded to my curves. The bone corset
was incredibly tight, accenting my waist and enhancing the rounded swell of
creamy white at my breasts.

I had chosen the colors thinking of him, inspired by the
blood-red satin sheets adorning his bed. They were changed daily, but one thing
remained consistent—the shade.

“Exquisite.” He exhaled the compliment, bringing his hands
to my mask. “I want to see all of you.”

“Please, don’t,” I cried out in alarm, capturing his much
larger fingers in mine. My voice trembled when I explained, “My face is marred,
sire.”

For a moment he hesitated, and I worried the ruse had
failed. Vampires had an uncanny ability to filter through and sense lies. After
a moment he smiled, returning his focus to my body. His touch was impossibly
soft, fingers barely whispering over my breasts. Somehow the teasing caresses
were erotic, each brush leaving me yearning for more.

“Your skin is as warm and soft as silk left to bask in the
sun. I can’t wait to taste you.”

Unable to resist, I arched into his experienced hands and
pressed against him. My breasts went flush against his crisp white dress shirt,
the mildly starched cotton painful against my tingling nipples. The skin
beneath his clothing would be much better to touch—cool, pale and smooth.

Completely brazen, I purred, “Allow me to undress you,
sire.”

He lowered his hands and his lips curved into a sinfully
delicious smile. “As you wish.”

He removed his coat, and I started removing his shirt at the
buttons near his throat, unhindered by my trembling fingers. I revealed his
smooth alabaster skin bit by bit. When each button was undone I slid the
material from his shoulders, dropping the garment to the floor and baring his
torso. The muscles along his chest and stomach were cut and defined, each curve
and crevice solid and smooth. Although fair, his skin seemed to radiate health
and vibrancy from within.

“May I?” I asked and licked my lips.

He tilted his head, watching me closely, and answered, “You
may.”

Starting at his chest, I pressed the lightest of kisses to
his flawless skin. The flesh was cool and firm, the surface impossibly silken.
Going lower, I followed the ripples of his abdomen. Darting my tongue out to
taste his skin, I focused for a moment on his bellybutton, rolling the tip of
my tongue around the indention. Sebastian’s breathing turned ragged, thickening
into a moan. Suddenly his hands came onto my shoulders and applied subtle
pressure. I didn’t resist and he lowered me to my knees.

“Finish undressing me, sweet.”