Bitten by Ecstasy: 2 (Dark Judgment) (16 page)

“You’re a Cardei,” Bastien said as their server set their glasses and beer bottle on the table in front of them and backed away.

Sinéad calmed the sudden leap in her pulse. Faolan may not be able to penetrate her mind, but he would be able to hear the flow of her blood, the beat of her heart. Though his pleasant expression didn’t alter as he raised the flute of dark crimson liquid to his lips, his bottomless stare slid from Bastien to Sinéad and the unblinking inspection lingered on her for several moments. She glanced at the vampire from under lowered lashes. What did those shrewd eyes perceive? A guileless human? Or did the piercing gaze peer past the charade to the heart of the hunter?

“Yes, I am,” Faolan murmured.

He sipped from the glass. The small flutter of his lashes and momentary tightening of skin over sharp cheekbones telegraphed his almost carnal pleasure in the drink. Either the wine had been converted by Jesus Christ Himself or the glass contained blood. And since she’d never heard of a holy wineskin along with the Grail, her bet was on the glass containing good old-fashioned hemoglobin.

“You’re no longer thirsty?” Faolan asked, nodding his head toward Bastien’s beer. The brown bottle stood untouched on the table, the black napkin underneath catching the sluggish rivulets of condensation rolling down the sides. Smoke-like vapor wafted from the bare lip.

Bastien smiled, slowly flashing strong, white teeth. “I prefer to open my own. Thank you, though.”

Again, Faolan inclined his head, seemingly unoffended by the hippogryph’s lack of trust. Here, in this den—in their world—trust wasn’t freely given until broken. It was earned then grudgingly offered.

“Understood.” His long fingers stroked the rounded base of his glass like a lover. “Am I who you came here looking for?”

She didn’t dare lower her mental shields to sample Faolan’s emotion. Contrary to the prevailing myths and cinematic images about vampires, they were creatures of emotion. In truth, theirs were more powerful than most immortals’. Their passions ran deeper, their joy higher, their grief more wrenching. Sinéad’s theory was the human blood vampires fed on magnified their own feelings like a microphone amplified sound. Blood contained life, as the Cross of Nef proved. It was power. Of course, a vampire’s blood didn’t have the same effect on cruxim, so she could be wrong. Or maybe her people had become so adept at sublimating their own emotion, there was nothing to intensify.

“Not you, specifically,” Bastien explained, slipping an arm around Sinéad’s shoulders and tugging her closer into the curve of his body. Her breasts pressed to his side and the hand not captured by his slid over his lower back and rested on his hip—where she’d had the foresight to hide another short-bladed
sgain
. Her fingers brushed the hilt. “A couple of nights ago in Las Vegas, I interrupted a wendigo during its feeding. He graciously told me how he’d made a pact with the Cardei
regina
. For a price, she kept the cruxim in the area from interfering in his activities.”

“Really.” Faolan’s fingers stilled on the glass, the only sign of a predator gone on alert. “And what prompted this wendigo to be so free with information?”

Bastien shrugged a shoulder as a grin slashed across his face. “I let him live.” Pause. “At least for another ten minutes.”

This time the vampire didn’t conceal his surprise. Both auburn eyebrows arched high and his full lips parted. A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Well then,” he said. “A wendigo’s disappearance is easy enough to verify.” He cocked his head, stared at Bastien with a gleam of appreciation in his onyx eyes. “For conversational purposes, what are you seeking?”

Bastien tilted his head, mimicing Faolan’s gesture. “For conversational purposes, are you the one who would be able to grant my request?”

Silence, snapping with tension and aggression, vibrated between the two males. Red flames leaped and flared in the vampire’s eyes but were quickly banked. Sinéad curled her fingers around the dagger’s hilt. Faolan smiled. Her grip tightened.

“I like you, hippogryph,” he said, raising the glass for another sip. He stared at Bastien over the rim, assessing him.
Good luck with that puzzle.
Sinéad snorted silently. The vicious marks paired with the genteel manner. The air of the predator that lurked beneath the sophistication. The beast wrapped in civilization. Bastien was an enigma—a mysterious, confusing, wonderful enigma. “Where are you two staying?”

“In Boston.”

The vampire chuckled. “Again, I like you.” He set the drink on the table and unfolded from his chair. Bastien stood, bringing her to her feet with him. Her hand remained clasped in his. She wasn’t sure if this was to continue the façade of lovers or to keep her from going for the vampire’s throat. Another smart move. “Leave your contact information with me, Bastien.” Not a promise, but not a denial.

Faolan moved until he stood in front of them, forcing Bastien and Sinéad to circle around so the vampire didn’t flank either of them. Inside, Sinéad grumbled at the vampire’s subtle maneuvering. Very smooth. Damn it.

Prepared, Bastien removed a slip of paper from his pants pocket. As he passed it to Faolan, she glimpsed the succession of numbers printed in bold handwriting. Faolan glanced down at the note before tucking it inside his jacket.

“Now,” the vampire smiled, flashing the tips of his fangs. “Please join my friends and me for the evening. Be my guests.”

“Thank you, but—”

“I insist.”

Translation, follow me or forget about your request going any farther.

Yes, they could find another member of the Cardei
sânge trib
, but no doubt Faolan would sabotage any overtures she and Bastien made.

Hmmm. It seemed as if the vampire had outflanked them after all.

Bastien went rigid.

To Sinéad, his thoughts couldn’t have been clearer if a teleprompter had suddenly appeared on his forehead. He refused to place her in any further danger, especially since they had no idea what awaited them.

She tugged on his hand, tilted her head back and fluttered her lashes.
Lady, I feel like such an ass.
“Please, Bastien,” she cooed. “Let’s go. I think it will be fun.”

He lowered his head and his eyes glittered like bright emeralds in a face set in stone. Fury simmered in the jeweled stare, fury because she’d forced his hand. Well tough. They needed in with Faolan. Allowing Bastien’s chivalrous streak to ruin this lead would be beyond foolish.

Bastien moved so fast she didn’t have time to suck in a breath. His fingers locked in her hair, drawing her head back as his body plastered against hers. The other hand grasped her hip. His hard, muscled frame pressed to hers, the thick column of his cock nudging her abdomen… Rage. Fear. Want. She shivered as his emotions swelled, hiking hers higher for the crazy ride.

“Damn it, Sinéad,” he growled next to her ear, the words barely decipherable above the dark rumble. “Let me in.” His grip on her hair tightened and tiny pricks pinched her scalp. “Let. Me. In
.
”

She didn’t pretend to misunderstand, not when the demand was coupled with the gentle but insistent nudge at her shields. Instinctive panic streaked through her, tickling her chest wall like the frantic flutter of butterfly wings. No one had ever been allowed inside her head. Given the intrusion of her empathic gift, she was more zealous than other cruxim about keeping the inner sanctum of her brain free from others. It was the last frontier that remained hers. Untouched. Unspoiled. She didn’t trust anyone enough to allow them entry…

Not true.

Snapshots of their time together flashed in front of her in a carousel of images.

Bastien cooking dinner for her. Bastien leaping from the couch and pushing her behind him to protect her from an unforeseen threat. Bastien charging into battle beside her against the wendigo. Bastien healing her. Kissing her.

Her breath caught in her throat as revelation peeled the layers back from her eyes and soul. Leaning back, she stared up into his hard, unblinking gaze. At some point her spirit had decided to trust him…it just hadn’t clued her brain in on the decision.

With a shudder, she lowered her defenses.

And held her breath.

At first, she felt nothing. Then came a soft touch—like a quiet summer breeze—over the walls of her mind. It teased, caressed, stroked her with a lover’s calming hand. She stilled, waited for the sense of violation.

It didn’t come.

The touch was tender, firm, respectful.

Bastien.

“Are you okay?”

She started at the words, the oddity of hearing someone inside her head a bit of a shock. His fingers on her scalp and hip held her steady, controlling the flinching movement. The tumult his touch caused was still there, but lessened somewhat with her shields lowered. Not any less stirring—just not as debilitating. She sank further into his physical, emotional and mental embrace.

“
Y-yes.
” She sent the reply along a fragile, new pathway.

“Good.”
He lowered his head, pressed his lips to her forehead for a long moment. “
Go raibh maith agat as do bronntanas.
”
Thank you for your gift
. The perfectly accented Gaelic whispered over her senses, the formal phrase a precious acknowledgment of her difficult sacrifice.

A discreet clearing of a throat sounded behind Bastien.

“
I think our host is impatient.
” The corners of his mouth twitched.

Sinéad leaned to the side and glanced around Bastien’s large frame. Nothing in Faolan’s placid expression gave away his eagerness, but the vampire did throw a look toward a black, closed door.

“Forgive us,” Bastien said smoothly, pivoting to face Faolan and drawing Sinéad close with a heavy arm around her shoulders. “We had a couple of things to discuss.”

Faolan nodded, smiled. “Of course. I wouldn’t want you or your lovely companion to be uncomfortable.” He gave a small, courtly bow in her direction before heading across the room.

She and Bastien followed at a short distance. The vampire paused before a black door that would have been indistinguishable from the wall if not for the silver knob protruding from it. With a twist of his wrist, Faolan opened the door. As soon as they cleared the opening, the portal swung shut behind them, enclosing them in a hallway paneled with wine and dark velvet. Ornate sconces lit the corridor, casting more shadows than light. Several steel doors broke the monotony of velvet, no doubt hiding customers and their acts behind walls most likely reinforced for sound and privacy.

“Here we are,” Faolan announced, stopping before a door. He glanced over his shoulder at them and her stomach dipped at the gleam in his eyes. Unease skated down her spine as the vampire pushed the door open. Bastien moved forward and fury sizzled across their mental link even before the blistering curse resounded in her head.

She stepped from behind his protective bulk and shifted to his side. Whatever it was couldn’t…be…that…

Holy Lady
.

And suddenly the word he’d uttered seemed completely apropos since they were surrounded by a roomful of people doing just that—fucking.

Couples, threesomes, fourso—

Shit!
Was that even possible?
Her eyes widened.
Uh, apparently so.

Vampires and humans in varied states of undress lay across leather sofas, reclined on short upholstered chaises, bent over chairs, writhed on the thickly carpeted floor…

On an upholstered bench a willowy blonde straddled the lap of a platinum-haired male. The heavy, waist-length fall of her hair brushed the tangle of material bunched at her waist as she undulated slowly on the male’s lap. Head thrown back, eyes closed and lips parted, she appeared in the throes of pleasure…and so did the vampire who sucked from the curve of her lush, naked breast.

Another woman, stripped naked, flesh flushed a rosy pink, lay on the deep, wide cushions of a ruby leather couch. Three males knelt over and beside her. Moans and the rumble of low voices filtered through the air as one vampire gripped her hips in his hands and surged forward, sinking his cock between her bare, glistening folds. His sharp-tipped fingers spread her thighs open for his fixed, crimson stare as his thick penis thrust and withdrew in a hard, steady rhythm. Hunger tightened his features, pulled his full lips away from white, pointed fangs.

The second male looped an arm over her waist, his dark head bent over the juncture where his partner fucked the female. From her vantage point, Sinéad couldn’t glimpse his actions, but from the way the woman cried and panted, Sinéad could guess. The female bucked wildly as if trying to unseat them. Yet her fingers tangling in the second vampire’s hair belied the idea. The third male suckled her breast, his tongue lapping at her pink nipple as if the peak was a delicious treat. A thin line of blood trailed over the side of the abundant mound and the male quickly abandoned the pointed tip to follow it, licking the bright rivulet and her flesh with a sigh of pleasure.

Sinéad’s breath snagged in her throat. Her heart pounded against her chest. This was so wrong. So prurient and lewd and…and…hot.
No!
In horror, she mentally backed away from the ludicrous thought, but it was too late. Heat—warm, shameful, wicked heat—coiled in her stomach, snaked through her veins and pooled in the sensitive, damp flesh between her legs. An ache—not unlike the delicious pulsing in the shower earlier—set up deep inside where a terrible—but,
Sweet Nef
, wonderful—throbbing undulated, clenched…

Bastien’s head whipped toward her. His nostrils flared wide. Green eyes flickered crimson, green, then crimson again.

“
Bastien,
” she said, digging her nails into his hand, “
your eyes
.”

He blinked as if emerging from a trance. His grip tightened around her fingers and she fought not to wince as the bones were squeezed against one another. The flames in his gaze flared then sputtered—red, green, red, green— like a wire with a short in it.

Finally, he lowered his lashes, exhaled. A heartbeat later, she stared into his emerald eyes and the clasp on her hand loosened. It was her turn to breathe a sigh of relief as blood rushed back into her aching fingers.

“Faolan,” a sultry voice penetrated the soundtrack of sex and debauchery. A statuesque female with a gold, severely cut bob approached them. A strapless electric blue dress hit her mid-thigh, exposing miles of slim, porcelain thigh. Though she appeared no older than twenty-one, the lascivious gleam in her black eyes declared her true age which Sinéad would put at anywhere from old to old-as-hell. “Goody. You brought a guest. And…” She inhaled. The unholy light in her gaze glittered brighter as she focused on Sinéad. A wide smile curved her hussy-red painted lips. “A snack.”

A low, feral growl rolled over the room like a dark drum of thunder. Faolan stilled and the grin tumbled from the blonde’s mouth. Activity halted in the room, heads whipped their way and uneasy glances slid in the direction of the beast quivering with back-the-fuck-up vibes.

“No one touches her,” Bastien snarled, shifting in front of Sinéad and blocking her from the vampires’ view. “She’s mine.”

Sinéad laid a palm on Bastien’s spine. Though he didn’t speak, his rage and worry were a wave of heat blanketing her mind.

“Liese didn’t mean your human any harm, Bastien,” Faolan assured him. “Please.” He swung an arm wide. “We have wine, food. Feel free to partake of anything…or anyone…that tempts you.” A pause. “Unless you have decided against joining us…”

“
He’s testing you
,” Sinéad warned.

“
I know.
” Bastien inclined his head. “Forgive me. I’m a bit possessive of what belongs to me. Thank you for your hospitality.”

“Enjoy yourself, my friend.”

Bastien tugged on her hand and led her across the room. He snaked pass two females double-teaming a human male on a chair and stepped over a couple going at it on the floor as if they were featured players in a porn flick. She should look away—the polite thing would be to look away. But even if she kept her eyes shut from now until the moment they escaped this orgy, there was no way she could forget the vivid images of grinding and moaning couples. Or forget her reaction.
Lady
. Did that make her a latent freak?

“Look at me,” Bastien demanded as he drew her against his chest and pressed her back against the wall, “not them.”

Not a problem
. The air shot out of her lungs. Trapped between the rock-hard wall of his body and a vacant corner, she didn’t care about what positions and acts the others were involved in. All her attention had been commandeered by the thick thigh wedged between hers. Her fingers curled into the unyielding flesh of his waist.

“
They’re watching us.
” Fire simmered in his penetrating stare, transforming his eyes into a mesmerizing tangle of jade and blood-red. His palms slapped the wall, his arms caging her head. “
They want us to perform for them like fucking animals in a zoo.
” Rage poured down their link. “
To hell with this. I’m getting you out of here.
”

“
No.
” Her nails dug into his skin. “
We can’t throw away this opportunity to get close to the Cross.
”

“
We’ll find another way.
”

Alarmed at the implacable note in his voice, she glared at him. “
This is the quickest. Faolan knows about the Cross, Bastien. We both saw the knowledge in his reaction. It would be madness to squander this chance.
”

He closed his eyes. His features twisted as a spasm of emotion crossed his face.
“You deserve better than this.”
His lashes lifted and his eyes were filled with regret and flinty resolve. The resolve scared her.
“I won’t, Sinéad—”

She crushed her mouth to his.

Taking advantage of his shock, she thrust her tongue between his parted lips as he’d taught her in those few torrid moments they shared a kiss. The heat simmering inside her since entering the private room ignited into a conflagration as she swept the interior of his mouth. And like her first experience, his taste flooded her senses like the sun’s rays washing over the earth as it rose in the morning sky.

She groaned. Surged higher on her toes, pressed harder, dove deeper. And felt the moment Bastien snapped. His growl reverberated in her mouth, vibrated against the hard tight tips of her breasts. Hummed in her throbbing sex. He wrenched control of the kiss from her as his tongue stroked and conquered. The force of the embrace canted her head back until it bumped the wall. He bore down on her, his shoulders, chest and arms holding her prisoner to his marauding lips.

At the same time, his thigh shifted, angled, pushed. A bolt of pleasure pierced her stomach. No. Lower. The sweet place at the top of her mound. Bastien ground against that spot again and jarring ecstasy leapt from her sex to her nipples and back down to the empty channel clenching and releasing high inside her. Oh. The pleasure was sharper, more acute than her fluttering caresses and strokes in the shower. She teetered on the toes of her boots, attempting to escape the strange sensations striking her with the force of an electrical current. On a strangled cry, Sinéad tore her mouth away from his and sucked in a tortured lungful of air.