Immortals After Dark 12 - Lothaire

would she do?
    He turned to lean his arm against the glass, resting his forehead onit. “Back for more, pet?” he said casually, though he felt anything but. She’d marched in with her breasts still bared, her shoulders back. His fists clenched, his cock distending once more.
    She looked impetuous, her eyes defiant. She flipped that mane of hair over her shoulders, which almost earned her a position in his shower.
    “I’m here to remind you of something.”
    Of what, of what? Pleasure rippled through him, almost like amusement. But his tone was bored. “Hmm. Remind me?” Why was his voice hoarse?
    Ah, from my shocked yells to the rafters.
    She snatched up his discarded pants from the floor. “When you do recount my clumsy attempts to Saroya, be sure to mention the part where I rode you like a lazy horse and made you cream-jeans faster than a fifteen-year-old schoolboy squeezin’ a tit for the first time.” She flung his pants into the shower. “You might wanna get these cleaned.” She turned on her heel and sauntered out of the room.
    He stared after her. Cream-jeans? Lazy horse?
    Unbidden, his lips curled into a grin.

    After washing off and changing into the most modest of the sleepwear choices—a long, white silk nightgown—Ellie crossed to her bed.
    When she eased into it, she sighed at the softness that greeted her.
    Never knew sheets could feel like this. Here she lay, clad in silk, nestled in the finest linens she’d ever imagined, basking in the sizable bed—even though it lay on the floor.
    She was being kept in a paradise of a prison, by a red-eyed jailer who doubled as a walking sexual fantasy.
    A jailer who’d awakened something in her tonight, something Ellie instinctively feared she wouldn’t experience with others.
    Just as she began fretting, wondering how she was going to live without the ecstasy she’d discovered with Lothaire, she remembered she likely wasn’t going to live at all.
    Rubber-band snap. Snap. SNAP!
    Finally, she calmed, her whirring mind slowing. Just as she was dozing off, a dizzying sense of vertigo hit her; when she opened her eyes, she was standing in his room. Traced me again?
    “Entertain me,” he commanded, taking a seat at his desk. He was shirtless, barefooted. His damp hair hung carelessly over his forehead. So gorgeous, too gorgeous.
    “Entertain.” She rubbed her eyes. “That wasn’t part of the job description.”
    “I believe the job description was for you to do whatever I command. Besides, you’re clearly dressing for the job you want and not the job you have, and my Bride will entertain me after we spend.”
    “Dance, monkey, dance. That it? Lothaire, I’m exhausted.”
    “ Do pizdy. Don’t fucking care. Sit. Speak with me.”
    She hesitated to return to that settee, but eventually sank down with a huff.
    “I find I have questions about you. Amazing, considering it’s . . . you. But I can’t control my curiosity.”
    “What do you want to know?”
    “Why are you still a virgin?”
    She didn’t want to tell him the real reason, that she’d feared getting pregnant with some high school boy, feared having to abandon her long-held dreams—of a fulfilling career, a doting husband, and lastly, when she was ready for them, kids.
    So instead, she said, “I guess Saroya somehow resisted your charms all those times you went off killing together.”
    “I’ve never gone off killing with her.”
    “She just went out by herself and murdered? Why?”
    He shrugged. “She used to take sustenance from the act. Now I guess it’s habit.”
    “That doesn’t make sense.”
    “Suppose you no longer needed to eat to live, but you could eat. Wouldn’t you miss the taste of food, the ritual of meals?”
    He had a point. Ellie loved to eat.
    “You didn’t answer my question,” he said. “Did no prison guard try to deflower you?”
    “Most of them were decent.”
    “But not all? Did any of them . . . touch you?” His expression darkened, his fangs seeming to grow.
    He’s going round the bend again. And when his eyes grew vacant, her senses went on red alert.
    “Slow your fucking heart!”
    She cried, “Maybe I could slow my fucking heart if you’d stop fucking yelling at me!”
    “I hold your fate in my hands, yet you show me disrespect at every turn.”
    “You haven’t earned my respect.”
    “It could be today that I dream of the ring. Then you’ll be gone forever.”
    She crossed her arms over her chest. “You love holding