Nightlord Lover by Kathy Kulig Read Free Book Online Page B

are and better protected
from our enemies.”
    Bastian spoke from old wounds. His mate, the lovely Claire
Fulton, was beheaded by a female vampire slayer in the mid-1800s shortly after
Garrick arrived from New Orleans. Many of their kind were killed by this
slayer, until she was destroyed within the underground chambers and her ashes
tossed into the river. Garrick understood the pain of losing one’s master,
especially since the vampire who turned him was also his lover. He too lost his
master and lover in New Orleans. The loss of Jeannette Durant still bore deep.
    A week before Claire’s death Bastian arranged for an artist
to do a portrait of her as a gift, but she never received the painting. Bastian
told Garrick to destroy the artwork but he didn’t have the heart. The painting
that hung in Larissa’s apartment, next to another by the same artist, Ramon. The
second one was of Garrick in front of the Beaumont House. These Ramon infused magical
powers into the oils. “I don’t have claim to many crimson swans. Not nearly as
many as Kashia implies,” Garrick said. “Larissa is working and living on my
property, therefore, she’s my claim if I choose. It’s convenient and less
conspicuous.”
    Bastian growled loudly, his fangs protruding. At four
hundred years, no one dared challenged the elder. Garrick had to remember this.
“Then make your claim, or another will do so.”
    While he waited for the right time, he’d have to keep a
close eye on her. Thankfully Ramon’s painting would help with that.
    * * * * *
    Larissa never had such vivid dreams and she never
sleepwalked. But how else could she have gotten to her living room? This had to
be a dream. Clutching the blanket from her bed, she gazed out her sliding-glass
door. Moonlight and streetlights illuminated the man’s distinguishing features
in a gauzy glow. Garrick stood on the balcony, summoning her.
    Wickedly and exquisitely drawn to him, her body craved him,
needed him beyond normal desire, as if his touch was necessary for survival. As
if a cord were attached to her womb, her heart and her nipples, she felt the
pull draw her toward him. In the back of her mind an element of danger nagged
her. The dark desires of her body shoved aside any fears.
    Naked and aroused, she sauntered closer to the door, teasing
him at first. She stroked her breasts, kneading them until the skin felt
flushed and her nipples hardened. After Garrick’s kiss earlier, she knew he
wanted her then, and now he’d returned, obviously he couldn’t resist her.
Satisfied that she was right about their attraction, she smiled seductively and
slid her hand between her legs, dipping a finger inside her slick channel. His
eyes widened and glowed with intensity and lust in the surreal light. A trick
of the moonlight between the trees.
    He pointed to the doorknob and she nodded. When she reached
for it, a blue spark shot out and shocked her hand. She tried again but was
struck by the electric current. Glancing outside, she was about to tell Garrick
to come in through the front door, but it wasn’t Garrick. It was the Goth man.
Teeth bared like a predator, he punched the door, glared at her, then turned
and leapt off the balcony.
    Larissa shook herself. Had she been dreaming, walking in her
sleep? The man was nowhere in sight. But his presence or the dream had left her
sexually restless, unsatisfied.
    Still horny, she touched herself between her legs. Her pussy
was moist and her clit swelled and thrummed with an achy need. In a matter of
seconds she could get herself off. She was that close to a climax.
    Turning away from the window, she was about to return to her
bedroom to relieve that need, when the street lights illuminated the oil
painting of the Beaumont House, where Garrick lived. She studied the image of
the man who looked more and more like Garrick. His blue eyes drew her closer.
How could she resist when she imagined he was watching her? Thoughts of being
with him intensified the