His Captive Mortal by Renee Rose Page B

to kill him?”
    “Does that mean...you like me?”
    He kissed her temple, her jaw, her neck. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I like you.”
    “Are you going to erase my memory and disappear after I figure out how to lift the curse?” she used a light tone, but watched him intently for his answer.
    He chuckled. “I wasn’t planning on it. To be honest, I hadn’t gone that far with my agenda. All I had so far was: A) torment Sasha, and B) torment Sasha naked and C) torment Sasha into getting rid of curse. That was the end of my list. Why, what do you have in mind?”
    She blinked without answering and he wondered if she was reconsidering any kind of future with him. “Where do you sleep normally?” she asked, changing the subject.
    “I have a place,” he said.
    “Where?”
    “Not far from here. A basement apartment over on 18th Street.”
    “I didn’t know Tucson had any basements.”
    “It was a rare and perfect find for a vampire.”
    “May I see it?”
    He kissed her lips. “Only if you wear the underclothing I bought you.”
    Her mouth curved into a knowing smile. “Will there be more tormenting?”
    Butterflies flit about in his chest. “You know it.”
     
     

Chapter Six
     
     
    She waited in her long burgundy silk robe, leaving the cord at the waist untied. She’d washed up after the Viscount de Marmont, not wanting Charles to know she’d been with another man. She found the Viscount’s adoration too much to turn away. Today he had brought her a sapphire bracelet and begged her to become his mistress. She had laughed lightly and told him to go home to his wife, even as she knew he’d be back the next night, like a love-starved puppy.
    She didn’t know why she still took other men to her bed. She had told Charles, sworn to him, even, that she’d given them all up save for him. And she always meant it, especially when the vampire pinned her wrists above her head and hovered over her, his fangs long and dangerous, looking like the devil’s most beautiful son. He was the only man she’d ever let dominate her. Even when she had just begun as a painted lady, she never took the rough ones.
    But Charles...Charles made her go weak in the knees. Knowing the power he possessed—the sheer strength, the dangerous fangs, his ability to throw a glamour over her and make her do his bidding—knowing even with her magic, he could break her bones or take her life with one snap of his hand. Yet he only ever showed chivalry. Even when inflicting pain. Especially then. Charles was the only person in the world she trusted. They were a team, she and Charles. Two dark beings who lived for the night.
    Why then, her dalliances? She couldn’t help herself. Her power over the men was exquisite. They built her magic by worshipping her. And the gifts and money...ah. She’d never grow tired of those, despite her already enormous wealth. The actual act meant nothing to her—it was just sex, not an expression of love or intimacy or any other insipid thing the poets like to ascribe to it. She had no reason to feel guilty over it. She was not betraying Charles if her heart still belonged to him. But she could not tell him, because the vampire had a jealous temper. Yes...she’d seen it at the beginning of their relationship, and she had no desire for her lucrative clients to come to harm.
    Maybe a part of her liked playing with fire, too.
    A flicker of lamplight made her turn and she drew in a breath. Her vampire had appeared. He held her Mardi Gras mask up to his face, the blue of his eyes standing out against the black satin frame.
    “So?” she asked. She’d been expecting him; otherwise, they would have had words over his appearing in her room without knocking. She insisted he not materialize into her room, arguing that she might be dealing with sensitive matters involving her girls.
    Charles tossed the mask onto her bed with a casual flick of his wrist. “He had a sudden change of heart and signed it,” Charles said,