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  Dom was in a booth with a couple of regulars and Fox pulled her over that way. “Can we squeeze in?” he asked. The regulars bumped fists with Dom and got up to make room for them.

  “You're on fire tonight,” Dom said.

  She grinned and her face went warm. She met his eye for a brief moment.

  “That was more like a second set kind of pace. I wasn't sure if they would go there with you at first.”

  Shit. He hadn't liked it. “I'm sorry—it was too fast for ten at night, wasn't it? Do you think it was okay?”

  He shrugged. “You pulled it off.” He waved out at the audience. “They were dancing.”

  She felt like crawling under the table or crying or both. She was always fragile when she first came off stage. To open herself up and perform with her whole heart made her feel both euphoric and vulnerable. For an hour or two afterward as she came off the high of it all, she could easily plummet into depression if she felt like she'd screwed it up.

  She looked up and was dismayed to see that Dom was studying her with what suspiciously looked like comprehension. He covered her hand with his own—it was cooler in temperature, like Fox's. “That wasn't a criticism. You were great.”

  Her eyes filled with tears then—because it was Dom and she was embarrassed. She was saved by Nanette, who arrived with the tequila shot. She immediately threw it back and sunk her teeth into the lime. “One more, please.”

  Dom frowned.

  “I'll pay for it,” she said quickly. Everyone got a free shift drink, but maybe he thought she was abusing his generosity.

  He shook his head. “No, it's on the house. You sure you can handle two shots in a row like that?”

  She shrugged. But he was right to doubt her drinking capacity. She was a lightweight—five feet, three inches, 115 pounds. One drink usually had her tipsy, two and she'd be drunk. The fire of the Herradura was relaxing her limbs, and it helped her forget the awkward moment with Dom. She sneaked a look at him and felt that thrill of danger imagining what it would be like to be with him.

  “Let's keep rockin' it,” she said when they were back on stage. She kept the vibe up at a fevered pace again—giving everything she had to her performance, trying to make up to Dom for the shortcomings of the last set. The mixture of the alcohol and caffeine now had her in an anything-goes kind of mood and she was going to use it to its full extent.

  The Marilyn dress wasn't working for her, though, especially not in this mood. She was wearing spanky shorts on underneath in case the audience looked up her dress while she was on stage, so she made a big show of ripping the dress off and twirling it overhead like she was a member of the US Women's Soccer team and just won the title. She threw the dress out to the cheering audience and then posed in her black and hot pink bra and spankies, throwing her arms up in the air. The crowd screamed. Her all-male band-mates were laughing.

  “How about 'Tainted Love?'” she asked, standing behind her keyboard and adjusting the mic. Fox grinned, plucking the melody on his electric guitar. The rest of the band got on board after trying out a few bars and she gave a nod and started in for real.

  She sang it strong and sultry. “Sometimes I feel I've got to…” she snapped her head from side to side for the accent beats of the keyboard: bong-bong, “…run away, I've got to…” snappy head: bong-bong “get away from the pain you drive into the heart of me…”

  Dom was all about women ripping off their clothes whenever they felt like it, but this particular time didn't feel right to him. And it wasn't because he didn't love to look at Kate Strand's hot little body. Watching her now, he could see the pulse of her heart beat under her pale skin, the veins looking plump with oxygen. His eyes traced the blue lines, following the one that plunged down into her bra, then moving to the one at her inner thigh, watching the quiver of that lush femoral artery that was exposed by her short shorts. He shook his head to clear it.

  It wasn't that he didn't want everyone else looking at her hot little body, either. Well, maybe some of that. But this wasn't really like her. She always gave a good show, but didn't usually drink that much and he didn't want her to do something she'd regret. He felt like she was somehow inviting danger by getting so wild up there. He felt protective of her. But then, every employee at No Return felt the same way and Fox was right there next to her. Just to be safe, he would make sure Fox accompanied her home or to her car when she left.

  “What the—?” The singing stopped with a yelp mid-note and there was a series of loud crashes. Oh shit. He couldn't see Kate at all, which meant she must have fallen off the front of the stage. How was that possible?

  “I'm on it!” Stella yelled, pushing her way toward the stage. He pushed his own way through the crowd, which had naturally tightened into an unnavigable knot as everyone tried to either figure out what happened or gawk. He could see Stella by the stage, cradling Kate in her arms and carrying her toward the stairs. She appeared to be conscious. Thank God. Stella met his eyes across the crowd and she nodded, which he took to mean that Kate was okay, relatively speaking. He redirected his efforts toward getting the DJ going and reassuring the crowd before he went upstairs.

  * * *

  In the lounge of his windowless office, he smelled blood—Kate's. And arousal: Stella's. Stella held Kate cradled in her lap, licking the blood from her forehead. Her fangs were fully extended and Kate was staring up at them with fascination.

  “Uh-uh, Stella. You heard what Fox said-- she's not into it.”

  “She looks like she might be persuaded,” Stella said thickly.

  He had to laugh-- the thought of Stella and Kate getting it on was pretty hot. “No, Stella. Let her go or you'll get a spanking,” he teased.

  The smell of female arousal increased-- this time he would swear it was Kate's. He peered at her as he offered a hand and helped her off Stella's lap.

  “Unless I'm interrupting?” he asked.

  She blushed and shook her head quickly. “No.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, it's just a bump,” she said, rubbing her head.

  “What happened, exactly?”

  She looked embarrassed. “I just lost track of where the end of the stage was. I guess I was a little tipsy.”

  “Kate, may I speak with you for a second?” Dom asked, beckoning her into his office. He left the door to the lounge open and leaned against his desk, folding his arms across his chest. “Listen. I think you had too much to drink tonight. I understand that you might need to get your buzz on to enhance your performance, but you need to be in control when you go on my stage. You should know your own limits.”

  Kate looked stricken. “I'm sorry—I didn't think it would be a big deal. It was just a couple of shots.”

  “Well it was obviously too many and that makes it a big deal. When you're working for me, I need you to be consistent. Okay?”

  Too late, he realized she was going to cry.

  “I understand. I'm sorry.” She held her eyes wide so the tears wouldn't spill.

  He hooked his hand around her waist and pulled her a step closer to him. “It's alright,” he said gently. “The spanking's over.”

  Then he paused. He detected the fresh scent of her arousal. Interesting. That was the second time she'd been turned on by the word spanking. He tested it out. “Unless you need me to bend you over my desk and spank you for real?” He waggled his eyebrows for effect.

  Yep, that definitely lit her up.

  “Be careful, Kate, he spanks hard,” Stella called in from where she was picking up in the lounge. She gave him a wink, obviously smelling it too. Too intrigued to let a moment like this pass, he stood up from where he'd been perched on the desktop and pulled her gently in to bend her over it, moving slowly to give her time to process what was going to happen. Very slowly, he pulled her tiny shorts and panties halfway down her thighs.

  He turned to wink back at Stella as she slipped quietly out the door, mouthing the words, “Have fun!”

  H
e ran his hand along Kate's beautiful little butt, which was as firm as a ripe peach and baby soft. He squeezed it a little and murmured approvingly. Kate didn't seem to be breathing at all, but her pussy was glistening with moisture. He drew his hand back and brought it sharply down on one of her cheeks.

  She jumped and exclaimed, “Ahh!”

  He rubbed the offended cheek a few times before he struck her other cheek. She whimpered. He rubbed again. Then he brought his hand down for several quick hard slaps, holding her in place with his left hand on her low back. “Ow! Uh! Oh!” She was trying to get away from him now and he figured she'd had enough. He dipped his fingers between her legs and was not at all surprised to find she was beyond wet. And he was hard. She moaned as he moved his fingers along her slickness. “Please?” her voice was a tiny squeak.

  “How do you want it?” he said, his voice low and gravelly, his fangs long. She tried to turn around and he released her so that she could. She let her shorts and panties drop to the floor and slid back on the desk, spreading her legs and drawing her knees up. The sight of her spread open to him like that was more than he could take. He normally wasn't a fan of the neatly trimmed bush look that was so popular these days, but on her it was the most erotic thing he had ever seen. He growled and pulled off his pants, grabbing a condom from a box on his desk.

  It was better than he could have imagined. Her pussy was so swollen with desire that she felt as tight as a virgin when he slid into her. His body temperature ran low and she was on fire—her heat engulfed him, heating his blood, making him half lose his mind with hunger. Within minutes, they had knocked everything off of the top of his desk and her torso was laid back fully with her ankles hanging up over his shoulders. He pumped into her, watching her face as it moved through pleasure into fierce desire and finally the flicker of panic that precedes a female orgasm.

  “Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes!” Kate called out as she came, her head thrown back and her eyes rolling.

  Her orgasm spurred his, and he came hard, groaning and gripping her well-toned thighs. Keeping their hips connected, he pulled her up to sit and tilted her head back to expose her vein. “May I?” His voice was hoarse with desire.

  “Yessss,” she said breathily. He struck quickly and savored the taste of her—warm, delicious, erotic, with the tang of alcohol. He came again and she squeezed her legs around his waist, drawing him in tighter. She was smiling. When he finished, he sealed the little holes with the blood-clotting and healing properties of his saliva and kissed her nape.

  “Thank you,” he whispered in her ear.

  “Mmmm.”

  Of course Fox picked that moment to barge in, as locks were completely ineffectual at keeping vampires out. His fangs shot out and he hissed. “What the fuck are you doing to her?”

  He pulled out of Kate and held up his hands as Kate jumped off the desk in search of her panties and shorts. “It was consensual,” he said quickly, pulling his own pants back up. A vampire with his fangs out is nothing to mess with—even if he is your friend. “You can ask her.”

  Kate nodded. “Absolutely.”

  “You took advantage of her.” The fangs had retracted a little but Fox was still pissed, and Dom couldn't blame him. He would feel the same way if he knew someone hijacked Kate while she was in an obvious state of intoxication.

  Fortunately, Kate spoke up. “Do I look like I didn't like it? It's totally cool,” she said firmly.

  Fox looked doubtfully from one to another, but his fangs were back where they belonged. “I came up to make sure you were okay,” he mumbled.

  Kate rubbed her head where it had been bleeding. “Yeah, just a cut and bruise, I think. No real harm done.”

  “You want to go to the after-party at Andrew's?”

  “Sure. I'll meet you downstairs,” she said.

  Fox left, throwing one last doubtful look over his shoulder and Dom reached into his pocket for his cash. He paid almost everyone under the table at No Return. It saved him money and they all appreciated it. “Here's your pay for tonight. I ought to dock it because you didn't finish the last set, but…” he stroked and then gently slapped her firm little butt, “I feel like we're even.”

  She flushed, clearly not sure how to take that.

  He ran his finger over the bump on her forehead, feeling like it was absolutely tragic that her perfect face would be shadowed with a bruise. Something about her made him feel protective. “Be careful tonight, okay?”

  “I will,” she promised.

  “All right. Good night, Kate,” he said, giving her soft lips a quick kiss.

  “Okay, yeah. Bye.” She seemed a little flustered. Sobering up, maybe.

  When she had left he sat down in his chair and closed his eyes. Oh hell. That was a mistake. He had enjoyed every moment of it, but from start to finish—on every level—it had been a colossal mistake.

  Chapter Two

  He had spanked her. Kate shut the door to the office lounge and stood out on the landing. She felt totally discombobulated. Her body felt relaxed and pleasured in every way, yet she still was turned on by what had just happened with Dom. And totally embarrassed.

  She couldn't think about it without getting butterflies in her belly and a pulsing between her legs. Her whole life she'd been fascinated by spanking. She used to rub her dolls’ bare backsides and spank them in private in her bedroom, and the interest had only increased with puberty. Spanking was her most closely guarded secret—something she'd never told anyone about. She found it completely embarrassing. It made her feel like a deviant.

  And now, having just had her number one fantasy fulfilled by the man who often starred in those daydreams, she felt as raw and open as an oyster pulled out of its shell. She felt like bursting into tears, but not sad tears, just… tears. And she definitely didn't feel like going downstairs in her bra and spankies, no matter how comfortable she had been prancing around on stage in them an hour ago. She sat down on the top of the stairs to get herself together.

  “Are you okay?”

  She jumped and turned around. Dom had left the office and was standing behind her. As she started to stand, he came around and sat down on the stair next to her. He was so attractive to her—the muscles of his chest stood out under his black No Return t-shirt and his long dark hair was tousled and hanging in his face. She leaned against him, grateful for the company. His company.

  “Are you feeling… vulnerable?” he asked softly.

  Wrong question. How on earth could he know that? Suddenly she lost it completely, tears spilling out of her eyes before she could even take a breath. He stood and gently pulled her to her feet, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and leading her back into the lounge. There, he pulled her down with him on the couch and she somehow ended up straddling him on his lap, her arms twined around his neck, her face buried there, sobbing. He stroked her back and didn't say a word until she'd finished. She sat back and wiped her tears. “I'm sorry—I don't know why I did that.”

  “No, I'm sorry,” he helped her wipe a tear. “I just wanted to turn you on—I meant you no disrespect.”

  She shook her head. “I didn't feel disrespected.” It was her habit to automatically reassure people when they apologized, but she thought it was mostly true. She did feel ashamed, though. But she probably would have from his lecture, anyway. “Why did you think it would turn me on?” she asked meekly, almost afraid of what his answer would be.

  He tapped his nose. “Vampires have a great sense of smell.”

  “You can smell—?” She didn't know what to call it.

  He smiled and nodded. “Yep. Can't hide much from us. Especially now that I've had your blood, I have a certain bond to you—I can feel your emotions.”

  She smiled in relief. It was nothing so scary as him having been in her head or knowing her fantasies. He'd smelled her…arousal, and had wanted to satisfy her little kink. She felt a sudden rush of gratitude and affection for him. She leaned forward and gave him a shy peck on the cheek. �
�Thanks.”

  “It was my pleasure,” he said with a satisfied little purr in his voice.

  “So… is that your pleasure?” she asked timidly.

  He laughed. “It's not my regular gig, but it's an easy role for me to step into. My name is Dom, after all.”

  Kate looked confused for a moment, and then she chuckled a short nervous laugh. “I'd be your sub any day,” she said in an almost-whisper. He felt a surge of lust at the thought of Kate being his anything and his fangs shot out. He leaned forward and slowly, lightly ran his sharp fang along her collarbone, then down the vein to her breast as he pushed her bra aside with his hand. He couldn't resist her—everything about her was so delicious to him. One more time tonight couldn't hurt anything, could it?

  * * *

  In his home studio the next afternoon, he stared at Kate's visage in marble. He wished he'd carved fairy wings on her back. He hadn't seen it when he'd made her in wax, but now with the five-foot sculpture almost completely emerged from the marble, she looked just like a little sprite. And standing back, looking at her, he had a vision of Kate with several tiny fairies flickering around her. It was not a vision precisely, because he didn't see, except that he knew that the fairies were there and what they looked like. He shook his head rapidly. He hadn't been visited by psychic visions like that in hundreds of years. Not since he'd been turned. The skin on his arms prickled. Was it Kate who somehow inspired them? He picked up his riffler to work on the enormous task of refining her hair.

  He'd carved the unsure Kate—she was looking up through her lashes with her automatic smile, and he'd somehow captured her eager to please nature. There had been no question that he was going to carve that Kate. He loved the strong performer side of her as well, but this one seemed more real, more personal, somehow.