She looked surprised, even anxious. It wasn’t something that happened, hearing someone else’s voice in your head.
Then her anxiety melted and she smiled smugly. Without hesitation, she moved toward him, slithering adeptly through the crowd.
As he watched her move, Lucien made a decision. He didn’t make her come to him, he moved with the intent to meet her at the doorway to the maze that led into The Den.
He wanted to be done with this and get home to Leah.
He had intended to return tomorrow evening for a feeding and another attempt at her taming. However, he decided he’d talk to her, not instruction, but explanation. And he also decided to do it without delay.
Perhaps that would hold some sway or at least enough for her to beg him to take her.
All day his body had reminded him of his own unfulfilled need to be buried inside Leah’s silken, wet, warmth. It had been an error of judgment to give his c**k even the hint of a feel of her. It had taken a supreme effort of will to set those thoughts aside during the day. No matter how little he had of her, what he had had been exquisite.
“Lucien,” the blonde breathed when she made it to his side.
He didn’t greet her nor did he touch her.
He walked into the hallway, knowing she’d follow.
She did.
This hallway didn’t snake to The Den, or feeding room, of this Feast. Instead, it was a maze, the center of which held The Den. Every vampire knew the layout, none of the mortals did. A mortal could only go to The Den in the company of a vampire at his or her invitation. If they wandered back in hopes of melting into the feedings, at this particular Feast, they could be lost for hours, even days.
Lucien moved swiftly, surely, feeling her struggling to keep up, not allowing her to get her bearings and within minutes they were in The Den.
Lucien’s eyes went immediately to the steward who noticed him and jerked his head toward another door. Lucien wended his way through the bodies on the floor, feeling her behind him, smelling her scent which was no here near as delicious as Leah’s.
Most definitely lemonade. And not good lemonade.
“Master Lucien,” the steward murmured as he inserted a key and opened one of a half dozen doors leading off The Den.
“Clive,” Lucien returned the greeting and walked into the small room.
It was much like any Den, decorated in rich colors, the furniture comfortable and inviting, meant for lounging, covered in soft, plush fabrics.
Lucien had intended to lead Leah to a room off The Den they visited last night, not to feed, to indulge in other pleasurable activities. However, her extreme reaction stopped him from doing that. He’d been disappointed but only until she’d explained. Then he’d been elated.
The door closed behind them and Lucien turned to the woman.
“I’m Kitty,” she said in her breathy voice.
Lucien regarded her for a moment then he gave his honest, dispassionate opinion. “What a perfectly ridiculous name.”
She blinked both in surprise and, he noted instantly, stupidity. She had no idea if he was being serious or teasing and with the way the wheels churned behind her blue eyes, it would take far longer than he intended to spend with her to figure it out.
“Come here,” he ordered and she stopped the taxing effort of thinking and moved forward.
When she was inches away, she leaned in, going up on her toes. “You should know I’ll do anything you want.” She hesitated and gave him her slightly effective but obviously practiced alluring look before stressing, “Anything.”
“If you’ll give me anything then please do me the favor of not speaking.” He gave her an altogether different highly effective look before stressing, “At all.”
She blinked again, confusion filling her face and Lucien was through.
In less than a second, he had her in his arms, his tongue lashed her neck and he pulled her head back roughly by her long hair. Then he tore into her, her blood spurting into his mouth.
He smelled her excitement immediately.
Neither assuaged the ache in his belly or the throbbing he felt in his cock.