Elusive Hero Page 4

  A small mouth, lips painted coral. Her willowy body was sculpted like blown glass, but she had generous breasts and a way of walking that drew the eye to the curve of hip and buttock, made a man want to plunder, use her hard. She exuded sexual promise like a siren, but the indifferent way she'd reacted to Waylon and Bill told him she put more stock in less obvious strengths. He saw it in her gaze, the set of her chin and the way she held herself. Her beauty was backed up by a maze of complicated contrasts. They told him he hadn't made a mistake, following his gut and telling Theodosius he wanted her.

  Lady Kaela's submissive nature was as clear to Garron as he suspected it was hidden from others; a treasure buried so far down it would take both of them to bring it fully to life.

  High-powered, on every level. If she was told to accomplish something, whether it was invading France or fixing him a beer, she'd do the first with extreme prejudice and the latter with enough sass to incur a promising punishment.

  He also recognized a killer, because those in that exclusive club tended to know one another. That promise of savagery gave him relief, a kinship. He sensed the soul beneath, all the weight it carried. There was an irresistible explosive energy in a suppressed submissive, one that required the proper combination of gentle pushes and rough shoves to control, channel and ultimately set off the detonation.

  Vardalos had given him a potion from one of his God-knew-how sources, and told him if he drank it daily, he would match her strength. He'd also equipped Garron's private room in Club Sin with restraints that would let him control a vampire, give her the helplessness she might crave.

  Garron had dumped the potion, because that was the easy way, and he wasn't a Dom who took the easy way. As he absorbed everything about her now, he knew that had been the right play. Her surrender wasn't going to be based on his ability to physically subdue her. Her whole life was governed by those kind of rules.

  She might not realize it yet, but this wasn't going to be about physical strength at all. It would involve something far more formidable. Will.

  He'd keep the restraints in mind, though, because they both might find some pleasure in that.

  Bill was correct. Level B was the same level as Club Sin, but up until recently the west wing of that level had been used for storage. Theodosius had ordered a major renovation three months ago. Now there was a suite down there, appointed to provide every luxury for a vampire overlord. And well-equipped for a Master to handle a challenging submissive.

  Vampire or no, she'd looked tired from her trip, so he'd taken the shortcut. However, once he opened the access door to the maintenance elevator, he guided her in and pressed the button that would drop them off at the first floor level first, because everyone enjoyed the pleasures of the castle entrance and he wouldn't deprive her of that. With his wide shoulder span, he adjusted to stand behind her in the small elevator. She was probably used to having a human following her, but he was close enough his breath stirred her hair. When he slid his hand to the small of her back, he felt that little quiver and saw the slight tilt of her head, showing he had her full attention.

  He shifted so his hip and upper thigh were against her buttock. His cock, nice and rigid in the jeans, was a couple inches from being against her ass, but he was more interested in watching her reactions than instant gratification. He kept his fingers along her lower back, making short, light strokes. Casual and easy. Not saying anything, just positioning himself in a way that assumed instant intimacy and ownership without pushing it too hard, too fast. She was getting more still, which in a human submissive he expected would have equaled more shallow breathing, tiny frantic pulses at her throat. The slightest touch, movement or word meant something when it came to Dominants and submissives interacting. It never failed to fascinate him, draw him in, make him want to demand even more. He could demand a lot from this female. She'd need it as much as he did.

  It didn't matter how often she'd fantasized about it. From what Vardalos had learned, Garron knew this would be her first time acting as a submissive since she'd become a vampire. He knew a great deal about what went through the head of someone handling that experience. He wasn't known as one of the best Masters at Club Sin for nothing. He was one of the highest paid pro Doms Vardalos had, not that it mattered much to Garron. He banked the money and forgot about it for the most part, except when he needed to buy necessities or something he particularly wanted to add to his dungeon equipment.

  The elevator came to a halt, opened onto the lower lobby level, and now her breath drew in for a different reason. Yeah, the castle had that effect.

  There were always guests awake on Eden, but this time of night in the lobby it was mostly a scattering of staff, so as he guided her up the wide marble staircase to the main lobby, she could look without being too guarded about her surroundings. He stayed half a pace behind her, so she was still aware of his presence at her back. It was interesting to note she seemed to accept that as a sufficient protection, her gaze sliding forward, up and to the sides only.

  She tilted her head back to take in the vaulted ceilings, the array of stained glass. Whatever wonders she'd seen in two hundred years, she still seemed pleased by the castle, for her lips curved, her eyes lighting with an expression of conservative delight.

  He knew about other things that could happen in the lobby upon a guest's first viewing, things most humans might discount or rationalize, even if they felt or saw them. He expected a different level of awareness from a supernatural creature, and he wasn't disappointed. Because he was watching her closely, he saw when she became aware of the flow of energy, her brow creasing. As her gaze drifted over to the nearest fountain, he shared the pleasure of seeing her react to what the magic wrought for her.

  The sculpture there could be perceived as many things, but standing so close to her, cued into the energies around her with his hand resting on her hip, he was pretty sure they saw the same thing. An entwined couple, the male intimately close behind the female, one hand on her hip, the other curved over her throat as she tipped her head back on his shoulder in a gesture of surrender. As Lady Kaela's hand drifted up to her own throat, Garron's own desires rose another notch.

  Slow and steady. He'd take it slow and steady, even though he expected his reaction to her smallest gesture was akin to the way blood hunger felt for her. He'd seen her gaze light on his throat, and remembered that Theodosius said she would need to feed soon after she arrived. It wouldn't be the first time he'd bled for a good cause, and the last time hadn't been near as pleasurable to contemplate.

  Dark thoughts, but for once, he didn't have to banish them. She was a creature of darkness. Poignant, terrible memories could mesh with the possibility of dark pleasures, rousing his lust and sadism, his anticipation of the way pleasure and pain could come together with her. Want and need. Lust and...connection. That was what he'd been lacking with submissives lately. He let them in far enough to give them an unforgettable experience but no farther, and left himself mostly untouched. Theodosius had pointed out--with undisguised irony--that it was hard to connect when Garron was purposefully keeping himself at a distance, but a man had to be inspired to want to connect.

  When Garron could tell she'd seen her fill, he moved across the expanse of marble toward the main elevators. She wasn't much of a talker, but neither was he. Not until he had something to say or ask. Stepping into the west wing elevator with her, he pressed Level B, entering the code needed to bypass the elevator's restriction from that floor. At her look, he nodded.

  "There's only one suite on Level B at this time. Yours, my lady. Mr. Vardalos and I are the only ones with unconditional access to that floor. Housekeeping, maintenance and food service all have to be cleared through me, so you'll be undisturbed during your daylight rests."

  Her brow arched. "I'll be given the code."

  "No. Usually guests are given a patch that allows them access to their specific room and amenities. But for your specific needs, I'm your patch." The elevator doors opene
d into a carpeted hallway, lit by the sparkle of a crystal chandelier. A small table holding a vase overflowing with fresh roses was in the hallway. Her gaze slipped over them, noted the red color swirled with a trace of black. "If you desire anything, you call me," he continued. "The communicator I provide you will allow you to talk to me whenever you wish."

  "So I'm paying for an expensive resort vacation, and I can only gain access to amenities through you?"

  "You can indulge every amenity that I allow you to enjoy."

  He knew that was a little strong, but he wanted to see her reaction. Her eyes narrowed, but he saw the curl of her fingers. She was balancing what she always had to be with what she wanted, and she wasn't yet sure if he could be trusted with that part of herself. The little nudges he was giving her, the touch in the elevator, the presumption of him holding her room access, were pushing her nerves toward testiness. Good. He wanted her to test him however she desired. Sometimes it was like the slow opening of the package, versus tearing off the wrapping, but sometimes it was a mix. If a few paper cuts were involved in the process, so much the better. It wasn't really worth it until blood had been shed.

  He opened the double doors to her accommodations. Vardalos had designed the suite the same way he designed the luxurious rooms on the upper floors of the castle, only rather than windows with incomparable island views, he had curtains framed around screens that gave her that same views via full color video feed. Mazes of dimly lit flower gardens, spotlights outlining the elaborate animal topiaries. The skyline view of the clean Caribbean architecture of the clubs, restaurants and casinos, now lit up for the guests to indulge in the sparkling nightlife. The ocean behind it all, currently a dark but weighted presence. The curtains fluttered as if the "windows" were open.

  "During the day, if you're awake, you'll get to see what it all looks like in the sunlight."

  "That scent...and the wind. It's real. And the sound of water?" She turned on the ball of her foot. "It's in here as well."

  "Yes, my lady. The wind comes from there." He pointed to the venting in the stone walls. "Mr. Vardalos doesn't believe any suite, even one for a vampire, should be shut away from the natural beauty of the island."

  Moving to the one side of the room still covered by velvet drapes, he tied them back to reveal the miniature grotto. A waterfall poured down the stepped formations of the grotto with a pleasant rushing noise, into a ten-foot circumference wading pool. The surprise on her face turned to delight.

  "It's lovely."

  "Mr. Vardalos will be pleased that you think so. You're the first to use the suite." He offered his hand to her, was pleased himself when she didn't hesitate this time, placing her slim fingers in his grasp so he could draw her to the pool's edge. "When the sun rises, there's a system in place that will filter its light through the openings for the waterfall. It will put half the pool in sunlight, depending on the time of day, and the waterfall as well. If you're in the pool or have your hands under the falls, you won't be harmed by the rays. Mr. Vardalos wasn't sure if you'd be interested in that, but he wanted to give you the option."

  She said something he missed because her head was down as she gazed at the flow of water in the pool. But knowing other guests' reactions to the wonders that Vardalos and his engineers, architects and designers pulled off, and seeing the spurt of light energy around her, he deduced it was a one-word accolade like amazing. Looking at her bowed head, he had the same word for the potential wonders she presented to him.

  She lifted her head, gave him a piercing look. "You can't hear me, can you? That's why you talk the way you do."

  He made a mental note not to assume this one was ever too lost in thought or sensation to miss important details. It had taken some of his co-workers months to notice the flesh-colored hearing aids in his ears, let alone what he suspected she'd picked up, the cadence of his voice, influenced by the muffled sense of it in his own head, as well as the echo sensation from the hearing aids. Truth, though he'd learned to work with them, he hated wearing the damn things.

  "I can hear you, except when you look away from me and lower your voice. But I have a sense for knowing what people say, even if I don't pick it up exactly."

  "So one of your submissives ducking her head to mutter 'overbearing bastard' doesn't go unnoticed?"

  "Not a chance." He showed his teeth, appreciating her. Tilting his head, he showed her one of the small devices in his ears. "I'm mostly deaf without them."

  "He can do this"--she looked toward the waterfall--"make the sun not burn a vampire's flesh, but he can't fix your ears."

  "Perhaps he realized protecting your lovely skin is far more important than giving me back my hearing. I don't disagree with him."

  Her brow creased at that, but she looked amused. "I thought Masters like to mark lovely skin."

  "I do. But I want every mark on it to belong to me."

  She went still again. He wanted to keep pushing on that sign of arousal, but it was also a sign of hypervigilance, because he was changing her paradigm so drastically. So he paced himself, waited on her next step.

  She sank down on the cushioned bench next to the waterfall. When she put her fingers in the water, he watched it glisten over her knuckles, splash her wrist. Her red hair spilled over her shoulder as she leaned over, looked into the nest of black rocks at the base of the grotto. They formed a shallow basin that collected the water before it overflowed into the bigger pool. "There are fish in here."

  "Yes, my lady. The water comes from the island's underground water sources and flows out to a much bigger waterfall at one of the island's larger grottos. So some of the fish find their way up here. Usually the smaller ones looking for a respite from being chased by the bigger ones."

  "Hmm." She didn't smile at that, but she inserted her hand into the pool, standing up so she could reach farther into the water. He moved closer, watched. She seemed to barely move at all, but when she brought up her palm, a blue and gray spotted fish was cupped in it. She kept her hand just below the surface so the fish wasn't out of water, but her hand was so still, the creature didn't seem all that concerned with the confinement. She slid her hand from beneath him and he swam away.

  "There's always a way for the bigger fish to get to the smaller fish," she said. "The only hope is that sometimes the bigger fish doesn't have dinner in mind. Or worse."

  He drew a towel from a shelf built into the stone wall. With her gaze upon him he dried her arm, her fingers, rubbing them thoroughly. When he finished, he put the towel aside, clasped her wrist. Fine-boned as china, with an intense energy humming beneath the skin. She wasn't used to being touched without permission, and he could see the war in her about that, clear as the warning flicker in her gaze. He tightened his grip, gauging the pulse.

  "I'm going to give you a massage now. Learn more about your body so I'll know how to properly care for you." He nodded toward the bathroom. "Take everything off and put on the robe hanging on the back of the door. There's a dumbwaiter in there for your clothes if you want to use it. You can put them in there, press the signal light, and they'll be returned cleaned and ironed within a few hours."

  She lifted her head, met his gaze. Her brilliant eyes had one message. Fuck you.

  And then she moved.

  SS

  She needed to be left alone for a few hours. She needed time to think, regroup. His brief touches in the elevator, the way he brushed his body against her, had been startling but not even slightly unwelcome, which was all unsettling enough. He'd dried her arm as if he had every right to handle her more intimately. Now he wanted her--no, ordered her--to remove her clothes and submit to a massage?

  Alarms went off in her, triggers that didn't care how intriguing he was. But she was hungry. She was going to take care of that and then tell him to give her some goddamned space.

  No human could match or anticipate a vampire's speed, so slamming him against the wall and taking him down to the tile on his back, her heel on his throat, was easy.
He promptly closed his hands around her ankle and twisted.

  Strength or not, that kind of maneuver required her to spin, pull back, but he didn't let her go. He yanked, so she had to go down to roll free. When he seized her from behind, banding both arms around her, she broke the hold, sprang away, turned and hit him in the face.

  She was teaching a lesson, not trying to kill him, so the spurt of blood from his lip could have been worse. She'd hit him hard enough to drop him, though, so she gave him points for still being on his feet. The man was built like a mountain. He touched his thumb to his mouth, tasted the blood in a thoughtful move that twisted the knife of hunger. His lips split in a feral grin, a dangerous spark to his eyes.

  "Done proving the obvious, my lady?"

  She narrowed her eyes. "What?"

  "That you can kick my ass." He tilted his head, considering her from head to toe. "Want to go another round, just so you're absolutely sure? That first shot was barely a tickle. I didn't know vampires hit like girls."

  This time she hit him mid-body, took them back to the wall again. Fabric ripped, and she saw he'd caught her shirt so it was off her shoulder, the neckline of the thin knit torn. Her breasts, held in golden satin lace, were now visible and quivering. She wrenched free and hit him again, this time a solid connection with his jaw, and swept his legs, sending him crashing to the tile again. As he went down, he snagged the waistband of her skirt and yanked, hard. The skirt was a snug fit, but his strength split the side zipper and dropped the garment to her upper thighs, hampering her movement. In that key second, he was able to bring her down on top of him. She drove her elbow into his inner thigh, close enough to his testicles that she heard a grunt...and a chuckle.

  She squirmed away, sprang back to her feet, and glared down at him. With a toss of her hair, she shed the ruined shirt and skirt. Flicking them away carelessly, she stood before him in the gold satin panty and bra set. Once one became practiced at excessive internal shielding, external shielding required no more than a passing thought. She could be naked as an infant and conduct herself as if she were wearing full body armor. Even if the way his unhurried gaze coursed over her braced legs, the nip of her waist, the rise and fall of her breasts, spread heat over every visible inch of her skin.