Blood Struck Read online

  “Will there be any scarring?” Kristos’ gaze scanned my injuries, lingering on my face.

  I paused mid-gulp at that. I hadn’t even thought of scarring. Unbidden, the memory of Madame Rouge noting how my skin was unmarked rose in my mind. I wasn’t particularly vain, but I had no desire to be maimed for life either.

  “Maybe some minor discoloration. It just depends on her skin. If you are concerned about it, I would consult with a dermatologist. I can recommend someone if you like,” the doctor said.

  “I think that would be a good idea. Just leave the information with Orion on your way out,” Kristos said.

  The doctor nodded and turned to me. “I’ll be back later to check on you. Rest as much as you can, alright?”

  I smiled and nodded. “Sure. Thanks.”

  The doctor left and Kristos and I just stared at each other. He looked fit and trim, I noted. I had gotten the worst of last night’s adventures, but I was alive, and...not wearing my dress. The realization dawned on me that someone had removed my dress and put me in a white undershirt.

  I plucked at the v-neck t-shirt and looked anywhere but at Kristos. “Did you um...”

  “Take off your dress?”

  I nodded, staring very intently at a loose thread in the blue comforter on my bed.

  “And see you naked?” There was a teasing note in his voice that told me he found my modesty funny. “Yes, and the view was stunning.”

  I bit my lip.

  His tone became more serious. “Myra, it was an emergency. I had no idea how extensive your injuries were and the dress was in the way. I didn’t see anything I wasn’t going to see anyway, right?” When I didn’t answer, he pushed. “Right?”

  “I guess,” I said. “How’s the dress?”

  “It needs a cleaning, but otherwise survived. I sent it out to the cleaners.”

  “Thanks.” I gave him a shy smile.

  “Well, this is awkward,” Kristos finally said.

  “I thought pretty much all of it was awkward.” I smiled as I spoke so he would know I was trying to be funny.

  “I can see how you might think that, but, for me, almost getting a courtesan killed is a new low. I’m sorry.” His expression was contrite.

  I lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “It’s not like you planned it, right?”

  “No and you’ll be happy to know I fired all the security guards from last night.”

  “Did you find the shooter?”

  “We’re following up some leads,” he said. He broke eye contact and his expression became guarded. I’d touched on a sore spot and he clearly didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t blame him either. We barely knew each other and it was his business. Beyond being a bystander in the line of fire, it was none of mine.

  Taking the hint, I changed the subject. “I guess you’re stuck with me for another day.” I gestured to the IV.

  His gaze settled back on me and he relaxed. “It’s the least I can do after last night. Besides, Madame Rouge has given me very clear directions on my obligations to your health.”

  “What did she say?” I clutched the bedspread, wringing it with my hands. Was I in trouble?

  He sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. “She called me some names, tripled your price and generally ripped me a new one.”

  Over a call girl? “Why would she do that?”

  “Because if bad things happen to you, bad things happen to her business.”

  That made sense. If any of this mess did. “I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I can. I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

  He arched an eyebrow at me. “Do you remember what you said to me last night? Just before you passed out?”

  My cheeks burned as I nodded.

  He sat next to me on the bed and took my hand in his. “I’d like to try a do-over.”

  “Even at triple the price?”

  He planted a kiss on my shoulder. “When it comes to you, yes.” At my shocked expression, he gave a soft laugh. “You have a distinct flavor that reminds me of someone I can’t quite place. Until I remember, you are going to drive me crazy.”

  I swallowed as he ran a finger down my cheek and over my collarbone. His touch was gentle, but sure and left me wanting more.

  “You’re blushing again.”

  “I’m always blushing,” I said.

  “I like it.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t get it. What’s the big deal about me blushing? You and Madame Rouge have gone on and on like I’m the coolest mood ring in the world. What gives?”

  He gave me an amused smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a most attractive way. “I hadn’t thought of you as a mood ring. It’s an interesting picture.” At my sigh of frustration, he held up a hand. “Okay, here is your explanation. Blushing is very erotic for vampires. It’s blood rushing under your skin and it’s tantalizing.”

  “So last night when you bit me—”

  “Your blush drove me to it.” He traced a finger from one collarbone over to the other, his eyes fixed on my pulse. He leaned in and claimed my lips with his in a fierce kiss. I could feel the pent-up passion in him, the desire to pick me up and crush me to his chest, but he held back, containing himself. Although I sensed the tension in his arms at the effort.

  I moaned deep in my throat and made a mewling noise when his tongue stroked mine. I ran my hand up the back of his neck into his hair, fisting my hands in it and arching my body against his chest. Oh, yeah, I was going to totally rock this courtesan thing once I had some first-hand experience.

  He sucked my bottom lip into his mouth and an electric current hit all my erogenous zones at once. Kristos pulled back then, with an expression of regret. “We probably shouldn’t go any further. You haven’t even been conscious for an hour. This really isn’t the time.”

  I tucked my hair behind my ear and tried to remember how to breathe. Damn, I knew he was right, but I didn’t want him to stop. Desire pulsed through my body and, with Kristos breaking contact, it became an itch I couldn’t scratch. It was frustrating. Well, hello there sexual frustration, I don’t believe we’ve met before.

  He stood up and kissed the top of my head. “I’ve asked one of my female staff to bring some clothes for you to wear for now. Madame Rouge has promised to send her team over with a wardrobe during the day. That will keep you busy until you’re well enough to do everything I want to do with you.”

  I cleared my throat. “I just hope there’s underwear this time.”

  He laughed. “After everything that happened last night, the underwear is what you worry about?”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not much for flashing. It wasn’t even on my bucket list.” I smiled at him. “My life goal at this point is to wear underwear at all times.”

  “Surely not all the time?” He leveled a gaze at me so scorching my skin felt hot even though he hadn’t touched me.

  I squirmed, the heat of embarrassment flushing my cheeks. I cleared my throat and clarified, “At all times in public.”

  “I’ll see that you have some. I wouldn’t want this to stress you out or anything.” He was grinning at me, thoroughly enjoying my discomfiture. “I have some business to attend to before the sun rises. We’ll talk tomorrow night. Make yourself at home. Rest, eat, figure out your panty problem.”

  Chapter Four

  After Kristos left, I slept for a bit, waking when someone came into my room. I bolted upright and relaxed when I saw it was just a woman with some clothes for me. She had a muscular, wiry frame and short blonde hair with dark eyes. The expression on her face was one of distaste or unhappiness. I did not get a good vibe from her.

  She looked me up and down and gave me one of those fake smiles girls give the competition. “Kristos asked me to bring you something to wear. Although I don’t know why.” She dumped a pile of folded clothes on the bed and moved to leave.

  “Wait, what do you mean by that?” I asked.

  She paused as if thinking about
her response. “He likes his girls naked. I’m surprised he even let you wear one of his shirts.” Her tone was accusatory.

  “I had nothing to do with it,” I said feeling the need to defend myself. “I was unconscious. He put it on for me.”

  She pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows. “Lucky you. He’s not usually that sentimental.”

  “I’m Myra, by the way.” I gave her a bright smile to show there were no hard feelings. Her attitude bothered me, but maybe we could work past it to some semblance of friendliness.

  She shrugged. “Who cares? You’re just the flavor of the moment. Enjoy your T-shirt, while you can.” With that, she turned on her heel and left.

  Flummoxed, I gaped as she went. When I recovered my composure, I pulled on the yoga pants she’d brought, but kept Kristos’ shirt. It smelled like him and I liked it. Barefoot, with my IV bag held high in one hand, I padded through what turned out to be a penthouse suite on the top floor of some apartment building. A clock by the front door showed the time as four a.m. It was still night, but barely.

  The large suite had an open floor plan in the common areas. Floor to ceiling windows showed the skyline of New York to its full effect and drove home to me how much money Kristos must have to pay for such a view. The furniture was sparse and Scandinavian in design. There was some art, mostly abstract, but a few paintings made me shudder, featuring women bound and whipped until they were bloody. Not my thing so I moved on, refusing to dwell on it. One person’s art is another person’s trash.

  In the generous aisle kitchen, I made a meal out of fresh fruit, yogurt and orange juice. It was early, but I was hungry and off schedule. The last time I’d eaten had been at the restaurant. I ate at the counter, nodding as a guard passed by on what I assumed was his patrol. He ignored me and I wondered if he knew I was just the flavor of the moment too?

  Chapter Five

  The next morning, Jacques and Savon came into my room like a breeze of fresh air. I’d rested as much as I could, had the joy of navigating the bathroom while attached to an IV, called my mom to check in and raided the fridge three times. Recuperation was boring and I needed a distraction.

  “Hello, umm, what’s your name again?” Jacques asked as he heaved a very large suitcase onto my bed.

  “Myra,” I said, my body bouncing up as the weight of the suitcase shook the entire bed.

  “Oh right. So how was getting shot?” He dropped a garment bag on top of the suitcase and unzipped it in one smooth movement.

  “Scary.”

  “But very rewarding,” he said over his shoulder as he headed for the closet, a stack of swirling fabric in his hands. “You are making bank off this, honey.” Hangers clanged as he hung the clothes.

  “Really?” I was a little fuzzy on payment details. We’d long surpassed the original fee I’d been quoted, both on time and events. The only thing that gave me pause was we hadn’t had sex and Kristos hadn’t done more than sample my blood. Technically, I’d done nothing in my job description.

  “Madame Rouge makes the vamps pay if the girl gets hurt. Plus Kristos commissioned a full wardrobe for you.” He pulled a gorgeous red satin gown out of the garment bag with a flourish. “That only happens when he likes you. If Kristos likes you, you’re making good money.”

  “Have a lot of girls been shot?” I asked, nervous. I knew what Madam Rouge had said about rough sex, but were shootings a regular thing?

  Savon shook his head as he sorted through his make-up case. “No and there’s never been a shooting. Sometimes a vamp gets a little rough maybe, but they lose their membership for that so our client list is pretty safe.”

  “Are you ready to see your new wardrobe?” Jacques asked.

  I nodded and watched as he paraded at least a dozen evening gowns around the room. They came in a rainbow of silken hues and were all pretty much designed for wardrobe malfunctions.

  I shuddered remembering my last one. “Is there any underwear?”

  “Yes, Kristos requested some for you. Why, I don’t know.” Jacques tossed a plastic shopping bag to me.

  I opened it to find a bunch of tangled lace. I teased out one piece from the jumble and found it was a sheer lace thong. More sorting and I found a matching bra. There were five sets of the same design, just different colors and all see-through.

  I really missed my mass produced undies.“What do vampires have against underwear?”

  “Why do they drink blood?” Savon countered.

  I frowned at the question. “Because they need it to live? It’s their food?”

  “Then why tie it to sex?” he asked.

  I had no idea and just shook my head.

  “Didn’t Madame Rouge explain any of this to you?” Jacques sounded annoyed.

  I raised my eyebrows. “There’s an explanation?”

  Savon nodded. “Yes. Sex enhances the flavor of blood, fills it with endorphins and other feel good hormones. It’s like getting buzzed on fine wine. So vampires are very sex oriented and clothing sometimes annoys them.”

  Jacques sniffed. “Some like to add pain into the mix too.” There was a guarded look in his eyes that said he knew more about that than he cared to admit. He took more dresses from the garment bag and whirled away from me to hang them up in the closet.

  I blanched remembering the strangely violent pictures in the apartment. “You mean, like whipping?”

  “Yeah, but don’t worry, Madame Rouge wouldn’t contract you out for that without training,” Savon said. He opened the large cosmetic case he’d brought with him and rummaged through it, setting piles of make-up on the bed.

  “Training? You mean, I would practice being whipped first?” I blinked, taken aback by the idea.

  “Pretty much,” said Jacques.

  I just looked from Jacques to Savon with wide eyes and Savon gave a ‘vampires will be vampires’ shrug.

  Unable to picture how someone learns to be whipped and quite uncomfortable with the idea, I changed the subject.“Do you guys know Kristos well?”

  “We know of him,” Savon said, still sorting through his case. “Sometimes we take his calls when Madame is busy.”

  “What’s he like?”

  “The girls love him. He’s left a string of broken hearts for Madame Rouge to put back together. Be careful he doesn’t do the same to you,” Savon said. “Now, here is your make-up. I will show you how to use it all before I go.” He shoved a pile of lipstick, liner and eye shadow toward me.

  “Thanks, Savon.”

  He smiled, and began to say something, but Jacques interrupted him. Unzipping the suitcase with a flourish, he said, “Are you ready for your day wardrobe?”

  Not waiting for a response, he opened the suitcase and began tossing clothes all over the bed. “I have jeans, designer of course, and several different tops depending on if you want to dress up or dress down.”

  I picked up a pair of jeans. The label was not a name I’d heard before, but it was clearly expensive. I had a hard time understanding why denim had to be designer, but Jacques had a budget that could probably buy a new car every week while I still shopped at Target.

  Noticing my lack of reaction, Jacques gave a little huff of irritation. “Go put them on, oh ye of little faith.”

  I just looked at him, taken aback. “What?”

  “You won’t understand until you put them on.” He made a shooing motion. “Go. Enter the temple of high fashion and be enlightened.”

  I wanted to roll my eyes, but kept my emotions in check. If Jacques and I ever started competing on attitude, I was in for a world of hurt. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I grabbed the pants, snagged a pair of lace underwear and took them into the bathroom. Ditching my yoga pants, I pulled on the underwear followed by the jeans. They fit perfectly.

  “Go out to the entry way, there’s a full length mirror there,” Jacques called through the bathroom door.

  With a shrug, I did as he requested. The mirror showed me the power of designer jeans. My
legs were long and lithe and my ass had been lifted into a perfect rounded mound.

  I couldn’t stop myself from strutting a bit as I went back to my room. “Wow,” I said.

  Jacques just nodded and passed me a shirt. “Here, put something on besides that ghastly white shirt. It does nothing for you.”

  I accepted the blue off-the-shoulder tunic top and with a frown. Holding up my arm, I pointed to the IV. “What does the fashion handbook say about getting dressed with this thing?”

  “If you need it, you need it, but the bag is empty,” Savon said with a pointed look to Jacques.

  “You think I should take it out for her?” he asked Savon.

  “You can take it out?” I was giddy at the thought of getting rid of my medical ball and chain.

  “Oh all right,” Jacques said with an aggravated sigh. He strode over to me and ripped the tape holding the IV in place off in one swift movement.

  I screeched in pain and jumped back, but he gripped my wrist and held me in place. “Don’t move unless you want to bleed all over your very expensive clothes.”

  I went still and closed my eyes as he teased out the IV and grabbed a tissue from the nightstand to press on the wound.

  He took my other hand and placed it on the tissue and then bent my elbow up. “There, all set.”

  I opened my eyes and blinked. “How do you know how to do that?”

  He shrugged. “Life experience.”

  “Too much time with vampires?” I asked.

  Jacques rolled his eyes at me and gave a little sigh of exasperation. “None of your beeswax.”

  I winced at the rebuke. I’d obviously hit a sore spot. Why did we have so much friction? I didn’t get it. Hiding my embarrassment, I lifted the tissue to check my arm and since it didn’t seem to be bleeding, I went back into the bathroom to change. I put on a bra and then pulled on the tunic. Its lightweight fabric settled on my shoulders like a cloud and the white embroidery around the neckline gave the top a Moroccan flair. Back in the bedroom, I stashed Kristos’ shirt under my pillow knowing, if Jacques got his hands on it, I would never see it again.