Gregor made his getaway, and just in time, because moments later all the hair stood up on the back of his neck. The blood bond told him his mate was in the building.
He began to weave his way toward the entrance, hampered at every step by congratulations and introductions. Like an automaton, he smiled and shook hands and kept moving. He had to get to her. She was looking for him.
His brothers found her first. From the top of the grand staircase, meant for seeing and being seen, Gregor saw Mikhail bending over her hand.
Madelena. The sight of her took the knees out from under him. It always did, to some extent, but tonight—what had Honey done to her?
Maddy did not come incognito, she came in black leather. He took one step down the stairs and stopped again. Was that a corset she was wearing?
While he gaped, unable to believe what he was seeing, Alex ran up and kissed her, then picked her up by the waist and spun her in a circle. Maddy was laughing. Maddy was gorgeous. And it was about time Alex friggin’ let go of her waist.
The next thing he knew he was in front of her. Her black eyes, bright with gold dust and eyeliner, snapped at him—greeting him, but warning him, too. “Don’t you dare laugh at me, Faustin.”
“How can I laugh when I can’t breathe?”
Her hair was piled up high on her head, exposing her delectable neck, which Honey had wrapped with a suggestive choker of raw garnets. Honey was an evil genius. Now every vampyr in the place would want her, he was sure of it. He began to pick them out in his peripheral vision, marking them for death if they moved on her.
Maddy was, in fact, wearing a corset—a long, leather one that molded her tits into two perfect half globes, almost as tempting as her neck. The intersecting lines of several white scars rose out of her cleavage. He wondered if she had noticed that the scars were fading by the day. His eyes wandered downward, admiring how the corset enhanced her hourglass shape, and then he saw the plug. It emerged from a shining steel grommet built into the corset and snaked its short way from her belly to the battery pack and controller. Ordinarily these things were housed in an ugly blue nylon and Velcro fanny pack, but it had all been transferred into a black leather belt that she wore low on her hips, like an ammo belt. It was insanely sexy. Below the belt, she was dipped in leather. When he realized she was wearing high-heeled boots, he went lightheaded.
“Gregor?” she said, her voice hesitant, but unmistakably husky. “Do you like it? Honey’s friend designed this just for me.” She slid two fingers along her power cable. The gesture was provocative, almost obscene. He lunged for her.
And she met him, her mouth as hungry as his, her rough little tongue darting and teasing. He ran his hands over the soft, yielding flesh of her back and shoulders, and then down, over the cool architecture of the corset, down to cup her divine, leather-clad ass.
Thank God.
Maddy had begun to fear that Gregor would never touch her like this again. In the last week or so she’d felt good, better than good, but he still saw her as an invalid. In their bed she would initiate a caress, but he would find some way to turn it into a hug. Gregor Faustin converted to a snuggle bunny. It was just wrong.
But she didn’t blame him. Sure, he said they couldn’t fool around yet because of doctor’s orders, but was that the whole truth? Having a gouge as deep as the Grand Canyon down the middle of her chest didn’t boost a girl’s self-esteem. So she decided it was time to take off her sweat suit and get her mojo on. She’d put in a call to Honey for help. Tonight, Gregor Faustin was going down.
Gregor broke the kiss abruptly and touched her cheek in concern. “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head as if to clear it. “That was… Are you okay? This thing isn’t restricting your breathing, is it?”
“I’m fine.” If anyone needed coddling, it was him. He was too thin and jangled with nervous energy. “Did you feed tonight?”
“No time. It’s okay.”
Yet he’d fed her before he left home. Without thinking she raised her hand to caress the spot under his jaw where she’d drawn his blood. How strange it was still to want him that way. But she did. Every evening she woke curled up in the curve of his arm, sleepy but ravenous, and every night he gave himself to her without hesitation. With each warm swallow she took he offered her his power, his memories, and his dreams. This is me, his blood said every time, see how I love you?
Just remembering that powerful intimacy made her throat tighten, but Gregor’s mind was not in the same place. He could not even look at her for long without his eyes darting around. He was as wound up as he was closed down, and would not let her in his head.
“What are you looking for?”
“Lots of things. Where’d my brothers go?”
“You scared them off, coming down the stairs with that scowl on your face.” She sighed as he continued to scan the room. “Don’t worry. Mikhail will keep everything safe and Alex will keep everyone happy. Why don’t you show me your club?”
She’d only been inside Elixir once before that night, though she’d seen many pictures of progress on his laptop. It was an amazing place. She was so proud of him for making it a reality. Elixir wasn’t like any club she’d ever seen. He’d built a grand Belle Époque mansion inside a warehouse, or the framework of that mansion, at least. The club was made up of many lavish, interconnecting rooms decorated with mirrors, period furniture and tall potted palms. It was smaller than Tangiers, made for intimate encounters, not big scenes. There was no bar, just patrolling staff dressed as servants. But if you wanted something close to a big scene, you went up the grand staircase and into the crystal ballroom.
It was a fantasy of an age past, the last great age of vampires. “I wanted to make a space where even Mikhail would feel at home,” he had explained to her. “It’s not a kid’s club.”
Gregor held her hand hard as he led her away. All of his tension was in that grip. Elixir was already a success, and he knew it. She didn’t think he was worried about Elixir. It was worry for her that made up half his tension, and sexual deprivation and hunger accounted for the rest. It was time to beat some sense into his thick skull.
“Show me the train cars,” she said. “I want to see them finished.”
He stopped and gave her a serious look. The train cars were designed as a trysting place for vamps and their partners.
“There’s nowhere more private than that, is there?” Maddy gave him her best innocent smile. “We can have a toast, just us. A moment of quiet.”
He changed direction. She couldn’t believe he fell for it. The train cars were her favorite part of the club. Inspired by the Orient Express, a string of faux private train cars circled the mezzanine about the ballroom. They were VIP booths, essentially, private rooms for blood play. Each car had a curtained window from which you could look into other car windows, or down over the dance floor. “Riders” could share their activities with the wide world, or pull the tasseled curtains shut.
They were already in use. Maddy could hear voices and moans through the walls as Gregor led her down the narrow, gas-lit corridor that connected the cars. Through a door left ajar she saw a glimpse of a couple intertwined, and her desire flared. One thing she’d realized of late was that feeding without fucking was like eating an Oreo and skipping the cream filling.
When she fed from Gregor, all she wanted to do was straddle him, and take him deep inside. There was something irresistibly compelling about the idea of taking him both ways at once, about being linked at two points. She sighed with frustration, and her breasts swelled up, rising frighteningly close to her chin.