Blade dropped his tailcoat in her lap, his look cautioning her not to comment.
Vexley lay back, one arm bent under his head, the other fondling the succubus kissing her way up his neck. He watched Camilla get situated, eyes slitted as he slipped a hand down the front of his lover’s pants.
“Crawling back so soon, darling?”
“I know you’re playing Lennox’s game.”
Camilla had been wondering what Vexley’s clues might have been and had a sinking suspicion she knew exactly what he’d needed to find.
“What was your first clue?”
Still fully clothed, the succubus climbed on top of him, grinding against his arousal to reclaim his attention. Wonderful. They were going to fornicate right there.
“Vexley,” Camilla hissed.
He paid her no mind. The succubus pulled his erection out, her gaze hungry.
Vexley grabbed Nyghtshade’s bottom, squeezing and kneading, his focus entirely diverted. He slapped her leather-clad rump with a flat palm, lips quirked on one side.
“Take these off, love. Then hop up and ride me backward.”
“Vexley,” Camilla said more loudly. “Stop.”
Nyghtshade’s clothing vanished from one blink to the next, her tail whipping back and forth like a cobra being charmed from its basket. She flipped around, then sank onto Vexley’s less-than-impressive erection, giving him an unobstructed view of her bottom and that tail as she began bouncing up and down along his length.
Camilla was completely taken off guard at the sight, but Vexley wasn’t at all concerned. As if it were commonplace to take someone with a forked tail to bed. In front of an audience.
He grabbed the tail, winding it around his fist like rope. Or a length of hair. Then thrust up, fucking the succubus with vigor.
May the gods be merciful and burn the image from my mind, Camilla silently begged.
Unsurprisingly, no divine interference arrived, wiping that hellish scene from her memory. Camilla wished to be anywhere but sitting there. And Blade looked like he felt the same. His lip curled back as he shook his head.
“Vexley,” Camilla gritted out. “What was the first clue you needed to solve?”
He rolled his eyes.
“I had to get the key.”
Time seemed to freeze. And if it hadn’t been for that horrid wet noise and Vexley’s grunts, Camilla would have thought time had frozen.
“My key?” she asked, her voice rising.
Vexley gave her an annoyed look.
“Honestly, Camilla. Let it go. It’s just a key.”
My father’s portal key.
Just as she’d suspected. She moved without thought, knocking the succubus off the lord, her hands fitted around his throat.
“How could you! We had a deal.”
Camilla wasn’t that strong, but she was furious and had taken the lord by surprise.
Vexley thrashed, bucking wildly, but she held on, intent on murdering the idiot. If he’d given the key to a Fae, there was little hope of her ever retrieving it.
“Where is it?” she demanded, hands digging into his flesh. “Do you still have it?”
“No,” he spit out. “I gave it to a contact in the dark market for my next clue.”
Vexley went to hit her, but Blade’s hand clamped around his fist.
“Do not put your hands on her, mortal.”
Vexley glowered but dropped his hands. “Get her the bloody hell off me, then.”
Blade hauled Camilla to her feet.
But Camilla knew exactly where the key would have ended up. In the game master’s wretched claws. She went to dive for Vexley again.
“Stop,” Blade growled low in her ear. “You’re drawing—”
“Tsk, tsk. You know the rules, Blade. Dinner is a time for fucking, not fighting.”
The voice was temptation, desire, seduction, and death knitted together.
And it was entirely too close.
Lips brushed against Camilla’s neck, a cool balm against the warm room. Her body wanted to lean into it, while her mind screamed to run.
“It’s under control, Your Highness. The female was jealous. An emotion to be expected considering who she was with earlier.”
Blade’s tone was almost as hard as the grip he had on her arm. He was subtly trying to pull her farther away from the prince.
“We were just leaving.”
“Actually,” the seductive voice murmured, “there is a matter you need to see to. Now.”
Blade’s grip tightened, the pain a lifeline Camilla clung to.
“I’ll see her to her—”
“She stays.”
Zarus’s command brooked no argument.
And suddenly Blade was leaving her here, with him. Death.
Camilla watched as Blade inclined his head, then left without a backward glance. He’d warned her he’d toss her to the wolves if it meant saving himself.
Her throat tightened as she glanced around, searching for a glass of wine to help dull the vampire prince’s appeal.
Cool fingers wrapped around her wrist, drawing her nearer. Her body instantly forgot why it wanted to dull his appeal, why it would ever wish not to fully experience this feeling.
Beyond passion, beyond lust, there was no name to give the sensations his touch alone provoked. If he should kiss or bite her… Camilla felt boneless as she sank against a hard chest. Cold and smooth like marble. And just as still. No heartbeat thudded. Nothing but venom flowed through his veins.
A chair appeared, or perhaps it was a throne.
One moment Camilla was on her feet, the next she was perched on the vampire prince’s knee. A mere brush of his fingertips had rendered her body under his full control.
In the distance the slow pounding of a drum began, the tempo akin to his missing heartbeat. She looked blankly out at the chamber, her senses addled the longer she remained in the vampire’s arms. Whatever had seduced her clearly impacted everyone else, too.
Everywhere she turned, couples gave in to their desires. Males pleasured males, females pleasured each other, and mixed groups kissed and bit and sucked whoever caught their fancy.
Humans slashed their own flesh, allowing multiple vampires to lick and caress them.
Never killing, only tasting, pleasuring.
Blood lust took on a whole new meaning in the vampire court.
Camilla didn’t realize that the prince’s lips hovered along her throat until he pulled her closer, his hands skimming her shoulders, brushing her hair aside.
She struggled to remember why she needed to be alert. A game, a clue…
Camilla vaguely remembered what Blade had said about not appearing seduced by the prince’s touch alone. She tried to remain alert, to tense.
To behave as if she were fearful and not yearning.
His breath was on her neck, his tongue so close to her skin. Envy had said a mere lick could cause her to come. She fought as hard as she could with her mind, trying to twitch even one finger, blink one eye. Anything to prove she was stronger than this.
Zarus’s fingers angled her chin, tilting until her neck begged to be suckled.
A shiver finally shot down her spine. In pleasure, not fear. But she hoped the vampire prince couldn’t tell the difference.
She mentally cried out for a miracle, for anything.
His mouth came down on her, fangs scraping along her skin, sending cold fire as he punctured—