Dark Harvest Read online

  You’re pitiful, Kismet. Time to get a life.

  An enticing aroma caressed my nostrils and a velvet voice whispered, inches from my ear, “What kind of life would you like? The possibilities are unlimited.” Soft lips trailed kisses down my neck and my brain cells scrambled.

  Devereux …

  My breath caught and it took me a couple of tries before I found my voice.

  “You’re back. There’s something I wanted to ask you. If I could only remember what it was …”

  Or why I’d want to use my mouth for talking when it could be put to such better uses.

  “Later.”

  He kissed my jaw and I was undone.

  As always when Devereux was near, my body had a mind of its own. I relaxed against his chest and reveled in his arousing fragrance and the feel of his soft hair tickling the side of my face. My heart rate increased, and my breath went shallow. Formerly functional knees softened. I was never sure if my reaction to his presence was excitement, fear, or a little of both. Was my body simply reacting to my outrageous attraction to him, or was he manipulating me with his powers as a master vampire? Should I care? Probably. Maybe later.

  I closed my eyes, hesitating before I turned to him. There had to be something wrong with how he affected me. It couldn’t be psychologically healthy for me to want to throw myself on him within seconds of his approach—to want to cling to him like a cheap spandex suit. I’d gotten better at reining in my impulses, but it was still a struggle.

  Nobody should have a face that gorgeous. Or eyes so magnetic. Or a body so compelling. It just wasn’t … normal.

  Right, Kismet. As if anything about a vampire could be normal.

  He slid his hands up and down my arms, then stroked my hips through the soft, form-fitting fabric of my dress, and moaned softly. His tongue flicked along my neck, and I relaxed my head even more, lifting my chin to give him better access to his favorite pulsing vein. I’d discovered that allowing Devereux to drink my blood while we have sex pushes my orgasm into the stratosphere. I felt like a shameless addict, jonesing for the sharp needle points of his teeth to pierce my skin, providing the fix I craved. Instead of biting, he just nibbled gently then let go.

  I groaned in disappointment.

  He whispered against my ear. “I love how you desire me. I can feel your need.”

  I could feel his … need … too, pressing against me.

  Shouldn’t I be annoyed by this guy’s ego? His arrogant assumption that I want him? The fact that it’s true is beside the point, isn’t it? I think I’m going to need to sit down soon. Or maybe lie down. Yeah, lying down would be much better.

  “Look at me, Kismet.”

  Look at you? Nope, that’s always trouble. I think I’ll just stay right where I am, rubbing my buns against your “throbbing manhood,” as they used to say in the romance novels.

  “My throbbing manhood?”

  Damn mind-reading vampire.

  But something about the way he’d said those words, with his strange manner of speaking and his European accent, made me laugh. In fact, I laughed so hard that he gasped as I vibrated against his erection. Since he rarely sucked in air on purpose, much less allowed anyone to catch him by surprise, I was intrigued. I simply had to look at him, so I turned.

  The expression on his face was heart-stopping.

  He’d tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and parted his lips just enough so that the tips of his fangs glistened. His beautiful light blond hair flowed down his chest, soft and touchable. He was dressed in his usual snug, black leather pants with a vibrant blue silk T-shirt tucked in at the waist, displaying his well-toned body to perfection.

  I studied him, my heart pounding in lustful anticipation. He truly was an unusually beautiful man. He opened his eyes and I felt myself falling—as if the carpet I’d been standing on had liquefied, and I sank into a blue-green universe. I’d never been totally sure what color his eyes were. What was the difference between turquoise and aqua, anyway? But obviously, arousal brought out the best in his devilish orbs because they sparkled like gemstones. Or maybe it was a vampire thing. He gave a slow blink, and a wicked smile quirked his lips. He slid his arms around my waist and pulled me close for a kiss.

  Without any more hesitation, I looped my arms around his neck, fit my body tight against his, and kissed him back. His mouth was wonderful: warm and soft and wet. He teased his tongue through my lips and I opened for him, inviting him to take more. Regardless of any other doubts I might have had about my relationship with Devereux, our sexual chemistry was never in question.

  Part of me was lost in the delicious thing his mouth was doing, and another part noticed the fact that we were standing in front of the window, for all of Denver to see. As soon as I thought that, he broke the kiss.

  “Yes. We require privacy. I totally agree.”

  The office suite consisted of several rooms. One—at Devereux’s insistence when I agreed to take the space—was a bedroom. Clients would never know what was behind that door, but Devereux and I had made ample use of it many times. I knew what he had in mind when he scooped me up into his arms.

  I used to get irritated when he did the scooping thing, but I’d acclimated. Sort of. Sometimes I even secretly enjoyed it. Of course, that wasn’t always the case. We had plenty of arguments about his “macho” behavior. He insisted he wasn’t trying to dominate me, only to express his feelings. But no matter what kind of spin he put on his behavior, the truth was that it couldn’t be easy for a centuries-old male to cope with the expectations and desires of a modern woman. And it was no picnic for me to deal with a night-walking Neanderthal. No matter how gorgeous and debonair. The topic was definitely still under discussion.

  He thought us into the bedroom, mentally lit the candles scattered throughout the area, and deposited me onto the large bed, which was covered with a fluffy, white silk comforter. I sighed with pleasure as my body relaxed into the soft cloud of fabric.

  Moving through thought used to jar my equilibrium, but now I found it energizing. For some reason, I’d had a more difficult time believing bodies could shift through time and space than acknowledging the bizarre fact that the world was populated with horror-movie creatures. I had to give my brain credit for learning to deal with the impossible on a daily basis.

  Devereux stood next to the bed, oozing sexuality, staring at me. He tugged his shirt over his head in one smooth motion, leaving his pale chest bare except for the unique medallion he always wore. The necklace appeared ordinary enough, but I’d seen it flare like a beacon. I didn’t care what tricks it could perform, though. I was more interested in the muscular chest it was nestled against.

  I’d almost lost him five months ago. He’d been the target of an undead vendetta, and his own powerful magic had been used against him. Devereux insisted he sprang from the same lineage as the wizard Merlin. His ancestors were witches and seers. I was still working on accepting that bit of information. Did I mention that I’d met Devereux’s dead mother?

  During that surreal experience, Bryce, one of the vampires who had been turned by my blond immortal, had gained knowledge of the ancient wizardly wisdom, and tried to manipulate Devereux. Seems he lusted after him and felt rejected by Devereux’s disinterest. Hell hath no fury like a bloodsucker scorned. Bryce almost succeeded in his plan to capture Devereux for his own pleasure, except for the inconvenient fact that I chopped his head off with a ceremonial sword.

  It took Devereux six weeks to recover from the spell Bryce and his evil helpers cast. Little did the jealous offspring know it would be his own blood that fueled the ritual fire.

  Devereux cocked his head and smiled. “It does not require mind-reading abilities in order to interpret the expression on your face, my love. You need not worry about me I have fully recovered and am stronger for the challenge.” He slid his hand down the flat plane of his stomach, and popped open the button on the waistband of his pants. “Let me prove it to you.”

  Var
ious parts of my body grinned, jumped up and down, and yelled, “Yippee!” The rest of me held her breath, reaching for the mental popcorn.

  He hooked his thumbs into the waistband, and angled the leather down his legs. His long, platinum hair fell forward like a silky curtain. I had a sudden urge to grab that curtain and pull him down on top of me, but resisted. It was much more fun watching him disrobe and crawl onto the bed. Much more arousing.

  His naked body definitely qualified as eye candy. Long and lean with muscles in all the right places. He was always so comfortable in his own skin, so at ease with his nudity. But, after all the centuries he’d inhabited that skin, I guess it was to be expected that he’d enjoy it.

  Eternity as a sex object. What man could ask for more?

  “I am only interested in being a sex object for you,” he said, as he stretched out next to me, lying on his side. He braced his head with a hand and smiled, watching me. He trailed a finger across my lips. “You are wearing entirely too many clothes. I wonder, what might we do to correct that situation?”

  Bursting with ideas, I rolled toward him and let my gaze slide down his body, allowing my eyes to take detours in order to appreciate the natural wonders along the route. One monument in particular stood out from the scenery, and my hand reached over to explore.

  Devereux groaned. There simply was nothing like a lusty Devereux groan. His voice was always enticing and magical, but the erotic sensuality he layered into that deep, growling sound sent waves of pleasure through my body, hardened my nipples, and caused moisture to pool in my nether regions. Yes, it was that good.

  I tightened my fingers around his erection, then slowly released my grip. “I know just what to do with all these clothes,” I whispered. I kicked off my shoes, flung them into the air, and heard them land on the lush carpet. Then, like a stripper popping out of a cake, I rose to my feet on the bed, peeled the soft dress over my head, and tossed it onto the floor. Next came my black, lace bra and matching panties. I bounced up and down on the mattress a couple of times just for the fun of it—causing the bloodsucking hunk at my feet to bark out a laugh—then threw myself down on my back, smiling.

  I turned to him, fitting my naked body against his. “So, where were we?”

  His eyes sparkled mischievously. “Let me see if I remember.” He smoothed the palm of his hand over my breast and pinched my painfully hard nipple. Then he leaned in, caught my lower lip between his teeth and fangs—which had descended—and gave me a playful nip. I gasped and he pulled away, probably thinking he’d hurt me. To show him the error of his conclusion, I circled his neck with my arms, guided him in closer, pressed my lips to his, and teased my tongue into his mouth. I’d learned during our first sexual encounter that Devereux loved to have his fangs sucked on as much as another part of his anatomy. In fact, sliding my tongue up and down his canines had the same effect as what I planned to do next.

  I started to ease my hand down toward the hardness pushing against my stomach, when he captured my hands, raised them over my head, and climbed on top of me.

  He used his legs to nudge mine apart and simply slid inside.

  I moaned deep in my throat. Oh, yeah. That’s a good plan, too.

  He lifted his mouth just enough to mumble, “I have missed you these last few days. I hate when I must be away, but it cannot be helped. All I could think about was this. Filling you. Having you wrap your legs around me while I make love to you. Listening to your heartbeat. Possessing you.” He lowered his lips back to mine.

  Whoa. That was pretty much all I could think about at that moment, as well. But, I’m sure he knew that, since he had the extra key to my mind.

  His wish came true as he began thrusting vigorously. I wrapped my legs around his hips and took him as deep as I could. Within seconds, a delicious orgasm built, and I felt his subtle contractions as he approached his own edge.

  Giving another marvelous groan, he broke the kiss and whispered, “Will you give me your blood, my love?”

  “Definitely yes,” I mumbled, turning my head so he could lick the welcoming vein in my neck.

  Geez. What is it about that question? Why does it always melt me into a puddle of hormonal goo?

  He angled his head, kissed his way down my exposed throat, and gently pushed the tips of his fangs through my skin. His soft hair flowed across my breasts. We both moaned.

  Having him thrusting inside me and sucking blood from my neck was the most extraordinary feeling ever. Wave after wave of pleasure pulsed through my body, and, as always, the sense of being separate dissolved and we became one being. Merged in every way. Soul to soul. Each experiencing the other’s arousal and release. Vampire sex with Devereux was an off-the-chart thrill.

  I screamed as my body spasmed in bliss. My muscles tightened around his erection as he came. After a few seconds, he lifted his mouth from my vein, slid his tongue over the tiny holes to stop the bleeding, and brought his lips back to mine.

  Tasting my own blood on his lips had become exciting—intimate. I’d grown accustomed to the flavor and even occasionally wondered what it would be like to sample his. Of course, I wouldn’t do that. Even though Devereux had assured me that the process of becoming a vampire was much more complicated than the literary or movie versions, I didn’t want to take any chances.

  And how could I possibly exist without margaritas or chocolate?

  Sensing him looking at me, I opened my eyes.

  He raised his head, slid his tongue over his upper lip, and smiled down at me. “I apologize for being so impatient, for leaving out the delightful foreplay, as you call it, but I simply could not hold back.”

  “Well, I guess I’ll forgive you this time.” I pretended to be serious. “Although, I wouldn’t want you to get into the habit of ignoring the appetizer in favor of the entrée.” Devereux definitely gave good appetizer.

  “Not to throw cold water on this tender moment, but you’re getting a little heavy there, Fabio. Do you think you could scoot that delicious body of yours over a little so I can breathe? Some of us don’t have the choice of whether to suck in air or not, you know.” Calling him Fabio was a little joke between us. He didn’t really resemble the aging cover model, but he understood what I meant by the reference.

  In the blink of an eye, he was lying next to me. “Ah, how careless of me. I would not want to suffocate the love of my life.”

  “The love of your life?” I turned to him. “That’s an odd thing for a vampire to say, isn’t it, since you’re not really alive in the normal sense of the word?”

  He frowned. “Are you still troubled by the state of my existence? Is that why you will not accept your role as my mate and take your place in my world?”

  Here we go again. Shit. He heard that.

  “Yes. That thought was clearly broadcast in your mind. I do not wish to upset you with these discussions, but we must resolve this issue.”

  “Why?” I sat up. “Why must we resolve this issue? Why is it even an issue? What aren’t you telling me? Are you keeping something from me?”

  He effortlessly moved his body, shifting to sit in front of me. “No. It is not a matter of that. The truth is that I am still attempting to understand your importance to me. The urge to bond with you is great, but the explanations elude me.”

  “Bond with me? What the hell does that mean? You haven’t mentioned that before.”

  “No, you are correct. I have not expressed it in those exact words, but I have spoken of our deep connection and our destiny.”

  “Wait.” I wagged my finger at him. “Are you talking about the portrait of me? You claim that you painted eight centuries ago? That’s what you’re basing all this on?”

  Okay. I know he had a psychic vision of me eight hundred years ago and he painted a portrait where I wore the blue, silky blouse I’ve owned less than a year, but I’m making a point here …

  “My claim?” His frown deepened and he raised his chin. “As if I am not telling the truth?” He glared
at me, his eyes darkening. “The painting is part of it. I have since gone back in time to explore the lifetime you and I shared prior to that …”

  “What?” I felt my eyebrows shoot up my forehead. “Are you talking about reincarnation? You’ve got to be kidding. There’s no actual proof of any such thing …”

  “Yes.” Anger warmed his voice as he interrupted me. “Just as there is no actual proof for the existence of vampires, yet anecdotal evidence has apparently been enough to convince you of that reality.” He grabbed my hand and pressed it against his chest. “I am proof that there are more things than your science can understand.”

  He had me there, but I wasn’t interested in being logical. He’d had eight hundred years to accept all the weird information he’d thrust upon me during the past five months. My brain hadn’t processed what I’d already discovered, and there he was, adding more straws to the camel’s back. The camel was getting pissed.

  Inhaling a long, slow breath to calm myself, I withdrew my hand from his chest. Sometimes my therapy training really came in handy. Stirring up his legendary anger probably wasn’t a good thing. Since he’d never directed it at me, I didn’t have any firsthand knowledge about how messy his temper could get, but I was determined to hold my ground.

  “Okay.” I locked eyes with him and kept my voice dispassionate. “I’ll concede the possibility of reincarnation, and anything else you’ve got tucked away in your supernatural bag of tricks, but you’ve got to stop pushing me. You’re trying to force me to accept a role that I’ve had no part in creating and one that is my decision to make. I understand that you’ve been around forever, and you’re used to calling the shots, but I’m not one of your minions. I’m not a handmaiden to the master. I know things were different when you were human, but in my world, a woman isn’t property. I’m a professional. I’m my own person and I intend to remain so. Is that something you can, er, live with?”

  “It was truly never my intention to bully you in any way.” His eyes softened, and he sighed. “Nothing is more important to me than being with you.” He slid his finger across my cheek, removing a stray hair. “You are absolutely correct that I am used to giving orders and expecting obedience. It is only recently I have come to realize that might not be an effective way to create a modern relationship.” He paused for a few seconds and an expression of sadness shadowed his face. “Often, it does seem I have existed forever. And forever can be a very long, lonely time. I give you my word I will join the twenty-first century.”