An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication
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Valmont’s Trinity ISBN 9781419912504 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Valmont’s Trinity Copyright © 2007 Sedonia Guillone Edited by Helen Woodall. Photography and cover art by Les Byerley. Electronic book Publication September 2007 This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 443103502. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.
VALMONT’S TRINITY
Sedonia Guillone
Dedication For Mitch—always.
Acknowledgements Many, many thanks to my editor, to Les Byerley for the deliciously sexy cover, to EC for having me here, and to my readers.
Trademarks Acknowledgement The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Fiat: FIAT S.P.A. Société par actions
Valmont’s Trinity
Prologue
From the daily journal of Darelle Mimieux, Priestess of the Coeurs Éternels Headquarters in the old underground Roman catacombs, Paris I have just returned this early morning with Gareth and Kane from the château of Valmont Lascaux, my sire, who suffered imprisonment at the hands of the Soldiers for nearly seven centuries. He endured this imprisonment for my sake, bravely accepting every sort of pain and humiliation to keep me safe from the torturous death the Soldiers had planned for both of us. Lascaux’s prolonged suffering for love’s sake rendered him mortal, and ironically, I, the object of his love, am the one who brought him back across to immortality. I refuse, however, to consider the possibility that I am now his sire. I feel completely unworthy of such an honor. I can only hope that my love for Gareth and Kane, my lovers and guardians since Lascaux brought me across during the Black Death, will be as strong as my sire’s love for me. Since the Soldiers—those rabid vampire slayers—left Lascaux’s magnificent estate in a shambles, much help is required to bring it back to its former glory. I have already dispatched thirty of us from headquarters, waiting as they were down in Colette’s club for their next assignment. I know that this assignment is a radical departure from the usual mercy feeding routes we make of hospitals, war zones and disaster areas. However, Lascaux needs people to help rebuild, to cultivate his grape arbors, to clean and provide moral support until his protégés—those whom the Soldiers did not manage to slay—may be found and come to his aid. Although Serge Aranov, Valmont’s most devoted protégé and lover, is there at his side, the two have been estranged. I feel guilty knowing that much of their estrangement is a result of my sire’s fervent pursuit of me. However, before I left this
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morning, I saw the looks of tenderness pass between them and wanted only to help them become lovers again, if such help should be needed. In that vein, I’ve made certain to include Philippe Mareau in the group of “missionaries”. His physical beauty, those tumbling golden curls, mischievous bluegreen eyes, lithe muscles and easy manner will, I believe, serve to help “reunite” Serge, who remained faithful to Lascaux during his entire imprisonment—the way Lascaux remained to me—and Lascaux. Although I can make no claim to being an expert at love, when I explained to Colette the situation I observed between the former lovers, she winked at me and told me that our golden dancer would be the “perfect” matchmaker. “Philippe has a hands-on approach among his other ‘unique’ talents” were her exact words. I believe she’s referring to the fact that Philippe is the world’s only immortalvampire mix. How this came to be no one has been able to discover, least of all Philippe. But the fact that he can feed and also be fed upon without any harm to his being will, I pray, serve as an asset in his matchmaking quest. Having known Philippe for several centuries, since he was sired and discovered his heart still beating in his chest, I can vouch for his beauty and grace. Once that beautiful vampire-immortal dances for them in the after-supper entertainment, and whatever other strategies he employs, Lascaux and Serge will not be able to stay out of each other’s arms and beds. Believe me, it is a pittance of gratitude, sending some help for Lascaux in this time of need. After what he’s done for me, even though I have eternity to show my thanks, it will never be enough time.
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Chapter One Valmont stared at the wreckage of his château. “Fucking bastards,” he muttered. He glanced at Serge who stood, pen poised over his book, ready to mark down further instructions for renovation. “I suppose I should get more original with my curses.” Serge’s large almond-shaped blue eyes stared back at him, radiating sympathy. He shrugged. “Fucking bastards is quite appropriate in this instance. I was thinking more along the line of motherless cunts.” Valmont leaned heavily against the banister. His survey of the downstairs ruins had taken the last hour. Not one room—be it the great hall, kitchens, bailey, study—had escaped the Soldiers’ destruction. If one imagined a pen full of hogs let loose in his magnificent château that was the appearance of his once-stately abode after the Soldiers’ residency. He hated to think of the state of his once-splendid grounds and vineyards. Shaking his head again, he took the stairs slowly, Serge at his side. Through most of the castle’s rooms, he’d managed to keep his reaction to a bit of cursing, followed by a mere shake of the head, and tick off a list of the needed materials and repairs. After more than six hundred years of captivity and Darelle’s return to Paris this morning—when he’d wished her desperately to stay—even the loss of many of his antiques, some hundreds of years old and absolutely irreplaceable, failed to shake him too much. However, in the doorway of his bedchamber, his beloved nest of solitude, he froze. Anger rippled through his renewed immortal veins, heated to searing hatred. “Fucking motherless cunts.” He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. A comforting hand landed on his shoulder. He turned his head, soothed by Serge’s touch and gaze. The affection in his eyes was unmistakable. Unbidden, Valmont had an image of Serge, camped outside the 7
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walls of the château, waiting endlessly for an opportunity to rescue his lover from rabid vampire slayers. Valmont heaved a deep, collecting breath. He shook his head and his friend’s hand slipped away. Another deep breath prepared him to step deeper into the destroyed bedchamber. Oddly enough, this room was the only one in which every item remained intact. The velvet drapes on the bedposts, though faded and worn, still hung in place. The same coverlets, under which he and Serge had once slept and made endless love, were still spread over the feather beds. The Oriental rugs and tapestries, though threadbare, their once-vivid patterns now nearly indiscernible, covered the walls and floors. It was the scent that angered him. The putrid scent of a conscienceless human—one who dared tout himself as a defender of his race by murdering and torturing vampires—permeated this once-sacred space. Brendan, the most recent of the Soldiers’ leaders who’d upheld Valmont’s imprisonment, had obviously taken the most sumptuous and sinfully gorgeous room of his captive’s château as his own. The bedclothes were still ruffled from when the piece of shit prick had arisen a mere few hours earlier. Valmont gritted his teeth against the excruciating evidence of his tormentor’s occupancy. If Brendan were here right now, he would have drained the little fucker’s lifeblood from him. Oh wait, he already had. The moment Darelle had brought her sire back across, he’d lunged for the little bastard and— “Valmont.” Serge’s soft voice drew Valmont from his thoughts. He turned, again struck by Serge’s blue eyes and the affection in his gaze. This time, he also noticed the arch of his companion’s dark brows, the sleekness of his short black hair, his deliciously high cheekbones and soft full lips. A wave of guilt swept through him. Serge must have been as tormented in some ways as he, knowing his lover had gotten himself captured in 8
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pursuit of a woman he’d desired. What jealousy and fear Serge had no doubt suffered. And yet, though scorned as a lover, he’d stayed nearby, his loyalty to his sire and lover never wavering. “You may stay in my room, if you wish.” Serge glanced into the bedchamber and sniffed the air. Undoubtedly, he, too, detected the Soldier’s scent lingering, and understood the defilement of the chamber in which they’d made love countless times. “I’ll find another room for the time being.” Valmont studied his friend’s earnest gaze. He refused to displace him, as he would easily and selfishly have done before his imprisonment. Wincing inwardly, Valmont acknowledged the fact that if he’d succeeded in making Darelle his mate all those centuries ago, he would have put Serge out of their bed without as much as a wink. Now the prospect of sharing a bed with his former lover once again filled him with unmitigated guilt. Serge deserved to be worshiped by someone of equal virtue and loyalty. Not by the likes of him. Non. He would remain in this bedchamber and be reminded of his sins. “Sergei Aranov,” he said softly. Serge’s eyes softened further at the mention of his original name. In Valmont’s mind, Serge was still that beautiful man who’d pursued him on horseback across the Russian steppes, begging for his affections. The young nobleman had wanted nothing more than his lover’s fangs in his neck, rendering him immortal so that he could remain at Valmont’s side for eternity… A few quiet moments passed with the exchange of their gazes. Valmont managed a smile. “Your offer is kind, as always. But I will not let that prick run me out of my bedroom.” The other vampire visibly repressed a sigh. He’d always been terrible at hiding his emotions and couldn’t tell a lie to save his eternal soul. Good thing he didn’t really have one. “Very well, Valmont. Even so, leave this room’s restoration to me. The next time you cross the threshold, it will be yours all over again.”
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Although Serge’s offer certainly wasn’t meant to renew his guilt, Valmont felt the emotion of regret all the way to his toes. If his friend redid this room for him, of course, Valmont could never—would never—bring another to share it. He looked directly into Serge’s eyes. “There’s no way in this world or the next I will ever be able to make everything up to you.” He heard the mournful sound in his own voice. Serge gazed at him for several long moments without speaking. But the silence was crashingly loud. After six-hundred-plus years of suffering on both their parts, his for Darelle’s sake and Serge’s for his, more than just the château and grounds would need rebuilding. He cleared his throat. The aftertaste of Brendan’s blood still rolled on his tongue, making him wish he could revive the piece of shit and drain him all over again. “I’ve seen enough of the house. I’m sure all the other bedchambers will look just like the downstairs. Let’s go outside. I can’t wait to see what the fucking devils did to my vineyard.” His companion looked down. “You go ahead, Valmont. I’ll remain here and begin making my contacts with the decorators.” He gave Valmont a shy smile, the look that always sent a frisson of desire through his entire body. No one had the rugged-yetboyish expression down better than Serge. A devastating combination. Then Valmont understood his faux pas. Darelle’s bringing him back across had changed his properties. He could withstand sunlight now while the other vampire still could not. Damn. He’d have to be more fucking careful. He bowed his head. “Of course, my friend. Thank you.” Serge smiled again at him. His gorgeous eyes conveyed and tried to hide his longing all at once. The expression made Valmont ache, but it was too late. He’d already said the wrong thing. Of course, his dear friend, thoughtful as always, knew better than to tell him that.
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***** Serge followed Valmont down the front staircase and through the great hall to the back kitchens where the quickest exit to the vineyards was. At the doorway, Valmont turned and gave him a wan smile, his emotions, as always, readable. Guilt weighed in his former lover’s velvety dark eyes, their onyx beauty unchanged even after so long and harrowing a captivity. Well, not completely unchanged. Their look had softened, showed tenderness that Valmont had lacked before. Serge shrank back from the sunlight that filtered through the doorway. Not all vampires had this difficulty with light. But he did, being from his sire’s direct lineage. Even after his sire had brought Tenzin Gayatsu across, the Buddhist monk whose essence had mixed in with Valmont’s, enabling him to sire Coeurs Éternels, Valmont still sired sunlight-vulnerable beings like himself. The heavy kitchen door closed behind Valmont, bringing the necessary darkness. Serge heaved a deep sigh and moved back through the wreckage again. The rooms did, indeed, have the appearance of having been ravaged by a slew of drunken barnyard creatures. And there were still the bodies of the fallen Soldiers in the main hall. He rubbed at one temple with the index and middle fingers of one hand. He and Valmont were all alone with this horrible mess. It would take time to track down all Valmont’s protégés and ask for their help, and then, there were no guarantees Valmont would get much help. He hadn’t exactly made many friends over the centuries. Serge entered the great hall, heading once again for the staircase back to his bedroom, where he set up his laptop and a makeshift office complete with satellite Internet connection. This room, too, reeked of Soldiers who’d used it, but Serge had no other choice. It was there he’d be able to begin the redecorating process. He’d been working for around a half-hour when the sound of a motor, actually more than one, in the driveway out front caused his ears to prick up. He froze. Who would be here now? Prickly fear cascaded up his arms and over his back. Fucking Soldiers. Who else could it be? 11
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Throwing down his pen and notebook, he strode to the front door, stepping over the bodies in the hall. Already the telltale itch stirred in his fangs. He wasn’t going to wait or ask questions, just go for the first jugular that caught his eye. He dragged open one side of the front doors and hissed, stepping back from the burning sting of daylight. Merde. He’d have to wait for the fuckers to invade Valmont’s home once again. Safely ensconced in the shadow of the huge door, he watched. Moments passed and his furious caution gave way to curiosity. What the hell was going on? The scene in the driveway was not that of an invasion of slayers. Unless the Soldiers had gotten really clever with their disguises and had abandoned their telltale black vehicles and uniforms, the white vans, doors emblazoned with the joined heart symbol logo, were not invading enemies. Coeurs Éternels. He couldn’t suppress the sigh of relief that shivered through every cell of his body. CEs spilled from both vans, chattering and laughing as they descended. Their work clothes gave them the appearance of a motley crew of home repair people. The sudden ring of Serge’s cell phone in his pocket made him jump. He fished it out, his gaze still trapped by the scene in the driveway. A larger truck had just ground to a halt behind the vans. Some of the CEs opened up the back and pulled out an assortment of tools and what looked to be bedrolls. Slowly he put the phone to his ear. “Allô?” “Serge?” He immediately recognized the female voice on the other end and fought down a potent wave of jealousy. “Oui, Darelle.” “Have my people arrived yet? I’ve sent two vansful to assist you and Valmont with the repairs to his estate. They are all highly skilled and will, I hope, be of great help to you.”
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The hopeful kindness in her voice soothed the green-eyed monster raking his insides. Apparently, she felt horribly guilty and wanted to make amends. As much as he wanted to reject her offering, he knew that for Valmont’s sake, he needed to accept. “Oui. They’re here. I cannot go out and greet them, of course, but once they come to the door I will gratefully accept their assistance.” Darelle’s breath on the other end conveyed relief. “I will call Philippe and have him come to the door to speak with you.” “That is best, Darelle, thank you. Valmont is out in the fields at the moment.” “Very good. Thank you, Serge.” Serge didn’t miss the catch in her voice and did his best to feel sympathy for her. After all, she hadn’t known of her sire’s imprisonment until the Soldiers had sent Serge to Paris with the videotape of Valmont in chains, his mortal body close to death. She and her guardians had come immediately to his aid once they did know. “Thank you, Darelle. Au revoir.” He clicked off, dropped the phone into the pocket of his trousers and continued to watch the CEs organize their materials. One of them was coming up the walkway, a blond, holding a cell phone to his ear. As the vampire drew closer to the front door, Serge caught a glimpse of sunlight glinting off his golden hair. He also couldn’t help but notice the way that hair tumbled in shaggy curls. A few more steps and his gaze moved over the CE’s lithely muscular body. The vampire clicked off the phone and continued to stride toward the large front doors with the grace of a panther. His tight sleeveless shirt only showcased the way the muscles of his torso rippled as he moved. Gripped by the sudden hunger to feed on and to plunge his cock into that gorgeous creature, Serge backed away, used his last remaining moments to collect himself and to douse the glow of bloodlust he knew was in his eyes. Bloodlust? What the hell was going on? A vampire did not touch off the urge to feed in a fellow vampire, CE or not. This blond was obviously not one of the CEs with whom he’d arrived. 13
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“Hello? Bonjour?” Serge hung back, hidden behind the door. His body raged with hunger. Even in the mere glimpse he’d gotten of the blond man, he’d not missed that clear, evenly tanned skin or the golden chest hairs that glinted on his forearms and peeked up from the neckline of that skimpy shirt. “Is someone there?” Serge gritted his teeth. “Oui, one moment.” Exhaling sharply against the light male musk that now pervaded the air from the man’s incredible body, he stepped out from behind the door. And bit back a gasp. Up close, the blond, presumably the one Darelle called Philippe, was nothing short of magnificent. Large blue-green eyes, out of which shone an enticing mixture of innocence and worldliness, returned his gaze. His arched golden brows rose and he smiled, showing strong white teeth, among them, the telltale slightly elongated canines of a vampire. Canines? It didn’t make sense. “Serge Aranov?” He sounded tentative. Those cherubic dusky lips, with a hint of gold mustache above his upper lip, appeared to move in slow motion. An image assaulted Serge of those same lips around his cock. Serge fought to keep his gaze off the tiny pulse in the man’s smooth neck, where the tanned flesh beckoned to his deepest hunger. Ach. An erection already threatened in his trousers. Thank god the pants were baggy enough to hide a full hard-on. “No,” he murmured. “Yes. And you are?” “Ah, sorry. Philippe.” He held out a hand, the fingers at once rugged and gracefullooking. Immediately, Serge desired the hand on his cock, stroking him to release.
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Fuck. He reached out, allowed himself to touch the blond…vampire…or whatever he was…briefly before pulling back his hand. “Valmont is in the vineyard,” he muttered. “Examining the damages there.” “I see. No problem. I’ll send some workers out there.” Philippe’s blue-green eyes widened. He leaned forward slightly and peeked into the room. “May I come in?” Serge stepped back, grateful to put some space between them. “Yes. I believe the situation will prove self-explanatory.” The CE took several paces into the room. His lithe body moved with obviously skilled grace as he surveyed the large hall. “Oui, I see what you mean.” He shook his head and his luxurious golden mane swayed with the movement. “Horrible. Just horrible. Pigs.” His sculpted shoulders sagged. The vampire’s apparent grief had a scent all its own that mingled with the potent aroma of his musk and the blood coursing through his veins. Serge’s vision blurred slightly and his head swam. He cleared his throat. “If you need further assistance or have any questions, I’ll be upstairs, working.” Philippe smiled. His large aqua eyes appeared to twinkle in the shadowy light of the great hall. “Bien. I’ll bring my crew in here and hopefully, by nightfall, this room and the kitchens will be functional again.” He waved one hand, indicating the large airy hall, but Serge saw only the tanned, gracefully muscular hand cut through the air. Turning slightly to hide his growing erection, Serge nodded. “Very well.” His mouth watered madly with the need to sink his fangs into that sweet-looking neck. The wild urge was strangely…humiliating. It made him feel so vulnerable he moved swiftly up the stairs without another word.
Philippe watched Serge take the stairs, grateful for his years of acting skills to hide the absolutely erotic effect the other vampire was having on him. Putting a hand to the side of his neck, he forced his attention to the work at hand. The skin on the side of his throat itched madly with the desire to be fed on. That 15
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damned immortal half of him caused blood to pound through every inch of his body, especially his cock. When Darelle had explained to him the situation between the vampires Valmont Lascaux and Serge Aranov, her physical description of the latter had failed to convey how absolutely stunning he really was. Yes, she’d said his eyes were blue, but she hadn’t mentioned their smoky hue and almond shape. Nor had she said how high his cheekbones were or how full his lips. Never before had Philippe seen a man with such an enticing combination of rugged masculinity and boyish innocence. He went back through the large carved front door and crossed the bridge to the graveled drive. The others were assembled and ready, awaiting his orders. He stood in front of them, realizing at the last moment his hand still rested on his neck. In his mind, a soulful pair of almond-shaped blue eyes haunted him… “Philippe, ça va?” a vampire named Cherry asked him. Her voice shocked him out of his haze and his gaze snapped to hers. He blinked, pushed away his mind of the vision of those eyes and nodded. “Oui.” He cleared his throat, and began to pace, using the motion to calm his surging blood. No doubt within moments, this crew would know immediately what was bothering him. You didn’t spend centuries at a time with the same people and not get to know them intimately. Without stopping, he ticked off the list of tasks to do and then led the waiting group into the large front hall of the château.
***** “Brendan is dead, sir.” “Dead.” Christiansen squeezed the receiver, knuckles turning white. This wasn’t supposed to fucking happen. Now was no time to panic. He cleared his throat and forced his gaze past the railing of his yacht to the sparkling blue Mediterranean. “Did I hear you correctly, Durant?”
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A shaky breath whispered through the other end of the line. “Yes, sir. Brendan is dead. Everything was going according to plan. The priestess bitch bit Lascaux and brought him back, but…um…that’s when it went bad.” “This isn’t what I wanted to hear, Durant.” One of Christiansen’s companions rose from her lounge chair. Her sleek body in its string bikini glowed in the sun. She picked up her martini and sipped it as if she hadn’t a care in the world. He sneered at her and turned away, pacing the deck. The rugged hills of Santorini against the blue sky faded to the background in the wake of this failure. “Go on.” “Well, sir, once Lascaux was immortal again, we weren’t able to contain him. Before Brendan could even raise his stake, Lascaux killed almost all of us.” A frustrated growl ripped from Christiansen’s throat. “Goddammit. You’re a bunch of incompetent assholes.” Brendan had come from a long lineage of Soldiers. They’d trained for centuries, preparing to wipe out every last vampire on the planet. Not the pissant occasional slaying such as immortals engaged in. The men and women who became Soldiers believed the mission was one of moral integrity. Vampires were wastrels, pleasure seekers and parasites on the back of humanity. What those idiots didn’t realize was that once you rid the world of vampires, you had their wealth. Vampires were beings who’d had centuries to amass real estate, jewels, stocks, priceless art. Fuck the planet. Christiansen wanted the goods. They were going to have to switch plans. He growled. “I’ve heard enough. We have people everywhere. Get them ready and switch to the next plan. I’m calling the shots now. No middleman. Brendan got what he deserved.” “Yes, sir. I’ll get things in motion immediately.” “You’d better. We must strike before they’ve had a chance to collect themselves.” Christiansen hung up the phone and chuckled, his mood once again light. This plan
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couldn’t fail because he’d devised it himself. With Brendan out of the way, he actually had a chance of getting this right. I, too, am the product of centuries devoted to the eradication of vampires. As he sipped his cocktail, the scenery beyond the yacht once again came into his view. This time, they wouldn’t fuck up and he’d reap the fruits of his ancestors’ toils. The alcohol slid in a burning trail down Christiansen’s throat. He swallowed and called for another. There was no room for failure this time. He had the ultimate plan. The best way to destroy a people was to have them eat themselves from the inside out.
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Chapter Two Valmont couldn’t look anymore. His vineyards had gone fallow and some nearby farmer’s livestock had been let loose to graze and shit all over the place. The cleanup and re-cultivation of his once-magnificent land would take years. Weary as hell, he lowered himself onto a rock, the only thing on the landscape that had gone unscathed. How strange it was to feel the sun’s warmth on his flesh after so many thousands of years. Closing his eyes, he tilted his head back, aware that his mind was slipping into the nether realm where he’d spent so much time during his captivity. It had been this phase of semi-consciousness that had gotten him through so many centuries of imprisonment in his dungeon. After so long, however, it would take time before he could pull himself out of the dream realm at will. The memory coming to him was one he didn’t wish to dispel. He never tired of reliving that afternoon in the Middle Ages with Sergei, the dashing young nobleman, wind whipping his dark locks as he galloped his mount over the Russian steppes in his fervent pursuit of his vampire-lover…
“My lord. I beg you stop.” Valmont laughed and bent lower over his stallion. The wind whipped away his laughter and his stallion’s mane streamed into his face. It wouldn’t hurt to tease Sergei a little longer. The handsome buck didn’t need to know that his quarry would stop for him just to revel in his beauty, to drink in the dusky blue of those eyes the shape of perfect almonds. The musk of Sergei’s flesh, from his reddish-brown nipples to his perfect cock, still lingered on Valmont’s tongue from their lovemaking that afternoon. Definitely, he would stop for Sergei. And soon.
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He urged his mount toward the moonlit horizon before deciding it wiser to slow down. The horse could stumble at night and break its leg. Reining it in, he walked the sweaty, panting stallion in an easy circle while he waited for his lover to catch up with him. The hooves of Sergei’s horse thundered close by, slowing to a stop. The young man reined his chestnut mount in the same circles to cool his horse, following Valmont’s path through the grass. The panting of both horse and man filled the night air. “My lord, I thought you’d have me chase you to the ends of the earth.” Sergei’s breath infused his voice, which held a tinge of panic. How serious he always was. And devoted. A terrier was not as loyal as he. However, pleasure of the flesh was not all Sergei wanted. He wished for eternal life and begged his lover every day and evening to bring him across so that they’d never be parted. Admittedly, the idea did intrigue Valmont, fond as he was of being admired. However, after the fiasco with Noiret who had turned on his sire and become a rampant murderer, even Valmont was reluctant to sire again. When their horses had sufficiently cooled, Valmont dismounted and dropped the reins. Sergei followed his lead. He insinuated his slim form against Valmont’s front, one strong, yet elegant hand on the vampire’s chest. He nuzzled Valmont’s neck and his closeness gave Valmont a heady whiff of his lover’s musky flesh and glossy, luxurious hair. Grinning, Valmont pulled the beautiful young man closer to him and laced one hand through his gloriously thick hair until he cupped the back of his lover’s head. “Is this what you rode all this way in the dead of night for?” Without waiting for an answer, he pressed his lips to Sergei’s, drank in his flavor, male musk and the tang of the kvass he’d drunk before their moonlit ride. Sergei’s full ripe lips parted immediately for a deep, sensuous kiss. 20
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The dark stubble on Sergei’s cheeks and jaw rasped Valmont’s skin, sending pure shivers of delight through his entire body. Valmont deepened their kiss. In a surge of possessiveness he suckled on Sergei’s tongue as if it were a small cock. The hot moistness of their kiss seeped into his mouth, filled every taste bud with his lover’s unique masculine flavor. The telltale ache swelled in Valmont’s fangs. His cock hardened, swelled with demand against Sergei’s thigh, causing him to groan. He gathered every ounce of strength to pull away and step back. When he did, Sergei was panting, his almond-shaped eyes pained, his full lips swollen from their kiss. One lock of his thick hair fell across his forehead. “Why do you play this game with me, Valmont?” Valmont sighed. For several quiet moments, he listened to the wind rustle the grasses. “Eternity is not a game, my love. As much as I delight in pleasure and seek it wholeheartedly, I do not recommend this existence to everyone.” Sergei took one step toward him, bringing with him his intoxicating scent. “I would never have wanted such a thing were it not for you. You know that. How can I bear knowing I’ll eventually lose my looks and that you won’t want me anymore or that I’ll be too old to chase you?” He stepped closer and slid his arms around Valmont. The summer night allowed for thinner clothing and Valmont felt the heat of Sergei’s body through his white lawn shirt. Sergei palmed Valmont’s chest, squeezed his muscles before slipping his fingertips through the ties of his shirt. Passionately he raked his fingers through the springy hairs of Valmont’s chest. “Valmont, I’m mad with love for you. What else matters?” Valmont reached up and passed a hand over Sergei’s hair, sifted the silky locks through his fingertips. He had to admit that his lover was a rare treasure. Since the cult rendered Valmont immortal all those thousands of years ago, even before the founding of the Roman Empire, he’d had never met anyone, man or woman, who’d lavished such sincere adoration and love on him. 21
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He sighed. Conscience was such a nuisance, but it had been his constant companion since he’d bitten Tenzin Gayatsu. What had possessed him to feed on a Buddhist monk in meditation? He fixed Sergei with a serious look. “You don’t understand what it means to crave blood, my love. You’d live only to feed your hunger.” “Will it mean I may remain at your side forever?” Valmont looked down at his boots. The night breeze blew an errant lock of his hair across his cheek. A gentle hand pushed it away. Valmont captured Sergei’s hand and looked back up at him. The besotted look in the young man’s dusky blue eyes made the vampire stare. Never before had he felt an ounce of responsibility to a lover. A great deal had changed because of this young nobleman’s affections. Of course, Valmont could never guarantee he’d forsake all others, but he would not cast a protégé away after such a sacrifice, even if he took other lovers. His inner promise to keep Sergei with him was the only thing that allowed him to make the final decision. He nodded and heaved a sigh. “Of course, my love. We would not be parted.” Sergei’s breath caught and his eyes widened along with his smile. “Well then, let’s not waste another moment. Please, make me yours forever right this moment.” Without waiting, he tilted his head up and nibbled on the edge of Valmont’s jaw. The feathering of that tongue over his clean-shaven skin enflamed Valmont’s hunger. He reached up and laced the fingers of both hands roughly into Sergei’s luxurious hair and tilted the young man’s head to the perfect angle for feeding. Sergei breathed raggedly. His strong body grew pliant. “Yes, my love. Feed on me. Drink your fill.” The silken words only fueled Valmont’s bloodlust. His fangs ached to the point of excruciating pain. Closing his eyes, he curled his lips back and touched his canines to the supple flesh of his lover’s throat…
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***** Where the hell was Valmont? Serge stopped pacing Valmont’s bedchamber and dared to peek through the heavy curtain draped across the balcony door. Immediately the sun’s afternoon rays stung his skin and he let the drape fall back into place. “Oh fuck it.” He turned roughly and rubbed his eyelids until the sting subsided. Good thing the delivery men hadn’t yet arrived with Valmont’s new bedding, mattresses and furniture or they would have witnessed his display. However, they would be here soon and he was anxious for his friend to see his bedroom in its soon-tobe new incarnation. Serge had spent hours throwing away the old linens and fumigating Brandon’s scent from the carved furniture. Had he been able to tear down the drapes during the day, the transformation would have been complete. As it was however, he’d have to wait until after nightfall to pull them down and put up the new ones. Checking the clock on his cell phone again, he was unable to suppress a shudder. Valmont should certainly have been back by now. “Serge?” A familiar male voice sent a thrill up his spine. Serge’s canines began to ache again and the nerve endings of his skin tingled. Slowly he turned to see Philippe in the doorway. The blond vampire regarded him with a tentative look. Tension zinged between them, even from the distance. “What is it?” His voice came out sharper than he’d meant it to, but he couldn’t help himself. The sexual tension had exacerbated his already tense state. Hundreds of years of horrid stress had finally taken their toll on his nerves. The CE cleared his throat. “I came up to see if there was anything else you might need.”
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“Um, yes, actually, there is.” He dared to take a few steps toward Philippe, propelled only by his concern for Valmont. “Could you please look for Valmont? He should have been back from the fields a long time ago.” Philippe nodded and bowed in an amiable manner. “Of course.” Serge couldn’t help staring at the way Philippe’s golden curls swayed with his movements. His magnificent thick hair was a shade of dark wheat at the roots and lightened gradually until it reached a pale flaxen hue at the tips. Serge’s fingers practically ached to rake through that hair and he frowned at his own hunger. Valmont had been forbidden to him for so long that he’d made a habit of turning elsewhere for his physical needs and Serge was prepared to continue in that vein since he knew that his friend was still in love with Darelle. He nodded. “Thank you.” Philippe seemed to linger in the doorway a moment longer than was necessary and Serge could have sworn he saw longing in the blond vampire’s—if that’s indeed what he was—eyes. In the next moment, Philippe was gone. Serge turned back to survey the room. He’d jumped through every hoop and spent every Euro necessary to get the deliveries made the same afternoon so that Valmont could sleep in his own bed that very night. He only hoped that his former lover was all right.
***** Philippe drove the van along the perimeter road of the fields. Though long grass covered the way, he could still make out the lesser overgrowth that marked what had once been a path for wagons. With the van window open, he caught the musky scent of a vampire and turned the wheel in that direction. Serge’s concern for Valmont spurred him to press harder on the accelerator, forcing the van to grind through the overgrowth. The scent of vampire strengthened, guiding Philippe’s path to the far end of the field. When he reached a spot so overgrown the van would never get through, he braked, cut the engine and practically leapt from the van.
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Wading through the overgrowth, he could see the rotting planks of arbors and vines entangled with weeds and grasses. The overgrown furrow gave way to a clearer spot. He froze in his tracks. A vampire, no doubt Valmont, judging from the jet-black smooth hair, bronzed skin and chiseled Semitic features—according to Darelle’s yummy description—lay on the ground beside a large rock. Philippe bounded over and knelt down beside him. Valmont wore trousers and a button-down white shirt. The first few buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a swarthy chest of carved muscle and springy soft dark hair. The sight and scent of the vampire immediately churned Philippe’s desire. Gingerly, he reached out and laid a hand on Valmont’s shoulder. Hard muscle met his touch through the thin shirt. The next thing he knew, the vampire’s body jerked to life. He sat bolt upright. His large eyes glowed with bloodlust and his sensuous lips curled back, revealing his canines. Muscular arms shot out and closed over Philippe’s upper arms. Philippe froze. His body, already weakened from desire, grew immediately pliant. Easily, Valmont pulled him against his broad chest, encasing his slimmer physique in strong arms. Philippe’s mind grasped that Valmont was in a trancelike state of some sort, but the vampire’s need to feed came through in his firm yet gentle hold. Philippe closed his eyes and tilted his head back, prepared for the invasion of overwhelming pleasure. The immortal part of him that sent blood through his body craved this sensual act and desire spiraled through him, pooling in his cock, which rose and hardened. The vampire’s lips hovered tantalizingly close to Philippe’s neck. His breath pulsed warmly on the quivering skin and the tip of a warm, moist tongue danced over the supple spot on the side of his throat. 25
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Tingling pleasure cascaded through every inch of Philippe’s body. He sucked in a breath and tilted his head back as far as he could as Valmont marked the entry point with a firm lick. A shiver of warm energy traveled down Philippe’s arms and legs. His cock tightened to the point of pain. He sagged against Valmont’s hard chest and the friction caused his nipples to tingle. A low growl vibrated deep in Valmont’s throat, against Philippe’s flesh. Philippe arched his dancer’s body upward, giving the other vampire complete access. Philippe felt himself being lowered onto his back. A large broad body half covered his. Ohhhh. The delight. The vampire closed his lips tightly over the area he’d chosen and sank his canines into the soft flesh of Philippe’s neck. Philippe’s breath caught. The invading pleasure made him arch his hips upward, seeking the delicious erection that pressed against his. Slipping his arms around Valmont’s back, he palmed the hard flexing muscles. The vampire slipped his fangs out with a satisfying glide and fixed his warm soft lips over the punctures. Philippe moaned. His eyes fluttered closed. This was his favorite part of feeding, the rhythmic suction of hot lips on his skin, the dazzling pleasure of giving his essence to a lover. The rays of the sun beat on his face, and on their entwined bodies. The scent of his own blood combined with Valmont’s masculine aroma. The sweet meadow grasses filled his senses, and the buzzing of bumblebees in the overgrown meadow flowers hummed in his ears, mingled with the sound of Valmont’s suckling and the brush of their clothing together. Sliding his hands down to Valmont’s hips, Philippe pressed his fingers into them, anchored himself as he ground his cock against the other vampire’s. Even through their layers of clothing, the thick hardness of Valmont’s cock rubbed deliciously against his own and Philippe could feel the buttons of his shorts pop open from the friction. 26
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He moaned softly each time Valmont’s lips tightened over the punctures, drawing out more blood. The sensation was like a tiny orgasm that erupted from the spot where his blood flowed out and spread to every inch of his body. The tingling pleasure concentrated in his groin, building like a delightful sneeze deep in his balls. His fingers tightened on Valmont’s undulating hips and he screwed his eyes shut, his mouth wide open, panting from the bliss coursing through his entire body. A low groan vibrated in Valmont’s throat, echoing against Philippe’s skin. The vampire ground his cock against Philippe’s in hard, fervent circles. Philippe grabbed at the strong body in his arms as his body careened to the edge. The pressure in his balls and cock surged and the tingling eruption spiraled through him. Clutching Valmont’s trousers, he braced himself as the orgasmic explosion spread through his groin. Flames of bliss fanned up his cock, into his ass and down his limbs. His vision blackened and he cried out with the force of his ejaculation. Wave after blissful wave pounded through his body. Pleasure wrung his consciousness from him bit by bit. The last thing he remembered was the gentle swipe of Valmont’s tongue over the bite marks, sealing his skin.
***** Valmont blinked. The sun’s rays had weakened a bit, but still shone warmly on his face. His body felt languid, sated, as if he’d truly fed on Serge during his vision. He opened his eyes and blinked again. Was that a dark spot on his trousers? He brushed several fingertips over his groin. The material was damp. Apparently, his climax had been real. The sound of a male sigh shot him into full consciousness. He turned his head in the direction of the sound, catching a glimpse of golden hair. The flaxen strands glinted in the sunlight. “What the—” His gaze roved from the hair to a young man’s face and lower, to a lithe tanned body. The man’s sleeveless shirt bunched up to reveal a gracefully muscular torso and perfectly sculpted chest covered with the lightest dusting
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of golden hair. A very thin line of the same golden hair trailed down the furrow of his tight stomach muscles, interrupted at the navel only to continue lower down his pelvic region. The young man’s shorts were open, revealing the nest of equally blond pubic hair where his treasure trail ended. He blinked again and wiped a hand over his face. I’m seeing things for sure. God only knew what effects he’d be suffering from his prolonged imprisonment. Vampire or not, no one was immune to trauma. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The vision would be gone when he opened. Yet, eyes open, and the magnificent man still lay there. His chest rose and fell in easy breaths. His musky aroma carried on the light breeze, stirring Valmont’s desire once again. Valmont frowned. This didn’t make sense. In one second, he picked up the scent of vampire, the honeyed flavor of a Coeur Éternel, the same type of vampire Darelle was. Yet in the next moment, he detected the aroma of a non-vampire immortal, the scent of which strongly resembled regular humans, only more potent. He peeked at the youth’s neck. Had he fed on him? However, the flesh was whole, with no telltale puncture marks sealed by saliva. That didn’t mean much. If he was immortal, the punctures would have healed immediately. On the other hand, if this beautiful young man was, indeed, a vampire, Valmont wouldn’t have fed on him. Leaning back with one hand in the grass, he contemplated the golden-haired male. He was just about to reach out and touch him when the man stirred. The muscles of his graceful tanned body rippled with the movement. Slowly, the young man sat up and raked one hand through his luxurious mop of golden curls. He blinked what proved to be huge blue-green eyes under a heavy fringe of gold lashes, and looked up. His gaze locked with Valmont’s. Relief flooded his face. “Grâce à Dieu. You’re all right.” Valmont stared at him. Could it be he was permanently stuck in another realm of consciousness? “I beg your pardon?” 28
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The youth’s smile faded and he turned his whole body in the grass, seemingly unaware of his state of semi-undress. “Serge sent me to find you. He was worried because you’d been gone so long. He said his mind link to you wasn’t working.” Valmont continued to stare. “I’m sorry. I hate to be rude—” “Oh, pardon.” The young man held out a hand. “Philippe Mareau. Darelle sent me and a group from CE headquarters to assist you with the cleanup and restoration of your home.” A shiver passed down Valmont’s spine at the mention of Darelle. He remembered at the last moment to accept the offer of a handshake. “Enchanté. It’s most kind of her to have done that.” Philippe’s handshake was firm and conveyed kindness and Valmont’s body stirred again with desire. He bit back the urge and released the young man’s hand. “That explains your presence here. However, it doesn’t explain why you’re…” He couldn’t finish the sentence and instead indicated Philippe’s open trousers and mussed shirt. The head of golden curls swayed as he looked down. “Oh.” A grin came to his sweet-looking lips. He rose to his knees and tucked in his shirt. “Forgive me. I blacked out.” Valmont couldn’t help but watch the sinewy muscles of Philippe’s arms flex with his movements. “Blacked out?” Philippe nodded. “Oui. That always happens to me from an intense feeding. When I came upon you, you were in a dream state of some sort. When I touched you, you…” Valmont frowned. “Merde. I thought I might have without realizing. I’m sorry.” “Don’t worry. I certainly didn’t mind. You needed it. I’m at your service.” “You’re very kind.” Okay, so he hadn’t minded being fed on. That could excuse it…mostly. However. “If you don’t mind my asking, if you’re a CE, a vampire. I wouldn’t have fed on you.”
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Philippe raked a hand through his curls. “Only half CE. I’m part immortal. Don’t ask me how it happened. It’s a great mystère.” A tiny grin played about his dusky sensual lips. “And well, truthfully, a delicious benefit to all involved.” Valmont couldn’t help but smile. Philippe’s charm matched his physical beauty. “Well, Philippe, I do thank you for that. I apologize for my unawareness of your…kindness to me.” Guiltily, he omitted the fact that at the time of feeding on this delicious man, he’d been lost in a precious memory of Serge. The CE bowed his head. “You’re very welcome.” After a moment he raised his gaze. “Now perhaps you would like to return to the house?” Valmont nodded. The thought of returning to his home when it had been his prison for centuries did not appeal to him. The only thing that enabled him to bear the prospect, he realized in that moment, was Serge. His oldest friend’s presence there brought light into the darkness. The desire to be in Serge’s company hit him heavily. A light pulsing sprang up in the left side of his chest. Merde, he had a heart…of sorts… When Darelle had brought him back across, his internal structure must have been changed and now he, too, was a hybrid vampire—a rare kind of which one of his own protégés was—not completely soulless, yet not completely a CE. He rose to his feet. A sudden rush made him lightheaded and he wobbled. A gentle but firm hand grasped his arm, steadying him. “I’ve got you.” Philippe’s voice was kind and reassuring. “I don’t know what’s come over me,” Valmont muttered. He wasn’t accustomed to appearing weak in front of his kin. “I had quite a surge of energy when Darelle brought me back across. I was fine until I sat down on the rock.” His companion leaned in to him. His lean, strong body provided a steady support as they made their way to the road. “You’ve been through an ordeal that would have killed anyone else, Valmont,” he said softly. “I suppose you need some rest.”
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The young hybrid vampire’s voice eased away Valmont’s embarrassment and brought him an odd comfort. “Yes, I do, apparently. However, I don’t see how I’ll make it back to the château the way I feel.” “Don’t worry about that. I brought a van.” Philippe pulled a cell phone from the pocket of his trousers. “Here, Darelle programmed the number into my phone. I’ll call and tell him I found you and that we’re on our way back.” Valmont stopped and leaned heavily on the golden-haired vampire. “Thank you.” “Of course.” He handed Valmont the phone. Valmont brightened at the prospect of speaking to his oldest, dearest friend.
***** Serge waited anxiously at the front door. Damn good thing he’d just finished redecorating Valmont’s bedchamber. Valmont desperately needed rest. He sighed from his place in the shadow of the huge door. The late afternoon sun was not so strong now and he could stand at an angle that allowed him a clear view of the drive. Behind him, Darelle’s people were hard at work. In a mere few hours, they’d cleaned the great hall so well that one would never guess at the carnage and wreckage that had been there because of the Soldiers. Briefly, he wondered if the rabid vampire slayers would make another attempt at Valmont. The thought angered him and made him terribly weary at the same time. He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. Damn. Stiffness permeated every muscle and joint in his body. Although he’d not been the one in chains, tormented and fed cow’s blood—an inferior substance that had, no doubt, wreaked havoc on his lover’s system—Valmont’s siege had taken its emotional and physical toll on him as well. He sorely wished he could curl up in that giant bed with Valmont and fall asleep holding him.
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Such a luxury, however, was out of the question. They were no longer lovers and in any case, his dear friend had been through enough without having to cater to another’s needs. He nearly growled when the van pulled up and he was unable to go out and greet Valmont. It was another torment having to wait in the doorway and watch that lithe godlike creature assist Valmont across the bridge to the entry. A sudden nagging jealousy tore at his insides as he observed the way his friend leaned heavily against the blond vampire. Serge found himself examining Philippe’s neck even from a distance to see if, perhaps, Valmont had fed upon him. No doubt that beautiful golden man would inspire the same wild urge to feed in Valmont as he did in himself. However, as the two drew closer, Serge breathed a sigh of relief at the lack of puncture wounds. After what felt an interminable wait, Valmont stood in front of him. The bronze skin of his rugged face was paler than usual and heavy stubble lined his jaw and cheeks. His onyx eyes were bloodshot and his body sagged against Philippe’s with frightening weariness. Without thinking, Serge reached for him, gently drew him into the house. Relief flooded him with such force, he had to push back tears. “My friend, I was so worried about you.” Valmont gave him a weak smile, and patted his arm. “I’m very sorry. I fell asleep.” He chuckled, though the sound was full of sadness. “Can you imagine? When have you ever known me to sit down for a moment and simply fall asleep?” Without waiting for an answer, he stopped and surveyed the great hall. Serge draped his arm gently across his friend’s shoulders, vividly aware of Philippe’s presence close behind them. “They’ve done a wonderful job, haven’t they?” Valmont nodded slowly. Sadness seemed to envelop him. “Oui. It would appear that my ordeal has ushered in a new era of vampire relations.” 32
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Serge studied the vampire’s dignified profile. From the moment he’d met Valmont in Prince Vladimir’s court, he’d wanted nothing else from his life but to love him. In all these centuries, that devotion still burned deep inside him. He suppressed the overwhelming urge to touch his friend’s cheek. “Come,” he said gently, “let’s go upstairs. I have a surprise for you.”
“I must thank Darelle immediately.” They were halfway up the stairs yet Valmont felt it unkind to wait to call her. Philippe held him up on one side and Serge on the other. Without a word, Serge pulled out his phone and pressed a button, apparently having her number on his speed dial. Valmont took the phone gratefully, aware that his friend kept a gentle, protective hold on him. Someone picked up on the second ring. “Allô? Serge?” The familiar female voice sent a shiver through him. “Darelle, it’s me, Valmont.” Pause. “Oh, Valmont? How are you? I’ve been so worried.” “Exhausted, but otherwise fine.” He did not want to worry her more with his inner turmoil. She wasn’t at fault for any of it. “I’m going to rest now, but I couldn’t do so without thanking you profusely first. Your gift of help…is…very generous.” “I will never be able to repay you.” “You don’t have to, Darelle.” There was another brief pause where he sensed she was trying not to cry. “How are you finding Philippe? He is a wonderful being. He was a member of Shakespeare’s theater troupe.” “Shakespeare?” Of course whoever this Shakespeare was, he must have existed during Valmont’s long captivity. The Soldiers had not exactly kept him up-to-date on current events. Darelle made a tiny sound. “Oh dear, I’m so sorry.”
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“It’s all right. I will have him fill me in.” Sniffle. “Oui. In any case, I sent Philippe because I felt you and Serge would find his company…nourishing.” He chuckled. “That is certainly the case.” In truth, he hoped that Philippe would bestow on Serge the same…kindness…he had on him back in the field. God only knew his dear friend would need it. “Thank you again, Darelle.” “You’re very welcome. Oh, before you go, I just wanted to let you know I’ve also dispatched some more of my people to your place to act as guards. Place them as you see fit.” Guilt flared in him. He didn’t want to accept such a gift from her. However, he was in no position to refuse. Until his weakened condition improved, he could not protect himself or Serge should those fucking Soldiers return. “I will. Thank you so much.” He ended the call and handed Serge back his phone. They continued their journey up the stairs, during which he relayed what Darelle had told him about the guards. “I will place them as soon as they arrive,” Philippe said. Valmont nodded to him. “Thank you.” After another few minutes of moving slowly up the stairs and down the main hallway, they reached his bedchamber. Once there, Philippe excused himself to be downstairs when the guards arrived. When he’d gone, Valmont opened his mouth to comment on Philippe’s helpfulness when his eye fell on the interior of his bedchamber. He froze. Gone was the horrific odor of vampire slayer, replaced with the scent of fresh linens, polished wood and new furniture. The huge bed was covered with new pillows, duvets and throw blankets in varying hues of beiges and creams and instead of the heavy velvet drapes. Serge had left the bedposts bare and had polished the twisted carvings to a new shine.
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The stone floors were immaculate, covered with new area rugs, obviously expensive, in beautiful earth tones mixed with splashes of reds and blues. Potted plants flanked the French doors. “I had some of the CEs pull down the old drapes,” Serge said. The new ones were gauzy in several earth tones. “It’s wonderful.” Valmont breathed in the scent of newness. “I can’t…get over…” Ghostly images of their entwined bodies wrestling about in the bedclothes, candlelight torches illuminating their bare flesh, rose in his mind. Desire teased his groin, threatened to get him hard. Only his guilt suppressed the urge to curl up in the huge bed with Serge in his arms once again. “Serge, this room couldn’t be more splendid.” A lump formed in his throat and tears stung his eyes. In spite of everything that had passed between them, his friend had moved heaven and earth for him to be able to sleep in his room again after six-hundred-plus years of abuse to both it and him. He turned. The other vampire stood very close, so close that he could feel the heat of his hard, lean body. Serge’s face was a mere few inches from his, his sensual lips close enough that he could have leaned in slightly and kissed him. Which he did…on the cheek. Serge stilled, his head slightly bowed. His clean-shaven skin carried the faint scent of herbs, the spice of sandalwood that teased Valmont’s memory of their lovemaking. Valmont pulled away, afraid that if he lingered… Serge cleared his throat. As usual, Serge could not suppress his sexual energy, which vibrated around them. His scent, heated from obvious desire, filled the air. “Would you like a bath?” Valmont moved slowly toward the bed, feeling his friend’s hand at his elbow for support. He did not relish the thought of bathing in the modern plumbing that the Soldiers had used his money on so that they could shower and bathe in between torture sessions. Earlier, during his survey of the château, Serge had promised to have the bathrooms redone as well. However, that would take more time. 35
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Valmont shook his head as he sank on his refurbished bed. “I don’t think so, thanks. Tomorrow morning. I’m just too exhausted.” He reached up and smoothed a hand over his closely shorn head. His hair hadn’t been this short since his mortal life as a pharaoh in Egypt. He’d always preferred to keep his locks longer, enabling a lover to run his or her fingers through their ebony sleekness. The Soldiers, however, had been forced to shave it nearly to the scalp after centuries of letting it get overgrown, matted and filthy. Serge knelt before him and slipped off his shoes. The tender gesture sent more spikes of guilt through his chest. “You are not here to wait on me, you know,” he said gently. The other vampire ignored him, instead lifting Valmont’s feet and shifting him so that he lay on the bed. He pulled one of the new duvets up over Valmont and tucked him in as if he were a young boy. Then Serge leaned over him and gazed down. His blue eyes burned with tenderness. “I’m just glad you’re here now, my friend. Nothing else matters to me.” He leaned closer and pressed his lips to Valmont’s forehead. The soft warmth of Serge’s lips on his skin sent waves of need through his body and if he hadn’t been so absolutely exhausted, he would have been tempted to reach up and pull Serge down on top of him. Serge’s lips lingered on Valmont’s forehead another moment before he lifted away. “I’ll sit here with you if you’d like.” He took one of Serge’s hands and squeezed it. Asking Serge to keep him company now seemed insulting after everything he’d put him through. He shook his head. “No need, my friend. I’ll be asleep again in a few minutes.” Indeed, weariness felt woven into his very bones and his eyelids already grew heavier. Serge’s thumb brushed back and forth across the top of his hand. Each tiny movement stirred a pang of longing in Valmont’s chest. That haunting blue gaze roved over his face, making him feel as if his old lover could see right through him. “Valmont, you don’t have to worry about anything. I…love you. I want nothing from you but for you to get well. I swear it.” 36
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He lifted Serge’s hand to his cheek. “You are most dear to me, Serge.” His voice had fallen to a whisper from exhaustion, but before his eyes closed completely, he saw his friend’s voluptuous lips curve into a smile. He’d definitely said the right thing.
Serge held Valmont’s hand for another few minutes. He’d always loved to watch his friend sleep. His sire’s heavy fringe of thick, ebony lashes rested against his cheeks. His firm, smooth masculine lips were slightly parted and moved a bit with each breath he took. Every few seconds, his hand squeezed Serge’s, several tiny pulses of pressure that indicated his state of unconsciousness. He sighed, wishing nothing more than to slip under the covers with Valmont and hold him. But he suspected this was the first real rest his friend was able to have in…centuries. He wouldn’t disturb him now under any circumstance. Serge had wondered a million times through the centuries whether his former lover had thought of him at all during his captivity. He shook his head, willing away his selfish desires. I love you, Valmont. That’s all that matters. Whether they could ever be lovers again was secondary. At least, that’s what he’d told himself until he saw Philippe assisting Valmont into the château. In that moment, potent jealousy had burned inside him. Petty, he knew. But it was so unfair that he couldn’t go outside with Valmont and Philippe could. Too many opportunities to make love in a sun-warmed glade, or something equally as delicious, lost. He gently disengaged Valmont’s hand from his own and set it on the covers. Sighing again, he let his gaze linger on his friend’s face, at peace finally, his bronze complexion restored, his breathing even and serene. With a promise to himself to check on Valmont in a little while, he closed the door quietly behind him and went down the hallway to his own room. At the doorway, he
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paused. The room would reek of vampire hunter, as had Valmont’s. But there had been no time to do his own room today. Tomorrow. He stepped through the doorway and froze. Gone was the odor of the Soldiers, replaced with the spicy smoke of some exotic incense. The old bed linens, too, had been stripped and the giant four-poster bed covered with an array of pillows and duvets in brilliant shades of reds, purples and golds in shiny satins and brocades. Not quite what he would have chosen for himself, but definitely flamboyant and sinfully luxurious. The mere thought brought an image of him and Valmont, naked bodies entwined amid all that bedding, the silk cool as it slid against their writhing… Who the hell could have done this? And in such a short time… The sound of running water drifted to his ears. He jerked his gaze toward the back of the bedroom where the doorway to the bath chamber was. The water tumbled and roared, the way it did when one was filling a bathtub. Curiosity won out over suspicion and he made his way to the bath chamber. The door was partially open and steam curled out from inside. He pushed the door the rest of the way open. Billows of steam filled the marbled room. Disgusting that the Soldiers had been so free with Valmont’s money—well, with the money they could find. Serge advanced into the room. Through the haze of steam he saw the flesh color and form of a…man, kneeling by the tub— “What the hell?” A head of golden blond curls turned. Philippe. Large, blue-green eyes went wide and he stood up. Completely naked…
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Chapter Three “What the hell are you doing?” Serge’s vampire blood ran cold—no, hot. “Oh hello.” Philippe gestured toward the tub. “I…I’m running a bath for you.” Serge stared. He couldn’t help it. The steam from the hot water had made a delicate sheen of moisture on every inch of Philippe’s tanned body, emphasizing to perfection his sloping thigh muscles, beautifully carved abs and chest, as well as his thick, hard, veined… Once again, the wild urge to sink his canines into Philippe’s smooth neck assaulted him, followed by the desire to run his tongue over those muscles, gather the salty moisture that beaded on them. To feel the plump head of Philippe’s cock—full and hard at attention, jutting from a thatch of dark blond springy hair—touch the back of his throat, to taste the smooth shaft against the flat of his tongue. He cleared this throat and worked his face into what he hoped was a threatening scowl. “Like I said, what the hell are you doing?” The hardness in his own voice made him wince. But if he didn’t steel himself, he’d go mad. Never would he attack Philippe in a passion of hunger. Unless Philippe said the words that invited him, he wouldn’t go. One thing Serge had always refused to do was to use force. The vampire’s large blue-green eyes clouded, yet he did nothing to cover his nakedness. The candlelight in the bath chamber glowed on the marbled walls and off his golden skin. Serge’s gaze trailed down the other vampire’s hard chest, over each perfectly round, tawny-colored nipple, down the center furrow of Philippe’s abdominal muscles, back to that inviting thatch of dark gold hair and the hard cock springing from it. “I…I’m sorry. I thought you’d want a bath.” Again he indicated the huge Roman tub full of steamy water. Something spicy and exotic in the way of scent tinged the water, diffused into the room by the steam. 39
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Serge hung back in the doorway and narrowed his eyes. His muscles tensed, and he was ready to kill at the slightest hint of a threat to Valmont. “Who are you? You’re not a CE. What do you want with us?” Philippe sighed and closed off the faucets. The room filled with sudden silence, except for the dripping water. He grabbed a towel from a nearby towel bar and wrapped it around his hips. His slim, tapered, lickable hips. “Darelle sent me to help you and Valmont with the repairs.” Serge leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms. “I understand that much. And your people have been most helpful with the château.” “Not just the repairs to the château,” Philippe said softly. A shiver passed down Serge’s arms. “What do you mean?” Philippe cleared his throat and Serge noticed the vampire’s Adam’s apple slide up and down. “The repairs to your relationship.” He bowed his head briefly, causing the candlelight to glint off the gold threads of his tumbling hair. When he looked up again, his eyes shone with a strange blend of sympathy and hunger. “She told me about what happened between you and Valmont. She…knows how much you love each other and thought that I could…bring you back together.” Serge lifted away from the doorframe, balling his hands into fists. What business of it was Darelle’s? He bit back the question, not wanting to show Philippe his mortification. “And how could you possibly do that?” Resentment that had boiled in him for over six hundred years rose, ready to give way. The roiling emotions lit the bloodlust in his eyes. He felt the burning heat in his pupils. Philippe squared his shoulders. “I…I’m not certain, but I’m here for you both.” Serge stared at him a moment longer. Something broke and his tension drained suddenly, replaced by weariness. And sadness. He loved Valmont and would continue to love him even if his passion was unrequited. How was he able to withstand such heartache?
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His gaze remained locked with Philippe’s. Many emotions flitted through those aqua eyes. Philippe obviously believed that Darelle’s stupid notion was possible, yet the proposal was ludicrous…wasn’t it? Valmont was in love with Darelle. He was obviously grieving her. How could he insult his former lover by asking him for his heart back? “You still haven’t told me what you are,” he muttered. Philippe cleared his throat. “I’m a CE.” A twinkle came suddenly into his eyes. “Well, half CE. Half immortal, of the non-vampire strain. As I told Valmont earlier, that is a delicious advantage to all involved.” Serge furrowed his brow. Who did this creature think he was fooling? “How the hell can you be half vampire, half immortal?” Philippe shrugged, his sensuous lips curved in a sideways grin. “There are more things on heaven and earth than are dreamed of in your philosophy, Horatio.” Serge recognized the quote. Shakespeare’s Hamlet. He’d seen the play centuries ago, as his necessary treks away from the château walls to feed took him to all sorts of places, theaters included. He nodded. Philippe took a step toward him, bringing with him his distinct, luscious scent, a blend of honey, male musk and the scented oils diffused into the air. “You and Valmont both need to feed on someone and I need to be fed upon. We know that much at least. I will stay here with you and provide that for you.” Serge’s need burned. He felt as if he’d slip beyond control any second. Philippe came to a standstill a mere few inches away, breathing heavily. He stood so close that Serge could see the tawny hue of his nipples on his gleaming chest. His blue-green eyes simmered with promise, yet pleaded at the same time. “Please, take from me what you need.” Serge sucked in a breath. Every nerve ending in his entire body simmered. His gaze transfixed itself on Philippe’s throat, on the tiny pulse beating under the golden, dewy skin. So smooth, so perfect.
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Philippe’s eyelids fluttered closed. His voluptuous lips remained parted. Mist gleamed on his sculpted cheeks and jaw, clean-shaven and smooth. That was it. He reached for the golden vampire, closed his hands on those sleekly muscled arms. Firmly but gently he drew Philippe closer. The movement caused the towel around the vampire’s slim hips to come loose and fall to the marble floor. Serge barely noticed as the hunger overcame him. He slid one hand into Philippe’s hair and entwined his fingers in those silky golden curls. A murmured sigh escaped Philippe. His long golden eyelashes shuttered and he tilted his head back, a movement which freely offered access to his smooth, tanned throat. His towel now gone, Philippe shifted forward, pressing his erection into Serge’s thigh, right through his trousers. Serge bent to Philippe’s neck and gently licked the CE’s taut throat. Dieu, that skin was luscious, creamy and salty all at once. Closing his lips over the supple spot right alongside Philippe’s jugular, he curled his lips back and pushed his canines into the delicious flesh. “Yessss…ohhh.” Philippe sighed as Serge’s fangs sank smoothly in. His body sagged languidly in Serge’s arms. Serge pulled his canines out and closed his lips over the punctures. Philippe’s honeyed blood slipped through the tiny openings, pooled on his tongue then slipped down his throat. Never before had anyone’s life essence tasted like such godly nectar. His eyes fluttered closed and he surrendered completely to his feeding. Philippe’s arm muscles twitched against his fingertips and his chest heaved, warm and alive. One hand slipped off Serge’s arm and worked open the buttons of Serge’s shirt, hand sliding eagerly over his chest muscles and rubbing his hardening nipples. Serge groaned even as he sipped Philippe’s blood. This hybrid vampire was obviously skilled at pleasure… Ohhh. Fingers sliding down Serge’s stomach, Philippe stole to the buckle of his belt, which he deftly worked open.
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Those same fingers fumbled with the button and zipper, but Serge was so absorbed in feeding, he could do nothing else but sip Philippe’s blood. Trousers finally open, Philippe pushed them past Serge’s hips where they fell to his ankles. In the next breath, the little vixen undulated his slim hip so that their hard shafts rubbed together. An electric jolt shot through Serge. The pleasure of this contact traveled through his entire body. He groaned, drinking every sweet drop of Philippe’s blood. Feeling renewed, it was time to seal the punctures. He did so with one firm lick. Now fed, his attention went fully to the friction in his groin. Damn. Ecstasy engulfed him, radiating from the slide of their cocks together. He squeezed Philippe in his arms and the vampire’s back muscles bunched and stretched as the golden-haired beauty ground against him. Serge sagged back against the wall, letting his touch slide down to Philippe’s ass. Mmm, it was hard, round…made to be fucked. And those perfect globes of muscle concealed what had to be a deliciously tight hole between them. Philippe ground against him, enthralling him with the slide of their hard cocks together. Such a slut this vampire-immortal was. So perfect. He found himself grinning. Suddenly, Philippe kissed him, slipped his tongue between Serge’s lips and swirled it greedily into every corner as if to taste the lingering drops of his own blood. His groan vibrated through their joined mouths and his body tightened in Serge’s arms. Splashes of hot cum warmed Serge’s belly. Entranced, he watched the milky stuff ooze from the tiny hole. Philippe’s cock, still hard and slick with cum, slid easily against his in heated strokes. Serge squeezed Philippe’s ass, pulling him tight against him. Serge moaned into Philippe’s mouth just as his own climax erupted, spraying all the way up to Philippe’s chest. The milky white caught in Philippe’s golden chest hairs and dripped down the center of his tight stomach. The sight was glorious. And one he’d needed for so long. 43
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He held on to Philippe’s ass until the very last spasm had wrung him out. He sagged against the wall, breathing heavily. Without thinking, he pulled Philippe against him and rested like that, making their bodies stick together. Serge resisted the impulse to wind his fingers into Philippe’s hair, a tender gesture he’d often done with Valmont. He stiffened. No. He wouldn’t allow tenderness. The CE had offered him his blood and his body as a service. He also offered the possibility, however remote, of a deeper reconciliation with his former lover, the only being he’d ever loved more than life itself. That’s what Philippe was here for. He’d said so himself. Philippe raised his face from Serge’s chest. The look in his eyes showed he’d registered the other vampire’s tension. He visibly gathered himself and gently lifted away, gesturing toward the tub. “Come,” he said, his gentle voice silky, holding the promise of more pleasure. “The bath is still hot and you have more relaxing to do.” Serge glanced at the huge steaming tub of scented hot water. It sure as hell looked lusciously tempting. Wordlessly, he stepped out of his shoes and trousers, then stripped off his shirt. A tendril of guilt nagged him for the pleasure he’d just taken while Valmont slept in his room down the hallway, recovering from his ordeal. He was tempted to ask Philippe to leave him be now, but couldn’t. The CE’s unselfish company offered him long-needed comfort. And besides, even though he didn’t want to show tenderness, Philippe had shared his lifeblood with him, willingly and unflinchingly. Serge couldn’t just throw him out. Philippe smiled gently at him and picked up his hand. He let himself be led to the huge tub. He released Philippe’s hand and stepped in, submerging himself in the deliciously hot water. Sinking onto the bench that ran around the edge of the tub’s interior, he leaned back and closed his eyes, enveloped by the spicy scent of oils that wafted through the air. The sound of water rippling made him open his eyes. A jolt of renewed desire passed through his middle.
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Philippe descended into the tub and waded over to him, a cloth in one hand. Heat stirred in his groin even though he tried to fight it off. Philippe sat next to him and submerged the cloth, bringing it up dripping. “May I?” The look in his eyes was hopeful and tender. Whether he was acting or not, he was convincing. He nodded. “All right.” His companion smiled and gently wiped the cloth around his neck several times. Mmm, the gentle rasp of the wet cloth behind his ears was immediately relaxing. His skin tingled pleasantly under the kind touch, like that of a skilled nurse tending to wounded soldiers. A strange blend of qualities this hybrid vampire was. Admittedly, he’d never heard of such a thing. Probably a result of his extended vigil outside these walls. Against his will, his curiosity about Philippe moved him to speak. “Do you feed as well as get fed on?” “Sometimes,” Philippe said. “But like all CEs, I only feed as an act of mercy.” He passed the cloth over Serge’s chest. The soft, wet material grazed his nipples pleasantly. The sensation made his cock start to harden again.
Serge chuckled in spite of himself. “What does the immortal half of you think of that?” Philippe’s smile widened and Serge couldn’t help but notice that he seemed delighted to be in the tub with him. “My immortal half is perfectly happy with it.” That beautiful smile faded a bit and sadness flashed through his eyes. “Most of the time.” He dipped the cloth into the water and wiped it gently over one of Serge’s shoulders and down his arm, which rested along the edge of the tub. “Immortals aren’t clannish and social like vampires,” he said softly. “So sometimes, the two distinct characteristics cause a war inside me.”
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“I see.” The surge of compassion he felt for Philippe just then disturbed him. He, himself, certainly knew how it felt to be isolated against his will, as well as to feel torn and guilty over conflicting emotions. “Was your sire half and half like you?” The question was out before he realized what he was doing. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.” “Don’t be sorry.” Philippe’s voice was so gentle and soothing. With a hand on Serge’s shoulder he bade him to lean forward just enough to allow the cloth to pass over his back. Serge suppressed a groan at the pleasure of the warm cloth against his wet skin. “I never knew my sire, really,” Philippe went on. “I was a player in Shakespeare’s theatre troupe. I had admirers and…lovers, many of them. I was so enthralled with my own skills and talents that I entertained anyone who flattered me.” His blue-green eyes looked both sheepish and pained. He stopped moving the cloth, rested it against Serge’s back. “I didn’t know then of the existence of vampires or immortals. I cared only about the theater. It consumed me. So I wasn’t paying attention when in the midst of hot sex, one of my…admirers…pinned me down and fed on me.” He shrugged. The casual gesture belied an air of emotional pain. “He grabbed my hair, yanked my head back and sank his fangs into my neck. I couldn’t move. It was done before I knew what hit me. I was aroused and terrified both.” He looked down. Serge looked at him, taken off guard by the heat of anger burning in his own chest. “That wasn’t right,” he muttered. “Whoever bit you that way should have been slain.” His hands curled into fists and he sat up straight. The water sloshed around from his movement. “A sire doesn’t simply attack like that and then abandon his protégé. He should be slain for such cruelty.” Philippe’s eyes widened and he stared at Serge, his pouty lips slightly parted. Holy shit, what did I just say? He looked down, shocked at the wave of protectiveness he felt. It was sudden, yes, but there was no excuse to brutalize someone with so obvious a gentle nature. Vampires like that were disgusting creatures. Philippe’s 46
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experience at that brute’s hands was so absolutely opposite to his own siring. As selfish and arrogant as Valmont had been, he’d also been a caring lover who’d brought his protégé across in a tender, passionate way, never abandoning him in all the centuries that followed. Well, mostly not abandoning him… Philippe didn’t answer. He averted Serge’s gaze and resumed his ministrations. He slid the cloth under the water, wiped it around Serge’s waist, and then lower… The cloth grazed Serge’s cock. He bit back a groan. In spite of the fact he’d come a short while ago, his lustful appetite combined with Philippe’s obvious skill made him ready to go again. Fixing his gaze on the golden vampire’s chest, he stared at the way the golden hairs on the round muscles lay against his wet skin. His mouth watered to taste that skin, especially those tawny-brown nipples. And yet, in that moment, he found himself not only wanting pleasure for himself. Philippe’s suffering had roused his sympathy. “Philippe,” he muttered, hearing the husky tinge in his own voice. The cloth froze in mid-movement. “Yes?” Serge raised his gaze to Philippe’s blue-green eyes. It was very difficult not to stare into those eyes. “The story you just told me…it’s true?” Philippe nodded. Sadness filled his eyes. “Oui, c’est vrai. You can ask Darelle or anyone of the others downstairs. They all know about it. His name at the time was Gustav, a protégé of Noiret.” “Shit.” Noiret. That figured. If a crueler vampire than that bastard walked the earth, Serge had yet to meet him. Before he realized what he was doing, he reached out, slipped his hands around the vampire’s smoothly muscled back and pulled him closer.
Philippe gasped softly and yielded gratefully. The hot water in the giant tub sloshed gently as their bodies met. Caught up in the moment, he straddled Serge and
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kissed him again, gulped hungrily at the vampire’s lips and tongue. You’re so beautiful, he wanted to say and didn’t. Your blue eyes, your dark, soft hair… Never before had he felt so strangely shy. Tilting his hips forward, Philippe pushed his hard cock against Serge’s. Their erections slid easily together under the water. He groaned and suckled more furiously on Serge’s tongue. Something about this gorgeous vampire made him feel like an innocent but sexually hungry youth again…such a mystery but so delicious. He licked the seam of Serge’s delicious lips several times and his heart raced when Serge swirled his tongue against his with lazy familiarity, as if they’d been lovers for a long time. Philippe sighed into their joined mouths. He sank against his lover, his wet chest fusing to Serge’s. Serge’s soft chest hairs tickled his nipples and Philippe rubbed his chest against him while his fingers played with wet strands of Serge’s hair. A seeking hand slid down Philippe’s back, along the furrow of his spine to his buttocks. The teasing pleasure made him groan and he deepened their kiss, dancing his tongue wildly against Serge’s. Serge tasted so delicious, his flavor musky with a touch of tobacco and herbs. Rising up on his knees, he reached for Serge’s cock and guided it to his ass. The scented oil in the water made his opening slick so that a small push was enough to get the plump head inside him. Serge groaned into his mouth. He grasped Philippe’s hips and tugged him down gently. Philippe was only too happy to oblige. With one firm push, he impaled himself on his lover’s cock. His entire body shuddered from the incredible friction of the thick shaft filling him. Anchoring his hands on the edge of the tub, he rode Serge, lost in a haze of pleasure.
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The water sloshed and lapped around their joined bodies. Philippe shut his eyes tightly, every sense filled with the other vampire, his scent, the thickness of his cock inside him, the friction of that tight stomach against his cock. An eager hand slid from his hip and wrapped around his cock. Each thrust of his body caused Serge’s hand to pump his cock, slick from the oiled water. Philippe moved faster, driven by the sheer pleasure and desire to make his companion come again. He pulled his mouth from Serge’s and opened his eyes, watching his dusky blue pupils, half hidden by his dark eyelashes, the lids heavy, his full lips parted. Water beaded off his smoothly shaven cheeks and glistened in his hair. That sight alone sent a frisson of sheer pleasure through Philippe’s body. He squeezed his ass muscles around Serge’s cock, dragging a deep groan from the vampire. His hand went slack on Philippe’s cock and his cock twitched inside him, pulsing warm seed into Philippe’s passage. Serge fell back, body slack. His hand still rested on Philippe’s cock. Lazily, he began pumping it again. He stared up, lids still heavy over his enchanting blue eyes. “Stay like that,” he ordered softly. Philippe nodded. “Gladly,” he breathed. He’d stay straddled like this with Serge’s cock buried deep inside him. Forever, if it were possible. Serge used the slick water to glide his hand the entire length of Philippe’s cock. Philippe groaned softly. His eyelids shuttered and he loosely gripped Serge’s hard shoulders. The pressure was building rapidly in his cock. Tingling heat vibrated deep in his balls. “You like that?” “Yessss…” His head lolled, his eyelids shuttered. He was weakened, unable to do anything else but submit to Serge’s stroking. “Don’t stop, please.” The vampire grinned. “Not until you come, I won’t.” Philippe’s eyelids flickered some more as the tingling in his balls intensified.
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Serge ran the pad of his thumb over the head of his cock, played with the tiny opening before stroking him some more. “Ohhhh.” Philippe tilted his head back as the spasms gripped his cock, sending a cloud of cum into the water. His lover didn’t stop stroking. That lazy grin stayed on his full lips while he milked every last drop. Philippe collapsed lightly against him, panting.
Serge closed his arms lightly around his companion. His own action surprised him, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away now. Philippe’s back heaved under his hands, warm breath pulsed against his skin. The sensations were oddly comforting in the wake of such pleasure. How could he push him away now? Damn. Long after Serge’s cock had softened, Philippe rose on his knees, making him slide out. “Come,” he said softly, “you should get some rest.” He climbed from the tub, grabbed a fluffy towel from a bar and dried Serge off when he emerged from the water. Serge let Philippe dry his back, but when he slid the towel around Serge’s front, Serge stayed the other vampire’s hands. “You don’t have to do this, you know. You’re still wet yourself.” Philippe smiled at him, a smile that warmed his eyes and sent a strange flush of heat through his chest. “You don’t need to worry. I’m fine. I want to.” He relented with a sigh. “All right.” Truthfully, Philippe’s touch was so soft and gentle…so…renewing. “I’m not used to being waited on.” “I know.” “I spent centuries camped outside the château walls, waiting. I’m used to the roughest life.”
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Philippe knelt down and rubbed the towel over Serge’s legs. “That must have been the worst nightmare imaginable.” The sympathy in his tone sounded completely genuine and Serge wished it weren’t. He didn’t want to like Philippe so much. “It was a nightmare,” he murmured. “I wish that it were over, but I feel strongly that it isn’t.” Philippe rose to his feet and used the towel to dry himself. “You believe the Soldiers will come back?” He sounded truly worried. A chill passed down Serge’s spine. “Of course I do. The bastards who were here are not the only ones in the world. They’re everywhere. And with modern communication, internet, cell phones and all that, they can mobilize much faster.” “Darelle said much the same things as you’re saying now. Which is why she sent plenty of guards.” Philippe set the towel aside and picked up his hand. “Come,” he said with a gentle tug toward the bedroom. “I would like to check on Valmont,” Serge said quietly. “Of course.” Philippe went to the bed where Serge’s robe lay. He picked it up and held it open. Serge slipped his arms in and tied the belt. Then he turned and looked at his companion. The desire he felt right now was disturbing and one over which he had no control. “Will you…wait here?” A light burned in Philippe’s eyes and he nodded without hesitation. “Of course.” Serge tightened the belt of his robe. He was more relieved than he wanted to admit. After so many endless nights by himself outside, he felt unable to spend another second alone if he didn’t have to. “Thank you. I won’t be long.” He went out into the hall and down to Valmont’s room. He slipped inside and approached the bed. Valmont was sleeping peacefully, though Serge could see his eyes move back and forth underneath his lids. What are you dreaming about, my friend? No nightmares, I pray.
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Serge tiptoed back out and returned to his room, glad to find Philippe under the covers waiting for him as he’d wanted. Through a crack in the curtains, he could see the sun had almost set. Slipping out of his robe, he left it on the foot of the mattress and climbed under the covers. Immediately, Philippe moved into him and spooned the front of his body to Serge’s back, one arm around him, palm on chest. Serge closed his eyes. His body relaxed into the sweet embrace. The heat of Philippe’s body penetrated him to his bones and his exhaustion overtook him. A gentle hand passed over his hair. “Philippe,” he said quietly, “Was it you who made this room so beautiful?” “Oui.” “Thank you.” A soft kiss was pressed into the back of his neck. “You’re very welcome.” Serge succumbed to sleep, relaxed for the first time in centuries.
Sergei? Where are you? Serge’s eyes popped open. The voice had been so close, as if Valmont had whispered into his ear. Sleep dispelled, he sat up and looked wildly around. Only Philippe lay sleeping next to him, on his back. Sergei? Where are you? I need you. Please.
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Chapter Four Serge threw back the covers and snatched up his robe from the foot of the bed. He shrugged quickly into it. When he turned, he saw that Philippe was awake now. The other vampire pushed back his mussed tumble of blond curls. “Is something the matter?” There was no time to enjoy the sight of Philippe’s naked golden body or his large blue-green eyes heavy with sleep. “Something’s wrong with Valmont. He called to me.” Serge slid off the bed onto his feet, tying the belt of his robe as he strode for the bedroom door. “I’ll go with you,” he heard behind him. Serge didn’t answer. His only goal was to reach Valmont quickly. Down the hallway, he pushed open Valmont’s door, threw the light switch and rushed to his bedside. Valmont’s eyes were closed, but his head thrashed back and forth on the pillow. He was still fully dressed, but had thrown down the covers. His lips moved rapidly and Serge heard him mumbling. “Sergei. Sergei.” Serge stared down at him. How had he heard their mind link? It had been cut during Valmont’s captivity. “You’re linked through me now.” Serge wheeled around. “What?” Philippe stood behind him, wrapped in a white cotton robe. The symbol of the Coeurs Éternels was emblazoned on the right breast pocket. “You’ve both fed on me and are linked through me now. That’s how you heard Valmont call to you.”
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Serge gritted his teeth. Any possible joy he could feel at being reconnected to his friend’s mind was overshadowed by the fact that it was through a middleman. He sighed and turned back to Valmont. Perching on the edge of the bed, Serge reached out and put his palm on Valmont’s forehead. The vampire’s thrashing stilled, but his mumbling continued. “He’s dreaming about you, Serge.” Serge frowned up at the blond vampire. “How can you possibly know this?” Philippe moved closer to the bed. “He was dreaming of you this afternoon when I found him in the field. I realized that when he fed on me.” A shudder of excitement passed through Serge’s chest. If he could just believe it was true. “Tell me more…please.” “After he fed on me, I saw the images. He was remembering when he drank from you and made you immortal.” Philippe gestured toward the bed. “He’s making love to you right now, Serge.” Serge furrowed his brow. “Come on.” “I promise. My link works differently from yours. I see images rather than hear speech and that’s what I see. You must get into bed with him and let him make love to you as he sees you in his memory.” Serge’s body was already hardening and thrumming with heated desire. The thing he wanted most in the universe was to slip out of his robe and climb into bed with Valmont. But… “I can’t do that. He’s in love with…” He looked down, unable to finish. A hand on his shoulder caused him to look back up. Philippe’s expression was full of sympathy. “I understand what you mean, Serge, but the images don’t lie.” He squeezed Serge’s shoulder, conveying urgency. “Neither do the centuries of love between you. No matter what happened with Darelle, Valmont loves you. And…he wants you.”
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Serge stared at Philippe. When he didn’t respond for several seconds, Philippe released his shoulder and leaned down. His nimble fingers worked open Valmont’s white shirt. “Come on, help me get him undressed and then you get into bed with him.” “All right.” His breath caught as Valmont’s shirt came open, revealing his muscular chest, heaving with deep breaths. His mouth watered to taste Valmont’s dark nipples, suckle the dark tips until they pebbled under his tongue. In that moment, all his doubts and fears washed away. He didn’t care if what Philippe said was true or not. He cared only to make love again to Valmont. If it was a mistake, then in the morning, he’d leave Valmont be. But for now, he obeyed Philippe’s order. Swiftly he unbuckled Valmont’s belt and undid his trousers. He stood up again and yanked his trousers down and off. In the meantime, Philippe managed to get the vampire out of his shirt. He pulled back the covers and gestured. “Come, get into bed with him.” Serge slipped off his robe and climbed into bed, eager to feel Valmont’s bronze body of solid muscle against his. Over six centuries of torturous separation was about to end. At least for a little while. He gazed down at Valmont’s naked form, took in every part of him, the reddishbrown skin, the luxurious swirls of raven hair on his broad chest, the dark trail of it that ran down the center of his taut stomach and ended in a dark nest around his thick hard cock. “Sergei…” Serge moved closer. His own cock throbbed and was already hard. Their thighs touched. Just that tiny pressure alone was a great delight. He’d thought never to experience the pleasure of Valmont’s body ever again. He pushed closer, rubbed his thighs against his friend’s. As if on reflex, Valmont reached for him. Muscular arms closed around him, like heavenly gates. Serge closed his eyes and sank against Valmont’s body. He palmed Valmont’s broad back and the muscles flexed 55
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under his touch. The length of their bodies fitted together like perfection. Chest to chest, thigh to thigh… He slipped one leg between powerful bronze thighs and rubbed his cock against his friend’s. Immediate pleasure shot through his body. He released a shuddery breath and pressed his lips to the side of Valmont’s neck. Mmm, that skin, salty-sweet, just as he remembered. Eyes closed, he felt a large hand slip into his hair and cradle the back of his head. Just the way it had always been. With gentle pressure, Valmont bade Serge to raise his head. Their gazes met. His friend’s large dark eyes stared at him and Serge couldn’t tell whether he was seeing through his dreamlike trance or if he was fully awake. It didn’t matter…especially when their lips met his. Mmm…those strong yet soft masculine lips he’d always loved. His eyes fluttered closed again and he parted his lips in surrender. Valmont’s spicy scent invaded him as their tongues clashed sensually. Serge murmured a sigh. His body melted against his beloved’s. He’d wanted Valmont’s kiss and touch for over six hundred years. How had he lived without it for so long? As one body, Valmont turned them over. The weight of that large muscular body made Serge sink deep into the soft bedding. Ahhh, paradise. He palmed that broad back, traced the bulges of his lover’s muscular back, down the long ridges of hard muscle along Valmont’s spine, over his slim hips to the softer skin of his hard ass. The vampire moaned into his mouth and ground their cocks together. Sparks of heat ignited the length of Serge’s cock, all the way into his balls. He cupped Valmont’s ass with both hands and squeezed the hard round muscles, pulled their groins tighter together. Through his pleasured haze, Serge became aware of the mattress sinking beside him. He opened his eyes. Philippe’s face hovered just above him and Valmont, watching. A glance sufficed to see that the blond vampire had taken off his robe and
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crouched next to them on the bed. “Don’t be alarmed. I’m not trying to get in on your lovemaking, but Valmont will need to feed on me again. He’s still malnourished.” Startled, Serge pulled his mouth from Valmont’s. Valmont didn’t seem to notice and buried his lips in the curve of Serge’s neck and brushed the tip of his tongue back and forth on the underside of Serge’s jaw. The sensation was delicious and made Serge wish he were mortal and had blood to nourish his lover. Vampire blood was a thin watery substance that would not help restore his friend’s health. He sighed and gently pulled away. Philippe was right. Valmont was preparing to feed on the spot he was now licking and Serge, to his own anguish, had no proper blood to give him. The CE climbed under the covers and settled in, sandwiching Valmont between himself and Serge. Philippe’s honeyed scent invaded the air. A low sensual growl vibrated in Valmont’s throat and he turned over, burying his lips immediately against the supple skin of the vampire-immortal’s neck. A stab of jealousy shot through him. He stared at Valmont, watched Philippe tilt his head back, his golden body supine, his cock fully hard lying against his thigh. If Serge hadn’t already been so aroused, he didn’t know what he would have done. As it was, the front of his body was molded to Valmont’s back and his cock pressed into the delicious crevice of his ass. Philippe moaned, a breathless sigh that always accompanied canines into the skin. The scent of Philippe’s arousal, mingled with the honeyed scent of blood, incited Serge’s own bloodlust. His jealousy forgotten, he felt only the hunger to feed mixed with his own potent, overwhelming desire. Serge tilted his face down and pressed his lips to Valmont’s shoulder. He rained soft kisses on his lover’s bronze skin and delighted in the vampire’s salty-sweet taste. While Serge kissed him, he let his hand steal down and squeeze one side of Valmont’s ass. For several moments, he savored the soft skin over hard muscle before slipping
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inside to find the tight hole he intended to penetrate. Mmm. Thankfully, some things hadn’t changed, including that tasty crevice hidden between those perfect ass cheeks. Serge’s cock twitched in anticipation of burying itself in Valmont’s tight passage. He and Valmont had always taken turns topping each other and there had never been a time Valmont hadn’t delighted in getting a hard ride. Hopefully that hadn’t changed either. Valmont groaned and pushed his ass out. Apparently, his feeding on Philippe did not leave him oblivious to Serge’s fingertips probing his tight little hole. Serge slid one finger into him, then a second. Valmont groaned again and pushed his ass against Serge’s fingers. Encouraged, Serge massaged the soft insides of Valmont’s tight passage. Bit by bit he opened his lover, prepared him for the invasion of his cock. He groaned and bucked against Serge’s hand, clearly ready to be fucked. Serge wet his hand with spit and smoothed it on his cock. He guided the swollen head to Valmont’s ass and pushed himself in. Ohhh, nothing had felt that amazing in centuries and Serge groaned at the delicious, long-desired contact. Serge’s entire body stiffened against a rush of heat and he pushed farther in. As far as he was concerned, Valmont’s body had been made for his cock. With a hand on Valmont’s hip, he slid in all the way, a satisfying thrust that brought their bodies together. Serge hissed with pleasure and squeezed Valmont’s hip. He began thrusting, slowly at first, then faster, unable to hold back. Reunited, after so long. He was breathless, floating. Valmont moaned softly with each thrust. The space around them filled with his moans and Philippe’s sighs. Serge rose up and peeked over Valmont’s shoulder. The blond vampire’s eyes were closed. His long golden lashes rested against his cheeks and his full dusky lips were parted. He groaned softly and his body jerked a bit with each suckle of Valmont’s lips and tongue on his neck.
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Serge’s gaze roved lower. Valmont’s hand was wrapped around Philippe’s cock, pumping it in quick, smooth motions. Philippe bucked his pelvis with each upward stroke. Admittedly, the sight was one of the hottest things Serge had ever witnessed and he continued to thrust hard and deep. His gaze was trapped on the sight of Valmont’s bronzed hand stroking Philippe’s reddish-gold cock. A tiny drop of cum oozed from the tip of Philippe’s cock, glistening in the lamplight. Serge’s mouth watered to lick it, but he was not in a position to reach. In the next second, Valmont’s thumb swiped the droplet off and rubbed it onto the head. Philippe moaned again. He arched his hips up off the bed and spurts of milky cum shot out, coating Valmont’s hand. Watching Philippe come sent Serge over the edge. One more deep thrust inside Valmont’s tight passage and he started to climax. The spasms erupted from deep in his balls, up his cock. His hand tightened on Valmont’s hip and he rocked his hips against him as he emptied himself inside his lover’s ass. Serge squeezed his eyes shut, completely lost in the waves of pleasure. His body trembled against Valmont’s and time seemed to stop, his whole existence concentrated on the joining of their bodies. Wave after wave plowed through him, a climax so intense he felt suspended between time and space. Finally he collapsed against his lover’s broad back, eyes closed, and rested. With their bodies still molded together, he caressed Valmont’s hip while he recovered from the intensity of his climax. When Serge opened his eyes, he saw that Philippe’s climax had finished too, the pool of white cum on his hard stomach and on Valmont’s hand that lay slack, the fingers still wrapped around Philippe’s cock. Philippe opened his eyes and locked gazes with Serge. A tiny grin played around his lips and his blue-green eyes sparkled. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Now for your friend.”
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“Hm?” He looked down. “Oh.” Valmont was still hard. With one quick glance at Philippe, Serge slipped out and turned his lover over, onto his back. The movement caused Valmont’s hand to slip off Philippe’s cock. Philippe didn’t seem to mind. He grinned, looking like a satisfied cat. With one hand he reached out, wiped at his stomach and lapped up his own seed from his fingertips, his gaze on Serge and Valmont. Valmont’s eyes were still closed. “Sergei,” he whispered. Serge placed a soft kiss on his cheek before sliding down on the mattress so he could take Valmont’s cock into his mouth. The second his tongue touched the plump, taut head, he heard Valmont groan. A large hand slipped a hand into his hair, gently resting there as Serge slid his mouth down, taking his lover in deep. Closing his lips tight around the hard shaft, he sucked hard, sliding up and down, his head bobbing. Valmont’s cock was delicious, just as Serge remembered it. He closed his eyes, letting his friend’s musky flavor infuse his senses, the silky skin gliding against his tongue. A droplet of cum seeped out and he lapped it up, oblivious to anything else. Only when his eyes opened briefly did he catch a glimpse of Philippe staring, watching him suck Valmont’s cock. Philippe’s blue-green eyes were wide, dusky, as if he’d never seen anything so wonderful. Serge cupped Valmont’s balls. The heavy sac weighed in his palm. He squeezed gently, eliciting a groan. Encouraged, he tightened his lips and sucked harder. Valmont’s hips lifted, pushing his cock deeper into Serge’s mouth. A small twitch of the plump head against his tongue told him that his lover would come soon. Serge bobbed his head harder and faster, wanting to bring Valmont the greatest pleasure. One more suck. One more squeeze. Valmont groaned and erupted.
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Serge anchored himself, accepted the gush of seed. Having ached for this flavor so long, he swallowed each spurt greedily, not letting go until his lover was empty, and slipped away. He licked his lips and rested his cheek on Valmont’s thigh, near the cock he’d just sucked to limpness. The musky scent and flavor lingered on his tongue and in the air. Closing his eyes, he listened to Valmont’s breathing and reveled in the gentle press of the vampire’s hand still on his head. A delicious languor overcame him and he felt his eyelids grow heavy. His body was satiated, completely serene from having made love to Valmont, the great love of his entire existence. Sudden guilt stabbed him. He’d enjoyed feeding on Philippe and having his cock buried deep inside Philippe’s ass. The CE was so sweet and so helpful. It was because of that golden-haired vampire that he lay here now with Valmont, once again in the only bed he’d ever wished to be in. Serge opened his eyes and lifted his head, determined to thank Philippe. But when he did so, that spot on the bed was empty.
***** Philippe tried to ignore the heavy feeling that weighed on his heart. He had more important concerns than the fact that he’d fallen madly in love…really in love for the first time in his existence. He’d played characters in love on the stage, but had never felt himself what they’d felt. Now he did. He didn’t care about anything else, not even being on the stage. He wanted only to be with Serge, to look at him, touch him, kiss him…and well…everything else. Not that there was a chance in hell of having a relationship with Serge. Serge was in love with someone else. Not only that, but they were also in danger, and Serge’s safety took precedence over everything else.
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The impending threat from the Soldiers was palpable as he surveyed Valmont’s lands from the highest rampart of the château. Looking out at the landscape, the trees and fields illumined by the full moon, one would never know that there was any danger coming. But he sensed danger in his very bones. “What do you see?” Gregory, one of the guards, asked. The large vampire stood next to him. Philippe sighed. Only days ago, he’d have been flirting with the towering, muscular male, easing him into bed play. Now, nothing. “That’s the problem. I don’t see anything unusual. I just know they’re out there. There’s no way in hell the Soldiers will let Valmont go just like that, especially when he drained the life out of one of their top generals.” Gregory nodded, his chiseled profile outlined by the moonlight. “Yes. The best we can do is be prepared.” “Are we?” The brawny CE nodded. “We are. Darelle sent as many of us as she had. There are more guards stationed all over the property. The moment a Soldier sets foot within its boundaries, we’ll know.” “Philippe?” A female voice made him turn. Cherry stood at the doorway, her lover Dahlia, a tall Amazonian-like figure, behind her. Seeing two happy lovers together immediately depressed him further. “Hi, Cherry.” “How’s it going?” Cherry came forward and waved hello to Gregory. Dahlia followed close behind her. He nodded and turned his gaze back out to the moonlit scene. “All right, I guess.” Cherry put a gentle hand on his shoulder. Immediately, he began to feel ill and moved away.
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Cherry pulled her hand back as if she’d burned him. Her face was a mask of concern. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” Philippe saw the glint of golden rings on Cherry’s fingers. Gifts from Dahlia, no doubt. Cherry’s fingers had been naked until she’d hooked up with Dahlia. Unfortunately, though, gold was his weakening substance. All immortals had one, and the immortal part of him was no exception. He kept his weakness a secret. In the wrong hands, that knowledge could be deadly for him. He shook his head. “No. I’m just jumpy is all.” Cherry gave him a knowing grin. “Ah, I see. Someone is smitten with a certain vampire.” Her tone was teasing yet gentle. “Well, if you need an antidote, you could spend some time with me and Dahlia.” He sighed again. There was a time when he would have jumped at the offer of a threesome with two beautiful females. Now it didn’t tempt him in the slightest. “That’s a wonderful offer, Cherry, but I must decline.” “No problem, Phil. Just call though, if you need anything.” Cherry patted his shoulder again. Her rings grazed his skin and nausea gripped him until she pulled away. He pretended nothing was happening but felt weak and reached out to grip the iron rail of the balcony. “See you later, Cherry. Bye, Dahlia.” The two women left and the churning in his gut subsided. “You all right?” Gregory sounded concerned. He sighed in relief. “I’m fine. Please go and check the rest of the place, okay?” “Of course.” Gregory turned and went in. Philippe continued to stand and watch the night. His strength returned but the disturbing sense of weakness the gold caused him still spiraled through his body. He felt haunted, as he did by the image of Serge, sleeping with his head resting on Valmont’s thigh. That’s how Serge had looked just before he’d slipped away.
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Serge was so beautiful…so magnificent. All Philippe could think of was how Serge’s naked body had felt against his, how his cock had felt buried deep in Philippe’s tight passage… Life could be so cruel. With Serge in Valmont’s bed once again, his purpose for being here seemed to be nearly fulfilled. He did not look forward at all to having to leave his beloved when Serge and Valmont were definitely back together. Well, at least he had this bit of time with them. And tonight, the CEs were having a celebratory banquet. Philippe would do his special dance. If nothing else filled the two vampires with desire and had them climbing all over each other, the dance of ultimate seduction would do it.
***** That night, Philippe waited on the sidelines, watching the banquet. Well, maybe banquet wasn’t the right word, considering that the only offering on the tables was goblets of mead for the CEs and blood for Valmont and Serge. His stomach fluttered wildly. He couldn’t drink mead or socialize before dancing, so he hung back and observed the festivities. The great hall was magnificent now, restored by his fellow CEs to its former glory. Cushions and couches flanked the walls, leaving space for dancing in the center. The guests of honor, of course, sat together on an arrangement of silk cushions, dressed in what Philippe had deemed the costume of the evening—silk robes with nothing on underneath. He, himself, wore his special loincloth, removable by the simple pull of a string. He’d already lubricated his bottom with a healthy dose of olive oil because when the time came, he would need to be ready. On the sidelines, Gregory stood, as instructed, dressed similarly in a loincloth, to wait for him. The large muscular man was an important part of the dance.
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Though Philippe really preferred to dance alone and then wait for his next opportunity to make love with Serge, he needed to ensure that Serge and Valmont were aroused enough to make love to each other. If he did the dance correctly, the onceestranged vampires would abandon whatever reservations they had about becoming lovers again. I’ve given my word to Darelle, he thought, though sadness engulfed him. Once his mission was fulfilled, he would return to Paris and await Darelle’s next assignment for him. The musicians turned to Philippe for their cue. He watched the crowd, focusing especially on his special audience. They sat side by side in casual poses, smiling at each other and chatting. Sadness stabbed Philippe again. What were they discussing? The way they sat with each other, close but not entwined or touching, reflected their current tentative relationship. Well, it was time to change that. He nodded to the musicians as he prepared himself to leap out into the center space and perform. The music began. A bamboo flute whispered a few sensual notes, followed by the other instruments, drum, woodwind and strings that blended their sensuous tones in with an exotic rhythm that conveyed pleasure and carnal desire. Philippe heaved a deep breath then took a running leap into the center. His loincloth flew up with his movements, revealing his nakedness underneath. Putting everything out of his mind except his goal, he performed the dance he’d done many, many times in the past few centuries. He leaped, twisted and flipped in ways that pulled oohs and ahhs and applause from his audience. When he reached the portion of his dance that included Gregory, Philippe gave the vampire the signal and Gregory paced into the center of the floor. Their gazes locked and Philippe smiled up at him, curving his lips in the way he knew was seductive. He danced his way over to the muscular vampire who stared back at him, eyes glazed from desire. Writhing his hips, he gyrated and teased his way 65
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around Gregory’s brawny physique. His dance had its desired effect. The large vampire’s cock now tented the front of his white loincloth and he was looking down at Philippe, a sheen of lust over his gaze, his arched lips slightly parted. Gregory’s smooth broad chest rose and fell heavily and Philippe stood in front of him and undulated his hips lightly against Gregory’s jutting erection. Still smiling, he lifted his hands to the vampire’s chest and palmed the bulging muscles. Lightly, he caressed the round, hard pectorals, grazed the reddish-brown nipples with his fingertips in a skillful way that made the tips pebble immediately. Gregory groaned softly. Philippe slid his hands from Gregory’s chest, around his arms to his broad back. He caressed the hard muscles and continued to rub his now-hardening cock against Gregory’s. He let his touch whisper lightly down Gregory’s spine, teasing the skin of his lower back, to his buttocks over the loincloth. Gregory moaned again and his eyelids shuttered. From his angle, Philippe couldn’t see Serge and Valmont. He could only hope that what he was about to do next would have its desired effect on them.
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Chapter Five Serge stared. Until now, he’d been enjoying watching Philippe’s dance, captivated by that lithe golden body undulating under the soft lights, and muscles flexing in beat to the sinuous music. But when the big galoot had stepped out of the sidelines and stood, hard-on tenting his loincloth while Philippe rubbed against him, Serge fought to suppress potent waves of jealousy. Philippe’s hands now toyed with the tie of the galoot’s loincloth. Was he actually going to pull it off? Philippe yanked. The tie opened. The cloth slipped to the floor, revealing the muscular vampire’s thick, hard cock, heavy sac and round, hard buttocks. Question answered. Serge’s own cock began to throb with the first signs of an erection. In spite of his jealousy, he became aware of Valmont at his side. The musky scent of arousal emanated from the vampire’s body, making him glance at his companion. Valmont’s gaze was riveted on Philippe and…whatever his name was. With a sigh, he turned back to the show. Philippe’s hands were on the galoot’s back again and he danced sinuously against the large man and he wound his sleek muscular body in an endless erotic circle against the huge vampire’s straining cock. His shaft jutted out from its nest of brown hair and his chest heaved, his pale skin flushed. In the same seductive rhythm, Philippe slowly lowered himself to his knees. His hands slipped artfully down to his partner’s buttocks, caressed them in teasing circles while his lips grazed the vampire’s thick reddish cock. His lips parted. He closed his eyes and captured the plump head of that cock in his mouth. 67
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Dieu. Serge stared, riveted on the sight of Philippe’s dusky lips sliding over the vampire’s erection. Jealousy roiled inside him even as his own hard-on rose to full attention. A strange sense of disbelief assailed him. Just the night before, Philippe had been all over him, had fucked and sucked him to ecstasy and then done the same with him and Valmont together. He glanced again at his friend. His companion was still watching in fascination, his chest heaving under the thin white robe. Serge turned back and tried to enjoy the sight. After all, Philippe was beautiful, magnificent. You didn’t claim him. In all fairness, Philippe had come to fulfill a task. He hadn’t asked for any promises, nor had any promises been made. The large vampire groaned audibly over the music and wound his large hands into Philippe’s golden curls. He threw his head back, lips parted in obvious enjoyment of Philippe’s soft lips and mouth stroking his cock from tip to base. Serge stared, watching the tiny muscles of Philippe’s cheeks and jaw work as he swallowed that large, meaty cock over and over again. As he sucked him, Philippe caressed his partner’s hard buttocks and widely muscled thighs. A sheen of sweat erupted over the vampire’s broad, heaving chest. Philippe was so obviously bringing him ecstasy that jealousy continued to burn through Serge’s body even though his own cock was fully hard and throbbed, in need of release. Valmont stirred beside him. He pressed closer. One hand wandered absently over Serge’s thigh, slipped under his robe and caressed the top of his thigh from knee to hip. Serge caught his breath at the bold touch. Since they’d woken up in bed together that morning, there had been a tentative shyness between them. Serge had explained what happened and Valmont had only looked guilty. Now Valmont’s wanton touch made him ache, stoked his hunger. He let his hand wander across Valmont’s back over the thin robe. The reminder of the hard, sinewy muscles and warm skin underneath began to win out over his jealousy and he turned back to Philippe. 68
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The large vampire’s hands were firmly embedded in Philippe’s golden tumble of curls, his cock swallowed to the hilt in Philippe’s mouth, hips battering firmly back and forth under Philippe’s hands. The vampire groaned, a sound that emanated from deep in his throat. At the last second, he pulled his cock out, grasped Philippe’s arms and firmly maneuvered the vampire’s golden body until he was on his hands and knees. He knelt down, leaned over Philippe and yanked off Philippe’s loincloth. To Serge, this seemed no longer part of the performance. Philippe had obviously roused the vampire to a frenzy of need, the way he knelt behind him and spread his buttocks open, seeking his opening with his cock. Philippe didn’t seem to mind at all. He lowered his body, ass in the air, giving his partner full access to his bottom. The large vampire’s muscular body loomed above him while his huge hands engulfed Philippe’s slim hips as he pushed his large cock in without any obvious preparation. Serge would have lunged out and pulled the vampire off him had it not been for the expression of sheer pleasure lighting Philippe’s features. His beautiful lips curved in a smile and his blue-green eyes glowed, the lids heavy. Philippe’s partner rammed his thick cock in and out in a steady rhythm, still matching the sinuous play of the instruments. Philippe pushed back against the vampire who leaned over him. With his large hands splayed on Philippe’s chest, he pulled Philippe back against his broad chest. In that position, Serge had a clear view of Philippe’s sweet, hard cock, the reddish veined shaft jutting in its delicious curve from his body. The blond vampire’s eyes were closed and his head rested against his partner’s chest as he slowly rocked against his body. Serge’s mouth watered. He longed to take Philippe’s cock in his mouth but didn’t dare move, riveted as he was with Valmont’s hand on his thigh. Valmont was teasing his skin with skilled fingertips, and ran his touch teasingly close to Serge’s cock then away again. 69
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Serge’s mind and body swirled, mind and heart torn between his conflicting desires. Philippe. Valmont. He swung emotionally back and forth while his body raged. How could Philippe have intoxicated him like this after only two days when he’d gone centuries, alone, craving only Valmont’s touch? Not that he wanted Valmont any less. He felt as incomplete without his sire and lover of centuries as he did without Philippe’s golden beauty and sweet, comforting touch. Another vampire emerged from the crowd of CEs lounging about on the various sofas and cushions around the edges of the room. This vampire, too, wore a loincloth. His physique was somewhere in between Philippe’s and the huge vampire’s, all sleek muscle, sculpted chest with a sprinkling of soft dark hair. His eyes, too, glowed with desire and he knelt immediately in front of Philippe, bent over him and took Philippe’s cock in his mouth. Serge continued to stare, watching Philippe being pleasured by two vampires. Philippe’s hands rested on the dark head that bobbed up and down on his cock, his body now languid, a vessel of pleasure. His body stiffened visibly. He cried out in the sound Serge now recognized as his climax. The vampire pulled his mouth off Philippe’s cock, revealing the milky ribbons of seed gushing from him. For several long moments, the vampire milked his cock, stroking his shaft lightly while he came. When Philippe was empty, the vampire moved away so that the other vampire, whose cock was still buried deep inside him, could maneuver him back onto his hands and knees and continue thrusting hard. In moments, the large hands tightened visibly on Philippe’s hips. One last thrust and he remained pressed in deep. His brawny body trembled, head thrown back as he obviously emptied himself inside his partner’s eager behind. They both went limp. Their bodies gleamed with sweat. Philippe was panting and Serge saw him look up. Their gazes met and Philippe winked at him. He then pulled away from his partner, urged the huge naked vampire to his feet and led him away to the side.
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Before Serge could respond, he felt the warm tickle of breath against his ear. “Serge,” Valmont’s voice whispered close so only he could hear. “Come to my bed. Now.”
Serge followed Valmont up the staircase. His body thrummed with desire. Images of Philippe’s…er…dance raged in his mind, but he forced himself to push the thoughts away. He could always address that issue tomorrow. For now, the moment he’d craved for hundreds of years was finally about to be his and he had no wish to fuck it up by being a jealous bitch. Valmont led Serge into his bedchamber and closed the door behind them. The pleasant, sensual aroma of sandalwood incense permeated the air. The French doors to the balcony sat open and a pleasant summer breeze wafted through, punctuated only by another muscular guard, his back to them as he kept watch. A small fire crackled in the hearth at the opposite end of the room and the large bed of thick pillows and soft, billowy bed linens beckoned. In short, everything was perfect for a night of passion. Valmont led him to the bed and turned to him. His lover’s large, obsidian eyes glowed with passion and his dimples folded in that sexy way of his when he smiled. “I’ve missed you so, Sergei,” he said quietly. He embraced Serge and pulled him close, giving Serge a full delicious blast of male body heat. Valmont’s fingertips caressed his back through his robe. His touch conveyed deep need coiled up, waiting to be unleashed. “I wasn’t going to touch you,” he murmured, then nipped tenderly at Serge’s jaw. “I feel so guilty for what I’ve done to you.” He nipped again, swiped the tip of his tongue along Serge’s bottom lip. Serge’s body heated more than ever. He pressed closer to his friend. “It’s all right now.” He didn’t want Valmont to mention how Philippe’s dance had affected him. It was already obvious. Philippe’s mission had been accomplished. Before Valmont could say anything more, Serge kissed him. 71
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Valmont groaned deep in his throat and pulled Serge tight against his hard body. So tightly that the friction rubbed Serge’s nipples to hardness through the silk robe. He melted against Valmont’s simmering masculinity, touched Valmont’s chest where his robe gaped open, letting the soft chest hairs tickle his fingertips. Serge parted his lips and Valmont slipped his tongue in. Ahh, the taste of his lover again. He closed his eyes and drank in the flavor he’d missed for so long. He licked tentatively at first, then with growing heat. Feeling bolder, he slid the tip of his tongue along Valmont’s teeth and reacquainted himself with every soft nook and cranny. Valmont’s scent, raw and male, invaded his body, fanned the desire that already heightened his nerve endings and hardened his cock. In that second, images of Philippe invaded his mind and he stiffened. Valmont broke their kiss and looked down at him, brow furrowed. “Sergei, do you want this? I’d understand if…” The uncertain look in Valmont’s eyes pained him. After all this time longing for his lover, craving him, how could he possibly feel torn? His desire for Valmont won. He couldn’t live a moment longer without his sire. He nodded. “Of course I do.” Relief flooded Valmont’s chiseled features and he smiled. He reached up and caressed Serge’s cheek. “Sergei, I understand what I did to you and I’ll always regret it, no matter how much you’ve forgiven me.” He brushed his lips across Serge’s and pulled back again. “I’ll do anything you want. I’ll share you with anyone. Whatever it takes to restore you to me completely.” Taken, as always, he looked into Valmont’s eyes. “I was never lost to you, my friend, isn’t that obvious?” Valmont’s smile widened and his eyes misted over. His hand slipped from Serge’s cheek, slid gentle fingertips down his throat to his chest. A thumb brushed Serge’s already taut nipple. The icy heat enflamed him and he slanted his lips over Valmont’s, slid his tongue with hot need against his lover’s. 72
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As the kiss deepened, Serge felt his robe falling open. His lover’s fingertips brushed his skin and the heat of his touch conveyed his hunger. A warm palm closed over one side of Serge’s chest, and squeezed the muscle. A second time he brushed his thumb over Serge’s nipple. Each stroke sent icy heat through Serge’s chest, making him groan. Serge felt himself being worked skillfully into a frenzy, as Philippe had done with the brawny vampire of his dance. Serge groaned softly into Valmont’s mouth. His lover’s musky flavor filled his taste buds, rousing his hunger to a pitch. He groped for the belt of Valmont’s robe, yanked it open and gratefully slid his hands over that rugged chest. Ohh, how he’d missed that chest, the swirls of ebony hair, the round, hard, bronzed muscles. The answering moan vibrated into his mouth. He felt large hands yank his robe completely off and then push him back onto the bed. Valmont’s bronze skin was flushed, his lips swollen from their kisses. He knelt immediately in front of Serge and caressed Serge’s thighs. The soft kisses on his inner thigh made Serge pull in a breath. Valmont had always been wicked with his tongue and the whisper of touch only promised more mind-blowing pleasure. The kisses turned to licks along the sensitive skin. His breath hitched and he reached out to stroke Valmont’s short hair. How he’d missed the feel of that sleek ebony hair against his fingertips. His eyes fluttered closed and he lost himself in the feel of Valmont’s lips moving closer to his cock. A warm hand closed lightly around his cock, sending a warm thrill right down into his balls. He moaned. Time seemed to stop in anticipation of Valmont’s mouth. Valmont licked the head of Serge’s cock. Serge groaned. Moist warmth engulfed him, swallowing him in deeper. From under heavy lids, he watched his lover’s velvety mouth. A pleasure Serge hadn’t known in centuries was now his, the feel of his beloved’s mouth massaging his erection with eager, hot strokes. Valmont swallowed him in to the base then pulled back and traced the ridges of the head with the tip of his tongue. 73
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Serge groaned. Tiny lights exploded behind his closed eyelids from sheer ecstasy. One of Valmont’s favorite things had been going down on his lover, sometimes for an hour or more at a time. Now seemed no exception as that skilled mouth moved his licking and sucking to Serge’s balls. A hand massaged his cock while his lover ran the tip of his tongue over each side. Eager fingertips stole between his butt cheeks and caressed the sensitive hole. Serge gave himself over, let his lover spread his thighs wider then leaned down to lick the place his finger had been. He teased the small hole with the tip of his tongue, pushed it in deeper, enough to make him practically shoot off the bed. For what seemed forever, Valmont massaged Serge’s balls and cock with his hand, while feasting on his now-relaxed hole. “Valmont,” he hissed. Large dark eyes in a face flushed with hunger looked at him. “Do you want me to fuck you?” His voice came out in a hoarse whisper. Serge nodded. “Get up here immediately.” Valmont grinned. “Whatever you wish.” He climbed onto the bed and settled his large, muscular body between Serge’s thighs. Serge embraced him, hooked his legs around his lover’s hips. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered. His words were rewarded with a low, sensual growl. Valmont’s dark eyes glowed with lust and he took Serge’s mouth in a hot kiss. Their bodies rubbed together as they kissed and Serge caressed Valmont’s broad back. His fingertips remembered every bulge and ridge as if they’d never been apart. Valmont pulled his mouth away to wet his palm and smoothed the moisture on his cock. In the next second, Serge felt the push against his tight opening. Ohh, to be joined once again. He stared up at his lover, not wanting to miss a second. Valmont pushed again. One pinch and then nothing but sheer, hot pleasure as that thick erection filled him all the way until their bodies met. 74
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He slid his hands down to Valmont’s ass and squeezed. Deliciously hard, flexing as his lover pulled back and took him again. He tightened his muscles around Valmont’s cock and bucked his hips. Valmont’s lips curled. A groan ripped from his throat and he started thrusting faster, gathering speed with each push of his hips, each time sinking his cock deeper and harder into his lover’s tight hole. Their bodies moved together in perfect rhythm, a blend of familiarity and passion. Serge bucked his hips against Valmont’s movements, clutched the hard round muscles of Valmont’s buttocks. No one had ever given him a good pounding the way Valmont did each and every time they’d ever been together, and for a moment he felt as if no time had passed since they were last together. Valmont groaned and Serge felt his lover’s hot cum fill his passage. The last barrier between them seemed to crash down. The past washed away and all that existed was Valmont, buried deep inside him and the heat simmering between their naked bodies. He felt Valmont slip out. His lover lowered his body and took his cock in his mouth again. He groaned, unable to move while his lover’s hot mouth massaged him. He lay helpless as Valmont licked his erection then pulled it between his lips. He clutched the sheets. Pleasure invaded his body. All he could see was Valmont’s dark head bobbing over his cock and the sheer bliss. Only moments passed before he came, emptying himself into his lover’s mouth. He felt Valmont’s throat tighten with each swallow, never releasing him until he’d imbibed every last drop. “Come here,” Serge whispered. He tugged Valmont up to lie beside him, which he did, pressing his sweaty body to Serge’s back. His breath pulsed hot against Serge’s skin. Serge closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of their sex and listening to his lover’s husky breathing. “Would that we could just lie here like this for the rest of eternity, Sergei.”
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He heaved a sigh and snuggled closer. He wished the same thing. Well…almost, dammit. For centuries he’d waited for this moment to happen again and now that it had, his contentment was tinged by the jealousy and burgeoning feelings he harbored for Philippe. Oh well, sometime tomorrow he’d deal with that issue. For now, Valmont’s naked body was entwined once again with his, something he’d not believed he’d ever have again. He decided to savor it now because as life had taught him so cruelly, anything could happen.
***** When he awoke, Valmont’s arms were still around him. He lay quietly, listening to his lover’s steady breathing until he stirred and opened his eyes. Valmont seemed almost completely healed, giving Serge the nagging feeling that his speedy recovery was due in no small part to the nourishment he’d gained from Philippe’s blood. Valmont immediately rolled over and fitted his body on top of Serge’s. “I haven’t begun my day in this fashion for quite some time.” Serge grinned up at him, pushing away the nagging feeling that simmered in his gut. “Nor have I.” Valmont kissed him, his erection stirred between them. Serge’s cock responded to the delicious friction and he moved his hips, making their hardening cocks rub together. He groaned as his lover deepened their kiss, tasting him with growing abandon. He gyrated his hips, grinding his cock against Serge’s with gathering speed. Many times after a long night of lovemaking, they had begun the next day with a quickie, rubbing their cocks together until they both came. And they did so now. Serge came first. His seed spurted against Valmont’s stomach, pooling between them. Valmont ground against him faster, his cock slick from cum until he, too, came, adding his seed to the moisture between their bodies.
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They lingered for what felt like a long time after that, kissing and caressing each other, savoring their reunion. Finally they rose, bathed and dressed, ready to make their rounds of the house and see the progress. Serge noticed that Philippe did not come to the room. The CE’s absence was noticeable, at least to Serge, whose anger mounted, irrational as it was. He knew he had no legitimate reason to be upset and yet he couldn’t help the rising tide of indignation that swelled inside him. He followed Valmont downstairs, intending to look right away for Philippe. Passing through the great hall, he spotted the huge muscular vampire who’d fucked Philippe the night before. His face burned and he wanted to stalk away but forced himself to ask the goon where Philippe was. The kitchen. He braced himself and went in that direction, parting from Valmont who headed outside to the vineyards. Philippe’s back was to him as he sanded a spot on the kitchen wall and he was working alongside the vampire Cherry with whom he seemed to be especially friendly. He’d taken his shirt off and his golden body glistened with sweat. His lithe, sculpted muscles flexed as he worked. The striations in his shoulders and back roused Serge’s hunger even as his anger flared. Philippe must have sensed Serge’s gaze on him for his hand holding the sandpaper stilled. He lowered it and turned around. His blue-green eyes lit up. “Good morning.” He took a step toward then froze. The light in his eyes went out and his smile faded. “Serge, is something the matter?” Cherry and her companion stopped working and looked at Serge. He returned their look. “Leave us alone, please.” Both vampires turned to Philippe. He nodded at them. “It’s all right.” Serge waited until they were alone. He didn’t even know why he was bothering. He had no claim over Philippe. The CE had come here on an assignment, so to speak, to help two estranged lovers reunite. He had succeeded, and would soon leave. Serge cleared his throat, unable to stop himself. “That was quite a little show you gave last 77
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night,” he mumbled. The words slipped out even though deep down, they weren’t at all what he wanted to say. Philippe’s eyes widened. “I beg your pardon?” Serge wanted to turn and walk out before he said horrible things but another potent wave of jealousy overtook him, drowning out everything else. “I didn’t know that dance as you call it included the live sex demonstration.” The blond vampire’s handsome face clouded, his aqua eyes turned gray. “You and Valmont seemed to derive much pleasure from it. You disappeared right afterward. I assume, to be alone. Apparently my little show had the intended effect.” Serge gritted his teeth. He felt like a first-class bastard but couldn’t help himself. He was crazy…mad…dammit, in love. “You shouldn’t be such a slave, you know, taking it up the ass for everyone who wants it. It’s demeaning.” Philippe’s golden complexion darkened and the aqua hue of his eyes returned, deep and stormy. His sensually full lips curled and his hands balled into fists. The sandpaper he’d been holding fell to the stone floor. “You have a fucking nerve.” Serge almost stepped back. He hadn’t imagined Philippe capable of speaking to anyone this way and he could see the haughty actor he must have been in his Elizabethan days. Philippe’s nostrils flared and his eyes glowed with bloodlust. He stepped away from the wall, his hands still curled into fists. “A mere two days ago, you could barely bring yourself to be civil to me. I bathed you, pleasured you, fed you and your lover. I helped bring him out of his shock so you could be together again. You have no claim on me nor have you given me one sign that that’s what you’d want. You’ve every right to your opinions, but you’d damn well better not voice them to me.” A sound like a growl vibrated in his throat. He whirled around and stalked to the kitchen door. “Bastard,” he muttered, then threw the door open and stalked out. Serge watched him go. Of course, he couldn’t follow him out into the sunlight, not without being burned to a crisp, literally. “Fuck.” He clenched and unclenched his 78
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hands. Not only had he made a complete ass of himself, but he’d treated Philippe cruelly, the one being in the world who’d been the kindest to him. And all because he couldn’t just come out and tell the CE he wanted him all to himself. “Serge.” He turned at the sound of Valmont’s voice behind him. Valmont’s smile faded. “Serge, what in hell happened?” He heaved a sigh and raked one hand through his hair. “I just treated Philippe like complete shit and he left.” He fell silent and looked down. Valmont approached him and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, squeezing the muscle in a way that was comforting. “Don’t tell me, you got on his case about last night.” “How did you know?” His lover chuckled. “Come on, you can’t be serious. From the first moment you and I met, you were the singularly most readable person I’d ever encountered. You should have seen your face when Philippe went down on his knees in front of that vampire.” Serge raked a hand through his hair. “Aren’t you pissed at me?” “For treating Philippe like shit?” His friend’s velvety dark eyes sparkled with a touch of humor. “Or for being jealous of Philippe’s…dance partner?” He looked down. “For being jealous, of course.” A gentle hand squeezed his shoulder again. The touch conveyed nothing but affection. “I’m the last one in the world who has a right to feel jealous of you in any way. Besides, how could I question your love and devotion to me after all that’s happened? You could fall in love with a hundred other vampires and I’d still know you loved me.” He heaved another deep sigh. “That’s true.” He glanced at the door. “Now I have absolutely no idea in hell of how I could apologize. I was a real fucker.”
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Valmont chuckled again. He gave Serge’s shoulder a few affectionate pats. “Don’t worry, my love. You’ll be able to apologize after you give him some time to cool off. Take it from someone who’s been one of the biggest fuckers ever.” He pointed to himself. Serge found himself grinning. His friend’s words were true enough. At the first opportunity, he’d go and grovel.
***** Philippe sat on the rock where he’d first found Valmont passed out. He was glad Serge couldn’t follow him out here. Anger burned through his veins, heating his immortal blood. He’d shocked himself at the way he’d spoken back to Serge, allowed his anger to flow. The vampire had humiliated him with the things he’d said, made him feel dirty. His fists were still clenched. He relaxed them and stared down at the grass. Damn, maybe he was dirty. After all, from the first moment he’d touched Serge, he hadn’t wanted anyone else and he’d been with someone else…two others, in fact, right in front of Serge. Hell, his lovemaking with Gregory had been in the course of service. He couldn’t help that it felt good. Moreover, he’d given his word to Darelle that he’d do whatever it took to reunite Valmont and Serge. So much for a successful mission. He tossed a pebble into the grass and got to his feet. Really he just wanted to go back to the house and make up with Serge, but felt it was impossible. The way he’d yelled back, he couldn’t imagine the vampire wasn’t completely pissed at him. Tempted to access their mind link, Philippe resisted, blocking it. It would be unbearable to hear Serge utter one more criticism. “Face it, Mareau,” he muttered as he made his way through the fields in the direction of the main road, “You’ve always been a slut and you’re still a slut.”
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Finding himself shirtless, only in his shorts and shoes, he was tempted again to turn back and at least collect his things, but changed his mind. Out of the question. The best thing now was to get back to Darelle and talk with her. Perhaps she, or better yet, Colette, would have some wisdom to impart about the situation. Colette was an amazing resource for matters of interpersonal intrigue. She was much older than Darelle and much less naïve. He didn’t know how much time had passed as he walked, the sun high overhead, bees buzzing, the scent of flowers heavy in the warm air. The sound of a car engine loomed up behind him. He ignored the car until it slowed down alongside him. “Hey, stranger, need a ride?” He turned. Dahlia, Cherry’s girlfriend, sat in the driver’s seat of the small Fiat they all shared when someone had to run errands. He approached the car and leaned over. “Only if you’re going to Paris.” Dahlia frowned. “Something the matter, Phil? You seem distressed. They’re asking for you back at the house. I mean, I know there was some tension.” He sighed. “Yeah, well, I need to see Darelle before I go back there and I left my phone and everything else at the château.” “No problem, Phil. Hop in.” “Are you sure? It’s a long drive.” Dahlia nodded. “Of course. We’re all supposed to help each other, aren’t we?” “Yeah, that’s the intention, anyway.” He went around to the passenger side and got in. Dahlia stepped on the gas and in moments they were whizzing along in the direction of Paris. After several minutes driving in silence, Dahlia glanced at him. “You wanna talk about it?”
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He sighed again, staring out the window. “No thanks. I don’t want to burden anyone else with my problems.” “It’s no burden, Phil, but it’s your choice. If you want to talk, I’ll listen.” He nodded, looking at her profile. “Thanks.” “No problem. Hey, have sip of this. Iced mead. Made it yesterday.” She picked up a traveling mug and flipped the mouthpiece open. “Good for what ails you.” “Thanks.” Philippe took the cup from her. He rarely drank mead during the day, but now was as good a time as any, and iced mead was awesome. The smell of honey and wildflowers emanated from the cup, making his mouth water. He raised the mug to his lips and took a healthy swig. Too late, he noticed a slightly metallic taste to the mead. A fierce tingle started up along his spine and spread rapidly through his limbs. He began to feel weak, heavy…drugged. The cup dropped from his hands. “Oh no.” “That’s okay, Phil. I’ll wipe it up when we get to Paris.” “No, I mean, something’s…wrong…with…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. His lips grew numb, thick, immobile, along with the rest of him. He stared up at Dahlia. She blurred in his vision. Dahlia looked at him. “Gold dust, Phil. I added it to the mead. I know gold is a weakening substance for you. I saw it when Cherry’s ring touched you and you sort of freaked.” What the fuck? He wanted to grab her and throw her out of the car, but he could barely blink his eyes, much less attack someone. “I’m sorry, Phil. I’ve tried to be good. The CEs gave me a chance. But I failed. I’m like a viper. It’s my nature to betray people. Whoever pays me the most gets my services.” She shifted gears. “This time it was the Soldiers.”
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Philippe’s heart was pounding as the gold dust poisoned his system. Shit. He couldn’t even warn Serge. He was too weak to open their mind link… How long had Dahlia been spying on them and planning this? His consciousness was fading fast. The last thing he remembered was seeing Dahlia turn off the highway, definitely not in the direction of Paris.
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Chapter Six Serge couldn’t ignore the bad feeling he had. Philippe had been gone for several hours. The CE’s things sat on a table in one of the extra bedrooms. He’d left his cell phone, changes of clothes and toiletries. Somehow, looking at the abandoned items, Serge felt both raw stabs of guilt for having driven Philippe away and concern over his whereabouts. The threat of the Soldiers was imminent and they were capable of anything. At the sound of voices, he turned and saw Valmont walk into the room, followed by Philippe’s friend, Cherry. The female vampire’s large green eyes were red-rimmed. She’d clearly been crying. Cold prickles of foreboding skittered along his nerve endings. “Any word?” he asked, his panic mounting rapidly. Cherry shook her head of red wavy hair. “I’ve been trying to reach Dahlia on her cell. She was driving around on her way to do errands. I thought maybe she’d seen Philippe, but I can’t reach her.” Serge watched Cherry’s gaze fall on Philippe’s belongings. She sniffled, obviously trying to keep her own panic under control. “We’ll find him.” Valmont sounded confident. Cherry’s bottom lip trembled. “Dahlia’s out there too. I should have gone with her. Oh, this is awful.” Valmont grasped her shoulders. “Pull yourself together. We’ll all go search for them.” Just then a cell phone rang. Cherry’s face brightened and she fumbled in the pocket of her jean shorts. She looked at the number. “It’s Dahlia.” She flipped open the phone, practically slamming it into her ear. “Dahlia, my God. I’ve been so worried about you. You’re fine. Oh, what a relief.” Cherry’s hand went to her breast. “Look, have you seen Phil? He’s gone missing.” 84
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Serge watched Cherry’s expression and focused his vampire hearing on the voice at the other end. “Oh yeah,” Dahlia said, her voice as clear to Serge as if he were listening directly into the phone. “I picked him up a few hours ago. He was walking along the side of the road. He was pretty steamed up.” Cherry let out a small squeal. “Oh, Dahlia, where is he now?” Serge glanced at Cherry’s expression. The redheaded CE didn’t seem to be picking up on the tone of Dahlia’s voice. He wasn’t quite certain what it was, either, but something was off. “Well,” Dahlia went on, “Phil was really pissed. He wouldn’t tell me what happened, but he asked me to drive him to his former lover’s house in Rouen. The only thing he said when he got out of the car was, ‘Tell Serge if he wants to see me, he’ll have to come here’.” Cherry’s eyes widened. “Phil said that? I’ve never known him to be so angry before.” “Well, I guess there’s a first time for everything, even that.” “Dahlia, are you on your way back? It’s not safe out there. Soldiers could be coming.” “I’ll be fine.” Valmont took the phone from Cherry. “Dahlia, listen, this is Valmont. Could you please come back straightaway? We’ll need you to bring us to Philippe.” Valmont looked at Serge. His expression conveyed that he, too, was suspicious of Dahlia. Dahlia hesitated and Serge knew then and there she was lying. She’d done something to Philippe. Was it possible she—fuck. Soldiers. Vampires were not completely unknown to work with them if paid sufficiently. His vampire blood practically froze in his veins and it was all he could do not to rip the phone away and spit threats to Dahlia’s life into it.
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“Sure, I’ll take you to him.” Valmont arranged a place to meet her halfway. The CEs had another vehicle. Serge stood, his fists clenched so hard his nails dug into his palms. He closed his eyes and strained to access his mind link with Philippe as he’d tried earlier, all to no avail. Philippe either wouldn’t…or worse…couldn’t answer him. He strode over to Valmont and grasped his arm. Valmont was thanking Dahlia for agreeing to meet them and to drive all that way again. Then he snapped the phone shut and patted Serge’s hand. “Come on. We must leave immediately. “Cherry, assemble half of the strongest guards. They’re coming with us.” “What’s happening?” Cherry’s voice had risen in pitch. She tagged at Valmont’s heels. Valmont didn’t break his stride. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. There is no delicate way to tell you this.” “Tell me what?” “I believe your girlfriend is working for the enemy.”
***** “Good news, Phil. Your friends are coming.” Dahlia dangled the keys to the Fiat from her black-painted fingernails. Through his terribly blurred vision, Philippe could barely make out her form in the doorway of wherever Dahlia had brought him. His stomach still rioted against the invasion of gold dust, most of which, thankfully, he’d been able to vomit out. That didn’t take care of the myriad gold chains wrapped around his wrists, ankles and neck. Simple gold chains that were jewelry for normal people were, for him, shackles that weakened him and made him feel incredibly ill. To make matters worse, there were several large, mean, hungry-looking vampires standing around him where
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he lay in the center of a rug, each and every one practically licking his or her chops, obviously waiting to feed on him. “How…could…you?” he managed to choke out. Betrayal had always been the one thing that made Philippe feel he couldn’t go on. Something about trusting someone and then having that person turn on you ripped at his soul. Dahlia heaved a long-suffering sigh. “You think I’m happy about this? You think I want to believe I’m such a mercenary bitch? But that’s the way it is. And I’m running late. The sooner Serge and company get here, the sooner my friends here can kill them, and the Soldiers will give us the rest of our money and leave us in peace.” Philippe wanted to scream at her, tell her how stupid and shallow she was. How could she believe the Soldiers wouldn’t kill her too once they’d used her for their ends? So senseless. He prayed that Serge and Valmont didn’t come, that they’d realize the risk and stay away. He could have warned them…but he was so weak he couldn’t unblock his mind link to his friends. There was just too much gold on his body, wreaking havoc on him. “Bye, Phil. I’ll see you later when I get back.” She looked at her fellow vampires. They were all of them, Sans-Âme, zombified vampires, to be sure. “And you all, leave some for me, would you? You’re all such pigs.” Philippe watched Dahlia walk out, her tall, black-clad form a blur. In spite of the hungry soulless ones crowding around him, his first thought was, Poor Cherry. Cherry would be devastated when she knew what her lover had done. A face looming above his drew Philippe’s attention away from thoughts of Cherry. He had more immediate threats to his existence at hand. Damn. The gold chains were causing his vision to blur. All he could make out of his captors was their scent, a vile, sour odor that conveyed their zombie-like state. They were minions—vampires who’d been drained of all human qualities and existed only to feed. Thankfully, there were very few of them and they weren’t difficult to destroy, but they were also voracious and if someone didn’t help him soon, he’d definitely die. 87
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The putrid odor assaulted Philippe’s nostrils, churned his stomach. One of the vampires knelt down, and his malevolent breath invaded Philippe’s air space. He squeezed his eyes shut, his body completely immobile. A hand pulled the chains down, exposing his neck. In the next second, a pair of fangs sank into the side of his throat. The sensation sent shoots of pain through his body and before he knew what was happening, a second pair of fangs sank into his inner thigh. His eyes flew open. He groaned and stared at the figure hunched over his leg. This feeding was painful…agonizing…not the pleasurable experience it usually was. A third vampire knelt over his other leg. Dear God, no. His heart throbbed, pounded so hard in his chest that his throat closed up. The third pair of fangs sank into his other thigh. He groaned again, felt his blood drain rapidly from his body. These horrid creatures obviously had no intention of heeding Dahlia’s warning not to be pigs, and their feeding caused his consciousness to wane. His blurry vision dimmed…darker and darker until he was nearly blind. The feeding frenzy on his body drained his blood more rapidly than his system could restore it. Drinking gold dust had been orgasmic in comparison to this…
“There’s Dahlia.” Cherry flashed the headlights several times, signaling Dahlia’s Fiat to the side of the road. Serge sprang from the car and bounded over to the little car just as Dahlia braked to a stop and rolled down her window. “Take us to him immediately.” Dahlia nodded. “Of course. No problem. Get in.” “We’ll follow you,” Valmont called out from the passenger side of the van, which Cherry drove and in back of which several of the guards sat.
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Serge waved to him and jumped into Dahlia’s car. Dahlia switched gears and pulled back onto the road. Serge stared straight ahead through the windshield. He rubbed his hands together. The dread pulled at him like it had during Valmont’s captivity. The strength of his worry over Philippe shocked him, especially after so many years of waiting and worrying through Valmont’s imprisonment. Serge hadn’t thought himself capable of enduring any more. Apparently, he was. He turned to Dahlia’s profile in the dark. “How is he?” She seemed to hesitate. “He’s out of sorts.” He looked at her, detecting a smirk underscoring her statement. He already knew she was lying, but the longer he sat there, the worse his feeling grew that Philippe was in danger. Valmont, I know this girl is lying. Something bad has happened. Then he remembered their mind link only worked through Philippe. Merde. Yes, I’m sure you’re right. Valmont? You heard me? Oui. He closed his eyes. Thank God. His relationship with Valmont wasn’t the only thing Philippe had repaired. I believe that when we get there, she’ll either have Soldiers…or…zombies there to try to kill us all. Valmont sounded sympathetic. He raked a hand through his hair. Unfortunately, there’s nothing we can do until we get there. She’s the only one who knows where Philippe is. Just hold on, my friend. We’ll get Philippe back. Valmont’s assurance comforted him somewhat, but he knew only too well the damage Soldiers could inflict. In this case, they were using mercenary vampires to achieve their ends. A streak of indignation burned through him. The CEs were too trusting. They allowed anyone into their midst who appeared in need of comfort and
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salvation. If they were going to survive as a species, Darelle was going to have to become a bit more selective. The hour’s ride was nearly as nerve-racking as his ordeal with Valmont had been. Dahlia turned the car onto a gravel drive lined with trees. In the darkness, a light burned up ahead through the window of what appeared a two-story thatched-roof house. His nerve endings crackled as they drew near and he suppressed the urge to jump out of the car and storm the house. The headlights of Cherry’s van shone behind them, reminding him that he needed to wait for Valmont and the guards. Philippe, I’m here. He had no idea whether Philippe could access his mind link at this point, but prayed he got the message. Dahlia braked to a stop and he got quickly out of the car, waiting for Valmont and the others to join him. Dahlia dangled her keys, a strange expression on her face as she looked at Cherry. “Hi, babe.” “Dahlia.” Cherry ran up to her and threw her arms around her lover. “I missed you. I was so worried.” Serge watched Dahlia give Cherry a halfhearted embrace. The mutinous vampire had the grace to look at the least bit sheepish. She pulled away from Cherry, whose facial expression clouded. “Come on, guys. I’ll bring you to Philippe, but don’t expect him to be very communicative.” Serge strode up to her and grabbed her sleeve. “He’d better not be hurt or you’re dead.” Dahlia’s eyes ignited with the glow of bloodlust and she yanked her arm away. “Too late.” She turned toward the house and whistled, a high-pitched sound that pierced Serge’s ears. “Dahlia, what are you doing?” Cherry sounded hysterical.
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The front door opened and four huge zombie vampires poured out. In the light glowing behind them, Serge could make out the bloodstains around their mouths, a telltale sign of feeding. “No,” he shouted. “Philippe.” He broke into a run for the house, only going a few steps before finding himself surrounded. Without thinking, he launched himself at one of them. The creature grabbed him and held him in a death grip. Serge bared his fangs and sank them into the zombie’s arm. The zombie yowled and threw Serge. He sailed through the air and hit the side of the house so hard he tumbled to the ground. Groggy for a moment, his body racked with pain, he looked up. The front yard had become a battle scene between Valmont, the CE guards and Dahlia with her zombies. More zombies poured from the house and as soon as Serge recovered, he rose and fought his way into the house, felling the zombies with a bite on the throat each time he could get a grip on one. He fought until he was ready to collapse. His fangs and body ached. Finally, however, all the zombies were dead and Serge staggered through the house, searching for Philippe. Philippe was nowhere in the downstairs and Serge made his way up the stairs, peering into each room. “Philippe,” he whispered, “where the hell are you?” Only the last room at the end of the hall remained. Serge stood in the doorway. “Shit.” He launched himself into the room. “Philippe.” Immediately, Serge’s stomach churned. Philippe lay very still, his limbs and neck bloody, covered with punctures above what must have been twenty pounds of gold chains. “What the fuck?” Without thinking, Serge scooped Philippe up into his arms, chains and all and made his way downstairs. Valmont waited for him at the foot of the stairs, his hair and clothing mussed, but unharmed from his deadly skirmishes with the zombies. “How is he?”
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Grief shot through Serge. “I don’t know yet. But he hasn’t even blinked since I picked him up. He maneuvered Philippe’s limp body through the doorway. The van’s headlights illuminated Cherry bent over Dahlia’s lifeless form, sobbing. Cherry looked up, her face tearstained, mascara leaking down her cheeks, making her appear zombie-like herself. Serge had seen Cherry take Dahlia down herself, just before he turned and fought his way into the house. “Philippe.” Cherry scrambled to her feet and ran over to Serge. She smoothed back Philippe’s hair. “Oh my God. What have they done to him?” “I don’t know,” Serge ground out. “There are fang punctures all over him and I don’t know what to do to help him.” Cherry looked up. “We’ll take him to Le Coeur. Get him in the van.” Of course, why hadn’t he thought of that? The CE underground headquarters in Paris. Certainly they’d have the facilities to tend to Philippe. If it wasn’t already too late. Everyone piled into the van. “Please, let me come with you.” Cherry was in tears, obviously worried sick for Philippe. “I’ll come back later for the other car. Please?” “Let her come, Serge. We must hurry.” Serge nodded. He knelt on the floor, cradling Philippe’s head on his lap. Valmont drove while Cherry removed the gold chains from Philippe’s still body. “Now it makes sense,” Cherry said as she undid each clasp with quick fingers. “The other day I put my hand on Phil’s shoulder. I was wearing this ring.” She paused and pulled the band off her finger, tossing it into the pile of chains. “It seemed to affect him.” She glanced at Serge. “Dahlia gave me that ring.” She went back to working on the chains, most of which were off now. She sniffled and fresh tears ran down her cheeks. “I feel awful. I’m the one who brought Dahlia to Le Coeur. She seemed
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so…sincere.” Cherry threw the last chain aside, raked back her hair and looked down sadly at Philippe. “I’m so sorry, Phil. Please, be all right.” Serge smoothed back Philippe’s hair. The punctures on his Philippe’s body still gaped open and he hadn’t so much as fluttered his eyelids. His chest wasn’t moving with the slightest breath. “I blame myself,” he muttered. “I hassled him for no good reason. He wouldn’t even have walked out of the château otherwise.” “Stop it, both of you.” Valmont’s voice cut through Serge’s distress. “Serge, you’re not at fault, and neither are you, Cherry. There is evil in the world and that’s the simple truth.” Serge looked at him. His friend’s dark gaze conveyed the urgency of his words. “Concentrate all your energy on seeing that Philippe survives and heals. When I spoke to Darelle she said that if we get him there soon enough, there’s a good chance she can reverse the damage that’s been done to him. So no self-pity, either of you. Understood?” “You’re right.” Serge glanced at Cherry, seeing her nod in agreement as well. He gazed back down at Philippe’s motionless face, bloodstained and haggard. Even his golden hair appeared limp and lusterless. Philippe, please live. He prayed silently, fervently. I love you.
***** Valmont had had no idea that Le Coeur had a hospital of sorts. He stood outside the room to which Darelle and her guardians had brought Philippe as soon as they’d reached the place. He sat on the bench, watching Serge pace. Love for the vampire, who’d stayed loyal to him for over six hundred years in the face of every opposition, overwhelmed him. It was probably this passion—Serge’s absolute burning devotion—that had made Philippe fall for Serge so hard, so fast. Well, that and the fact that Serge was devastatingly sexy.
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Valmont couldn’t blame Philippe for that and, in spite of any jealousy he felt, could raise no objection to Serge’s having such a devoted lover. “Serge,” he said softly, wanting to comfort his dear friend. He patted the space on the bench beside him. Serge stopped in his tracks. Obediently, he came and sat down. Valmont took his hand and laced their fingers together. He leaned into his friend and placed a tender kiss on Serge’s stubbled cheek. The odor of blood and of zombies clung to Serge’s skin and hair, as did the scent of his grief. There was nothing else he could say to comfort him and certainly nothing he could do to save Philippe. The door opened and Darelle emerged. Her guardians, Gareth and Kane, loomed behind her, never more than a few feet away from her at all times. Darelle’s tumbling honeyed curls stood out against the white, alarmingly bloodstained smock she wore. Fortunately, however, she also wore a smile. Serge launched off the bench. “How is he?” Darelle reached out and lightly grasped his arm. “He’s alive now.” “Now?” Serge’s blue eyes widened, his expression stricken. Valmont moved up behind him and gently clapped a supportive hand on his lover’s shoulder. “Darelle, tell us.” She nodded. “Oui. He was dead when you brought him to me, but fortunately, he was still in the window of time when a transfusion would revive him. His punctures have all healed and he will recover fully in a few days.” Her smile faded somewhat and she released Serge’s arm. “But before I let you in to see him, I must warn you that the true wounds he suffered were to his emotional state. He was betrayed by one of his own and brutalized.” Her smile returned, warming her green eyes. “He will need so much love to heal.” Her gaze flickered to Valmont’s and she smiled at him as well. “As much as can be given.” Valmont’s insides jumped at the eye contact. His…heart, such as it was, would never forget how much he’d loved her and still did. But he had Serge now…and Philippe. Perhaps he didn’t have the same passion for Philippe as he did Serge, but he 94
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was eternally gratefully to him. Both of them needed his love. “Darelle, may we see him now?” She nodded. “Of course. This way.” She opened the door and stepped aside. Serge went in immediately, but Valmont hesitated as he passed Darelle. “Thank you…for everything.” A shy look stole into Darelle’s eyes. “You’re welcome.” She gestured to the interior of the room and he went in. Darelle and her guardians stepped out and closed the door behind them. Philippe was in a bed, the covers up to his neck. An IV with a bag of blood still dripped into his arm and a monitor showed his heartbeat. He still looked battered and listless, but at least he was no longer covered with blood and puncture wounds. Valmont approached the bed and looked down into Philippe’s half-opened eyes. Serge was perched on the edge of the bed, one of Philippe’s hands in his. “See, Valmont?” Serge said, his voice thick with unshed tears. “Darelle saved him. He’s going to be all right.” He smiled and sat in a chair by the bedside on the opposite side to his friend. “I do see. I’m very, very glad and grateful, Philippe, because I was really hoping that you would want to come and live with us—with Serge and me—when you recover.” Valmont saw Philippe’s eyes widen slightly at his suggestion. Philippe’s bottom lip quivered and he realized that the CE might be having difficulty speaking. Understandable, considering he’d been drained of his life force earlier that evening by a houseful of brutal zombies.
Philippe could only stare at Valmont. Serge held his hand and was squeezing it gently. Philippe, forgive me. I’m so sorry. I should never have spoken to you that way. Serge’s expression radiated grief.
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He didn’t answer right away. Couldn’t. Philippe had felt so betrayed, so hurt. Never in his life had someone else’s opinion of him mattered so much. Of course, in his acting days, he’d wanted to be adored and critically acclaimed, but on a personal level, he’d never cared…until now. Dahlia’s betrayal, however, had cut even deeper. The fact that she’d accepted money and used Philippe’s weakness to her advantage, allowed him to be murdered in cold blood, made Philippe feel as if there were no reason to go on. Even knowing Serge cared about him didn’t help. Serge didn’t love him as he loved Valmont. Regard and affection did not go far enough to outweigh his complete sense of despair and make him feel there was something else to live for in a world where beings were capable of the most heinous crimes. Still he remained silent, knowing that if he expressed these things, Serge and Valmont would only try to convince him he was wrong to feel as he did and he couldn’t feel any other way but despairing. He’d always felt indignant over cruelty and betrayal, and now that it had happened to him in this way, he felt its full impact. Finally, he knew it was rude not to say something. I very much appreciate your kindness, Valmont. You both saved me and I’ll always be in your debt. “Does this mean you accept?” Valmont asked out loud. He blinked and heaved a sigh. I’m very sorry, but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline. I cannot go back there and live with you.
Serge stared down at Philippe. Philippe’s refusal of the offer left him bereft. He’d never expected to experience such emotions over anyone besides Valmont, but here he was…unbelievably pained that Philippe didn’t want to stay with him. In a mere few days, Philippe had become his companion, someone who comforted him, shared pleasure with him, showed devotion, someone of his very own. Serge glanced up at Valmont, hoping his friend would have an answer.
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But Valmont looked back at Serge, urged him with his facial expression to speak openly to Philippe. “If you’ll both excuse me,” Valmont said. He rose from his chair, “I’ll go see how Cherry is doing.” With a nod, he turned and left. He turned back to Philippe, his insides trembling. “Philippe, I was so wrong with the things I said to you. I acted monstrously and I beg your forgiveness. Nothing I said was true. I was jealous and took it out on you.”
Philippe squeezed his hand as best he could. He loved Serge and forgave him wholeheartedly, of course. He, himself, had said regrettable things to others in his own times of jealousy and anger. “You forgive me, don’t you?” Serge’s blue, almond-shaped eyes misted over and he looked near hysteria. Of course. Don’t worry another moment. Serge’s face relaxed visibly, but the distress did not leave his eyes. “Then why? Why won’t you come and live with us?” He looked at Serge, studied and searched the vampire’s eyes for any trace of dissembling. He found none. At least…he hoped. Serge, I’d love to be with you, but right now, I don’t even want to be alive. There, he’d admitted it. He’d never been able to hold in anything for long. Perhaps it was a result of being a stage actor for so many years. He’d reached a point where he couldn’t remember whether he was in character anymore or just himself. Emotions were emotions whether on stage or off and he tended to blurt them out. Alarm filled those almond-shaped blue eyes. “Oh no, please, don’t feel that way.” He paused, seeming to study Philippe’s face. “Is it because of what happened? In that house, I mean?” He nodded. The movement was small, but he saw his response register in Serge’s expression. I don’t feel I can go on in a world so very brutal.
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Serge heaved a deep sigh and squeezed his hand. “I felt that way for over six hundred years, Philippe, every moment of Valmont’s captivity. You know what happened. I waited outside the château walls while my lover was chained inside being tortured every day. I wanted to die too, but I kept going and now…thanks to you…he’s healed and we’re together again. I promise, you won’t always feel this way. If I could die from failing a promise, I would risk it here.” He looked down briefly, giving Philippe the sense he was preparing to say more and that it was difficult for him. When he looked back up, his blue eyes were piercing. “Philippe, don’t make me go on without you.” Philippe stared. His heartbeat increased. The beeping of the monitor registered the change, the tiny sounds beating closer together. Nothing else Serge had said, or could say, convinced him as that statement had. Another moment passed with their gazes locked and then he nodded. He smiled, his first since he’d seen Serge in the kitchen that morning before their fight. All right, Serge, he said. He wished so badly he could speak the words out loud. I won’t.
***** Three days later “This room is all for you, Philippe.” Valmont released his arm, letting him lean on Serge completely. Both of them had helped him up the stairs since he was not quite up to full strength. Ironic, considering Valmont had been the one needing such assistance only a short time before. Philippe pulled gently away from Serge’s grasp and stood in the doorway, leaning on the heavy doorframe. Unshed tears stung his eyes. The bedroom was huge, like the others. It, too, had French doors leading to a balcony. The curtains, sheer in a leopard pattern, lifted in the breeze. Beautiful rugs in
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more animal prints covered the stone floors and potted palms flanked the doorways. The bed, however, was the best part. The heavy four-poster was covered in luxurious duvets and pillows, all in exotic animal prints. Exactly the style he would have chosen for himself. “Not a gold thread in the place and no animals had to die to decorate this room,” Valmont said. He turned, looking first at Valmont then at Serge. “Thank you both. This is one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me.” “You’re very welcome,” Serge said. He moved deeper into the room. Cozy yet exotic. Delicious. Even in his heydays of theater, he’d never had digs as glorious as these. His gaze fell on the bed, large, soft and inviting. He could immediately picture himself, naked, under its covers, flanked on either side by a gorgeous, equally naked vampire… He sat on the bed and bounced several times, testing the mattress. Of course, the mattress sank down underneath him. He couldn’t wait to test it out for real. “Is it comfortable?” Valmont asked. He grinned. A bit of his old enthusiasm for life seeped back into him. Surely, when there were beings as sexy and as caring as Serge and Valmont, there was something to live for. Something really wonderful. “Why don’t you both come and test it out for yourself?” Valmont’s grin faded slightly. “Only if that’s what you truly want, Philippe. You’re not a servant, or a…slave…you know. I hope you realize that.” Philippe looked at him, then at Serge. Serge’s blue eyes rested on him, his expression hopeful yet a bit sad. Just looking at their faces turned him on. “Yes, it’s what I want. I’ll be honest with you, I’ve…served in my way for so long, I can’t honestly know what I’d do otherwise. But,” he looked at Serge, feeling the same love
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and devotion that had overcome him from the beginning, “I do know I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world.” His statement was rewarded with a smile curving Serge’s lips. The sadness vanished from those blue eyes and he approached the bed. Philippe smiled back at him, toed off his shoes and climbed onto the bed. He settled on his back in the middle. In moments, Serge and Valmont were stretched out on either side of him, their bodies pressed close to his. Valmont chuckled. “Yes, I’d say this bed is damn comfortable. Serge, you chose very well.” “Only the best for Philippe.” Serge slipped a hand into Philippe’s, and interlaced their fingers. Philippe smiled and reached for Valmont’s hand. His whole body tingled from the closeness of a sexy vampire on either side of him. “Oui,” he agreed, “It’s the most comfortable bed I’ve ever lain on.” In moments, the tingling intensified. The pleasant sensation traveled up Philippe’s arms and down his legs, and his cock stirred and started to get hard. To his shock, the desire to be fed upon rose. He’d thought that after that night with the zombies, he’d never want to feel a pair of fangs in his skin again. Wrong. Valmont’s and Serge’s musky scents mingled in the air, causing his heart to pound and his mouth to water. Serge suddenly turned onto his side, facing him and squeezed his hand affectionately. “Philippe, you never have to feed either of us if you don’t want to.” His voice was husky and Philippe sensed his lover’s mutual hunger. “We don’t feed you.” He grinned. “How could you feed me? You’re vampires.” He leaned into Serge, breathed in his scent of male musk and aftershave. Ripples of desire went through his cock. His balls tightened in response to Serge’s masculine aroma. “I don’t want what happened with those zombies to ruin anything for me. Being fed on, especially by you and Valmont, has been one of the greatest pleasures I’ve ever known.” 100
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He turned onto his back again and tilted his chin up. “Both of you, please, feed together on me. We’ll be bonded, all three of us as lovers, always.” “Philippe, are you certain?” Valmont’s voice was thick with need. He nodded. “Oui, I’m positive.” Serge leaned in. “I’ll do whatever you wish,” he whispered and nipped Philippe’s earlobe gently. Mmm, what a feeling. He slipped his hand under Philippe’s shirt and trailed his fingertips up the center of Philippe’s stomach to his chest. Serge gently explored Philippe’s skin and caressed his nipples, which tightened on contact. Philippe closed his eyes, drunk merely from Serge’s touch. Valmont undid Philippe’s trousers and tugged them gently down to his knees. A grin spread across Valmont’s lips. “Our friend doesn’t wear underclothes, Serge.” Philippe’s already hard cock sprang up, close to Valmont’s face. Valmont reached out and palmed the shaft, stroking it deftly. Hands touched him, caressed him everywhere and his eyelids fluttered. He moaned softly and Serge caught his sound with a soft kiss, slipped his tongue sensuously between Philippe’s lips. Serge still toyed underneath Philippe’s shirt, gently pinching and caressing Philippe’s nipples as he kissed him. As Serge’s kisses grew wilder, the heated swirl of his tongue matched the rhythm of Valmont’s hand on Philippe’s cock. He felt drowned in pleasure and groaned softly when Valmont’s lips touched his inner thigh, and feathered his tongue on the sensitive skin, obviously searching for the spot he would feed upon. What a delightful place to feed. He spread his legs wider, giving the vampire all the access he would need. Serge pulled his lips from Philippe’s and rained small soft kisses down his chin and over his throat. Resting his lips in one spot, he flicked the tip of his tongue over the
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supple skin, sending shivers of pleasure through Philippe’s body. Philippe moaned and tilted his head back farther, aching to feel the pierce of Serge’s fangs. As if working in sync, Serge and Valmont both sank their canines into him at the same time. He cried out softly. Every nerve ending along his skin exploded with orgasmic tingling. At once, the vampires’ fangs slid out and they closed their lips over the punctures, gently sipping and suckling his blood. Each rhythmic tightening of their lips sent more pleasure cascading through his body. To Philippe’s delight, Valmont continued caressing his cock, collecting the drops of seed oozing from the tip with his thumb and smoothing them over the head. Philippe wound his hand in Serge’s soft hair, feeling the small movements of his head as he drank. Nothing had ever felt so pleasurable in his entire existence. At the same time, Valmont and Serge lifted their lips from Philippe’s skin and licked the punctures with soft strokes of their tongues. His flesh sealed up immediately, leaving him in a pleasant languor, his eyes half-closed, while he stroked Serge’s hair. It was always difficult to move after being fed on, so he rested quietly, enjoying the tingling aftermath of the double feeding.
Philippe tasted absolutely delicious. Valmont rested his cheek on Philippe’s thigh. No other being’s blood had ever made him feel so incredibly nourished. Philippe’s cock, still mostly hard, rested against his palm. The musky scent of the hard shaft made his mouth water again and he lifted his head from Philippe’s thigh and closed his mouth over the plump, mushroom-shaped head. Philippe sighed as Valmont slid his mouth lower, swallowing up the delicious cock almost to the hilt. With his hand, he cupped the firm sac of Philippe’s balls, squeezing it gently as he lapped up that incredible cock and every drop of pre-cum that oozed from it.
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Serge lay down next to him, between Philippe’s spread legs. Valmont lifted his mouth from Philippe’s cock and kissed his other lover. Their lips lingered together, tongues softly dueling while Valmont stroked Philippe’s cock in lazy, gentle strokes. Serge pulled away from their kiss, his full lips swollen, eyelids heavy. A lazy grin curved his mouth and he appeared happy, fulfilled, the way he used to when he and Valmont had first become lovers. Valmont’s heart surged to see the earnest, passionate lover he’d known since the Middle Ages. He grinned back. Serge leaned forward, moving so that his mouth was close to Philippe’s cock, which rested in Valmont’s hand. Serge licked the length of the shaft, from the base to the tip. The sight of Serge’s tongue against the silky reddish skin of Philippe’s cock made Valmont crazy with hunger. When Serge reached the head, he took it in his mouth, eyes closed and stayed there, licking and suckling greedily. Valmont reached out and smoothed back Serge’s hair. His mouth watered to taste Philippe’s cock some more himself and to pleasure the immortal-vampire—whatever he was—who’d healed him and helped to reunite him with Serge. Leaning down, his face close to Serge’s, Valmont teased the firm sac of Philippe’s balls with the tip of his tongue, licking and stroking in feathery circles while Serge engulfed the length of Philippe’s cock in his mouth. Together, he and Serge pleasured Philippe who moaned continuously and bucked his hips softly against their two mouths. Valmont closed his lips over one ball, then the other while his fingertips caressed Philippe’s tight hole. Philippe was gasping, whispering, “Yes, yes, yes,” over and over. Valmont felt Philippe’s delicious balls tighten under his tongue. He pulled away and watched Serge suck Philippe’s cock. His dark head bobbed up and down furiously as he deep-throated Philippe.
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Philippe grasped bunches of the comforter in his fists, his head thrashing back and forth on the pillows. His hips arched up off the bed once and remained suspended and he moaned, eyes squeezed shut. The sight was glorious and Valmont watched the muscles in Serge’s throat work as he swallowed Philippe’s cum. Philippe groaned and went limp on the bed. His heaving chest gleamed with sweat and his aqua-hued eyes were dusky as he stared at both of them. “That was incredible,” he breathed. “You must let me do the same for both of you.” Without waiting for a response, he started to kick his trousers off the rest of the way. Serge chuckled and wiped his lips. “Good to see you’ve recovered. Here, let me help you.” He leaned over taking one leg of the pants, Valmont the other. Together they slipped the trousers off Philippe, exposing the sloping muscles of his tanned legs. Downy golden hairs gleamed on his thighs and lower legs and his softening cock rested on one upper thigh. Valmont stared down at Philippe, admiring his golden beauty. It would have been impossible for Serge not to have fallen in love with him. Philippe went up onto his knees and stripped off his shirt. He tossed it aside and turned to Serge. His hands flew to Serge’s shirt and he worked open the buttons. “You are both so beautiful and hot,” he breathed. “Please have me now.” He leaned forward and kissed Serge, his lips warm, tongue slippery and moist as it stole past the seam of Serge’s lips.
Philippe never broke their kiss as he slipped Serge’s shirt off his shoulders and palmed his hard chest. Mmm, he loved that chest, the warm skin and hard muscle. He trailed his fingertips through the silky black hair and over the small disks of Serge’s nipples. Behind him, Valmont pressed in, circled his hands sensually over his back. Valmont’s cock nudged the crevice of his ass.
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Philippe groaned and pushed his ass outward. He wanted that cock buried deep inside him. His hands roamed down Serge’s chest, slid over his hips and explored the contours of sinewy muscle in Serge’s back before cupping his ass and pulling him close so their cocks rubbed together. Fingertips probed Philippe’s hole. Valmont pushed one finger in, wiggled it around and then added another. Philippe groaned and panted at the delicious sensation of being stretched open. The slide of fingers against the soft insides of his tight passage sent streaks of pleasure into his cock and he groaned into Serge’s mouth. The fingers slipped out, replaced by the push of something larger, slippery. Ahh, just what he wanted. Valmont’s large hands rested on Philippe’s hips as he rocked forward, pushing his cock deeper inside Philippe. Philippe fell onto his hands on the bed and captured Serge’s hard cock in his mouth. Eyes closed, he swallowed Serge up to the base, tasting the delicious vampire. Philippe was in heaven…if there was such a thing. He pushed back against Valmont’s invading cock. All his nerve endings tingled, sent shudders of enjoyment through his body. There was nothing he loved more than pleasuring a gorgeous vampire…or in this case…two gorgeous vampires. Serge thrust his hips against the rhythm of Philippe’s mouth. He wound his fingers in Philippe’s hair, his fingers loosening and tightening. He moaned Philippe’s name each time his cock slid against Philippe’s tongue. A tiny spasm erupted, shooting the warm liquid into Philippe’s mouth. Philippe swallowed every drop, never letting Serge’s cock slip from his mouth, even when Serge’s climax had finished. The pleasure of the silky skin against his tongue and the roof of his mouth only enhanced the delicious tingle of Valmont’s cock buried inside him. Finally, Serge’s cock slipped from Philippe’s mouth. Serge lowered himself down and kissed Philippe, probing the soft recesses of Philippe’s mouth with his tongue while Valmont still fucked Philippe from behind. 105
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Philippe pushed against Valmont, causing their bodies to slam hard together. Valmont groaned each time and Philippe felt the hot eruption in his passage, the throb of Valmont’s cock as he came inside Philippe. Philippe squeezed the muscles around Valmont’s cock, heightening the pleasure of the vampire’s climax. Valmont collapsed over Philippe, his damp chest pressed to Philippe’s back. Valmont’s breath pumped close to Philippe’s ear, hot and steady. The scent of sex-soaked vampires filled the space around them and Philippe closed his eyes, breathing in his favorite scent in all the world. No two vampires smelled alike and Philippe memorized the mingling scents of herbs, cologne and sexual musk that marked Serge and Valmont. Valmont pulled out and lay down on his side. His bronze skin gleamed with sweat, making his silky ebony chest hair gleam. He grinned, looking like a satisfied cat. “Come here, both of you.” Serge put his arms around Philippe and guided him to a lying position between himself and Valmont. Serge’s body, too, was damp and deliciously hot, his pale skin flushed from sex, his dark hair mussed. His blue eyes gleamed and he appeared happy, giving Philippe a glimpse into the man Valmont had fallen in love with. Serge nuzzled his forehead. One hand lazily stroked his hair. Behind him, Valmont’s hand rested on his shoulder. He brushed his thumb back and forth affectionately on Philippe’s skin. Serge smiled at him. “I admit that when you first told me about Darelle’s idea, I thought it was impossible and ridiculous.” Philippe looked at him and smiled. “And now?” Serge chuckled. His gaze flickered to Valmont and back to him. “Now I think she may be as much prophetess as priestess.” “Only she didn’t predict this.” Valmont’s voice cut in. No, she hadn’t. But in any case, Philippe was grateful for Darelle’s belief that she had the power to help shape destiny. 106
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He smiled and closed his eyes, reveling in the warm male bodies pressing close against him.
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About the Author Award-winning multi-published author of erotic romance, Sedonia Guillone spends her days writing deliciously naughty romances—when she’s not cuddling with the man she loves or watching kung fu and samurai films and eating chocolate.
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Also by Sedonia Guillone A Man for Michael Darelle’s Trinity
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