The first girl was already straddling a man’s lap, crying out in pleasure as she bounced upon him. The chains were taut, straining to keep her filled. Two other girls lay upon a divan and began to kiss each other’s privy curls. One banged her bottom roughly against the divan. The other spread her thighs wide and wriggled. Did that provide stimulation?
Men—vampires—sprawled on the various chairs, watching the display, exuding raw sensual power. All were cast in shadow, so they looked mysterious and dangerous. Some crooked their fingers—summoning a girl to dance before them.
The girls would play with their nipples or hold open their nether lips, then spring around to display their bottoms. One girl with enormous breasts was able to reach her nipple with her tongue, eliciting a cheer from the bright-eyed man watching her. Another man dragged the girl toward him, until she crawled on her knees on their chaise. He pulled her hips to his face so her quim was at his mouth. With his large, gloved hands, he began withdrawing the rod and thrusting it in her, the chains attempting to resist.
Serena realized his tongue was licking the girl’s privy parts, tasting the moisture there, and the vampire made hungry, growling sounds. Another girl crawled between his thighs and began to undo the placket of his trousers.
Serena’s face was aflame, her throat dry and tight.
Mr. Swift leaned forward—heavens, she felt his erection push against her backside. He was aroused. She wanted to push back against him. But she tried to stay completely still.
“Is this the sort of thing you do?” she croaked the question at him. She should disapprove. But she found watching so arousing, so irresistible.
“Is it the sort of thing you would want to do, little lark? Wouldn’t you wish to perform for him, to entice him beyond all control?”
She had no answer, swallowed hard. “But those women are enticing vampires. The vampires will feed from them, hurt them.”
“But you know vampires do not always kill—and the only ones allowed here are those with control over their feeding urges. And the girls are well treated, in a way. They have warm beds and beautiful clothing, and are very well fed. They have every comfort they could imagine. These are not girls trapped and abused by a brutal madam.”
“They are free to leave?”
“Yes, but they don’t leave.”
“Why not—if they have freedom, why would they not take it?”
Swift leaned closer. “Because they need to offer their blood. They cannot exist any longer without joining with a vampire and surrendering their blood.”
“Slaves? Or worse—food!”
“In all relationships, one partner feeds on what the other offers. In different ways. The vampires are as much their slaves.”
“I don’t believe that.” She glanced up and caught Lord Sommersby’s gaze. She saw the way his lips parted, the tense way he held them. Shadows shielded his eyes, but something in his expression knocked all the air from her chest.
Slowly, like a prowling beast, Lord Sommersby walked toward her. Instinctively, she wet her lips in anticipation of his touch, his kiss. She was living her dream. She moved back from the rail, which pressed her derriere against Drake Swift’s rigid erection. She was aware of her heat, her scent, her wetness, and the power of the two men who had vowed to protect her.
Serena gasped as Drake Swift kissed the back of her neck. As he suckled. A burst leaped from there like a tiny firework. It raced through her, furiously fast, and exploded between her legs in a flood of wetness.
Ecstasy. Pleasure. Goodness, at just that touch—that hot, lovely touch—she’d climaxed!
She cried out.
5
Addicted
Jonathon heard Miss Lark’s little cry of pleasure and almost came on the spot. A bolt of sensual agony crippled his legs, and he had to stop walking.
Miss Lark’s head arched back, her cheeks flushed pink, and she breathed frantically. She’d climaxed at just the touch of Swift’s mouth to her neck. Of course she would. She was a born vampiress.
Swift groaned, “Yes, sweeting,” and reached for her plump breasts.
Jonathon clamped his hand on Swift’s shoulder and shoved his partner. Swift took a step back, a dangerous gleam in his eyes.
This wasn’t the first time Swift had pleasured a woman Jonathon had wanted…
“This isn’t a game, and Miss Lark is a respectable lady.” Jonathon kept his voice low, but his temple throbbed and he felt the beat of his pulse in his skull. Damn, he was hard and aching for Serena Lark. He hadn’t sought sexual release in a year. Frustration kept him sharp on the hunt. And what woman would want to be the mistress of a man who spent his nights slaying demons and his days locked in a laboratory, slicing the brains of vampire cadavers with a scalpel?
He couldn’t let himself desire Miss Lark. And he had to ensure his blasted partner did not learn her secret.
“Out of my league, you mean.” Swift’s hands fisted at his side.
“I—I fear it was the drug,” Miss Lark said, and she touched her cheeks, wincing as though she’d burned her palms.
Swift, who thought she was an innocent miss, was taking advantage of her shock and confusion. Jonathon lifted his fists.
“Gentlemen, stop!” Miss Lark managed to make a whisper into a shout. She wagged her finger like a disapproving governess. “Roman—the vampire who captured me—is leaving. He was speaking with the madam once more and is going into the crowd. We should go now to the library.”
Miss Lark set his head spinning. Beneath her veil, her cheeks were still flushed from her ecstasy. Her words were rushed as though she still hadn’t caught her breath. She’d just witnessed the lewdest acts he’d ever seen. But she was fixated on the bloody library.
What did she want there? Did she really not know she was a vampire? Did she believe Ashcroft’s lie about her parents’ deaths by vampire attack? Had she really come here to find a book that might tell her about her parents? She was such a mix of innocence and determination, vulnerability and strength, he couldn’t tell if she was lying to him.
He saw Swift move to her side. “We should follow the vampires.”
Jonathon had the privilege of rank, and he gripped the brass rail to spend some of his tension. “Too dangerous to combat a half-dozen vampires in their own den.” He looked to Miss Lark and tried not to remember her climaxing for Drake Swift. “You said the vampire was speaking to the madam?”
With bright pink cheeks, she nodded, and her raven-black curls danced against her back.
“Then Madame Roi is who we want to speak to. The vampire Roman will be subordinate to her. She had a great deal of power. She rules the vampires of London.”
Miss Lark frowned. “That is something I have never understood. If you know she is a vampiress, why do you let her live?”
Swift grinned. “Because she has the protection of powerful men.”
“Which powerful men?”
Jonathon sensed she had already guessed the answer, but he gave it to her. “The Earl of Ashcroft. His Grace, the Duke of Russex. Lord Williams.”
Miss Lark looked perplexed. “But why would the three most important men of the Royal Society protect a vampire madam?”
With lordly arrogance he waved the question aside. “Miss Lark, why don’t you tell me how to find the library?”
Her gray eyes narrowed. “Only if you bring me with you.”
“No. Too dangerous.”