The Sacrifice Read online

  Aiden smiles. “My curious little virgin. I would love to join you in bed and spend hours exploring your body. But not tonight—you’re not ready yet.”

  I want to ask when I will be ready but I decide not to push it. “What are you going to be doing until bedtime?” I ask, wondering where he sleeps for the night and for how long.

  “I have some work to catch up on—I was going to do it in the study.”

  “Well…can I join you?” I ask awkwardly. “If you’re busy I promise not to interrupt. I can be very quiet—just give me a book to read.”

  He looks thoughtful. “I must confess that I usually don’t enjoy anyone’s company but my own. But you are growing on me at an alarming rate.” He nods. “Yes, you may join me in the study.”

  “Thank you…Master,” I say, smiling. It’s becoming disturbingly easy to remember to call him that. I try not to think about it.

  He smiles back. “We should change clothes first. I’m nearly as wet as you are from your shower.” He eyes the fluffy white towel wrapped around me. “And you are very overdressed.”

  I bite my lip. Crap—I was just getting used to being covered again. “Couldn’t I keep them on?” I ask softly. “I’m still wet and it’s chilly in here.”

  “It’s not that chilly,” Aiden begins but I cut him off.

  “Not for a vampire, maybe. But for a human…” I wrap my arms around myself and shiver theatrically.

  He gives me a skeptical look and then sighs. “All right, I’ll find you something.”

  He rummages in the wardrobe, changing out of his business suit and into a pair of faded, comfortable looking jeans and a white t-shirt that shows off the width of his broad chest nicely. For me, he produces what looks to be a long, satin smoking jacket in deep, emerald green.

  “It’s mine,” he explains, removing my towels and draping it over my shoulders. “From a time when such things were fashionable. It’s not the style anymore, of course.”

  “Of course,” I echo, smiling. “Unless you’re Hugh Hefner.”

  He laughs. “Yes, well. I kept it because it’s comfortable. You may wear it as long as you leave it open.” He strokes my cheek and then his hand trails lower to cup my breast and casually thumb my nipple. “Any time I look at you, I want to be able to see your luscious body. You must never hide it from me, Emma.”

  My breath catches in my throat as his touch starts an all too familiar fire under my skin. “Yes, Master,” I whisper, almost without thought.

  “Very good. You’re being so obedient all of a sudden.” He looks extremely pleased. Then he lifts me gently and walks out the door toward the study.

  “Why are you carrying me again?” I ask, mystified. “I really am capable of walking, you know.”

  “I’m carrying you because I can. Because I like it.” He gives me a warm, lingering kiss on the mouth before setting me on my feet, just inside the study door. “Because you’re mine, Emma,” he says softly and then goes to sit behind the huge desk, in the big black leather chair. “Now I must work. Find a book to amuse yourself and don’t bother me.”

  The abrupt change takes me aback somewhat, but when I study him under my lashes, I can see that there’s nothing malicious about it. He simply switches modes supernaturally quickly, from pleasure to work—it’s like a light switch with him. He can turn it off and on whenever he needs to. Very practical and utterly vampiric.

  I can’t help envying him his supernatural concentration and control—my skin is still warm and tingling where he touched me and I can still taste his kiss on my lips. It’s useless to think of anything else but his hands on me—still, I do try. I scan the shelves again for something to read but once again I find nothing.

  Finally I settle for the copy of Farrow’s Handbook of Spells, which I was perusing earlier. I handle it carefully but to my relief, there are no shocks from the worn leather cover this time. There’s a choice of two other seats in the study—one is a comfortable looking brown leather loveseat drawn up before the fireplace that dominates one end of the room. It’s all made up with a stack of logs just ready to be lit but of course there’s no fire. In Florida's nearly year-round heat, I bet Aiden doesn’t get to use the fireplace much.

  The other seat is a wooden, straight backed chair sitting across from Aiden’s desk. After a moment of internal debate, I take the copy of Farrow’s and settle onto the hard wooden chair across from him.

  If Aiden notices my deliberate choice to be closer to him, he doesn’t let on. His eyes remain fixed on the screen of his laptop and his fingers keep flying over the keyboard with vampiric speed, making them look like nothing more than white blurs.

  Sighing to myself, I open Farrow’s and read over the familiar spells. This handbook is one of the first that any young witch is given to study. By the time she’s twelve or thirteen and has started menstruating, she ought to be able to manage the simplest ones by herself. Call the Candle Flame to Life, is the title of one spell. How well I remember struggling with that one! My cousins could light candles from across the room even before they hit puberty. With me…well, let’s just say I never even got the candle’s wick to smolder. Not so much as a wisp of smoke though I tried for hours upon hours.

  There is a pair of ornate silver candlesticks on Aiden’s desk with long, creamy white candles that have never been lit in them. Out of habit, I concentrate on one of the tapering wicks and call for a flame. I know the secret name of fire—I have known it from the age of eight. It was one of the things my mother was teaching me just before our house burned down. I think it now, letting it echo in my head. I close my eyes and imagine a flickering yellow flame growing just for me, coming when I call like an obedient pet.

  The image is so strong and vivid I’m half convinced that I’ve finally done it. That I’ve finally called the flame. But when I open my eyes, the wicks are still as cold and untouched as ever without even a wisp of smoke or a hint of ash to show for my efforts.

  What did you expect? You’re a dud. But I’m still disappointed. Every bit as much as I was as a child when I tried and tried and failed and failed over and over until I burst into exhausted tears and finally accepted my magic-less status.

  I’m just beginning to feel really depressed when the soft strains of acoustic guitar reach my ears. Hmm, that music is familiar…then I realize that Aiden is watching the video again. What was it called? Something about the gentle dominant, wasn’t it? I must admit that when I saw it earlier, I was a little too distracted by the vid itself to bother memorizing the name.

  Looking up, I see that he is utterly engrossed, his piercing eyes fixed intently on the laptop screen. Is he getting anything out of this? He doesn’t appear to be aroused but then, what do I know? Maybe he’s seething with lust inside—I know I am. All day long I’ve been teased in various ways and I still haven’t been allowed to come. I can feel my pussy tingling at the memory of the movie and suddenly I want to see it again.

  Moving quietly so as not to disturb his concentration, I put down the copy of Farrow’s and walk around the desk to stand beside him and watch.

  The Dom is going down on his submissive again, licking and sucking her little pussy while she moans softly and writhes against the bonds that hold her to the bed. I feel my pussy begin to get hot and creamy at the sight. Then I remember Aiden kneeling in front of me and giving my pussy that long, loving, thorough kiss. Goddess, that was so hot. My knees feel weak just thinking about it.

  “Are you enjoying the movie?” Aiden’s deep voice cuts into my thoughts and brings me back to myself. I look up to see that he’s watching me instead of the screen. Feeling embarrassed, I press my thighs together, wishing I was allowed to shut the green robe I’m wearing and cover my nakedness.

  “Are you?” I counter, trying to be bold. “Why are you watching it? You don’t look very, uh, affected by it.”

  One corner of his sensual mouth quirks up in a smile. “Actually, I’m watching less for pleasure than for information.”