IM03 - Pandora's Box (26 page)

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Touted as the sexiest party of the year, the annual Halloween Fantasy Ball is the one place a girl can let loose and succumb to her wildest fantasies.

Disguised as a sexy vampire huntress, Sasha captures the attention of Dante, a real life creature of the night. For Sasha, meeting bona fide vampire is enough to fulfill one of her life-long fantasies. She’s ready to go home a happy woman.

But Dante has other plans. It is after all, a night of fantasies, and he has a few of his own to share.

Dante admired the seemingly endless stream of people pouring out onto the dance floor from the double-door entrance: costumed characters, scantily clad vixens, masked marauders, the ghastly, and the gruesome.

It was Halloween at its finest.

Dante loved the annual Halloween Ball and enjoyed the ability to stalk his prey freely among the, all too willing, partygoers.

Smoke crawled across the ballroom floor. Black lights and flashing lasers cut through the swirling fog, creating an eerie multi-colored glow in the room. Chandeliers, covered in cobwebs, hung from the ceiling, while little plastic spiders bounced up and down, dangling on thin wires above the crowd.

The syncopated rhythm of drum and bass music filled the air, reverberating off the walls. Bodies moved, writhing in time with the beat. Dancers with glow sticks of various colors weaved patterns in the air with their liquid-like movements.

A hungry grin played across Dante’s face. He let his fangs show, proudly putting them on display as he nodded at a few passersby. They ignored his sharp-toothed smile as they wandered into the ballroom, not giving him so much as a second glance.

Whether they ignored him or not, Dante knew he looked every bit like a dark and mysterious creature of the night, only he wasn’t wearing a costume. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his midnight-blue carpenter jeans and tapped the tip of one of his steel-toed black boots on the ground as he impatiently awaited his brother’s arrival.

His phone buzzed, and he reached into the deep pockets of his black duster jacket to retrieve it. Words flashed on the screen: ‘Be there in a minute.’

Trevor is always late, he thought with a frustrated sigh.

Replacing the phone in his pocket, he gave himself one last once-over. In a normal crowd, he might have seemed odd—a dark and menacing figure, dressed in almost all black. Yet here, among the dancing throng of partygoers at this macabre party, he was one of the least conspicuously dressed.

A giggling group of girls wearing little more than string bikinis and gauzy wings pushed past him on their way to the dance floor. Dante inhaled their perfumed scent, savoring the fading notes of lavender left in their wake. If Trevor didn’t get there soon, he would begin the hunt alone.

A strong hand suddenly clapped him hard on the back.

“Tonight should be fun, eh, brother?” Trevor asked with a mischievous smile, flashing his own set of sharp fangs. He raked a hand through his mop of dark hair.

“My mouth is already watering.” Dante’s eyes zeroed in on a pair of entwined harem dancers, their bodies rubbing sensuously against each other in time with the music. He took in a deep breath, savoring the variety of pheromones playing at his senses. Sex was in the air, and Dante liked that. He absently flicked his fangs with his tongue as his mind played out scenarios of carnal passion and blood-lust—desires he planned to act on before the night was through. Blood and sex went hand and hand in his world, and the annual Halloween Fantasy and Fetish Ball always provided a buffet of both.

“Well then, let’s get this party started,” Trevor said, nudging his brother out of his reverie.

Dante turned, his eyes widening in astonishment as he inspected his twin. “Prince Charming? That’s your costume for this evening? Brother, you try too hard.”

Trevor smoothed out the fabric of the large, ornately adorned, navy blue suit-coat with gold tassels and shrugged. “At least I made some effort to play the part tonight.”

“Ah yes. I’m sure your ruffled shirt will send the girls into a frenzy.” Dante laughed. “There is no need to play, brother. We are vampires. Our costumes are built in. Why bother dressing up in some ridiculous outfit?”

“Because I enjoy taking part in the fantasy. It’s fun. You should try it.”

“I don’t need silly costumes to have my fun.” He narrowed his eyes as he inspected Trevor, and then leaned in close to whisper in his ear. “And Prince Charming doesn’t have fangs.”

Trevor’s hand rose to cover his mouth. “Well, I can’t very well get rid of them, can I? But, no matter. I’ll have my prey focused on other things. She won’t see them until it’s time.” He winked. 

Dante arched an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side. “Enjoy your game then, brother.”

Trevor turned confidently on his heel and waved a hand behind him. “Happy hunting.”

Dante stood still for a moment, taking in all the scents of the humans around as he watched Trevor vanish into the sea of dancing bodies. Hunger and need beat at him, and he was ready to satiate both desires. Oh yes, tonight will be fun.

Sometimes the only way to mend a broken heart is to get back in the saddle. At least, that’s how Daphne’s friends see it. And since Daphne isn’t showing any signs of letting that happen, they take it into their own hands. With a few shots of liquid courage, a pat on the ass, and a donated gold card, Daphne is unwillingly taken to the House of Immortal Pleasures to meet her creature of the night, Connor.

Daphne’s friends were cunning little wenches. This wasn’t the first time she’d been kidnapped by them. It was, however, the first time they’d decided to blindfold her. Though well-meaning, they always seemed to drag her to places she would never think to go.

The blindfold—a silky, black scarf—had been tied too tightly; it tugged at Daphne’s face, making her not only blind, but annoyed too.

Sounds of their laughter, the constant rumble of the car engine, and the whipping wind told Daphne that she was being whisked off somewhere far from home.

“C’mon, guys,” she groaned. “This is ridiculous. Cut the crap and take me back home.”

Her plea met with cackling laughter. Daphne reached up, attempting to tug away the blindfold when a hand caught her wrist.

“I don’t think so, Daph!” Jamie, her best friend, teased.

“This is stupid. I just want to go back home. I’ve got things to do.”

“Like what?” Jamie snapped. “Got some huge knitting project to finish? No. Not this time. I’m sick of seeing you mope around. You don’t do anything anymore. You don’t live. Since Ken left, you’ve been a mess. That changes tonight.”

Another feminine voice cheered from the back seat of the car. Daphne recognized the voice—her old roommate, Kerri.

Though the blindfold prevented Daphne from seeing Kerri, she still turned around to face the back seat. “It takes time to heal. Kerri, back me up on this.”

“Sorry, hun,” Kerri laughed. “But this is for your own good.”

“Yeah, it takes time,” Jamie said. “But honey, it’s been six months. You’ve lost it. You need to get back in the saddle … and quick, before you get old and rusty.”

Kerri shouted, “Woot!”

“I’m just not ready to face the world, or another man, right now.” Daphne sighed and leaned back in her seat, grumbling under her breath. Her friends meant well, but she wasn’t ready to get back out there again.

Ken had hurt her deeply. True, it had been six months, but that wasn’t long enough to dull the memory of Ken’s naked ass. She cringed, remembering the way his cheeks had flexed as he thrust himself into that blonde bimbo, lying like a whore in her bed.

Ken hadn’t even had the decency to look ashamed when she caught him in the act. The angry scowl on his face made him appear more annoyed with her interruption than anything else.

The memory alone made her heart ache. She trembled and crossed her arms over her chest to help hold back the pain. Time was supposed to heal all wounds, but in six months, she hadn’t gotten over it. In that one moment, seeing him in the throes of passion with another woman, he‘d taken everything away: her heart, her dreams, and her self-confidence.

Ken had been her first. The only man she’d ever given herself to; the only man to ever see her naked body. She couldn’t imagine sharing something as intimate as that with another man.

She sulked to herself as the car continued to speed down what felt like an endless stretch of highway.

Secretly, she blamed herself for his cheating. Daphne knew if she’d been good enough in bed, or maybe let him do the kinky things he wanted, he might have stayed with her. Ken had constantly complained that she wasn’t experimental enough. She knew she never satisfied him. Daphne wanted to do more, but the fear of doing some-thing wrong, of embarrassing herself, of not satisfying her man, prevented her from trying. She couldn’t act like the women in Ken’s porn movies. Just the thought of it sent heat rushing to her face, turning it the color of Bing cherries. She had never been raised to be … kinky.

Jamie and Kerri giggled and sang loudly to sappy love songs playing on the radio.

An hour passed, maybe more; time was a blur while she was trapped. Daphne soon reached the limits of her patience. She’d endured enough bad karaoke and teasing clues about where they were taking her. It became pretty obvious they wanted her to get out and have a night of fun. What wasn’t obvious was the reason for the blindfold.

The car turned sharply, throwing Daphne sideways in her seat. The ride became rough, as if the car had left the smooth highway for a rocky, dirt road.

“What the hell is going on? Where are we?” she yelped, almost bouncing out of her seat as they hit an unexpected dip.

The blindfold came off and Daphne let out a shocked gasp. Through the graying darkness of twilight, she saw the bright, unmistakable neon sign. Large, red letters spelled out, House of Immortal Pleasures.

Her eyes grew wide with realization as they approached. “Oh, hell no,” she shouted. A brothel. A vampire brothel. They brought me here? “Turn this car around right now. I’m not going in there.”

“Nope. Sorry, Daph. No can do,” Jamie said. A wide, ear-to-ear grin spread across her face. “You’re not leaving here until you’ve had some fun.”

Bitch! The thought flowed easily from Daphne’s mind, but she couldn’t summon the voice to say it. Shock choked back the words in her throat. Her friends were cunning little vixens. They took her out to the middle of nowhere, where she couldn’t run, to satisfy their deviant plans.

The car rolled to a stop under a large, ornate porte co-chere. Thick, marble columns framed a large set of stairs leading to a double-door entrance. A well-dressed man stood at the curb, ready for the group’s arrival. He looked into the passenger window with piercing, electric blue eyes, and then reached out with a muscular arm to open the car door.

“Welcome to the House of Immortal Pleasures, ladies,” he said in an enchanting, Old-World accent. “My name is Michael.” He smiled wide enough to show off his sharp fangs.

Daphne knew of this place. Jamie had mentioned it to her many times. The House of Immortal Pleasures had been around for ten years, reigning as the most famous sex house in Nye County, Nevada. And, from what she had heard, probably the whole country because of one simple fact: it employed real vampires.

Vampires were all the rage when they first showed themselves to the world, but that was a long time ago. To Daphne, they were just as normal as anyone else. But normal or not, to the rest of the world, they never lost their sex appeal. Men and women both lined up at the doors of this prestigious house to have their necks bitten and their fantasies fulfilled.

Daphne sat frozen in the car. She trembled with anticipation, and let out a small squeak of anxiety, unable to summon her voice to make a protest.

Michael offered his hand to escort Daphne. He smiled, showing only a hint of fangs, while his mesmerizing eyes beckoned her to follow.

Enthralled by the vampire’s gaze, Daphne barely heard the excited cheers and squeals coming from her friends sitting scant inches away from her. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. She looked up nervously at the athletic, hard-bodied man, who appeared every bit like the men on the cover of romance novels: long, wavy, blond hair, tied neatly at his neck, chiseled jaw, wide chest, and thick corded arms. Slowly, she reached out, taking the offered hand, and extended a shaky leg out of the car.

What the hell am I doing? I have to get out of here. I have to demand they take me home.

“I do hope you will enjoy your stay here tonight,” Michael said, bringing Daphne’s hand to his lips. He placed a feather-soft kiss on her knuckle. “A beautiful woman such as you deserves the kind of pleasure only we can provide.”

Daphne shivered as the predatory gaze of his eyes roamed the length of her body. Nothing could have prepared her for this. She swooned, nearly collapsing on the spot.