“Endorphins,” I agree. My thoughts feel sluggish. Older vampires can control with just their voice. My hand fumbles at my side, finding Trey’s, I squeeze his fingers tight. He squeezes me back and my mind clears.
“Yes. For such a reward, some people crave the pain. You call them masochists.” Lucius nods at the woman at the wall. Her vampire top has switched out the flogger for a longer, evil-looking whip. I can smell her arousal from here. “We call them sweetbloods.” His voice drops to a haunted whisper. “The pain makes the blood sweeter.”
After a snap of the single tail, the woman droops in her bonds. The vampire glides to her side, and runs a hand down the fresh red marks on her side. The submissive shudders and the vampire steps close, murmuring softly. He unhooks the cuffs and supports her sagging body. With one arm he holds her up as the other brushes the hair back from her face and neck and draws her close. The light glints off his fangs.
I gasp and turn towards Trey, breathing hard.
“Sheridan,” Trey’s voice is blast of fresh air, sweet and bracing. His arms slide around me, holding me up like the vampire held his victim. “You all right?”
I nod, tipping my head back so he can see my expression. His worried look clears. “You like it.”
I nod, and he touches my face in wonder.
Lucius’ laugh echoes around us. “I will leave you to explore my little club. Enjoy.”
I don’t turn to watch him leave, but I know the moment he’s gone. The vampire/victim couple has also disappeared, maybe into one of the curtained alcoves that line the room.
Trey still holds me close. “If this is too much, we can go.” His chest rumbles under my ear.
“I’m all right.” I give him another squeeze. He’s so warm and strong, a living rock.
“You sure?”
“I’m all right,” I repeat. “I want to stay.”
His gaze searches my face, and I flinch away. I don’t want him to see this side of me, raw and vulnerable. I push away from him, but he keeps his arms locked around me.
“You can go if you want to,” I mutter, and his gaze turns cold.
“I’m staying.”
“You sure?” I mimic his question from a moment before. I’m mocking him because I don’t want him looking too closely. I don’t want him to see how much all this stuff turns me on.
The expression on his face tells me he already knows.
“Trey, let go of me,” I whisper.
“You sure?” He’s not mocking me. His thumb brushes over my knuckles, and I realize I’m hanging onto him, tight.
Oops.
When I step away from Trey, I find Nero standing close, too close to me.
“Hello, little wolf,” he says and I stiffen. Trey’s arm slides around my waist, but I step away from him before he can pull me back into his chest. It’s time I face the vampires on my own two feet.
What doesn’t kill me…
“I’m not afraid of you,” I blurt, raising my chin in the air.
“Of course not. I can smell you from here. You smell… good.” He makes it sound obscene. “You like this place.”
“It’s growing on me,” I answer.
“There is much to enjoy.” Nero grins, showing fang. There’s no sign of the redhead he came down here with. I wonder if she’s in an alcove, resting, a glass of orange juice and bar of chocolate waiting nearby. Aftercare for a BDSM scene or a vampire feed?
Nero runs his hand over the leather padding of a raised bench. “I will be your guide, if you wish it. Virgil to your Dante.”
“Abandon all hope, ye who enter here?” I quote Dante’s Inferno and the vampire’s grin widens.
“Exactly. Are you ready to come with me?”
Before I can answer, Trey growls. “Over my dead body.” Trey steps between me and the vampire. “Do you want this?”
I freeze when he holds up the collar. “Do you want to try this? Scene here?”
“Trey,” I whisper.
“Sheridan.” His tone warns me not to play. “Tell me.”
“Yes.” Yes, I want to try this. “But not with you.” Not after last night. I’m way too raw to offer myself up to him again only to be led to my car and told goodnight. No, it’s better not to get sexually involved with Trey. More sexually involved, that is.
“Not an option,” he growls and backs me to the wall, blocking me from anyone who might approach. “What’s your safeword, sweetheart?”
I lick my lips. Crap. My body is already surrendering. It already knows its master. “Spreadsheet.” I’m a finance major and an MBA, and I take accounting seriously. Any talk of work will pretty much kill the mood.
He shakes his head, smirking in a way that I know means he gets the joke. I draw back as he gets close, but after a moment lift my hair and let him buckle on the collar. Trey runs a gentle finger around my neck to check the fit and I’m helpless, legs turning to liquid, core molten, lips parting to welcome his as I stare into his eyes.
“Perfect,” he murmurs, and dips his head close enough to whisper in my ear. “You didn’t buy this collar for me, did you?”
Swallowing, I shake my head. He leads me forward, then turns and backs me into a sturdy frame. The wooden limbs of a Saint Andrew’s cross spread over my head, a heavy piece with silver studs and leather padding, and cuffs dangling at ankle and wrist height.
Trey secures one arm, then the other, and kneels to tie my legs. Beyond him, Nero watches, his face in shadow.
When Trey rises, my stomach flip-flops at the aura of command enveloping him. Like he flipped a switch, and instead of moonbrained biker dude, I have Trey The Dominant, ready to Rock. My. World.
“Trey, wait,” I say as he reexamines the cuff.
He pinches my fingertips, checking my circulation. “You feel okay?”
“Yes.” I squirm. I have dreams of being tied up like this, but I don’t want Trey doing it. I mean, I’ve fantasized about him doing it, but now that’s happening, I want it to stop. Don’t I?