When her dark eyes blinked up at him, her
wet
eyes, he realized he’d mistakenly spoken in English. He’d been so careful to revert to his own language when he praised her. But the brain buckling release had softened more than his cock.
Kissing her once more, he swiped his thumbs to catch the moisture using her so hard had caused to spill over. “I would do almost anything to be able to remain here and have you walk the room for the next hour so I could savor this sight. Stand, please.” He helped her to stand and turned her, groaning again at the sight of the long tail. “Magnificent.” He took his time kissing each plump cheek, petting her, lifting the tail so his view was unimpeded. Then he tried not to weep as he sent her toward the bathroom with a light tap on the back of her thigh. “Would you protest if I wanted to take a photo for posterity sake?”
She looked at him over her shoulder and had never looked more seductive as she did then, biting her lip and debating. She killed him when she shook her head and shyly dropped her still moist eyes. “Not this time,” she said quietly, more subdued now that she’d brought him to his knees.
“Very well. Go remove it.”
If you must.
“Then you will get dressed. I have business in Bucharest, and you will accompany me. Wear something dark and formal. I want your makeup noticeable and your hair down. Wear stockings beneath your dress but nothing else. Make sure the neckline is deep, and you will wear no jewelry other than your collar. Seeing it around your neck will make it that much less irritating for me when others covet you.”
He kept his attention off her as he tucked himself back into his pants and stood.
“Do you need me to remain while you dress?”
“No.”
“Good. Try to keep in mind your dress should compliment the man you are wearing it for. Meet me in the foyer in an hour.” He was so self-indulgent when it came to her, he knew he would forgo the meeting and take her to bed if he lingered. He didn’t even look her way as he left.
He made his way downstairs with his jaws grinding together, and all he could see in his mind’s eye was his father sitting in a wooden chair by the door in their library, his emotions laid out for all to see. Lucian barely recalled the fear and anxiety. It was the relief that was scarred into his brain. That motherfucking relief that would flood the man’s face when he would hear his wife walk in the front door. And it never left even when she drew near, bringing with her the smell of sex she’d had with someone who wasn’t her husband.
And never would Lucian forget the knowing smirk and condescending
yes, of course,
his mother would drawl when Lucian’s father would offer to run her a bath. She’d known she had him by the submissive, so-deeply-in-love balls, and the bitch had thrived on it.
♦ ♦ ♦
Feeling drained and emotional, and a tiny bit resentful of the ease with Lucian could walk away from her—after she’d worn a tail for him!—Yasmeen did her hair and makeup with a particular image in mind. She concentrated on the music still playing and tried to find humor in the fact that this would only be her second date with her madman.
When it was time to dress, she sifted through the selection of cocktail dresses boasting labels from designers she’d only ever seen on TV during Fashion Week. It wasn’t until a black gauzy creation caught her eye that her mouth curved into a smile. She eyed the stunning dress then the door.
“Compliment the man I’m wearing it for, huh? Got it.”
She carefully got into it, added a pair of four-inch black Louboutins, and took off her cheap rings. When she stepped in front of the mirror, she kept her face free of expression. With her hair straightened from a severe part down the middle, and dramatic eye makeup paired with a pale foundation and red lip stain, she was extremely pleased with the result.
Could Mrs. Addams have been right? Was normal only an illusion?
Lucian put his empty glass down on the table and looked at his watch for the fifth time in the last few minutes. His skin felt tight. He should have waited for her upstairs. Watched her get ready.
“Holy shit.”
It wasn’t Sorin’s curse so much as the chuckle that followed that had Lucian’s feet carrying him to the entrance of the sitting room. He joined his protector and looked across the foyer to see a magnificent queen of the damned gliding down the carved staircase, an onyx river trailing behind her as if the darkness couldn’t bear to be left behind.
He started across as she reached the last step.
“Gomez.”
His jaw clenched, and he wondered if he would ever get her references. He was sure he’d missed every one so far. He’d actually Googled Heimdall earlier today as he’d sat in his office forcing himself to work.
“The Addams Family,” Sorin supplied with a smile in his voice. “Gomez and Morticia,” he added as though Lucian was completely out of touch.
“To compliment your date,” Lucian said when he reached her.
“But, of course.” She held out her hand and would have looked more the part if she’d had some arrogance in her.
“I appreciate the effort you took to mock me, pet. But it was wasted.” He kissed her hand, his mouth watering when he caught a glimpse of the bronzed skin of her flat navel. “You have never looked the part to play well with my demons. Until now. Come. Let us get this over with.”
After bundling her in a warm wrap, it was with some apprehension that he brought her out to the car. The nagging feeling remained during the drive to the clearing where the chopper waited, and was still with him when they landed in Bucharest and headed to the casino.
♦ ♦ ♦
They hadn’t been in the building more than ten minutes and already Lucian was ready to take a scalpel to the eyes of men just like him who thought they had the right to whatever was before them because being wealthy frequently made it so. They ran their practiced gaze over his pet, cataloging the flawless image she presented. Some of them hid their lust. Those were the ones who recognized the significance of her single piece of jewelry, which was noticeable in a room where most every woman in attendance positively dripped with diamonds. The others did what he’d expected them to do; covet. How could they not?
A couple brushed by them, sending Yasmeen deeper into his side. She slipped her arm around his waist and remained. “I’m not usually bothered by crowds, but these people are like you. All this money makes me uneasy.”
He would never have guessed. “You have a convincing mask.”
She nodded, taking his comment seriously in that way she often did. “One of a few. You said you have business here. You sure this isn’t your way of giving me a taste of the South of France without actually taking me there?”
“No,
draga
,” he murmured, his attention captured by a man standing a few feet away—one he kept in his periphery. “If I wanted to give you a taste, I would do so with the real thing.”
“I know you would. So, how long do we have to stay here?”
He focused on her. “You would rather be somewhere else?”
“Sure. Okay. I’ll give your ego a boost it doesn’t need. I’d actually like to go back to Fane manor and curl up in front of the fireplace. I’d even make some noise when you played with my hair to let you know how much I love it.” She scanned the faces around them, adding under her breath, “It’s slightly less judgy there.”
When the invasive stare coming from only yards away went down for the third time and locked on Yasmeen’s ass, Lucian placed his hand on the work of art. The block was successful in shifting the man’s attention, and Lucian and his demons gleefully stared the idiot down.
Protection closed in to form a barrier when Hector Sala had the skin to approach. “Well, if it isn’t the man himself. How are you, Lucian?”
“Hector.” He didn’t shake the hand that was offered and it was dropped.
“I wasn’t aware you’d come home. Will you be here long?”
“Why do you want to know?”
Bleached teeth flashed when Hector smiled. “Just making conversation since we’re in a social situation. You shouldn’t stay locked away in that palace you came into too easily. Maybe you’d remember your manners.”
“Only to waste them on someone like you?”
The cocky grin slipped. “Right. I heard about Markus.”
Lucian stilled as Yasmeen’s body stiffened against him.
“Sucks. You consoling yourself with this one?” he asked, reverting to their language. “I’ve never seen you with a whore. Goddamn. She must be setting you back thousands. But the good ones are well worth it. Isn’t like you can’t afford her.” He chuckled and continued to strip Yasmeen with his offensive stare.
Sorin took offense to that, and for the first time in memory, deferred his position to Spencer and stepped around to blatantly cut Hector’s view off.
“Such a sweet meathead you have,” Yasmeen whispered to him as she gave Sorin’s wide shoulder an appreciative pat.
Lucian agreed and took out his phone to send a text that would put their cleaning crew on standby. “Is your father here tonight, Hector?”
Will he witness your death?
“The old man doesn’t leave the house much since I took over.” He straightened, and did his best to pull in his protruding gut. “That’s why we’re not lining your pockets anymore, Fane, because there are some brains at the helm now.”
“Brains. Yes.”
All over the floor.
“Excuse us.”
Sorin bulldozed a path, and Lucian placed his pet in front of him before he traveled it. Patience. He was definitely learning it.
“Who was that?” Yasmeen asked, her tone now freely reflecting her distaste.
“Hector Sala. His father used to come to our house to fuck my mother when my father was at work.”
His step faltered when she stopped and turned. She slipped her hand into his and pulled him to the side. That softness was coming over her face. The one that told him she was feeling sorry for him. “Please tell me your business here tonight isn’t with the son.”
“No, sadly it isn’t. But I still might get him alone. If I do, I will be sure to warn you to look away before I do anything that might shock you.”
She blanched. “Uh, like what? Why would you do anything to him? Because of what his father did?”
“No. Because of who his father raised.” He accepted two glasses from Spencer—one of the seven who formed the protective circle around them. Lucian handed a glass to Yasmeen and could feel the heat from Sorin’s body he was standing so close.
His pet sniffed the contents of the crystal. “What is it?”
“Chardonnay.”
Their eyes met, and she tipped her chin down so that she was peering up at him through her long lashes. Seeing her so heavily made up, the urges coming to him weren’t good ones for her.
“That’s it?” she questioned in a soft tone. “No roofie?”
Would anyone notice if he pinned her to the roulette table behind them and counted her perfect teeth with his tongue? “Are you attempting to distract me, pet?”
“Yes, sir. Is it working?” She smiled cheekily.
“Do not call me Sir. I do not need such an abused title. It is a shame what they have done to something that used to be so powerful.” He nodded to her glass. “It is an aphrodisiac. Drink up. It should take effect within moments of you imbibing, and you should be begging me to take you only moments after that.”
She laughed, sounding breathless and angelic. When she stepped closer, her scent swept up his nose and he grew dizzy with lust. “Did Frosty just make a funny? Yikes. Keep it up and I’ll never be able to resist you.”
Did she still think to resist him?
“And an aphrodisiac, did you say? So
that’s
what your secret is. Here I thought it was just chemistry. Is the gas form being pumped through the ventilation system at the castle? Is that why I feel like I’m in season whenever you enter the room?”
She was going all out in her attempt to distract. His very sight darkened, tightening his scope until all he saw was her. He found her ass among the smoky material of her dress and pulled her into his aching groin. Bringing his mouth to her ear, he inhaled once before speaking.
“No,
draga mea
. The hopeless yearning that invades this body when it is near its owner is not chemically induced. That reckless desperation that comes over you once I take you to a certain point? That is simply something you and I share. The urgency, the manic pressure that builds, the torturous journey to a fulfillment that never seems quite enough. Does this sound accurate?”
She didn’t answer. But then, she didn’t have to.
“That is us,” he informed her before straightening. “It is a curse I would bet my fortune one of my ancestors put on me: To never find complete satisfaction in the arms of the only one who can provide it.”
She looked stricken, and then her cheeks grew so pink she appeared feverish. “I don’t satisfy you?”
He gave his head a sharp shake and stroked her throat with his thumb. “You misunderstand. It is my greed that leaves me unsatisfied. You sate me, and my insatiable appetite for all things Yasmeen returns almost immediately. It pleads for more. Even my demons have begun to gorge themselves on you because they know one day they will no longer have the opportunity. That angers them. And me. Enough that I am considering making this a permanent arrangement. But first I must have that fortress built some place outsiders cannot intrude.”