A Midnight Seduction Read online

  A Midnight Seduction

  By

  Michelle M. Pillow

  Chapter One

  "Tick or teat, smell my feet!" a little voice chimed. Audrey Hayes looked up from the shop counter and smiled. The round cherub face of a four year old was painted red like a demon, but the big brown eyes looked better suited to a cute little puppy dog.

  "Ew," Audrey flinched, shaking her head and wrinkling her nose in mock disgust. "I don’t want to smell your stinky feet. Gross!"

  The child giggled and Audrey loaded his little plastic bucket down with candy. The kid’s dad was a customer and he smiled kindly, urging the boy to say thank you.

  "Tank you!" he chirped, before remembering he was a scary demon. He held up his hands to make claws as he growled.

  Audrey jumped back and pretended to be scared. "Oh, no! Don’t hurt me!"

  The boy giggled and they left. Looking around her shop, she sighed. She’d owned the Dorian Greenhouse since her mother died three years before, leaving it to her. Her mother had been a witch, well a ‘naturalist’. Audrey had always teased her that she was a witch. Her mother had just always smiled and said, "You never know, dear, you never know."

  Audrey had been pretty close to her mother. Clara had been eighteen when she got pregnant with her by the captain of the football team. She’d never met her father.

  Audrey grinned as another group of monsters and a sorely outnumbered princess ballerina came in for candy. She liked to stay open late on Halloween for her customers’ children. It was, after all, her favorite holiday. The kids got a kick out of walking through her spooky haunted greenhouse out back. She’d hired a few high school students to watch over them to make sure no one and nothing was hurt--like her plant inventory. They also rattled leaves around to scare the kids. It was all in good fun.

  Outside it was evening. The sun had just set and she’d be closing her doors in about an hour. Not many kids seemed to stay out past dusk trick-or-treating anymore. She couldn’t blame the parents. It wasn’t like when she was little. Neighbors had known each other back then and there was no ‘razor blades in the candy bar’ scare to contend with. Audrey wasn’t sure if that was just a myth or had actually happened to someone, but if she was a parent she’d not take chances.

  Frowning, she sighed as a wave of loneliness rolled through her. She went to reload her candy bowl with tooth-decaying goodness. What was she thinking? She’d never be a parent--not unless she met a man with a ready made family or she adopted. Part of her wanted a baby desperately, but a serious infection when she was little had left her sterile, so she knew it wasn’t possible. Anyway, with no prospective man in her life and no love life or sex life to speak of, the idea of a family never seemed so far away.

  The door chime went off and Audrey made her way back to the counter with the candy. A man stood just behind the front display, a look of distaste on his handsome face. Brown hair spilled in gentle waves to his shoulders, framing his dark features. She felt her heart speed up. His profile was to her as he glanced around--strong European nose, bold lips, perfectly chiseled features. Her body grew hot and she had to keep her knees from buckling by leaning on the countertop for support.

  Damn! He was gorgeous, like a Greek God sent down to torment mortal women with his mere presence. Her whole body came to life just looking at him. It was strange for her to react so strongly to a man, but she was instantly drawn to him.

  Audrey took a deep breath trying to calm the very wanton sensations causing hot moisture to gather between her thighs. Her eyes closed and she got the strangest flash of being leaned over the countertop and fucked by him from behind. It was so real that she could practically feel his cock inside her.

  She shivered. What was she doing? This man was probably out with his kids and wife! Any second now the happy family would come trotting through the door, and the wife would be a gorgeous supermodel, and they’d both speak Italian and….

  Her thoughts faltered as he turned and his gaze met hers. The spark inside her continued to grow at his look and she felt the strongest urge to jump over the countertop and wrap her arms around him. He blinked, smiling slightly, his firm lips curling up at the side.

  As he came from behind the front display into view, she saw he wore tight black leather pants. They molded to him like a second skin. He had tight calves and strong thighs with a large bulge in between them. His dark shirt was just as tight and Audrey wondered what it would be like to rip it off him right then and there.

  What is wrong with me? Say something clever, her mind yelled, even as her throat went dry. Say something! Anything! Just stop staring at him and picturing him naked.

  "You’re a little old to be trick or treating aren’t you?" Audrey forced a laugh, continuing to eye the handsome man. Her voice wasn’t as strong as she would’ve liked but at least the words came out light.

  "I am looking for Clara," the gorgeous man stated.

  Audrey was disappointed to note his voice only held the barest trace of an accent. Damn. She’d been so sure he’d have a strong accent. Still, his voice was wickedly low and smooth enough to give her chills. Altering the fantasy playing in the back of her mind, she felt a wave of desire again assault her. Oh, yeah, his voice would do just fine.

  "I’m sorry," Audrey answered, doing her best to keep up the polite smile she gave him. It was hard to talk with her heart in her throat. Her mind raced for what he’d said, and finally she answered, "Clara’s not here."

  The man came forward and she saw a look of desperation cross in his eyes. "I must speak with her--tonight. Please, tell me, where might I find her? She’s … expecting me."

  "Listen, I’m sorry. Clara was my mother. She died three years ago in a car accident," Audrey said, keeping her voice light. How on Earth did this man know her mother? Clara had looked young, since this would’ve only been her thirty-ninth year.

  "No," he said, more to himself and she could but wonder at it. He glanced around and then turned to study her. "You own this place?"

  "Yes," Audrey answered with a small nod. The door chimed and a group of children rushed in. Audrey smiled at them and then glanced at the handsome stranger, "Excuse me one moment."

  "Are … are you like your mother?" he asked, ignoring the fact that she walked away from him.

  Audrey sighed. Great. Just her luck. She’d finally feel a spark of burning desire for a man and he’d only want to talk about her mother. It wasn’t the first time. Her mother had always naturally drawn attention to herself. Couldn’t this one have just been married? She ignored his question, politely teasing the kids. Peeking through the corner of her eye, she saw he looked very annoyed by the interaction.

  When the kids were gone, he stated, "Clara never gave out candy and dressed up for All Hallows Eve. It really isn’t a time to celebrate."

  Audrey blinked in surprise, looking down at her outfit. Her long sleeve black t-shirt had a skeleton on it but she’d hardly call that a costume. "How do you know that? How exactly did you know my mother? Who are you?"

  His mouth opened to answer and he looked uncomfortable. He glanced away, before placing his palms flat on the counter. "I’m Porter. Are you sure it was a car accident that killed her?"

  Audrey nodded. The memory of it brought her pain and she had to fight down the burning of tears. "Yes. Strangely enough it was caught by a news crew filming a local festival. She was hit by a drunk driver in broad daylight. It was very … sudden."

  "I’m sorry to hear that," Porter answered. "Very sorry."

  "Thank you," Audrey nodded. The whole affair was a blur. She barely recalled the funeral, except as a bad dream. "Now, how did you say you knew my mother?"

  "I didn’t," Porter returned. He began wa lking away from her, craning his neck as he looked around the shop. "Tell me, do you know why she called this Dorian Greenhouse?"

  "Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray. It was her favorite book. That’s what she told me," Audrey answered. "She was eccentric like that."

  "No," Porter said, laughing slightly. "She named it after your father, Dorian Risdon--Lord Dorian Risdon."

  "Ah, I think you’re mistaken, sir," Audrey chuckled. "My father’s name was Rodger Hayes. He was an all state quarterback at her high school. Mom was a cheerleader. They dated, along came me, end of story."

  "No," he said, almost absently as he stopped to look at a pattern of off colored brick on the wall. It formed a circle with a dot in the middle. A slow smile curled the side of his mouth and she again had the insane urge to kiss him. He moved to walk past her, stopping as he drew near. Leaning over, he actually sniffed at her. His lids lowered over his dark eyes and he murmured almost dreamily, "You smell very good."

  "Ah…?" She was at a loss for words. Pleasure ran through her, choosing to express itself in the most primitive of forms--by building as cream in her thighs. He smelled wonderful too, very masculine, almost dizzyingly so.

  A small sound started in the back of his throat and he leaned closer, breathing deeply. Audrey held very still, wide eyed, as his warmth radiated from his cheek to hers. His eyes closed, he quietly stated, "Lavender."

  "Oh, ah, I have some seeds over there," she answered, too stunned by all that she was feeling to pull away. Every fiber inside her reached for him, as if she knew him. She didn’t move.

  Porter cleared his throat and pulled back as he continued past her to the wall. Speaking as if nothing had happened, he stated, "Your father wasn’t a quarterback. He is Lord Dorian Risdon, a master vampire."

  He said it so seriously and her senses still whirled with the potent force of his nearness that Audrey was stunned to momentary silence. She suddenly began to laugh. "Oh, okay then. That would explain my mother’s complete obsession with hating Hollywood vampire movies for being too unrealistic of the vampire species."

  "You don’t believe me?" he stated more than asked.

  "Ah, no. I don’t." Audrey moved to where he stood. Making her tone professional in her annoyance with him and very irritated with herself for feeling such a strong attraction to him in the first place, she asked, "Would you like me to show you the lavender, sir?"

  "Yes," he stated, briefly shooting a hot glance down her body to her thighs. "I’d love to taste your lavender as well."

  Audrey gasped, unsure if the blood should rush to or from her face at his bold words. He turned the full force of his smile on her and she watched him reach towards the wall.

  "But, unfortunately, we don’t have time for that now. Perhaps a rain check?" Running his hand over the patterned brick, Porter grinned. "And you’ll believe me about your father soon enough. He’ll be very happy to see you again."

  The wall beneath his hand began to swirl and move, blurring as the pattern began to twist around. Audrey drew back, blinking in disbelief. Her jaw dropped and still no words came out.

  "Sorry," he said, not appearing to be truly apologetic. He reached to grab her hand. "But if Clara’s dead, you’ll just have to do."

  Chapter Two

  "Clara’s dead? You’re sure?"

  Porter looked up and nodded at Lord Dorian Risdon. The old vampire had short black hair and walked with the regal aristocratic air of a long dead nobleman. His black eyes looked almost eerie in contrast with his white skin. He eternally looked no more than twenty years old, though he’d been around just as long as Porter had--since just after the dawn of time, or so it seemed.

  "I spoke to Clara five years ago. She was fine," Dorian whispered.

  Porter watched a flash of pain cross the vampire’s features, so small a glimmer only one who knew how deeply he felt would sense it. Dorian loved Clara, more than he’d loved most. She was the only one to bear him a child in all his years. And though Dorian had wanted to raise the child as his own, Clara had persuaded him to give the girl a normal, human upbringing. Clara herself was half fairy, half human and knew the dangers of the dark realm. Dorian had reluctantly agreed. Their supernatural world was no place to raise a child.

  "If she’d been killed by a supernatural, we would’ve been told of it, wouldn’t we?" Dorian asked.

  "It was a human accident," Porter answered softly, sensing his friend’s sadness. He knew that the man would grieve for Clara when no one was around. He respected his old friend and didn’t push the issue, didn’t give his condolences. But, he also had the vague sense that Dorian was hiding something from him. They’d known each other long enough to be past the need for words. Porter had liked Clara and grieved silently for her as well. Dorian knew that.

  "And the child?" Dorian asked.

  "Your daughter’s sleeping. She fainted coming through the portal."

  Dorian nodded. They were in his study, an old part of the ancient castle--hidden just beyond that of normal mortal reach. The dark realm was filled with the supernatural, separated to keep the races from intermingling. Humans were afraid of the supernatural, and the supernatural were wary of humans. "She’s here? You brought my daughter here?"

  "It’s All Hallows Eve in the mortal realm. If she’s the last of her line then demons will be out looking for her in the mortal world. What else was I supposed to do? We need her bloodline. She needs to get pregnant tonight." Porter flashed a big grin. "I guess that’ll make you a grandpa."

  Dorian frowned at that. "This does change things. I was expecting Clara. But, I can’t very well impregnate my own daughter. Someone else will have to do it. If she doesn’t conceive…."

  "I know," Porter said, nodding his head and turning serious.

  "Is she pretty?" Dorian asked. "Does she look like Clara?"

  "She is beautiful--reddish brown hair and dark blue eyes like her mother. She’s taller though than I remember Clara being and her face is different." Porter nodded. Clara had been petite like the rest of the fairy kind. "You’ll be proud."

  Dorian turned his dark eyes on him. "Her baby must be part human, part supernatural."

  "I know," Porter repeated. He lounged in a thick red chair, lightly tapping his fingers along the chair’s arm. Slowly, his eyes roamed over the large marble fireplace to where a giant portrait of Dorian and Clara hung. "Who did you have in mind?"

  "The supernatural blood must be pure, born into power not brought," Dorian insisted.

  Porter’s face fell, not liking the way his old friend was looking at him. This time when he asked, the words were short, spoken through tight lips. "Who did you have in mind?"

  "You did say she was beautiful," Dorian said. "And you’re a pure blooded lycan."

  "No, absolutely not!" Porter denied. "There is no way I’m sleeping with a human."

  "She’s half my blood. All I have to do is awaken her powers," Dorian said. "Then, she’ll not be all human. She’s already a quarter fairy from her mother."

  "No," Porter stood, shaking his head. "I’m not going to sleep with a human. They’re … fragile. I’d kill her. What about Evan or Lucien?"

  "Evan’s lifemated and Lucien is a two foot troll," Dorian answered dryly.

  "Ah, but he’s a pure blooded troll," Porter said, almost desperately.

  "I will not give my daughter to a troll," Dorian stated, glaring at the very idea.

  "My kind do not mate with fairies," Porter insisted.

  "But she’s only a quarter and you yourself said that she’s not like Clara physically." Dorian smiled. "We are old friends. I trust you with my life and my daughter."

  "Don’t worry, I’ll find someone for your daughter. It … it just can’t be me," Porter said quietly.

  "There was nothing between you?" Dorian asked. "Did my eyes lie to me when I saw the spark in you for her?"

  Porter sighed. Yes, he’d felt a spark, a hot liquid spark he didn’t like one bit. Her desire had smelled like lavender, w ith the faintest trace of mint. A lycan would kill armies, conquer worlds, just to bury his face within her thighs. He was a pure blood, born a lycan. With a smell like that, he’d tear her body apart before he sated his desires. And there was more. He’d felt his body being pulled towards her. It saw something in her and wanted to mate. The idea scared him. "Don’t ask this of me."

  "We only have four and a half hours until midnight. That doesn’t give us much time for anything else," Dorian said.

  "Well, then I suppose you’d better get up there and say hello to your daughter," Porter returned. "I’d imagine she’s going to be pretty upset when she wakes up."

  "Yes, I suppose it’s not every day you’re told you have to carry the future savior of mankind," Dorian said.

  "Ah, she was raised human, my lord. It’s not everyday they realize creatures like us exist. I’d start with that little fact first and work my way up to the whole baby thing." Porter stood to go. "Show her the truth of her past. It might help."

  "Wait, where are you going?" Dorian demanded.

  "To find your daughter a lover," Porter returned, "because it isn’t going to be me."

  * * * *

  Audrey took a deep breath, looking around the stone chamber. Her reddish brown hair tumbled around her shoulders in soft waves as she moved. The room was barren except for a locked trunk in the corner, a fireplace, and the large bed covered with satin sheets and a thick embroidered red comforter on which she now sat. Her blue jeans and skeleton t-shirt looked severely out of place.

  Somehow, she wasn’t exactly scared so much as she was worried. It was the same feeling she used to get when she was a child. Whenever she felt the bogeyman was outside her door, she’d never be frightened of him but have the strangest urge to invite him in.

  Her mother had spoken of such a room as this when she was little. Audrey had thought they were fairy tales with medieval castles. Come to think of it, didn’t the hero of Clara’s tales have the name of Risdon?

  "Dorian Risdon," she whispered.

  A soft knock sounded and Audrey quickly stood from the bed. She expected to see the handsome stranger from the greenhouse, hoped to see him. Instead, it was a young gentleman, seeming to be about her age, with stark black hair. Audrey shivered, mentally backing away from the man’s dark eyes.