The Vampire Narcise Read Online Free PDF

flowing loosely over long limbs. Unlike the ladies who wore high fashion, she didn’t have the layers ofcrinoline and corset to peel away. One could see everything she had to offer as the silk clung to her from breast to hips to pubis.
    As Damaris settled on the arm of Giordan’s chair, just between him and Moldavi, Mingo entered the room again. He was carrying a plate with the pressed and rolled hashish. Without waiting for his master’s direction, he arranged it on the low, central table and lit the small pyramid-shaped block.
    “Please,” Giordan said, looking at Moldavi with a nod of hospitality. Damaris, also well-trained, offered one wrist to each of them as she sat on the chair arm.
    Giordan felt Moldavi’s eyes on him as he extended his fangs and slid just the tips into the curve of her elbow. The release of blood into his mouth, warm and rich—and in this case, heavy with a note of spice—filled his senses. The taste, the smell, the way his body leaped and responded, skin prickling and warming, had his own blood surging.
    For him, as well as for all Dracule, it was difficult to separate the primitive need for sustenance from the accompanying titillation and arousal that came with penetrating flesh and ingesting hot, thick blood, of the intimate slide of mouth against skin—and most of the time, it was neither necessary nor desirable to do so.
    But tonight, now, Giordan was merely sampling. He had no need for sustenance, nor was he interested in engaging in any other erotic pleasures in his current company—although that wasn’t due to any modesty on his part.
    The simple fact was, despite the taste and smell of the exotic Damaris—who was beginning to breathe heavily as her own pleasure increased with both men feeding from her arms—it was the awareness of Narcise, and her smell, her essence and presence, that attracted Giordan. But he sensed thatit would be best not to reveal his deep interest to her brother so overtly. So he kept his gaze strictly away from her.
    As the sweet, peppery smell of burning hashish filtered through the chamber, and the arousing flow of blood settled over his tongue and rushed through his body, Giordan felt his world turning warm and red, hazy and lulling. He withdrew from Damaris and he’d barely turned away when another of his “vintages”—the Viennese girl Liesl—appeared in front of him. She was petite and blonde, and her lifeblood was just as light and pure as her appearance. She offered a slender shoulder, bared by a low-rising bodice, and as he tugged her onto his lap to take a taste, he allowed his attention to slide toward the chaise where Narcise was sitting.
    Had been sitting.
    She was gone now.
    Combing through the miasma of pleasure and sensuality, Giordan paused before sliding his fangs into the delicate woman in front of him. The smoke from the hashish had cast a filter over the room, and Mingo had turned the oil lamps down to a soft glow. It took Giordan a moment to look around and see a lone figure standing near the corner, looking at a painting on the wall.
    Instead of slipping his fangs in, he softly murmured instruction to Liesl to join Damaris with Moldavi, and to block the guest’s view of the chamber.
    He was under no misapprehension about Moldavi’s need to control his sister. He’d also sensed that any attempt to speak privately with Narcise would be thwarted by her brother.
    Aside of that, she would need to be approached with care. Despite the spark of life he’d noticed in her eyes, surely she must be skittish and leery of any male.
    “Keep him occupied and distracted, and you will be well-compensated,” Giordan murmured into Liesl’s ear, thennicked her with his fang. Just to taste, for it was his duty as host to ensure that everything on the menu was exquisite. And it was. He slicked his tongue briefly around the edge of her ear and she shivered, her hands settling onto his shoulders as she sagged into him, clearly wanting