Wicked Night by Caris Roane

Chapter One
    The vampire, Gabriel, of French descent, felt victory flow like a slow-burning fire through his veins. The widow Thea, the woman he had been trying to seduce for the past two years, stood before him. She had stated her request for an amulet and he had the power to grant her request, so long as she was willing to pay the price.
    “For what purpose do you require an amulet, cherie ?” Even after two-hundred-years, he had not lost his French accent, but the women did not seem to mind.
    “For healing,” she responded. “My mother is nearly at the point of death. She went into the bogg-woods in search of the Witch’s Flower and returned with a fever. She has been ill since.”
    The vampires in the room hissed. The bogg-woods were full of evil vapors and now Thea’s mother was dying.
    He leaned forward. He saw the tension around her eyes. He knew Thea well, especially her love for her mother. He did not like to see her distressed.
    He sat on his throne, in his large audience room, in the deep underground caverns that he had shaped into his tribe’s communal home. He spent part of each night hearing the requests of numerous supplicants, most of them made for his powerful amulets. Every master vampire had a forge deep within his lair where he created his amulets according to the ancient traditions. Each carefully worked piece enjoyed a unique property that would serve the borrower.
    As he met Thea’s gaze, he sighed with satisfaction. He felt like a hunter who had been on a very long chase through the forest, stalking a deer, and had finally brought down his prey.
    She was tres belle with long brown hair that was very fine and very soft, and tended to curl just at the tips. Her dark brown eyes glittered in the soft candlelight of the chamber. Her waist was narrow and her hips flared in a womanly manner, which suited him perfectly. Her full breasts pushed at the cherry red sweater she wore, beckoning him. Only last night, he had discovered how sensitive they were since he had suckled them for the first time, feasting on her bounty.
    Now she was here.
    Though he felt like a bastard, he had waited too long for her to do more than ask, “And what price are you willing to pay for the amulet?”
    She did not answer at first. Finally, she lifted her chin, just a little. “Anything you desire, of course.”
    He shuddered.
    He was aroused, his normal state when he was around Thea. Merde , even his fangs throbbed in his gums because her blood called to him. She was human and fae, a mix he found intoxicating.
    “ Bon .” He added, “ I am always happy to oblige those in my keeping.”
    She lifted a brow at that. He repressed a smile. Thea argued with him constantly about his view of Reavenshire. He saw the land as his territory and everyone in it under his protection and therefore, to a degree, subject to his command. She had a different view involving autonomy and freedom.
    His gaze fell to her throat. His fingers gripped the armrests, pressing into the soft red fabric. He shifted in his seat. The tight leather pants he wore rubbed his arousal in the nicest way. He would take her blood soon, blood she had denied him. Until now. His nostrils flared and he trembled.
    His blood-lust for the widow went deep, like a drill boring through the toughest layers of stone. Once he had caught the scent of her blood all those months ago, nothing else seemed to satisfy. He took from willing donors, of course, but only just enough to stay alive. He was, therefore, in a state of blood-hunger most of the time.
    And there seemed to be no end of ways that he had fantasized about taking her blood, especially with his fangs in her neck and his cock buried deep inside her.
    Merde, if he was not careful, the cursed woman would become an obsession, which was just a short distance away from a binding. He had promised himself, vowing by all the ancient vampire lords, never to be bound to any female, nonetheless a fae-human. Such bindings always