Текст книги "Take Me"
Автор книги: T. A. Grey
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Take Me
The Untouchables 1
By
T. A. Grey
Acknowledgements
A special and rowdy thank you to my Alpha Squad who has the best ladies anywhere! You guys rock! Thank you to Brandi for her excellent opinions and revisions. Thank you to Hallie for creating such an amazing cover, and most of all thank you to all my fans who support me. I can’t tell you how much it means to me.
Chapter 1
“You made the wrong choice, Felicity.”
Strong hands surrounded her, brought her body flush against his. There was no mistaking the hard prod pressed into her back.
Felicity gasped, struggling to control the need burning inside her like fire. “We can’t.” Long-fingered hands swept up to cup her breasts—the touch possessive as Dominic Blackmoore molded the flesh. She shivered, her knees nearly giving out. She might have fallen if not for his hold on her.
“Yes we can, and yes we are. I’m not waiting any longer.” His voice held no room for argument. He’d finally decided. This was really going to happen. Could she stop it even if she really wanted to?
His hands released her and reason came flooding back with it, her last chance to resist. No, they couldn’t do this. So many lives would be destroyed including her own. She shoved hard against his chest knocking him off balance with the action. She didn’t hesitate, but sprinted down the hall and away from him. She had to get out of here. She had to get outside. If she could only make it outside she could escape.
She slowed as she rounded through the kitchen, her stupid heels slipping on the marble tiles. But she didn’t have time to damn her poor choice in shoes because a hard, heavy body slammed into her back.
Rough hands caught hers, planted them above her head on the garage door. She was already panting and he hadn’t even touched her yet. Her eyes squeezed shut—this was so wrong and yet she craved his touch with every fiber of her being.
“I’m done waiting. We end this torture now,” he said, a growl covering the words.
A shiver swept down her spine, and she couldn’t catch her breath. Her body burned like the sun blazed around her and her core was wet, aching. She gave into him then—into his addicting caresses. It was so much easier than fighting it. She shouldn’t do it, but she’d never wanted anything more in her life.
“Dom,” she murmured. The name that had been haunting her for what felt like an eternity. The name she hated as much as she loved.
Her skirt slid to her ankles at his touch. Her fingers curved into the door as cool air touched her bare bottom; her underwear hid nothing from his gaze. She could feel it burning into her skin like beams of light. Those addicting hands caressed her bottom, squeezed, and plumped.
“You have the greatest ass, sweets.” He groaned deep in his throat as he tucked his fingers inside her panties and sent the black satin fluttering down around her ankles.
A heavy pulse beat between her legs. An equal weight beat in her heart...for him. No matter wrong this was, she wanted it. She wanted him
He swept her hair over one shoulder, baring her neck to him. A wicked thrill shot up her spine and she arched her neck for him—a small taunt, beckoning him, daring him to take from her. He growled so much louder, and she heard the hiss of his zipper so loud in the quiet house.
“Don’t tempt me, Felicity. Not now. My control is at an end and I will take your vein.” His voice was as deep as a pit.
Her body relaxed, a smile crossing her mouth, and her eyes fluttered shut. “I trust you, Dom.” His voice always held magic over her and like a wand he could cast it and make everything better.
Another groan, this one deeper and impatient. She wondered what he thought of her words. Would he do it? Would he finally take from her?
Hot hands spanned her waist, sliding down to cup her hips and arch her back towards him. It only figures that their first time would be like this with her chest planted against the door and her back to him—so submissive.
His hard shaft dipped over her drenched folds eliciting a moan from her dry lips. This was it. This was the moment she’d craved from the very first day she met him. She’d finally have him, finally know what it felt like to have him moving inside her.
An eternity passed and then he found her entrance and slowly pushed his way inside. He spread her, the pressure so intense it bordered on pain. Her forehead fell into the door as her body adjusted around his length. He glided inside her using her slick arousal from her traitorous body.
He pressed hot open-mouthed kisses over her neck while his tongue sucked and teased her. He did not move but kept himself buried hard and full inside her. A shocked cry tore from her throat, one mingled with pain and pleasure. And his hands, those cursed, wonderful hands, entwined with hers on the door, securing her place in his arms. Caging her so she couldn’t run.
Then he started moving. Gentle, but unforgiving in long, pounding strokes that dragged through her tight muscles, awakening warmth and erotic pleasure she’d never felt before.
“Dom.” Her breathing hitched.
Each stroke she felt down to her soul. Her heart had never beat so fast, and when her body couldn’t burn any hotter, couldn’t handle any more of the wet hard glide quickening inside her, it locked tight around his cock. With a rush of bittersweet pleasure, she exploded around him.
Vision fled, thoughts fled. She was suspended in a moment of time as he plummeted into her again and again.
He cursed in a ragged voice. “Felicity, fuck. I can’t,” he said in gasps. He landed deep then grinded his hips against her. “I can’t stop.”
Before she knew what he meant, he broke the skin of her neck with his fangs. The two sharp points sank inside, breaking skin. Strange warmth flooded the surface around the wound like a little sunburn yet it did not hurt. She could feel his mouth working against her and the sensation crashed into her shooting out her own fangs. Her fading pleasure spiked once more and her body bowed into his until they were in perfect sync: him commanding her body and her submitting to him.
He surged inside her faster, harder until the sounds of pounding flesh and ragged breathing echoed in the room. Growling deep, he wrapped his hands around her waist to hold her to him.
She shouldn’t like it. It was all so very wrong. But she never wanted him to stop.
Then his warm mouth locked tight to the wound on her neck, and he planted his cock deep spurting his release on a husky growl. His fangs dislodged then as his tongue licked at the wound to seal it. That quickly it was over.
They caught their breaths as the aftermath started to creep in. Felicity’s mind still hadn’t returned to normal. She knew she should be running right now, but she wanted this so badly—these few moments of them together, closer than they’d ever been. Her heart was leaping in her chest reminding her of how deep she had it for this man.
“So beautiful,” he said, kissing her shoulder. “So perfect.”
He caressed her collarbone. His touch was gentle, lingering. He reached down and cupped one breast then the other before caressing her stomach and trailing down until his fingers curled around where he was still planted deep and firm inside her. His fingers caressed her wet swollen flesh, dipping and sliding along her lips and bud.
The sound of the front door opening and slamming closed was like a bucket of ice water thrown on her face.
In a flash, Felicity righted her clothes but she couldn’t quite keep the tears of hurt from coming to her eyes.
“How could you?”
It took even less time than she would have expected to see regret flash across his face. That alone made her flinch like she’d taken a punch to the gut. His head jerked towards the front of the house at the sound of high heels coming their way.
“You know how I feel, Felicity. God damn it!” As if that made any of this better. As if that erased her shame or changed anything.
He pulled his pants up and with a little adjusting managed to make his suit look neatly pressed as if he’d just put it on. Even his hair looked freshly combed and smooth, not a single hair out of place. She had no doubt how she looked though—like she’d just been fucked against a door.
He knew where this would lead them, how this would hurt her. Yet he did it anyway, he touched her. A tear she couldn’t contain slid down her cheek. He wiped it away with his thumb, his face softening.
“Don’t cry, sweets.”
She couldn’t stand the endearment. Not now, not when her whole heart was breaking.
The footsteps came closer for which she thanked the stars. It helped her to get her bearings and move, no easy feat after feeling him inside her body for the first time.
“Don’t ever touch me again,” she said, not meeting his eyes. She meant it and she knew he heard the conviction in her voice. He’d never touch her again after that. She was done.
Quickly, she slipped in the garage door. She knew she should flee but some sickness inside her made her pause outside the door. She stayed silent and listened.
“Ah, there you are. I didn’t know if you were here yet,” a warm, feminine voice said.
“Julianna, it’s good to see you.” She could hear the smile in Dom’s voice and knew it was forced. The sound of kissing was like a lethal blow to her heart. She staggered back a step as her heart stopped beating for one agonizing moment. She’d bet money that Julianna didn’t know that his smile was forced, the kiss not real.
She probably didn’t know anything about him and, if she did, it didn’t matter because no one loved Dom like she did. No one. Not even his Julianna, the woman he was to mate with—his bruid.
Another tear slid down her cheek. She wanted to sob but first she had to escape. She could never be around Dom again; no matter how much she loved him or what he promised. Yet, a part of her knew the thought was fruitless. He would never leave her alone now. He’d find her. He wouldn’t give up on her. It was in his nature.
But he didn’t love her.
And he was mating with another woman.
Chapter 2
One month earlier
The blaring ring of the phone sent Felicity scampering down the hall to the kitchen. As soon as she neared it, her cat Hugo darted in front of her. With a cry, she jumped over the rascally feline but missed her footing as she came down. Her knee gave out as she landed awkwardly on her ankle, which sent her sprawling into the kitchen cabinet.
“Ouch, damn it!”
She inspected the damage and saw her knee had taken the brunt of the damage. Well, that and her cheap cabinet that now had a hole in it.
“Just great,” she muttered. “Thanks a lot, Hugo.”
The phone still blared. Fighting through the fiery pain throbbing in her knee, she reached for the wall-mounted phone and snatched it off its set.
“Hello?” she said, her voice as close to a growl as she could manage.
“Ms. Shaw?”
“Who is this?” Felicity quickly wracked her mind for any late bills she had. Crap, she could think of several.
“Is this Ms. Shaw?” the man pressed. He sounded bored and had an uppity, snobbish quality to his voice. It’s how she imagined an educated old professor might speak.
Felicity rolled her eyes. “Yes it is. Are you from the internet company? Listen, I know I’m late but I don’t have the money so just cancel my service again.”
For the past year and half this had been her life. At time it felt like a lot longer than that though. Sometimes having internet and sometimes having television, but mostly paying late fees to try to keep on the services. She’d go without if she could but she needed her internet for job hunting, internet shopping where she endlessly added some much-needed or much-wanted items to her shopping cart that never got purchased, and she needed her television big time. It was the only form of entertainment she had. Honestly.
“Ms. Shaw, my name is Ian Nevell. I am calling—”
Hugo jumped on the counter in front of her and began crying as if he was dying. “Raaur! Rrrraaarrr! Raaaaar!”
“Shut up, Hugo! I’m not giving you any wet food. You tripped me,” she hissed. The man on the phone cleared his throat, bringing her attention back to the call. “I’m sorry what was it you wanted?”
She gave Hugo a warning look then turned her back on him. “As I was saying, Ms. Shaw, I am calling on behalf of the Blackmoore family.”
“The-the Blackmoores?” Felicity’s eyes widened as her stomach plummeted. She’d applied for the gig of a lifetime there only a week ago, but she’d never thought in a million years she’d get a call back.
The man sighed wearily. “Yes, indeed, Ms. Shaw. The Blackmoore family is in need of an event planner and they have selected your resume for an interview. If you could bring your portfolio to the Blackmoore estate tonight at 7:30 you will meet with Mr. Dominic Blackmoore. He will judge your portfolio and deem whether or not you will suit the occasion. If you are chosen, pay and other benefits will be discussed then.”
Her eyes darted to the clock on her microwave. “But it’s already 6:30. That’s not enough time!” No way could she shower, dress, and make herself up in order to present herself to the likes of seeing a Blackmoore—the wealthiest, most blue-blooded vampires in society—in less than an hour.
But she needed a job so badly. She could hardly afford food anymore. She had to take a bite, literally, out of her friend Beth last week. It was the ultimate shame. To land a job the size of a Blackmoore event—she could practically see the dollar signs dancing around in her head. She could pay her bills, put some away in savings, and buy new clothes and shoes. Oh, and one of those new laptops she saw in a commercial since her computer loved to reboot on her when she wasn’t even using it. But what if they found out about her little lie? She bit her lip, running through the possibilities.
Another sigh on the line. “Ms. Shaw, are you coming or not?”
“Yes, yes, I’ll be there!” She hung up, her mind already running a mile a minute.
She was in the shower, a toothbrush slammed between her teeth and shampoo in her barely-wet hair in under a minute. She ran a razor quickly over her calves; she didn’t have time to do the whole leg, and then hopped out of the shower. In what she deemed to be a very impressive time, she had on her nicest dress—a dark cherry red number with wide straps, a cinched in waist with a thin black belt with her conservative but pretty black heels. The ones that still looked new even though she’d bought them on sale two years ago. The dress said chic, modern, but professional. Exactly what an event planner for a Blackmoore event look like.
The sun had already set. She’d only been awake for two hours. She hated to rush like this because she couldn’t screw this up.
“Just wait ‘till Beth hears about this.” Her best friend and recent blood donor would scale the walls if she got this job, then insist she take her shopping.
Felicity snatched her portfolio off the kitchen the table, grabbed her purse from the hook behind the front door, and then stopped to check her surroundings. She couldn’t forget anything.
Mentally, she went over the list. Hair, done. Makeup, light but professional. Shoes, old but shiny. Purse not designer but not hand-me-down. Portfolio, in arm with résumés sitting inside.
Hugo sidled up to her, his back arching high and fur sticking out on end. “Rrraaawwr,” he purred sweetly.
“Not now baby, momma’s got a job interview.”
He looked up at her, cocked his head to the side. “Raawr?”
Felicity shook her head. Her blown dry hair felt a bit coarse because she’d forgotten to condition it in her rush, but oh well. A month, or even a week from now she could be cashing such a big check she could go to the salon and get one of those deep conditioning treatments. A soft sigh escaped her at the thought.
“Bye Hugo, momma loves you!” she called then swept out her apartment locking it behind her.
God, this could really be it. She hated her seventy-dollar couch she bought at a thrift store. She hated her scratched up ugly kitchen table. She hated that the only clocks she had in the whole apartment was the stove and her alarm clock. She hated her cheap glasses bought off the clearance rack in a Wal-Mart. She was so sick of not having nice things, of not wanting her friends to come over and see just how poor she really was. It might be petty, but her surroundings embarrassed her. She wanted to do better for herself. And damn it she worked hard and was damn good at her job. If she could get a job...
Felicity got in her car—another despicable thing. Sure it’d once been shiny and working nicely, but that’d been before Bud. Bud was a human who liked to drink and drive. Being a vampire and all Felicity kind of preferred night life. So she was surprised when one night she took a green light towards downtown St. Louis, Missouri and heard the sound of screeching tires. No amount of vampire speed could make her car go any faster. The drunken bastard slammed his black Ford F150 into her car so hard it flipped three times before landing upside down in oncoming traffic.
He, and all the others at the light who helped her out of the car, all seemed a bit surprised that she was alive with no broken bones or even a nosebleed. Well, actually, Bud wasn’t that concerned seeing as he was hurling his guts up outside his truck.
It was thanks to that drunken asshole’s lack of insurance that her car looked as it did. It cost too much to repair so she never got her car fixed. She’d lucked out that aside from a new oil filter and some other sensor thing being put on, her car ‘ran.’ If one called the chugging sound it made and the black puffs of smoking coming out the tail end ‘running’.
Of course, the right side where she got t-boned was completely busted in as if a car slammed into it. If she and Beth ever took her car, which they didn’t, then Beth would have to crawl in through the driver’s side door.
Who the heck had that kind of money to get it fixed? Well, not her.
She had no one to turn to for help, as if she would anyway. So she had a super busted car littered with dents on the left and right side, plus a roof that sported a divot the size of a kiddie pool. The roof dipped down so low that if she was taller she might have a hard time sitting up straight in the seat. Luckily for her she was short, just like her mother. A snarl escaped her.
“Don’t even think about her. Stay positive!” she told herself.
With a turn of the key, she started her hunk of metal and tore off to the Blackmoore estate. She knew where it was. Anyone who was anyone knew where the Blackmoores lived. They were only the oldest living vampire family in the world. Originally from the Middle East, somewhere near present day Turkey, they’d traveled all over the world as the years past and humans evolved.
Felicity didn’t need to be their accountant to know that the Blackmoores were from big money as in b-i-g money. The kind that worked in politics and threw rich dinners for big government and investor types for ten thousand dollar plate dinners.
“Damn!”
Felicity slammed her hand against her steering wheel wishing she still had her cell phone. She hadn’t been able to keep it. Sixty bucks a month for a single phone wasn’t cutting it on her budget. She really wanted to call Beth right now. Her best friend would give her all the positive ear candy she could want.
Felicity pulled onto the highway and checked the clock. “We’re good, Felicity. Still got a good twenty minutes to get there.” The Blackmoores lived in a ritzy neighborhood tucked back in a deceivingly middle-income looking area where coffee shops littered every corner and the homeowners refused to allow Wal-Mart to build so they wouldn’t put out the mom and pop shops that still hung around. It was an area where bicycle lines marked the road and where people took their small dogs into gas stations and grocery stores.
It was weird.
The house was in the back of the area where ominous black gates stood towering like menacing wraiths above the street. The Blackmoore house rested up on the hill behind the gates. Many tall, old trees blocked the view so you’d be hard pressed to see the house unless you walked by the gate and found just enough of a crack between limbs and trunks. Felicity had seen it though, just part of it when she’d driven by before.
When Felicity had applied for the job she had done it quickly and without much thought. That was because she knew she’d never land a job with the Blackmoores. They hired world-renowned artists for even the simplest of things. They would not hire some nobody vampire girl from the city. Still, she’d been desperate and a little hopeful that just maybe she’d get the job.
Usually when she went to a job interview she was as prepared as possible, sometimes she even spent days learning about a specific client and then scouted locations, created designs, and came up with ideas to dazzle them. True, many of those times she’d forgotten her briefcase or portfolio when she’d gone to the interview, but she’d learned her lesson.
Whether it was the economy or the fact that times had changed from the early days where throwing a gala and impressing everyone with your wealth and status was all the rage, but now people didn’t do that. Too bad, she missed those times, the elegance, the jewelry, lavish gowns.
A soft sigh escaped her.
Sometimes she’d read in V-Society about the Blackmoore’s throwing such parties. Felicity bit her lip as she bounced in her seat with excitement. If she could land this job and they liked her, she could have a permanent new income. They would return to her because they’d be so in love with her design choices. She could almost see it now.
That was it, she decided then. She would just have to become their permanent event planner no matter what it took. This was just the kind of job she’d been searching for and it’d just fallen in her lap—nearly.
A thought struck her. The head of the Blackmoore family and president of the vampire and were council had recently died from a rare blood disease, Arromunia. That’s why they needed her. Talks of his death still hadn’t stopped among vamp society. The disease didn’t occur often. The last time a vampire died of it was more than fifty years ago and the time before that spanned another seventy-five years. Very rare indeed.
The disease was the only sickness her kind was susceptible to aside from pure silver, the hot rays of sunlight, and decapitation. No one knew how to get the strange sickness, and it was so rare scientists had not been able to study it in the past. It simply came, chose a victim, and then slowly sucked the life from them like a poison. No amount of blood transfusions could help. The immortal body, after a slow and debilitating trial, would die withering like a body with too much skin clinging to it, eyes sunken, and cheeks gaunt.
That meant Mr. Blackmoore’s eldest son would be in charge—Dominic the one who’d interview her.
A chill raced over her body. Felicity shook it off and took the road that would hopefully change her life forever. If she could only get a gig like this, her name would be famous among society. Everyone would know the name Felicity Shaw.
She could finally donate her crappy thrift store furniture and buy something real that was just hers. Something she actually liked because it was beautiful and comfortable not because it was cheap.
The Blackmoore’s estate was the only house street on the block. It wasn’t like they owned the street, more like the many acres of land surrounding the house, all of which was gated in by the towering black gate over six feet tall. The black, spiked tops didn’t look sharp but they served as a warning—do not enter.
A small call box waited at the front of the drive. It reminded her of the drive-thru microphones that mortals used when they ordered fast food.
She rolled down her window with the lever then pressed the small black button on the box.
A moment later a clear, male voice rang out. “Who’s calling?”
“It’s Felicity Shaw, the event planner.”
She waited for an answer but nothing came. Then a loud metal clang sounded and the black gates started swinging inward with a mechanical whirring.
Felicity laughed nervously, her stomach fluttering. It was all so dramatic, she felt like she was driving to her doom.
The great mansion stood at the top of the hill. If only the house was older and run down, it’d be the perfect house for children in the neighborhood to be afraid of come nightfall. But no one would ever say the Blackmoore house looked scary. It exuded luxury. From the fine, perfectly manicured lawn to the smooth blacktop that wound in an arch up the hill toward the house and circled back down the other side to exit.
She drove slowly to take it all in. A breathtaking fountain stood in front of the driveway. Where Felicity had a cute fat gnome with a red pointy hat wearing a blue sweater as a lawn decoration, the Blackmoore’s had a million dollar fountain. It looked like it was made from some kind of beautiful white stone that had just a bit of sparkle in it. She imagined that with the sun shining it would look quite stunning. Not that she could ever see it in the daylight.
From the fountain, two swans faced each other, wings folded back with elegant long necks outstretched to each other spurting water as if playing a silly game.
The house itself was something to be seen because of its incredible size. More than eight windows covered the front of the house, four on either side of the front door and they were floor to ceiling windows. It made her wonder how they dealt with the sun during the daytime. These people could afford any expense necessary. They probably had a specially-made blinds or window tinting that kept sunlight out.
Warmth grew in Felicity’s belly. She wished to find out. How she yearned to have something so nice, to have earned it with her own creative ideas and hard work. She could practically feel success within reach of her fingertips.
Just as she neared the house with what looked like marble steps leading to it to the front door, an older man with dark skin and a shiny baldhead stepped out. She could sense his age—he was older than her seventy-five years—but he’d been turned, not born. He had to have been turned at an older age for natural wrinkles were formed around his eyes and at the corner of his lips. He was a good-looking man with a lot of character. He also moved fast.
He swept open her door before she could shut her engine off.
“Ms. Shaw, if you’ll follow me. Mr. Blackmoore is impatient to meet with you.”
That flutter shot through her stomach again. Quickly, she snatched up her portfolio and stepped out of the car.
“Of course.” She put on a big smile but it faltered. God, she wished she would stop being so nervous. Be strong, confident, and smart she ordered herself. You’ve done this a dozen times before.
But not with a Blackmoore!
Okay, so that was true, but it didn’t change the premise. This was still just another job interview.
“I can do this,” she said to herself as she gazed up at the looming mansion.
“I’m sure you can, Ms. Shaw. Now if you’ll follow me.”
She was still blushing as she followed the man into the house. Just as she was about to ask what he was doing with her car, he let out a sharp whistle. A young man, looking hardly older than sixteen years seemingly hopped out of nowhere. He was in her car and pulling it away in a matter of seconds.
“Who was that and where’s he taking my car?” She couldn’t quite keep the edge out of her voice. That was her only mode of transportation, if anything happened to it…
“Ms. Shaw, I wouldn’t concern yourself. That is Yussef, the valet. I assure you he has seen much nicer cars and he did not steal those. Your car is well in hand.”
Snarky old man. Felicity smiled for the first time since she got the phone call.
He led her past a gorgeous white spiral staircase. Two smooth, square beams stood along either side of the lip of staircase. The dark wooden handrails looked smooth and freshly polished.
Her older shoes clicked along the polished white floor. Diagonally placed tiles of white and cream layered the floor. The touch was subtle but made the floors jump out. All Felicity could see, as she glanced at the waist-high vases, the hutch opposite the vases, the paintings on the walls, were dollar signs. The Blackmoores spared no expensive in having the best of the best.
The man, she suspected was Ian from the phone call, led her to a room. In here the floors were wooden planked and also layered diagonally. The room gave her the impression of woods, earthiness—a masculine room.
Ian bowed without a word then withdrew to leave her alone.
At the click of the door, she stood alone in the room, which instantly made her aware of how quiet it was. No radio played classical music in the background, certainly no kids ran around the house screaming. No television or secret arguments, just silence.
Felicity walked further into the room. It was a big enough to have two stories and did. Wooden beams layered the ceiling like the lattice on top of a pie. To her right, just inside the doorway, were wooden arches, six in all. On a platform up above was a small railing with another smaller room up there. Somewhere a staircase must go up there so you could look down on where she stood.
“Holy hell,” she said at the sight.
There was a fireplace but no fire had been lit. In fact, it looked impeccably clean as if it’d never been used. An intricate wooden frame was made around it that came halfway up the wall in pointed designs that reminded her of the tops of the gate outside. Pointy and sharp like a warning.
Felicity paced in front of a buttery brown leather couch in front of the cold fireplace.
Little did she know, she was being watched.
