Final Chance

Final Chance—Tarot: Seven of Pentacles By Amy O’Connor

The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal, and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Final Chance—Tarot: Seven of Pentacles Copyright © 2005 Amy O’Connor Cover art and design by Martine Jardin All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher. Published by eXtasy Books, a division of Zumaya Publications, 2005 Look for us online at: www.zumayapublications.com www.extasybooks.com

Tarot Card: Seven of Pentacles A fortunate card, but an unexciting one, the Seven of Pentacles symbolizes a slow but sure progression towards your goal: hard work and unremitting effort will help you achieve success. In its reverse position it’s a warning against taking the easy way out. Don’t rush things!

Amy O'Connor

“R

oses?” “Yes, sir. On an occasion as auspicious as tonight promises to be, nothing other than roses could possibly suffice.” Mathew stared across the room, fascinated. His valet was actually vibrating in satisfaction. He could only assume he’d meant to sound important. It was a shame he was only twelve inches tall, really, because it was hard to take the reedy little voice seriously. “Red roses, I presume?” Mathew asked. “But of course.” The valet looked up, his brow even more furrowed than normal. “Ah! Now I see, sir. You were jesting. Blood-red roses are simply—” He sighed. “—suitable.” Mathew attempted a weak smile. The prat was driving him insane. Perhaps that had been his mother’s plan when she’d insisted he take Frederick along with him on his hunt for a bride. If he was buried under protocols, weighed down by what he could—and could not—do, then surely he’d simply give up. Or not. Mother had obviously underestimated just how seriously he was taking this one last chance to save

1

Final Chance: Seven of Pentacles

his soul. While he’d been contemplating the ceiling, Frederick was bustling around the room, smoothing non-existent wrinkles in his perfectly pressed coat, rearranging the revolting gold-and-silver backed brushes his father had given him for his twohundredth birthday. Could the man—he mentally corrected himself, gnome—never stand still? There was probably a rule against it in the ‘how to be a perfect valet’ handbook. “Blood-red roses? But what sort of blood?” Mathew steepled his fingers, refusing to meet his valet’s scandalized gaze. “Arterial blood is such a lovely bright red. A cheerful color. The blood from the veins, however…” He licked his lips, purposely baring a single fang just to see Frederick shudder in horror. Frederick. What kind of name was that for a gnome anyway? “Sir?” Frederick’s voice wavered even more than usual. Mathew closed his eyes. “It’s so...luscious. Totally different. Thick, flavorsome…Mmmm.” His body tightened at the thought, every cell suddenly screaming for nourishment. He couldn’t help wondering just how decadently rich Sophie’s blood would taste as it rushed down his throat. He’d sink his fangs in her neck and his cock— He sat up abruptly, forcing his mind away from the frantic beat of Frederick’s heart. It was too long since he’d fed, and if he wasn’t more careful he’d be

2

Amy O'Connor

having Frederick for a pre-dinner snack. And that would not be good for his already-tarnished soul. He stood up, his eyes swiveling to follow his valet’s crab-scuttle around the edge of the room. Frederick was eyeing him as warily as he would a hungry tiger. He smiled, knowing the flickering candlelight would gleam on his fangs, then stalked from the room. Occasionally Frederick needed a reminder of just who was the predator—and who was the prey. **** Arrogant ass! Frederick hovered above the dresser, flicking a duster over its already immaculate surface. Here he was, a thirteenth generation valet, and he was reduced to serving the dregs of vampire society. He paused thoughtfully. Maybe that wasn’t quite fair. Mathew was the first son of one of the oldest existing families. One of the richest families, too. It was just his attitude that grated. Instead of showing proper gratitude at being blessed with his—Frederick’s— superior skills, he simply refused to acknowledge that there were some things Frederick knew best. Such as how to woo a suitable bride. He shuddered at the way Mathew had been dressed when he left the house. Skintight black leather trousers and an equally revealing black silk shirt. Admittedly it was rather dramatic against his lightly tanned skin and midnight black hair, but it was so… so… 3

Final Chance: Seven of Pentacles

Tacky! Frederick shook his head, gazing sorrowfully towards the door. He’d lay odds the blasted vampire hadn’t even bothered with the mandatory floorlength, black velvet cape. He hated to imagine what the other valets were thinking about Mathew’s amazing lack of sartorial elegance. If things continued as they were, he’d never be able to show his face at the Gentleman’s Gentleman again. Frederick sighed. He was going to miss the easy camaraderie of his club, and where else would he find such a font of wisdom when it came to handy tips for removing lipstick stains, or the best way to freshen a moldy coffin? On the other hand… If Mathew didn’t find his bride before the next full moon, he’d lose any chance of regaining his soul. Vampires all had a time limit, and Mathew’s was only a week away. If they failed, most vampires chose to walk out into the dawn rather than live without hope. Chances were that Mathew would be the same. Perhaps he could simply tell his peers that Mathew had gone insane a little earlier than usual? That would explain many things— including Mathew’s ridiculously stubborn attitude when it came to taking his valet’s advice. “I’ll pay you well.” The smooth female voice echoed out of nowhere. His dust rag fluttered untidily to the floor. “Good evening, Madam,” he intoned, stooping surreptitiously to pick up the evidence of his shock. It

4

Amy O'Connor

never did to let the older vampires know you were the slightest bit afraid of them. It amused them, and for a perpetually bored vampire to suddenly find something amusing was a very scary thing. Literally. “I wouldn’t mind at all if Mathew was unable to convince the human to marry him, you understand.” The voice was disembodied. Apparently, Mathew’s mother simply couldn’t be bothered to materialise. He was only a valet after all, Frederick thought narkily. Not worth the bother… “Madam?” Her voice turned syrupy. “I’m quite sure you wouldn’t mind if he ceased to exist next week,” she continued. “That way, his terrible habits couldn’t hurt your reputation.” “No, madam.” What exactly was she getting at? “Idiot!” She sounded somewhat complacent; he guessed she was still reading his mind. “Simply ensure that he doesn’t marry, then he’ll be out of your way.” Her voice began to fade. “He’ll be out of my way too…” “Yes, madam.” There was no response. She was gone. Damned vampires! He really hated the way they popped in and out of his thoughts whenever they pleased. Still, he could see her point. With Mathew out of the way, his mother could groom her youngest son for the role of head of the family. Young Gerard was sure to allow her to behave however she liked. It would be a bloodbath, of course.

5

Final Chance: Seven of Pentacles

He sighed contentedly. Just like the old days… **** Mathew could hear the thumping bass beat emanating from Sophie’s club several blocks before he arrived. As usual, the queue of eager patrons stretched several hundred feet, snaking its way down the street and around the corner. He had no idea how he’d managed to fall for someone so popular, but he had. Pretty and popular. It sounded like a corny song from the 1950s, but it was unfortunately just how she was. Every night, men fawned over her, and every night, she turned them away with her trademark good humor. All except him, that was. Sophie seemed as fascinated by him—the mysterious dark stranger— as he was fascinated by her openly sunny personality. It wasn’t, of course, like he played up to her interest in the mystery man… Not half! He had to force himself to wipe a cocky grin from his face as he stalked up the steps, pausing briefly as the bouncer lifted the heavy gold rope to allow him entry. He’d never had to queue—as a rule, vampires didn’t anyway—but Sophie had placed him on the persona grata list on his very first night at the club. As soon as he’d spotted her interest, he’d played the role of the tall, alluring stranger to the hilt. He wanted her so addled with her need for him that she wouldn’t have cared if he’d announced that, actually, he was an alien from the planet Zircosta. Not that he was, of course. 6

Amy O'Connor

But he didn’t think ‘vampire’ was that much different when it came to pure weirdness. Addled with need? He let out the knowingly sexy smile that was begging for freedom. A tall blonde who was all lipstick and legs, and otherwise barely dressed, practically fainted as his eyes drifted past her. He totally ignored her, his thoughts firmly focused on the woman he was waiting to meet. To need him? Hell, no! He wanted his Sophie crosseyed with lust. One night at a time, for several months now, he’d been working his way into her confidence. She was his second attempt at saving his soul. The first had been over a hundred and fifty years previously, and he’d made a right royal mess of it. He’d been so desperate to save himself that he’d rushed the woman. She, of course, had freaked. He’d been forced to wipe her memories of him. Sophie was his last chance, and he would not be pushing her to accept his dark nature too quickly. But tonight, tonight he would make love to her for the very first time. Well… Maybe not exactly. Vampires fucked. They didn’t do anything as wussy as ‘making love’ and he really, really hoped she liked things on the rough side. He wouldn’t allow himself to believe anything else. One step at a time, and tonight’s ‘task’ was to fuck her senseless. Right… He shook his head at his thoughts, only vaguely aware of another woman falling victim to his smile. 7

Final Chance: Seven of Pentacles

Who cared? She wasn’t Sophie, and unlike the woman of two centuries ago, he actually wanted Sophie for more than her soul-saving potential. He bit his lip. That was so un-vampire-like. When it came to women, he was used to thinking with his cock, not his heart. They were a source of sustenance, a handy food supply, and he couldn’t usually make himself see them any differently to how he’d see a cow or a puppy. Simply put, humans were a step or two lower on the evolutionary ladder. But Sophie… Music surrounded him as he pushed aside the final door. The dance floor was dark, barely illuminated by flashing orange lights and the occasional piercing white strobe. Bodies pulsed and throbbed in time with the amazing sound. The noise was horrific—and strangely inspiring. As he set foot on the vibrating floor, he let his body begin to move with the rhythm. Despite the noise, his senses were assailed by the sound of a thousand heartbeats. He swayed to their rhythm, adjusting his steps as he threaded his way through the crowd. There was only one heartbeat he wanted to hear tonight. Hands stretched above his head, eyes closed, he flowed between the bodies, his hips rolling with sensual urgency. He needed Sophie. It was unlike any need he’d ever felt before. Then he heard it. Her heartbeat. Her breath. Even in amongst all these people he could pick the unique rhythms of her body. Unerringly, he danced his way through the crowd.

8

Amy O'Connor

Like a parting ocean, they rippled away in front, closing in again behind him. Not a soul touched him, and he did it without even trying. He was so focused on Sophie that the rest of the world simply became… irrelevant. **** “Roses.” Frederick stroked his smoothly shaven chin thoughtfully. “Roses.” He was too worried about the future to spare any thought to the fact he was talking to an empty room. It wasn’t like he could just set out to purposely ruin Mathew’s chances with the human woman—if he did that, no other vampire would employ him. On the other hand, if he didn’t do something to stop the fast-blooming relationship, then he’d be equally ruined. There was a limit to how unorthodox an employer’s dress could be. “That’s it! Roses!” He jumped up and bolted from the room. Mathew hadn’t precisely disagreed about sending the human roses, therefore Frederick would only be doing his job... **** The instant Mathew crossed the threshold, Sophie had known. It would have been nice to say there was something totally cosmic about how she knew. She smiled at her own whimsy. Admitting that the 9

Final Chance: Seven of Pentacles

bouncer on the sidewalk had buzzed her just didn’t sound quite so romantic. And romantic was exactly what Mathew had always been. He’d never pawed her ass on the flimsiest pretext; he hadn’t groped a boob and proceeded to blame it on the jostling of the crowd. No, Mathew had kept his distance, seemingly worshipping her from afar. He’d given her the occasional gift, taken her out for a perfect dinner at least once a week and, more times than she could count, he’d graced her with the slow, sexy smile that could melt chocolate at a hundred yards. He was the perfect lover. Almost. She glanced at her watch, an ear cocked to the pulsing beat outside her office door. Mathew loved to dance, and his body was made to look at. Watching him shimmy across the dance floor had to be right up there as one of the wonders of the modern world. Every woman on the floor stopped as he passed, practically drooling in lust. He may have been good for business, but she could no longer stand watching otherwise rational human beings turn into mush as he passed. He was her man and… Sophie pursed her lips. Jealousy was so beneath her, but it really hurt to watch them attempting to crawl all over him. He was hers! Well, at least he would be hers if she could ever get him to drop the gentlemanly behavior. Just once, she wanted more than a kiss. She wanted to take him

10

Amy O'Connor

home with her and see exactly what he was hiding under his too-sexy black clothing. Really, how many men could get away with wearing skintight leather pants without looking plain ridiculous? He just looked…good. No, he looked great. She licked suddenly dry lips. If he looked like that dressed, she’d bet he was simply spectacular when he was naked. Her heart rate couldn’t help but speed up at the thought of him in the buff. Was he all toned muscle, or was there a little bit of softness hidden away under the silk? And was his skin the same light honey all over? If it was, did that mean he sunbathed in the nude? She shook her head at herself. Obviously, she needed to get laid, and if her dry lips and correspondingly wet panties were any indicator of the situation, she needed it to be with him. No other man had ever managed to hold her in the same thrall. The first time he’d kissed her... Well, to say the heavens had moved wouldn’t have been overstating the case. Caught in a thunderstorm, they’d been sheltering under a restaurant canopy, waiting for a cab. She’d been standing close to him, trying to avoid the muddy water splashed up by the passing cars, when he’d opened his coat and tucked her snugly into its folds. His scent had surrounded her, overwhelmed her, and she’d rested her head against his chest, content to listen to his heartbeat competing with the escalating thunderstorm only a few feet away. His heartbeat had won the battle, the heat from his

11

Final Chance: Seven of Pentacles

body enveloping her in a soothing darkness. She’d let her eyes drift closed and had been barely aware of the possessive way his head lowered over hers. The faint rasp of his beard stubble against her hair had made her sigh, then within seconds he’d tipped her chin up and his mouth had settled on hers. The torrential rain may as well have been a mile away for all the attention she’d paid it. What had started as a simple kiss, a mere brushing of their lips, quickly became fierce. It had been almost as if he couldn’t help himself, couldn’t hold back any longer. His tongue had teased and darted, licking along the crease of her lips. And as soon as she’d opened to him, he’d taken over. There’d been no question of it being an ‘equal’ kiss. It wasn’t even as if he’d taken the lead. Mathew had simply taken what she’d offered, first exploring, then claiming her mouth with his lips and tongue. He’d stolen her breath, given her back his, then demanded even more. Sophie had melted helplessly against him, her heart beat racing in time with his. And that had been only the first kiss. Each time since had started out controlled, then just as quickly spiralled into an ever-growing inferno. The trouble with an inferno, of course, was that—eventually—it was bound to consume her. Hell! She wanted it to consume her. And she wanted it to consume her now! Waiting for him to make the first move wasn’t easy. Sophie had never been afraid to take the lead before but –

12

Amy O'Connor

There was something different about Mathew. Straight away, she’d recognised him as a loner, someone who was as unused to real passion as she was. He seemed almost afraid of it, not in a vulnerable way, but somehow awed. For whatever reason, she’d respected that. She’d been willing to wait. The music outside the door changed, a slow melody taking over from the more frenetic beats of the past few hours. It was almost as if… Nah. She shook her head, self-consciously tucking a loose strand of hair back in her chignon. Mathew may have been different to the average run-of-the-mill man but even he couldn’t control the music. It could be nothing other than a coincidence. A brisk knock shook her out of her daydreams. Whether he’d manipulated the music or not, he was finally here. **** Mathew’s jaw dropped. He couldn’t help but stare at the goddess who opened the door to him. Yes, it was a nightclub and, as such, eveningwear was de rigueur. But the dress Sophie had chosen to wear tonight was…spectacular. There was no other word for it. He’d always realised she was a good looking woman, but he’d never in all honesty thought she could be quite so delicious dressed in a simple red sheath dress.

13

Final Chance: Seven of Pentacles

Not that there was anything plain about the dress. Oh, no! It clung under her breasts and the bodice consisted of little more than a few soft folds of the fine material. Just the way her chest rose and fell as she breathed teased him with the idea that her nipples were almost in reach—and almost revealed with every tiny movement. The dress fell elegantly to the floor, her legs lost in a swirl of fabric. There was something almost unbearably sexy about the bright red polish he glimpsed on the toes that peeked out from her sandals. The fabric clung snugly to her hips and bottom, though, and he couldn’t help looking hard at her ass. He was quite certain she wasn’t wearing a bra—the line of her breasts was too temptingly soft— and he couldn’t see a panty line. Did that mean she wasn’t wearing any underwear at all? His cock jumped to attention, straining against the tight-fitting leather of his trousers as he gulped in a ragged breath. Hot damn! If Sophie wasn’t dressed for seduction, well… She’d just better be planning on seducing him because, after seeing her like this, he doubted he could wait any longer! A gurgle of laugher pulled his attention back to Sophie. He forced his eyes upwards, an embarrassing heat reddening his cheeks. Had he really been ogling her body like a randy teenager? Geez! And he hadn’t even said ‘hello’ yet! She was trying to pout, but hard as she tried to look offended, her lips kept creasing into a

14

Amy O'Connor

mischievous smile. As usual, her hair was pulled smoothly back off her face, highlighting the sculpted line of her dark eyebrows. Her hair wasn’t nearly so dark as his, but it was the exact same color as real hot chocolate. Not the wishy-washy stuff that came out of a box, but the sort that was made by melting dark chocolate slowly over a stove, so rich that the milk had barely a chance to change the color of the liquid. Her eyes were nearly as deep a brown as her hair and, tonight, they were twinkling as she tried not to laugh. “You are so beautiful.” He blurted it out without thought, mortified as he heard the words echoing in the sudden silence. How daft! He was supposed to be taking it slow—not rushing her—and here he was acting like a love-struck puppy. Again… The opening chords of a new song broke through the tension and he relaxed as she smiled broadly. “Flatterer,” she chided, but he was certain she was pleased. Under the smooth makeup, her skin had a tinge of color he didn’t think had been there a few moments before. He raised his eyebrows. “Dance with me?” There was no question in his mind this time—she flushed an even prettier shade of pink as she accepted his outstretched hand. Grinning, Mathew nudged the office door closed behind them and whirled her out onto the dance floor. ****

15

Final Chance: Seven of Pentacles

Mathew loved to dance, adored the way the rhythm of a song would fill his body. It was somehow relaxing, yet exhilarating—and both at the same time. And it was one of the things Frederick had a problem with: he’d told Mathew over and over that vampires were not supposed to dance. They were creatures of the night, skulking dangerously through the shadows as they hunted their human prey. The very idea that Mathew’s woman was a human was anathema to Frederick. Of course, that hadn’t stopped him dancing with Sophie tonight. He knew Frederick didn’t approve—was tolerably certain that, actually, Frederick wished he’d either behave like a ‘proper’ vampire or disappear altogether—but he hadn’t expected him to actively undermine his efforts to seduce Sophie to his side either. It was probably a good thing he’d limited himself to a single dance. They’d come back from the dance floor—to this. Mathew looked broodingly across to where Sophie was standing in the doorway to her office, forcing his expression to lighten when she glanced up at him. According to Frederick, vampires brooded. Therefore Mathew made it a point not to. “How…?” She gestured vaguely in the direction of her office, her forehead furrowed. “We were only dancing for what—five minutes?” Mathew grimaced. He’d felt the surge of power while they were on the dance floor but hadn’t realised what had caused it until Sophie had tried to fetch her

16

Amy O'Connor

coat from her office afterwards. He had a fair idea now. It could only have been Frederick’s magic as he created this giant mess. Even from here, he could see roses spilling out of her half-opened door to fall in a lumpy crimson puddle about her feet. The color clashed with her dress… He shook his head at the ridiculous—and irrelevant—thought as he stalked across the room towards her. All that mattered right now was how he was going to explain something so improbable. If not with magic, how else would you cram what looked like several thousand flowers into an office, and all within full view of a roomful of people? “I can explain,” he said as he came up beside her. The sweet smell of roses filled the air. It was almost overpowering in the relatively confined space, totally drowning the usual cloying smell of three hundred hot bodies packed into a room, their colognes and perfumes blending into one horrible olfactory mess. Right now, all he could smell was roses. Lots of roses. He pushed the door wider with the toe of his boot, hardly surprised when it took some effort. Frederick was nothing other than thorough and if he meant to overwhelm Sophie with roses—the exact opposite of what Mathew wanted to do—then he would have provided however many roses he considered necessary. Mathew had expected to see a few dozen oversized floral arrangements, maybe even a fragrant pathway of de-thorned roses leading to Sophie’s desk.

17

Final Chance: Seven of Pentacles

That’s what he would have done. He wasn’t expecting the room to be four feet deep in loose roses. Every surface above that level was also covered. Even the ceiling fan had its own cascade draped over the top and intertwined in the blades. Damn! He turned back to Sophie, wondering if his smile looked as sickly as it felt. He’d never had to force himself to smile at her before. “Um…“ He cleared his throat, hoping to be hit with a miracle of inspiration in the next nanosecond. “That is so amazing!” Sophie flung her arms around him, dragging his head down to her face. He eyes were glowing, but he caught a glimpse of a suspiciously damp gleam in them before she buried her face in his shirt. “Oh, honey, don’t cry.” He patted her back awkwardly, unable to untangle her fingers from his shirt collar. “I’m sorry, I—“ A small fist thumped against his chest. He blinked, confused. “You big lunkhead!” She sniffled, then hit him again. “What are you apologizing for? No one’s ever done anything so beautiful for me before.” “Lunk-head?” He grasped the first thing that came to mind. He’d never been called ‘lunkhead’ before. Sophie nodded violently, her face still hidden in his damp shirt. He could feel her tears soaking right through to his skin. Humans cried when they were happy? Some things were just too weird…

18

Amy O'Connor

“So you’re—“he started. “Yes!” She looked up at him, the moisture in her eyes reflecting the overhead lights. It seemed there were stars in her eyes. He breathed a sigh of relief. All of a sudden he could hear her heart pounding, could feel the way it fluttered against his chest. He shifted position, pausing when she was settled snugly between his hips, his arms still wrapped around her shoulders. She fit him perfectly. A waft of her perfume teased at his nostrils. His own heart rate picked up pace in response. Disaster had been diverted. He wasn’t quite sure why, but he wasn’t about to look the proverbial gift horse in the mouth either. Sophie pushed closer, her hips unconsciously pressing into his groin. Sheer willpower kept his strangled groan from getting past his locked jaw. Did she have any idea what she was doing to him? He doubted it. Sophie nuzzled deeper into his shirt. Her breath was warm and damp and, despite the thin layer of black silk separating them, he felt her mouth against his skin. Her lips tickled the hairs on his chest. From somewhere deep under his skin, a vibration started spiraling outwards. One of her hands slid down his back. Her fingernails tugged lightly at the raw silk. Mathew stepped swiftly backwards, holding her safely at arm’s length, and stared down into a pair of sparkling eyes. She raised her eyebrows, mimicking

19

Final Chance: Seven of Pentacles

his early action. Sophie grinned. “Your place or mine?” “Perhaps dinner at—“ She spun on her heel and took two steps towards the exit before turning back to him, her voice dulcet sweet. “I don’t believe dinner was one of the options I gave you.” The little minx! Obviously, she had known what she was doing. And he’d thought humans were rather dull creatures who didn’t understand the nuances of… Ah, hell! He was starting to sound like Frederick. “My place,” he growled. He grabbed Sophie’s wrist and tugged her towards the exit. It was a shame she didn’t know she’d been taunting a vampire. Still, it could hardly be considered rushing her when she was the one who was trying to seduce him. Or could it? **** It was all she could do not to hum a happy little tune as Mathew hustled her into his car. Finally! Finally she’d convinced him that she really, truly wanted him. She flipped the makeup mirror down, ostensibly checking her lipstick. It was as good a way as any to sneak a peek at the man sitting so close beside her. Ever the gentleman, he’d handed her into the car before snatching his hand away. If he’d felt the same shock she had, there was little wonder he’d been so 20

Amy O'Connor

careful to keep his distance since. It wasn’t a large car, but he’d managed to avoid touching her. The way he was looking at her, though… She shivered. The heat in his eyes was tangible. She flipped the mirror closed as they pulled up at a red light. Her eyes had looked suspiciously similar. Absently, she stroked her fingers along the soft black leather of the seats. Did the man like everything to be black? She glanced up, only to catch his eyes locked on her fingers. His lips were parted. As she watched, his tongue darted out, moistening them. Her mind kicked into overdrive. That could be his tongue on her lips. She squirmed, an embarrassing dampness growing between her legs. The way all her blood was heading south, she figured she’d be lucky if there was any left to run her brain. Mathew raised his eyes. Slowly. They took in every square inch of her, lingering at her breasts. As she swallowed, his lips creased. Her nipples pebbled as she realised what he was staring at so avidly. Her breathing was ragged and each quivering lungful of air she drew in made her neckline slip tantalizingly lower. Man, he was making her hot. Her hand fluttered in her lap. One part of her wanted to pull her neckline up to somewhere more decent. Another part of her wanted to flaunt herself for him, to revel in his fascination.

21

Final Chance: Seven of Pentacles

“Don’t.” Mathew’s voice was hoarse. He swallowed. “Please.” A fresh trickle of liquid trailed onto her thigh. Knowing that this man could be so interested in her was unbearably arousing. She leant further back in the seat, her bodice gaping. “Spread your legs for me.” Okaaaaay. Her hesitation lasted only an instant. The throbbing in her pussy escalated as his eyes lifted to hers. She couldn’t refuse the hunger she saw there. With a sigh, she let her legs sprawl apart and her head loll back. She trembled as cooler air made its way under her skirt. How could she be this turned on when he hadn’t even touched her? Deliberately, she stared back at him from under heavy eyelids. The eerie red light that had filled the car for the past few minutes disappeared, replaced with pragmatic green as the lights changed. The car pulled smoothly forward, Mathew’s attention again focused wholly on the road. Or was it? She didn’t think she was imagining the rapid pulse she could see flicking at his neck. Sophie relaxed, her lips a satisfied curve. She’d hate to be the only one feeling this uncomfortable. **** Mathew fumbled with his keys, not realizing he was trying to force the wrong one into the lock until she 22

Amy O'Connor

laughed at him. It was a throaty husk that wrapped itself around his swollen balls and tugged. Hard. One long red fingernail looped the key ring from his hand and he stared, fascinated, as she glanced at the door before elegantly selecting a silver key from the large bunch. How had she…? He snatched the keys from her hand, uncaring. He just wanted to get her ass through the door and away from the prying eyes of the neighbors. It wasn’t hard to imagine lace curtains being twitched back from windows all over the sedate street. It was difficult, but he refused to look at her. He just knew she’d be smiling, a feminine smirk because she’d rattled him. Even as he inserted the key in the lock—finally!— he felt her fingernails tracing an idle design over his shoulder. Silk rasped over his skin. It wouldn’t be too much longer and it would be her fingers on his naked skin. He braced his legs further apart, one hand resting heavily on the doorframe. If his erection grew any more he’d be in dire trouble—there was only so much give in leather. A light tattoo drummed on his forearm. Instantly his imagination saw her drumming those same red fingernails against his naked back as she writhed under him, inciting him to ride her harder, deeper… He groaned. Dammit! If she didn’t stop teasing him, she was going to find herself with her back pressed up against his front door, her dress in tatters, and her legs wrapped around his waist as he fucked her senseless. He doubted the neighbors would approve.

23

Final Chance: Seven of Pentacles

He growled. In swift succession, the bolt fell back, the door clicked open, he pushed her inside and slammed the door closed with a solid thud. Thank goodness! He leant his back against the door in relief, his eyes screwed closed while he tried to regain some composure. It was never easy when he had a woman in his lair, and he was really struggling to hold it together with Sophie. The primal urge to claim her was running strong. “Oh!” Every hair on his body stood up straight. That muffled little squeak she’d just let out didn’t bode well. If Frederick had done something terrible he’d— “This is… different.” She sounded almost amused. Warily, he opened his eyes. Mathew spluttered. He couldn’t help it. His nice, ordinary living room with the comfortable black leather armchairs and widescreen TV was gone. In its place was a harem. There was no other way to describe the vivid reds and oranges, the sheer draperies that hung from the walls and ceiling at odd intervals, and the ornate gold trim that covered every other surface. There were even deep cushions scattered across the floor and a low table covered with a selection of fruit and tartlets—along with goodness only knew what in a collection of covered pots. The only thing missing were the semi-naked women reclining on the cushions. He was going to kill Frederick. Slowly.

24

Amy O'Connor

Make that very, very slowly. Fists clenched, he counted to ten. It wasn’t enough. What the hell kind of weirdo would Sophie think he was? He growled deep in his throat, aware the primitive beast who wanted her so desperately was damn close to shedding its chains and letting itself loose on the unsuspecting woman. “You have interesting…décor.” Was that a smothered laugh? He didn’t dare look to see. “Mind you, I don’t think I’m exactly dressed the part.” He forced himself to look at her face, dreading the result. Surely he was imagining the laughter in her voice? Sophie smiled, and gestured towards the room. “Is it always like this?” Speechless, he shook his head. “Argh…” Mathew coughed, then tried again, hardly able to believe she wasn’t running screaming from his house. Not only was she smiling, she actually looked… Happy? “My valet,” he finally managed. “I guess he wanted to surprise me.” To scare you away was more likely… “Looks like he succeeded.” Sophie grinned. I think this is the first time I’ve seen you lost for words.” She took a few steps further into the room, not stopping until she was surrounded by the luxurious fabrics. A hundred flickering candles sprung to life, each covered glass holder strategically placed to emphasize the lush colors and textures. Mathew grinned at the incongruity. Even when the

25

Final Chance: Seven of Pentacles

little prat was doing his damnedest to upset Mathew’s chances of regaining his soul, he still considered the safety aspects of naked flame and billowing fabrics. Frederick may have wanted him dead but he wasn’t going to get his own hands dirty by letting Mathew’s house burn down—with Mathew in it. Sophie smiled wickedly across the room at him, a set of fine gold manacles dangling from her fingers. “I think I like your valet. He’s giving me ideas.” Not as many ideas as Mathew was having. He was more than strong enough to hold Sophie in any position he wanted. He didn’t even need to use brute strength, but could apply the lightest touch of mind control and she’d be helpless to resist him. But there was something seriously erotic about the thought of her naked, her wrists manacled and the delicate gold chains draping over her body, molding to every beautiful curve. Maybe they’d even link to matching cuffs on her ankles. He could chain her with her legs spread wide, bent over with her arms stretched in front of her, her ass in the air. Mathew felt his lips crease, his fangs lengthen. He couldn’t get the erotic picture of her out of his head. Without thinking, he toed off his shoes and stepped onto the first of the thick rugs, stalking her. The soles of his feet tingled and for an instant the red haze filling his mind cleared. Then she stared at him. Her lips were parted, her heart thudding. The sweet call of her blood beckoned

26

Amy O'Connor

him closer. He stared at her neck, at the throbbing pulse just beneath the skin. He was lost. Two gliding steps and he was standing in front of her, his ears straining to catch the breathy murmur of her blood as it raced through her veins. Taking his time, he reached out to her. Her breath hitched as he wrapped his fingers into the bodice of her dress, drawing it downwards in one smooth movement. The last of the fabric fell to the floor and he raised his eyes, lingering over the expanse of bare flesh. As he’d imagined, she was almost completely naked other than her spike heeled sandals. The wisp of fabric between her legs was nothing more than a tease. And he was sick of being teased. He bent slowly, his eyes fixed on the scrap of red lace covering her pussy. He heard her swift intake of breath as he reached out with a single finger, purposely slow. The anticipation was making her heart race more than ever. It was almost a shame to bring it to an end. One finger reached out: he stroked her curls through the flimsy red fabric. She flinched, a tiny moan rippling through her. Pleased, he did it again. This time he was rewarded with a trickle of moisture. He inhaled deeply, sucking her scent deep inside him, then yanked his hand away. What was left of her panties fluttered to the ground. He straightened slowly, uncaring if she saw the toothy grin of a predator. The beast had broken its leash.

27

Final Chance: Seven of Pentacles

**** Sophie shivered. It wasn’t cold—if anything, she was too warm—but the way he was staring at her was…exhilarating. She felt her nipples tighten under his slow stare, actually felt the fine hair on her arms stand on end as he looked his fill at her nude body. Other than that one tug at her dress, and the brief journey between her legs, he’d barely touched her. His fingers had merely scraped over her skin, but the heat she’d felt radiating from him seemed to have spread through her body. His gaze drifted downwards, lingering at the dark curls at the junction of her legs. Moisture trickled down the inside of her thigh and she squirmed in embarrassment. “Take your clothes off.” Her voice came out all husky. “Please.” Mathew shook his head slowly, the movement somehow reminding her of a somnolent lion. Dangerous, but in no particular hurry. “Later.” She thought for a moment, the heat of his gaze sending more tremors through her. The heat was gathering in her cunt, collecting and swelling until she could feel the throb of her pulse more clearly between her legs than she could feel her heart beating in her chest. She wanted this man more than she’d ever wanted anyone before—and she was sick and tired of waiting. She stepped forward and laced her arms around his neck, drawing his head down to hers. The rasp of

28

Amy O'Connor

silk on her pebbled nipples sent a bolt of fire straight through her. She moaned softly as she rubbed her breasts against his chest, wanting more. Then she lifted her head, caught his mouth with hers, and traced his lips with her tongue. Sophie wanted to tempt him, needed to tempt him. She wanted him as aroused as she was. Her tongue lapped at his mouth, teased the crease of his lips. All the time she continued the sinuous rubbing of her body against his. Her eyes drifted closed as sensation started to overtake reality. His fingers dug into her ass, dragging her lower body close up against him as he groaned into her mouth. His erection sat hard against her groin. He barely seemed to notice he’d lifted her feet from the floor and was rubbing her wet cunt repeatedly against the slippery leather. Sophie purred into his mouth with pleasure. Apparently, once he’d decided to take action, he thought he was in charge. For this first time, she didn’t mind at all. Unable to touch the ground, she was helpless to contribute to anything other than the kiss. His eyes were closed, his mouth was gentle on hers, yet there was that relentless pressure on her clit. Every touch sent fresh heat spiraling through her. Her nipples and pussy seemed directly connected; the waves of pleasure were bouncing back and forth between the two areas. She pushed back, desperate to put some space between them, to slow things down. He simply held her more firmly, shifting his hands so her bottom

29

Final Chance: Seven of Pentacles

was resting on his palms. Panting, she broke from the kiss. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, her back arched away from the pressure. His mouth descended on the nipple she’d inadvertently thrust upwards. He suckled strongly, then nipped as the pleasure started to engulf her. For a moment she was back on earth, looking down at his dark head, bent over her breasts. Then his fingers shifted. They delved between her legs and speared up into her. He ground his hips hard against hers, his mouth never leaving her breast. His fingers twisted, brushing the most sensitive spot deep inside her, and she exploded into a million little pieces. The world whirled away from her. **** Sophie could feel his heart pounding nearby, could hear his ragged breathing joining with hers. She had no idea where she was. The ground underneath her was soft and it rippled as she moved. She certainly wasn’t plastered against Mathew anymore. “Frederick has better taste than I gave him credit for.” Sophie tried to open her eyes to see where Mathew’s voice was coming from. Her eyelids were so heavy they could have been glued shut. Man, she ought to have sex more often! “That shade of red is glorious beside your skin.” She narrowed her eyebrows. What the hell was he

30

Amy O'Connor

talking about? Mathew chuckled, a rich rumble that rolled across her sensitive skin with an agonizing vibration. Moisture gathered between her legs. Drawing them modestly together just seemed like too much effort. She hadn’t even managed to open her eyes yet. “It’s a red rug with the most amazing pile,” he told her. Somewhere near her head, she heard the scritch of fingers running across the soft surface. “It almost seems alive.” A thousand tiny fingers suddenly sprang to life underneath her, each one massaging delicately. Her back arched off the rug. “Don’t you like it?” He sounded amused. Sophie found herself being pushed gently back down. She couldn’t resist the insistent—invisible— pressure. The little fingers returned straight to work, one minute digging deep into her muscles, the next tickling mercilessly. They seemed to be multiplying, and were spreading out under her arms and legs as well. She groaned and tried to roll away from their touch, then went rigid when she found she couldn’t move. At all. She could have been Superglued to the rug. This was getting really weird. “Don’t you like it?” he repeated. “Ah…” “Why don’t you open your eyes?” he suggested. “I can’t.” Sophie ground the words out from

31

Final Chance: Seven of Pentacles

between clenched teeth. It was getting difficult to ignore the way the tiny fingers were stroking the skin between her thighs. At the rate they were multiplying, it wouldn’t be long before they’d crept right inside her and started rubbing there too. She squirmed at the thought: at least she tried to squirm. “Allow me.” His breath feathered over her closed eyes. The tip of his tongue traced the soft skin of the lids. She shuddered, only to find the tiny movement magnified by millions of tiny restless fingers. Her eyes flicked open. The fingers had reached her pussy and had started on her clit. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, could only absorb the amazing sensation as the orgasm washed through her unmoving body. She was staring sightlessly at the ceiling, her heart racing and blood still thrumming, when Mathew appeared above her. The little fingers were still moving, still rubbing, but they felt somehow content now. With an effort, she managed to ignore them enough to bring his face into focus. And the rest of him. Sophie blinked. He was even more amazing naked than she’d imagined—and her imagination had been pretty damned vivid. There was nothing so obvious as an oversized six pack or tree trunks for arms—he was just perfect, sculpted muscle. His hair was loose, a black curtain that framed his face, and he did have that same honey-colored skin all over. If she’d had the energy she would have drooled.

32

Amy O'Connor

He stepped closer. Now it was his erection that was filling her vision. Big, thick and unashamedly erect. There was even a drop of milky cum on the top. As she stared, unconsciously touching her tongue to her lips, another drop formed. She felt a fresh trickle of liquid gathering between her legs in response. Then she realized—he hadn’t come yet. “Do you like the rug?” he asked. The edges of his lips creased upwards, ruining his attempt at sounding off-hand. Sophie didn’t think he needed to know just how much she had enjoyed the rug—she’d save that tidbit for later. Instead, she settled on a neutral, “What is it?” “Magic.” He dropped to the ground beside her, his legs spread, and leaned nonchalantly back on his elbows. Magic? Mathew smiled. A genuine smile this time. “Yeah, magic. I couldn’t think of how else to introduce the subject and since Frederick left it lying around, I thought I may as well take advantage of it.” Sophie was still too stuck on the word magic to wonder how he was reading her thoughts. She tried to shake her head, found she still couldn’t move, and let herself slump back in resignation. “I wanted to ask you to marry me,” he continued, apparently unconcerned, “but I didn’t think it would be fair to ask until you knew what I really am.” “Magic?”

33

Final Chance: Seven of Pentacles

Mathew grimaced. “A vampire.” “Oh.” She stared up at him. The tiny fingers in the rug were starting to work their magic again and she was finding it difficult to concentrate. The ghost of a smile flashed across his face. “I can do some magic though, honestly, Frederick is better at it than me.” He waved around the room. “Hence the harem. He’s trying to scare you off.” “Why?” He ignored her, choosing instead to answer his own questions. It was hard to scowl at him when she was trapped on an insatiable rug. “Yes, I drink blood; no, I don’t kill people; yes, I can do mind control; no, I don’t burst into flames in the sun, though it is a bit uncomfortable. Oh, and I live pretty well forever.” Sophie let her eyes close. It was impossible to resist the fingers that were digging into her ass. It was the sensation of being filled, yet she felt totally empty. Vampire or not, she wanted Mathew to fuck her. Obviously, she was going quietly insane… “I want you inside me when I come this time. Please.” She blushed as she realized what she’d just asked for. “I can’t.” His eyes were shadowed. “Not until I have an answer.” Sophie blinked. The little fingers of the rug weren’t helping her concentrate, but surely that hadn’t been a serious marriage proposal before? If it had been, it sucked! Mathew’s lips creased. “You’re right. I should have

34

Amy O'Connor

done better, but…when you touched me, I lost control. The rug has two purposes—it proves what I’m saying and it keeps your hands away from me.” And losing control was a bad thing—why? “Because once I make love to the woman who holds the other half of my soul, she’ll be bound to me forever. I think you’re that woman.” He paused, then added awkwardly, “I want that decision to be yours, not for you to have the choice taken away by a lustcrazed vampire.” A delicious shiver ran up Sophie’s spine. Forget the sex-rug—the way he was looking at her was shorting out every nerve ending in her body. She screwed her eyes closed. “Enough.” His soft word of command echoed through the room. The rug went limp, the fingers were gone. She prized her eyes open once more. It was difficult, but she managed to turn her head to look at Mathew. He was gnawing his lip, for the first time letting her see his fangs. She felt her own jaw gape. “Did you always have those?” “They come and go.” He shrugged apologetically. “The vampire part of me tends to push aside the human part sometimes.” Sophie levered herself upright. It was hard going. Her muscles were heavy and unresponsive, but finally she was upright, her eyes almost level with his. If nothing else, it gave her a semblance of equality. Though she couldn’t quite see how she could ever be

35

Final Chance: Seven of Pentacles

equal to the man—vampire?—who was still sprawled haphazardly beside her. For whatever reason, knowing he was a vampire hadn’t been quite so scary a revelation as finding out he’d been, say, a drug dealer. It wasn’t like she hadn’t had her suspicions over the past few months! “So…” she prompted. “So. “ His dark eyes stayed firmly on hers, an odd contrast to his fingers. Maybe he thought she wouldn’t notice, but he was twisting the rug into a tight little cylinder, his fingers moving restlessly even as he spoke calmly. “I…uh…I like you, and…” She was hard put not to roll her eyes. He pulled a face before trying again. “I think I love you. Would you consider spending the rest of eternity with me?” “You think you love me?” Even to her own ears she sounded incredulous. “You really need to get some more practice at this proposal thing!” “I’m trying to be honest here,” he snapped. “I’m not even sure I know what love is. I know how I feel about you, though—“ **** Mathew rolled away from her, a hand covering his face. He’d stuffed it up. All these months of patient work, destroyed by a few minutes of impetuosity at the end. He’d just have to wipe her memories and walk out into the dawn.

36

Amy O'Connor

“I’m human. How can I possibly spend eternity with you?” Her voice was soft. Reasonable. He froze, hardly daring to hope. Was she really still talking to him? “Please. How can you expect me to decide anything without some more facts? I can understand why you kept the…the…vampire stuff a secret, but if you want me to seriously consider making that sort of a commitment, I need to know what I’m agreeing to.” He tipped his head back, drew in a shuddering breath. Then he looked at her. Her eyes were shiny, her lips swollen. The slightest flush of pink covered her skin. Even her tummy was pink. She looked like a woman who’d been thoroughly loved. And— maybe—he could wake up and look at her for every day of his life. “When the matched souls meet, they join. I don’t really understand it but they share their—“ He groped for the right word. “ Essence. You’d gain my vampire characteristics, and I’d get your humanity. It’s a perfect balance.” “Would I have to drink blood?” He grinned, unsurprised by the prosaic question. “Yep. It tastes better than chocolate.” He wondered if she realized she was wringing her hands. It was a gentle movement, but unmistakable. He grasped one of her hands. His thumb stroked her smooth skin as he raised it to his mouth, stilling the fluttery movement. “Will you trust me, Sophie? I’ll do my damnedest to be everything you need.”

37

Final Chance: Seven of Pentacles

She laughed shakily. “Are you going to bite me?” “Maybe, but I’m desperate to fuck you. Tell me ‘yes’, honey. Please.” He watched her, hawk-like, impatient for her answer. The sensation of her skin against his, the scent of aroused woman mingling with her light floral perfume, was inciting the vampire. But he swore he’d wait. This time, he wouldn’t let the beast loose unless she agreed. Letting the vampire make the decisions just half an hour before had nearly ruined months of patient work. “Yes.” She attempted a fairly credible pout. ”But I still think you need to put some more effort into your proposals.” Yeeessss! Mathew resisted the urge to leap up and punch the air. “Bah!” He tried to ignore the way the vampire was roaring in triumph, tried to take it slow. Then again… It just wasn’t going to happen. He dragged her body hard up against his and devoured her mouth. This time, he didn’t try to hide his fangs. Her tongue delved between his lips, explored his mouth just as avidly as he was tasting hers. Then her tongue started to flirt with his fangs, one moment curled around a tooth, the next licking a path along its length. He groaned into her mouth, his fingers digging into her ass as he held her in place. Her breasts were crushed against his chest, her legs spread wide as she sat across his lap, her cunt open and dripping. She was ready for him. Waiting was

38

Amy O'Connor

going to be hell. So… “You can play with those handcuffs next time.” His voice was a growl. “This time, you’re mine.” “Oh?” Her tongue swirled in his mouth. Mathew nudged her legs wider then rammed his hips upwards, impaling her on his cock. He couldn’t help grinning at her surprised gasp. “Mine,” he repeated. He leaned back, wanting to watch her as he slid her up and down his cock, his hands unmoving on her hips. Her legs were too far spread to give her any leverage, but she certainly wasn’t objecting. He lifted her high, then slammed her back down, gritting his teeth to stay in control. His balls throbbed. They were so swollen it was almost painful. Almost. Sophie threw her head back, her eyes closed. His vision was filled with her breasts jiggling between them as she rode him. With a growl, he lifted her high then tossed her face down over one of the overstuffed cushions. Her breath left her in a whoosh and for a moment, he savored how she looked from behind, her skin pale against the rich maroon fabric. It was only an instant, though. As soon as she began to push herself upright, her bottom swaying provocatively in his face, the beast lunged. One hand held her hips steady, the other rested firmly between her shoulder blades, forcing her chest back to the ground. In one swift movement he’d thrust his cock deep inside her, his balls resting against her slick lips.

39

Final Chance: Seven of Pentacles

She was so beautiful—and she’d trusted him. He drew slowly backwards, one hand reaching around her and between her legs. Sophie whimpered. Her ass wriggled frantically, pushing backwards, trying to impale him again. If not for the hand holding her down she would have succeeded. His rumbling growl filled the room. It vibrated through him and into her. One final savage thrust and he was again buried to the hilt. He pushed her further forward, trapping her beneath him as he lowered his mouth to her neck. Simultaneously, he grabbed her clit between thumb and forefinger. As he squeezed gently, he sank his teeth deep. Her cunt clenched tight around his cock, milking him. Then she screamed, the sound muffled by the pillow. Her blood was as rich as he’d imagined. It flowed down his throat and reached deep inside him. As his blood cells swelled with her humanity, his cock swelled its own need. He started thrusting into her, fast and rhythmic, until, eyes closed, he roared his own release. His seed spurted deep inside her, filling her. Her blood was pulsing down his throat to the same rhythm of the blood pulsing in her veins. They were connected, for that moment one being. Reluctantly, he licked the tiny pinpricks in her neck. By tomorrow, there’d be no mark. For this night, however, he’d branded her. Mathew collapsed to the floor, drawing Sophie securely into his arms. Unable to believe he’d finally

40

Amy O'Connor

met the woman who carried the other half of his soul, he threw one leg across her thighs. There was no way he was going to let her get away. **** Oh. My. Sophie stretched her arms above her head, flexing her back. She was quite sure she had carpet burn on her knees—and possibly her nipples, too—but…wow! What a way to go! One minute she’d been making a momentous decision, the next she’d been facedown on a harem cushion being fucked until her brain rattled. When the orgasm had rolled over her, she’d felt the connection he’d been trying to describe. For an instant in time they’d been one being, bound together. It wasn’t so strong now but she could still feel the tie. She was comfortable. Complete. She smiled to herself, wriggling until she was on her back and staring up at the glorious draperies festooning the room. Beside her, Mathew was breathing heavily, his eyes closed. Other than loosening his grip slightly, he hadn’t moved when she turned. His arms and legs remained firmly locked around her. If she was totally honest with herself, she’d have to admit to liking the feeling. That a man like Mathew wanted her so…urgently—and that he wanted to

41

Final Chance: Seven of Pentacles

snuggle afterwards—was a wonderful thing. And it wasn’t as if she hadn’t been thinking in terms of permanence herself. She just hadn’t expected quite such a dramatic proposal. Or such a dramatic celebration, she admitted ruefully. She ached all over. How many times had he made her orgasm before he finally fucked her? She had no idea, but she certainly felt like her body had been well and truly used. Actually, she wouldn’t mind if he wanted to use it again right now… A stray lock of Mathew’s hair fell across her face. Ticklish at the best of times, her skin was ridiculously sensitive now. She wrinkled her nose, but the hair stayed stubbornly in place. Puffing air at it didn’t work, either. She tugged an arm free, ignoring the grumble from the hot man beside her, and tucked the hair out of the way. Her arm free, she was able to play. She wondered just how tired he was. If anything, she was felling rather invigorated; the slim gold handcuffs had given her ideas. And just how sensitive was he really to her touch? He’d said he lost control when she touched him… She ran another thick strand of his hair through her fingers, drawing it upwards, then letting it trickle slowly back over his face. He grimaced. Sophie giggled and did it again. Without too much contortion, she could reach his shoulder. She let her fingers glide over the golden skin, feeling the way his muscles flexed under her feather-light touch. Other

42

Amy O'Connor

than that tiny movement, he seemed utterly oblivious to her. Sophie glanced at his face, pleased when she saw his eyelids tremble. Obviously, he wasn’t as impervious as he was pretending. Hmmm, a challenge. She twisted so she was lying on her back. Overhead the draperies were billowing in a phantom breeze. A piece of sheer red material shot with threads of gold caught her eye as it glittered in the candlelight. There was something half hidden behind it and she craned her neck, curious. Unlike everything else in the room, it was dull and looked somehow heavy. Mathew shifted slightly, making more room. His hand stroked soothingly up and down her thigh, his fingers drifting slowly higher. She glanced sideways—his eyes were still closed. Then the curtain floated aside, caught for a few seconds on an ornate gilt ceiling rose. She totally forgot about Mathew. Dangling from the ceiling, half hidden by the diaphanous curtains, was an old-fashioned set of irons. Unlike the modern handcuffs she’d found, these ones were heavy. She could imagine that if they weren’t suspending a person from the ceiling— obviously what they were intended for—they’d pull him to their knees with the sheer weight of the thick iron chain between them. Her mouth went dry. It wasn’t difficult to imagine Mathew on his knees, her juices trickling from his mouth as he licked and suckled—

43

Final Chance: Seven of Pentacles

Mathew’s hand crept higher, his fingers tugging gently on her curls before sliding sinuously through her cream. Sophie shuddered as he dragged a single fingernail across her clit. “Seen something you like?” he asked. She forced her eyes to stay open and looked back at his face. His eyes hadn’t opened. Her eyes widened as he pushed a single long finger deep inside her, crooked it, then tugged. A second finger joined it, then a third. She moaned as he swiveled his hand, spreading his fingers. Her hips jerked upwards. With one thigh still draped over her legs, she couldn’t roll away. “What was that? I didn’t quite hear what you said.” There was a smug smile in his voice. He pulled his fingers out, keeping her stretched wide until the last possible instant. A gush of liquid ran between her thighs, instantly cool against her overheated skin. She squeezed her eyes shut as he lifted himself smoothly over her, grinding his hips into hers. His cock was already hard again, rubbing on her swollen clit as he slipped easily back and forth between her legs. “Aaaahhhh…” Words were beyond her. Strong fingers dug into her ass, lifting it into his erection. He settled between her legs, his cock pushing deep inside her. Her bottom was lowered to the floor, her legs spread and looped over his shoulders. He took her slowly, maintaining a peaceful rhythm that had her almost screaming with

44

Amy O'Connor

frustration. When she tried to touch herself, he simply caught her wrists in one hand and held them above her head. His other hand remained firm on her ass, making sure she couldn’t escape his leisurely fucking. She writhed under him, her pussy clenching as it sought release. The chains directly above her caught her eye. Frederick was definitely giving her ideas about just what she could do with her sexy vampire. Otherwise, it was unlikely that she’d ever get a chance to touch! She gave up on thought as he let his weight settle, pinning her to the ground. She had a very long lifetime to work out the details, and right now… Sophie screamed as a wave of ecstasy unexpectedly engulfed her, every individual cell exploding at once. It was too much—oblivion was hurtling unstoppably towards her. Just before the blackness took over, a new image of Mathew filled her vision. He was naked, his wrists strung from the ceiling, his legs spread and chained to the floor. The vision faded, his body still twisting helplessly in his chains as he struggled to escape her ruthless tongue. His soft chuckle penetrated the darkness. Did I tell you vampires can read minds? She felt him smile. I like the way you think. **** Upstairs… Frederick paused, his ear cocked. He hadn’t actually expected the human woman to like his kinky 45

Final Chance: Seven of Pentacles

accessories. He wondered what his chances were of convincing Mathew that he’d actually been trying to help? Probably not high. He sighed, and placed another neatly folded shirt in his valise. Yet another ecstatic scream vibrated through the room. Obviously Mathew was celebrating his dual success: he’d found his mate and nearly regained his soul. Frederick sniffed. At least someone was happy. He still had to work out how he was going to explain his failure to Mathew’s mother. He shuddered as he placed the next shirt. Moving to Siberia appeared to be his only option…

46

About the Author O’Connor lives in the Australian outback. Amy When she’s not writing (which isn’t very often)

she can usually be found attempting to round up her sons, cats, and poultry, or trying to restore her one hundred-year-old garden. Occasionally, she even manages to sneak in a few hours reading a good book. Unfortunately, since that tends to involve running away and hiding on the side verandah, it doesn’t happen as regularly as she’d like!