Bound to the Vampire (3 page)

The possessive palm at the small of her back didn’t help her keep the past locked away.

“I always do,” she assured him.

She’d believed him when he’d looked into her eyes and told her he loved her. Luckily, three hundred years had given her wisdom; she wouldn’t make the same mistakes again.

Right now she believed he wanted something. And he was willing to make a scene to get it.

She glanced at the other couples surrounding the dance floor as she shimmied her hips against Dameon’s pelvis. Werelions, tigers, bears, vampires all dressed up as something they weren’t. The kaleidoscope of colors was breathtaking and she was pleased that everyone seemed to be laughing and having a good time even if she was afire with emotion.

“You always were a fabulous dancer.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“Say my name.” The tone of his voice was deep, almost pleading. But Dameon LeBeau had never pleaded for anything in his life, certainly not the attentions of a woman.

The next steps were quick and intricate and required her to rest her cheek against his shoulder. He kept his arm high around her back, leading her easily. If she’d been stronger she would have shrugged out of his grasp and told him to, what was the phrase Avery used? Stick it where the sun does not shine.

She smiled as she studied his crisply ironed shirt and then tipped her head back so she could see his throat. White hot need flashed through her.

“Valencia—” His voice was stern.

She raised an eyebrow behind the mask, glad that she wasn’t the only one affected by their close proximity. “Why?”

“I’ve been dying to hear it on your lips.”

He sounded so honest, so raw she couldn’t reconcile his words with the man she knew. With the words she’d heard from his lips the night before their wedding day.

Breaking his lead and his hold, she did a series of figure eights in front of him.

“What is it you want?” she asked, chin up, daring him to lie to her. The dance reminded her that she was still a sensual being even though she kept that side locked away. But it’d gone on far too long. It was time to sort out his appearance in her life and get rid of him.

“To hear you say my name.”

“I mean why are you here? On Mystic Isle.”

“I own a suite here and I have since opening day. You can ask Latham since you’re so chummy with him.”

Oh that was rich. But she’d save it for later.

“So you just happened to be on island during the opening of my jewelry store. Of course.”

He dipped her and as she folded back over his arm, she caught the glimmer of desire in his eyes. Keeping her movements fluid, she extended her left arm back, over her head until her fingertips gently touched the floor. He ran a hand up her torso and stopped just beneath her breastbone.

He was after something, wanted something. From her most likely. Did he take her for a fool? For an idiot? He’d had plenty of time to find her, to make contact but he’d chosen today. Why?

She didn’t get a chance to press for details before he lifted her and started spinning in a tight circle. Clinging to his shoulders, she did a split to keep her legs from clanging into his. The world spun by as the music reached a crescendo.

He stopped abruptly, releasing his hold but controlling her decent. With her right leg hooked around his left, she slithered to the floor and grasped his thigh as she caught her breath. She’d seen the move many times on the dance floor. But with him, with the way he bent over and stared down at her as he cupped her cheek… He was so arrogant, the position so intimate.

Breathless and aroused, her heart demanded she give him anything he desired.

And then he said two words. Two words that took her brain a few seconds to compute. Two words that set off an explosion inside of her.

“Marry me.”

Dameon stared down into the incredible blue eyes he knew as well as his own. He watched, waiting for her response to his hasty demand, aware that the party goers had gone silent and the song had ended. He had no doubt their keen ears had heard him clearly.

He hadn’t meant to lay his cards on the table so soon, so abruptly. He hadn’t meant to demand her compliance. On the contrary, he’d wanted to be with her, talk with her, and see if the connection was still there.

Technically, he’d completed all three tasks.

Valencia’s breasts heaved in the tight bodice to the point where he thought she might spill out. His breathing was as labored as hers and he was acutely aware of how intimate, how sexy their position was.

Her eyes flashed silver, giving away the depth of her emotion.

He trailed his thumb along her cheekbone, relishing the smooth skin and his ability to touch her after far too many years apart.

It’d been too long since he’d held her, touched her skin, kissed her lips; heard the sweetness of her voice. Far too long.

Without breaking eye contact, she let go of his thigh, leaned away from his touch and
flashed
.

He blinked and when he opened his eyes, the spot where she’d been moments earlier remained empty. He wasn’t imagining things; she’d vanished into thin air.

Where Valencia Fabelle was concerned, he’d imagined plenty. Right up until the moment she made a fool out of him in front of the entire vampire society.

At the time, he’d believed his father had been right. You could trust a Fabelle as far as you could throw her.

His father had been wrong though, about so many things. Valencia wasn’t like the rest. Hell, she wasn’t like anyone else who’d ever lived.

But once again, she’d left him standing alone in a room full of people dressed in finery. And once again, it was his fault. He pulled his feet together and rather than meet their gaze and see the emotions in their eyes, he did the one thing he hadn’t been able to do on his wedding day.

He escaped.

A single thought sent him
flashing
to his private suite. The luxurious space was glaringly empty; he didn’t know why he’d expected her to just fall into his arms and let him whisk her away.

It’d been a fantasy.

A good fantasy where they forgot the pain and misery of the last two centuries and picked up where they’d left off. He’d never found a woman who was a more perfect match than her; he hadn’t expected to.

He strode to the floor to ceiling windows and looked out at the inky black ocean. Thousands of stars twinkled down at him just as they had every night of his life. They were a constant reminder of both the steadfastness that was the vampire and the constant change that was the world around him.

Lifting his hand to unlatch the lock on the doors, he caught of whiff of her perfume. The spicy and sweet scent clung to his hands, full of rich undertones that seduced and conquered, just like the woman who wore it. The scent complimented the heavy fragrance of roses from the large, domed arrangement on his coffee table. Their blood red petals reminded him so much of her lips.

As he stepped onto the balcony, both scents gave way to the warm breeze and salty air.

Though he didn't know exactly where Valencia was at the moment, he could still feel her lure. She was on the island, probably hiding in an exclusive suite or bungalow trying to figure out what to do about him.

Dameon smiled.

Let her mull it over. He wasn't going anywhere and he'd find her soon enough.

Valencia’s feet hit the cottage’s wooden floor with a soft thud. She snatched the feather trimmed mask from her face and threw it on the immaculately made bed.

“Marry him!” she shouted to the empty room. The sound coming from her lungs was foreign and momentarily startled her.

Unfortunately, the answer to his…insanity couldn’t be found within the four walls.

“Ugh!” She balled her hands into fists until her ruby red nails threatened to cut her skin.

Who does he think he is? Hadn’t he done enough damage? It was obvious that he’d lost his mind. Why else would he interrupt her party in such a public and embarrassing manner? Why else would he sweep her into a dance that put them in the spotlight? Why else would he demand she marry him?

After all this time… She couldn’t even finish the thought. She held a hand to her chest as her heart broke in two all over again.

She should have slapped his face, told him to go straight to hell. She shouldn’t have danced with him. She shouldn’t have let him touch her; his caress was her kryptonite.

Staring out at the dark ocean, she couldn’t stop herself from reliving those first exquisite moments when he’d pulled her into his arms. It’s where she’d once belonged, and for so very long, she’d yearned to return. How sick could she be? He’d used her. Betrayed her love.

How could she trust him again?

Her eyelids snapped open. What was she thinking?

“You will not trust him again, Valencia. You will not.” He’d taken everything she’d ever hoped for, dreamed of, loved and he’d ripped it in two. Him and his father.

And still, she’d waited for him. Hoped he’d come to his senses.
Dieu
, she was pathetic.

Sucking in a deep breath, she held it for two heartbeats and then exhaled. And again. And again, until she didn’t feel quite so breathless. When the organ in the center of her chest didn’t feel quite so bruised.

Who was she kidding?

Her knees gave. So did her tear ducts.

Fat teardrops rolled down her cheeks and she let them fall as she fell gracelessly to the floor in a flurry of silk and feathers. The grief had been a long time coming.

Knowing he was still alive and he hadn’t come for her during the two centuries they’d been apart hurt almost as much as the words he’d spoken that night. Almost.

Worse, one look into his eyes sent her right back to the last time she’d been in his arms, succumbing to his kiss, begging for his touch. They’d made frantic, sweet love before the sun came up. He’d left her with a kiss that promised an eternity of love and passion.

And that’d been it.
The last time.
Her final good memory of him.

The memories from long ago blended with tonight’s reality. The layers of fine fabrics hugging his tall, lean body to perfection. The bland scent of his soap. The tendril of hair that dared to curl over his forehead, begging for her touch.

Tonight he’d been as dapper as he’d ever been. Damn, the man knew how to fill out a tuxedo. He’d always kept up with the times. She’d once teased him that he dressed better than she did.

That still seemed to be the case. She fingered the golden embroidery on her skirt.

But today his scent, the hint of cologne clinging to him, reaching out to her…it’d been divine. She’d breathed him in and wanted to keep doing so indefinitely.

His hair was different though. Just as dark, but tamed by a haircut and perhaps his fingers. That had once been
her
fingers’ job.

A tear plopped against the side of her hand, just above the knuckle of her thumb. She wiped it away.

Stop crying.

He wasn’t worth crying over.

Haven’t you already used up all the tears he was alloted?

“V?”

Avery’s voice jarred Valencia out of her fog. She sniffed and wiped at her cheeks. But before she could make it to her feet, Avery was squatting down next to her, her big eyes wide with concern.

“I don’t need to ask if you’re okay,” Avery said quietly and sat down, carefully arranging her dress. She stretched her legs out and took off her silver and gold mask.

Valencia was furious with herself for crying, for feeling anything at all where Dameon was concerned. She glanced up at the ceiling and blinked rapidly.

“So that’s him.”

Avery didn’t need to put a name or label to it. Valencia knew exactly what and who she meant. During a moment of weakness, and honesty, Valencia had told Avery about her marriage that wasn’t. The wedding that almost was.

What she hadn’t told Avery was that she and Dameon had the kind of love that lasted an eternity. At least, she’d thought they had.

How did one recover from that?

Valencia sighed. How could she be back to that question; hadn’t she asked it a thousand times over the years? The only answer she’d come up with was keeping herself busy. If not with business or parties, she would head to the spa and hope for solace.

“That’s him,” she admitted, her voice flat, rueful.

Avery reached over and linked her hand with Valencia’s. The gesture was tender and powerful and calming.

Valencia looked over at the American beauty with her big, dark blue eyes and jet black hair. The black cocktail dress set off the exquisite platinum and diamond necklace to perfection.

At twenty-two carats, it wasn’t the largest total weight necklace in the collection, but it was the most breathtaking. The crown jewel in Shimmer’s vault. It never failed to attract attention but Valencia had yet to find the right buyer for it.

“At least the rest of the party went well,” Avery said after several awkward moments. Normally she babbled away, filling the silence with easy going banter. But much had changed recently.