Chapter 20
Jules
Lucian’s arms are solid steel around me as he carries me into a room that makes my breath stop in my throat.
Oh. My. God.
This isn’t a bedroom—it’s a set piece from a vampire version of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.
Seriously—my whole apartment could fit inside here twice over and there would still be space for a dance floor.
The ceilings stretch up impossibly high, crisscrossed with carved black beams etched with roses and thorns, like even the architecture here wants to remind you that beauty has teeth.
From the center hangs a chandelier dripping with ruby-colored crystals, scattering scarlet light across glossy dark wood floors.
The bed dominates everything. A solid four-poster frame carved from obsidian, its columns are etched with vines and roses.
Its crimson sheets ripple under the chandelier’s glow, shimmering like water.
The mattress looks so massive and plush it could swallow me whole.
This is a bed designed for sin—not sleep.
There’s a fireplace against one wall big enough to roast a dragon—or to heat up enough s’mores for an army.
Velvet curtains the shade of midnight drape the windows and puddle on the ground, heavy enough to block out a hurricane.
A bar cart glitters in the corner, all crystal decanters and silver stoppers.
The air smells faintly of spice and smoke and something darker, headier—Lucian’s scent seems to be woven into every corner of this room—every fabric and thread.
The contrast to my crappy apartment almost makes me laugh.
Back home, my bathroom faucet drips unless I twist it exactly right, my couch has a spring that stabs me in the thigh, and my “view” is the back of another ugly beige apartment building.
Here, I feel like I’ve stepped into a gothic fever dream.
Lucian sets me gently on the edge of the bed. The mattress sighs under me, molding to every curve, and for one crazy second, I want to wrap myself in the silky sheets and relax. But then his voice cuts through the haze.
“You will rest here tonight, my Queen.” His eyes blaze storm-gray, intent and absolute. “I will leave you for now—but soon…” His gaze roves over me, heat burning through my towel. “Soon I will need to drink from you.”
My stomach lurches. I can’t help glancing at his mouth, at the sharp white fangs that flash when he speaks. During that incredible bath he gave me, I almost let myself forget why he really wants me and what it involves…which is bound to be a whole lot of painful biting.
I blurt the first thing that comes to mind.
“I don’t think so—I’m not about to be your personal blood bag. I don’t even like needles, let alone fangs.”
If my negative answer dismays him, he certainly doesn’t show it. The corners of his mouth curve, slow and deliberate, like a predator entertained by its prey.
“Needles are so cold…so clinical. My bite is nothing like that.” His voice drops, velvet wrapped in steel. “When I take your blood, it won’t hurt you, my lovely one. You will feel only pleasure. Intense pleasure.”
Heat pools low in my belly before I can stop it. I hate that he can do that with just a few words! Still, I try to play it off like he’s not affecting me, even when he’s giving me that “I want to fuck you right now” stare.
“Uh-huh, right. Pleasure. That’s what every vampire says in the books before they go full Dracula. You can just keep your needle-sharp fangs to yourself.”
A low chuckle rumbles from his chest.
“No needles, Julia. Only my mouth. Only me on top of you, piercing your sweet throat to drink.”
I swallow hard. My brain tries to tell me what a bad idea letting him bite me would be.
But my body…my body is way too interested.
All my life I’ve been reading romance books where the heroine’s body “betrays” her.
But I’ve never actually experienced it up until now.
My body is genuinely aching for something I know would be bad for me—or should I say someone.
Lucian leans down to murmur in my ear, his breath brushing my cheek.
“But of course, before I drink, the Sanguis Vita in your blood must ripen.”
“Ripen? Like I’m some kind of fruit?” I demand, trying to keep my voice from shaking and not quite managing it.
“Like a Queen.” He pulls back to look into my eyes. His gaze holds mine, unblinking. “You see, the Sanguis Vita must be awakened through pleasure. I will have to bring you to the brink again and again until your body sings with it.”
My cheeks go hot.
“Excuse me? Did you just say—”
He bends closer, his lips ghosting my ear.
“I said I’ll need to pleasure you—to touch you and taste you. Of course, I’ll need to put you in my harness to stimulate you properly.”
My jaw drops and I pull away.
“Harness? What the actual hell are you talking about?”
His tone is maddeningly calm, but his eyes are burning as he explains.
“It’s something special I commissioned—I wanted to have it ready when I finally brought you to the Shadow Realm.
It is a harness designed to caress your nipples and pussy at the same time.
To hold you open and keep you safe while I explore you.
You would be restrained—gently.” A slow, sensual smile curves the corners of his mouth. “The restraint is part of the ecstasy.”
“You mean like BDSM?”
“If you prefer that term.” He nods. “A Curvy Queen’s body must be fully awakened to unlock the power in her blood.
The harness will be most effective for you…
and most pleasurable for both of us.” His eyes go half-lidded.
“I cannot wait to strap you in and tease you until your blood is ripe. Until your nipples are so tight they ache and your pussy is so wet your juices wet your thighs. Until you beg me to let you come.”
My heart is banging against my ribs like a drum. My Book Club has read plenty of smut with blindfolds and cuffs, but those are books. I never expected to experience anything like it in real life—my real-life résumé of kink includes exactly zero experience.
“Yeah, no. Not happening.” My voice sounds shaky and unsure. “I’m not built for leather straps and…and nipple caressing machines, thank you very much.”
Before he can respond, a knock interrupts us. A crimson-and-black uniformed guard enters and bows. He murmurs something that sounds urgent, though I can’t make out his words.
Lucian scowls. He looks back at me, obviously reluctant, before straightening.
“There has been an altercation with another Syndicate. I regret leaving you, but I must attend to this.” His hand cups my chin, his fingers firm and warm as he tilts my face up to look at him.
“I will leave you for now. But food will be sent to feed your lovely curves. Eat and rest, little one. You’ll need your strength. ”
And then he’s gone, sweeping out with the guard, leaving me in a room built for decadence and sin.
My knees buckle, and I flop back onto the bed. The sheets whisper around me, cool silk sliding against my skin. I try to think—to calm myself.
Okay, deep breath. This is crazy. A Vampire Mafia Don has trafficked me into a strange supernatural realm so he can drink my blood. But first he wants to Fifty Shades me.
I close my eyes, but it’s all I can think about. Blood…Harnesses…Being tied down. He talked about it like it was destiny, not kink.
And part of me—the part I don’t want to admit out loud—actually wondered what it would feel like.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
Don’t go there, Jules. Don’t even start.
Because if I start, what if I never want to stop?
A knock interrupts my swirling thoughts. I sit up and make sure the towel is covering everything. I’ve had enough of being naked in front of strangers to last a lifetime.
“Yes? I mean, come in,” I call, trying to sound casual.
The door opens and a servant dressed in black and crimson livery bows to me.
“Good evening, my Queen. I have brought your evening meal, as the Don requested.”
“Oh, um, thank you,” I say. “Uh, you can just put it anywhere.”
“As my Queen wishes,” the servant says formally. He’s an older man with gray hair and a ramrod-straight carriage. He wouldn’t look out of place as the butler on a prim and proper British TV show.
After bowing, he rolls in a gleaming silver tray and sets it on a carved table near the fire. With a flourish, he removes the round dome lid and yes, he actually says,
“Bon appetite.” Seriously—like a butler on a TV show! This man should do a guest appearance on Downton Abbey. I wonder if they have anything like Downton Abbey here in the Shadow Realm. For that matter, I wonder if they even have TV.
The prim and proper servant leaves with another bow, and I decide to shelve my questions for now because my stomach is growling.
The little table where he set the tray is right beside a comfortable looking overstuffed chair in front of the fireplace.
Making sure my towel is securely wrapped around me, I go to investigate and see what’s for dinner.
When I get a look at the tray, my eyes nearly fall out of my head—this is no light snack, it’s a feast.
On the broad silver platter is a buffet fit for the gods.
I see glossy pastries stuffed with cream and jam, dusted with sugar that glitters like snow.
There are plates of cured meats so thin they shine in the firelight, their fat glistening.
Wedges of creamy cheese, soft and pale, paired with a dark bread that steams when I tear off a chunk.
And a whole little bowl of high-quality real butter and another bowl of berry jam.
Wow, I can’t help thinking—Tasha would love this.