Lure of the Blood Read online

  Evernight Publishing

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2011 Doris O'Connor

  ISBN: 978-1-927368-10-7

  Cover Artist: LF Designs

  Editor: JC Chute

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  With thanks to my long suffering and ever supportive husband, who believed in this story from the moment I first mentioned the idea to him.

  And to the UCW girls, you rock!

  LURE OF THE BLOOD

  Doris O'Connor

  Copyright © 2011

  Chapter One

  Adjusting her mask and pulling the silk gloves up higher on her toned arms, Marnie took a deep breath. She could do this. The mask afforded anonymity, and she sure could do with the money. Putting herself through law school had proven more expensive than she first thought, and even with the student loan, she was struggling. So when Ellie had suggested Marnie join her at the exclusive pole-dancing club, she had jumped at the chance.

  “Those boobs you keep hiding will rake in the tips, you’ll see. And the boss runs a tight ship. No funny business allowed––unless you want it, of course.”

  She certainly did not want any funny business. There had been plenty of offers over the last three months, but none she’d been remotely interested in, until now

  The familiar beat of her number rolled over her. Taking another, deeper breath she sashayed on stage to the catcalls of a few regulars. Plastering a smile on her face and hooking one stocking-clad leg over her pole, she began to move. Slowly, sensually her hips undulated in time to the music and she shut her eyes, giving herself over to the moment. Her long chestnut hair cascaded, covering her face as she bent over seductively, showing her barely covered ass off to the wolf-whistling hoots of the stag party in front of her platform. She froze for just an instant. He was here. Slowly straightening up, she rolled her hips into the pole and risked another glance towards the table at the back, half set in shadow. His large hands nursed a straight scotch, though he never actually seemed to drink. They tightened for an instant as she cast a searching gaze upwards into the shadows, engulfing the mysterious man. But as usual she could only see his silhouette. He was tall, broad-shouldered and dark, judging by the smattering of black hair dusting strong forearms, one jeans-clad knee pulled over the other, as he sat back in the chair, watching her.

  Heat suffused her skin at the slow appraisal she could sense. All the fine hair on her body stood to attention, her nipples chafed against the confines of her basque, and her clammy hands slipped on the pole as she swung herself high, shuddering at the feel of the cool metal against her moist folds. One look was all it took to send her hormones into hyper drive. What was it about this stranger? He never made a move, and left the minute she finished her routine as mysteriously as he appeared. In fact, if Ellie hadn’t commented on her admirer and her body didn’t react in such an embarrassingly obvious way whenever he was near, Marnie would have thought he was a figment of her overactive imagination.

  Her skin prickled wherever his gaze lingered. Her laboured breathing had nothing to do with the dance; the heat of arousal spread through her veins like molten lava, and she licked her dry lips. Hell’s bells! If she reacted like that to him across a crowded club, what would it be like if he ever asked for a private dance in one of the secluded booths? The mere thought made her miss her step and pain shot through her as her body connected with the pole a bit too forcefully. The breath whooshed out of her lungs. Shit! Concentrate, girl.

  Teetering over in her thigh-high stiletto boots would give the leering stag party attendees a good eyeful, but there was only one lap she wanted to end up in, and he never made a move, damn him, no matter how outrageous her dancing became.

  For two long, agonising weeks, Mr. Sexy-and-Mysterious had watched her from the shadows, having her slowly dissolve into a bag of needful drool every night, yet she was no closer to knowing who he was.

  Ellie had just shaken her head, when Marnie asked if she knew who he was. The boss had tapped his nose, his grey eyes narrowing as he looked her up and down.

  “Sweetie, trust me, his kind are bad news. Pray he keeps his distance.”

  “What if I don’t want him to?” Marnie had asked, eliciting a surprised gasp from Ellie and a deep sigh from the man in front of her.

  “Be careful what you wish for. A good girl like you would never be a match for him.”

  A good girl! Hah. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe she was just fed up with being a good girl. Maybe all she needed was a good seeing-to. Ellie had warned her that dancing every night would arouse her latent sexuality. Whether it was the atmosphere, the skimpy clothing, the obvious male admiration, or the actual dance, who knew? Marnie laughed it all off, even as she started to look forward to her sessions at the club, increasing them from twice a week to almost every night. After all, what else did she have to do? Her flat

  was lonely and cold and there was only so much studying a girl could do. Still, she had never been tempted to take it further with any of the customers, not until he walked in.

  With one last hip roll and swing around the pole, the music stopped and she bent down to pick up the bills slung on the stage by the young men, stuffing them into her cleavage. She sashayed away, feeling dejected. She didn’t need to look across to know that he had left.

  “Cheer up, hun. All that cash ought to put a smile on your face.”

  Marnie shrugged her shoulders and made herself smile at the bleached blonde, expertly applying her lipstick in the mirror of the dressing room. Louisa was one of the oldest, most experienced dancers at Pleasures of the night and her private dances were always booked out. Marnie was pretty sure dancing wasn’t the only thing she did, if the different men she went home with every night were any indication. Not that it was any of her business. And didn’t Marnie long to be taken home just once by her Mr. Mysterious? Pressing her legs together in a vain attempt to relieve the ache that dancing in front of his heated gaze always left her with, she pulled her mask off in disgust at her traitorous body and rubbed her forehead.

  “Talking of cash,” Louisa’s hand on her shoulder made her look up into the feline eyes watching her intently, “we are short one for the private booths and I’m overbooked as it is. I know you don’t normally do them, but do you think you could help us out? Boss said you wouldn’t, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

  “I don’t know. I was going to have an early night.”

  Louisa’s knowing laugh made Marnie wince. “Moping over him isn’t going to help, sugar. You’re so wired right now, you’ll never get to sleep. Get him out of your system by dancing for some of the old codgers the boss has lined up, and earn yourself some extra readies. It’ll be fun, you’ll see and you know they can’t touch, so go on. Beats going home and moping over him.”

  “I’m not moping, it’s just––”

  “I know sugar, I know. We’ve all been there at some point, and he’s a piece of yum, all right. He must have come back into town. Haven’t seen him in years––not since after the last…well, never mind. You don’t need to worry over it. Just surprised the boss is letting him in. So, how about it? Gonna help us out, here?”

  Marnie agreed and for the most part it all went smoothly, apart from one punter who hadn’t managed
to keep his hands to himself at all.

  Marnie shuddered, pulling her coat around herself a bit tighter against the unexpected chill of the night air. The bouncers did their job admirably, and it had been the boss himself who chucked the middle-aged, drunk businessman out into the street with a terse, “Don’t ever bother coming back here!” But not before his swear words and look of sheer hatred burned a shameful hole in Marnie’s mind and an icy fist of foreboding clamped itself around her insides. She shrunk away from the look of sheer fury on the boss’s face when he whirled towards her with an almost wolf-like growl, his fierce eyes glowing in the dim interior light.

  Glowing eyes… Marnie shook her head at her fanciful imagination and walked a bit faster. This wasn’t the Twilight Zone, for pity’s sake. She was just tired and pissed off that she had missed the last bus and there wasn’t a taxi to be had for at least another half an hour. It would only take fifteen minutes to walk home. She liked walking, after all, and the streets were deserted this time of night.

  The yank on her hair came from nowhere. Her scream of surprise was cut off by one cruel hand clamped over her mouth, as she found herself pulled into an alley and slammed against a wall. Her head connected with the wall with a sickening thud and when her vision cleared, she was pressed against the pudgy

  body of none other than Mr. Can’t-Keep-His-Hands-To-Himself from earlier. Judging by the nauseating stench of alcohol assaulting her and the glassy eyes raking her over, he had continued drinking elsewhere. One hand now had a surprisingly strong grip on her throat, whilst the other was fondling her breast through her coat. Bile and terror rose in Marnie’s gut in equal measure.

  “Let’s see how brave you are away from the bouncers, eh? You owe me, you whore! You lot think you can parade yourselves in front of me all night and not pay the price. Well, think again. I’m taking what’s mine, right now! I paid enough for it.”

  Oh, good lord. Spots danced in front of her eyes with the lack of oxygen and the cool night air hit her skin when he ripped her coat open with alcohol-fuelled strength.

  “No, please…” Marnie’s agonised whisper was lost in the manic laugh of her assailant. She screwed her eyes shut as his hand travelled down her body, cupping her sex in a painful grip.

  The whoosh of air and the low male growl were the only warning–– before she even managed to draw much-needed air into her lungs, her attacker went flying through the air. Another blur, and the sickening sounds of tearing flesh, crunching bones and the fluid-filled gurgle of her attacker filled the alley. When she finally managed to get her breathing under control, the stillness was deafening and the cool hand under her chin made her gasp.

  Moss-green eyes in a face as pale as the moon were boring into her, the dark brows a stark contrast to the luminous skin under the slightly unruly mob of jet black hair. The man towered over her and she swallowed nervously, taking in the width of those enormous shoulders and the ribbed muscles she could feel pressing against her bare skin, where his body was holding her up against the wall.

  Her skin warmed where his eyes roamed briefly over her exposed torso, before he stepped back and pulled her coat firmly around her.

  “Steady, chere. I’ve got you. He’s not going to bother you again. Can you walk?”

  The deep, slightly accented voice sent all her nerve endings a-tingle and awareness slammed into her with the full force of a sledgehammer.

  “Wh…who are you?”

  “Lucas de Torneau, at your service. Now, let’s get you home.”

  Before Marnie could say anything else, the mysterious stranger cupped her face in his hands and she lost herself in the deeply hypnotic quality of those moss-green eyes, the strange warmth spreading through her body a direct contrast to the coolness seeping from his skin.

  “Sleep, mon chere, and when you wake up, you will not remember this.”

  Chapter Two

  The insistent hammering against the door of her tiny flat

  finally broke through Marnie’s sleep-fogged brain.

  What the hell?

  Ellie’s almost hysterical shriek, accompanying the hammering, did little to help the pounding in her head.

  “For the love of God, are you in there? Open the goddamn door, Marnie. Marnie! Oh please, God, you’ve got to be ok. Marnie!”

  Sheesh, what had gotten into her? Pulling the covers back, Marnie was shocked to discover she was naked. She never slept in the nude… and why on earth was she covered in bruises? Opening her mouth to assure Ellie she was coming brought another surprise. What had happened to her voice? Putting one hand to her neck, the whole area felt tender and bruised and she had the mother of all sore throats. Padding gingerly to the bathroom for a robe to cover herself with, she paused to gawp in the mirror. Good Lord!

  She looked as though she had gone nine rounds with Mike Tyson. There was an ugly bruise on her cheekbone, her throat was red and swollen and there were clear finger marks on her arms. A large area of her torso was also tender, and turning around she could see matching bruises on her back. What on earth had happened to her?

  More furious pounding made her jump and before Ellie could break the door down, Marnie managed to open it. Her friend all but fell into the room and promptly pulled her into a tight hug, which served to demonstrate that her ribs were also sore. Oh, just great.

  “Thank God, I was going frantic out there. What the hell happened to you? Good lord, you were there, weren’t you? Did that bastard do that to you? We have to phone the police now. No matter what the boss says, you’re a witness.”

  Marnie’s head hurt too much to take any of this in. Shutting the door on her curious neighbour’s face, she motioned for Ellie to be quiet and sat back down on her bed with a thump.

  “What on earth are you going on about, Ellie? Did something happen last night? Why on earth would I call the police and for the love of God, stop shouting and sit down. You’re making me dizzy.”

  In answer Ellie sat down next to her and wordlessly handed her the paper, her worried eyes roaming over her, widening as they rested on her throat.

  Mutilated body of businessman James Worthing found in alleyway. Police appealing for witnesses. Animal attack cannot be ruled out.

  The smiling face of one of the club’s regulars was staring back at Marnie and bile rose in her throat as an ice-cold shiver went down her spine.

  “You think this has something to do with me, Ellie?”

  “The boss thinks so. He sent me over here to make sure you’re ok. Seems you and this Worthing fellow had a disagreement last night and the boss banned him from the club. Now he’s dead and you, well, just look at you.”

  “You don’t think I did this, do you?”

  Marnie held the newspaper up, not really seeing the writing anymore through the blur of sudden tears.

  “Of course we don’t think you did that, but you must have been there. Look at your injuries. What happened, Marnie?”

  “I…I have no idea. God, Ellie, I cannot remember a thing about last night.”

  ****

  The two men glared at each other across the small room.

  “Next time, do you think you could clear up after yourself, Lucas? For fuck’s sake, I had the police sniffing around all morning. Thank God, Louisa agreed to speak to them, claiming she was the dancer he was trying to feel

  up.”

  Lucas’ low growl in response made Ion stop his pacing and stare at his old friend.

  “If you hadn’t let her leave on her own, none of this would have happened, shifter.”

  “And if you learned to clear up after your mess it wouldn’t, either. How is she?”

  “The human is fine; she’ll hurt, that’s all, but at least she’s alive, no thanks to you.”

  Lucas stared Ion down, the fury shimmering under his skin. He could still smell her; her blood had called him, his scent imprinted on him forever, making him wish for things that could never be. He had felt her fear like a physical ache, only matched by his own, which
had spurred him on. He had reached her just in time, before the bastard could do any worse to her.

  “I was more concerned with getting her home and away from there, Channing. And before you ask, she won’t remember a thing. What you choose to tell her is up to you. Just keep me out of it.”

  Ion’s low laugh had him clenching his fists.

  “That’s why you have been sniffing around her like a dog in heat the last couple of weeks, Lucas? Because you want to keep out of it? She has been asking after you. I told her not to bother with the likes of you and I tell you now, leave her alone.”

  “Or what? Are you threatening me? Want her for yourself? Didn’t work out so well last time, did it?”

  The wolfish snarl of the shape-shifter made him grimace, whilst crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the wall.

  “She would have come around, had you not interfered. You’re as much to blame for what happened with Zoe, if not more so. And I’m not interested in Marnie like that. Humans are too damn fragile, for starters. This one has spunk. I give you that. But she’s one of my girls and there is no way I let her get hurt, by you or anyone.”

  “Spare me the concerned employer act. You care so much you let the girl walk home, after what happened. I told you the guy wasn’t stable. You should have thrown him out weeks ago. Guess your profits come before your concerns about your girls after all.”

  He dodged the punch flying towards him with lightning speed.

  “Nice try, wolf. Try harder next time. It’s broad daylight and I’m still faster than you.”

  The approaching heartbeat made him freeze at the same time as Ion’s nose went in the air catching her scent. What the hell was she doing here? She ought to be at home resting. With the fluid grace of his species, Ion jumped across the desk to sit behind it. Lucas merged into the shadows as the door flew open with a burst of sunshine and Marnie stepped into the room.