Undercovers, p.1

Undercovers, page 1



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  A Total-E-Bound Publication



  ISBN # 978-1-907280-33-7

  ©Copyright Nadia Aidan 2009

  Cover Art by Natalie Winters ©Copyright October

  Edited by Christine Riley

  Total-E-Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2009 by Total-E-Bound Publishing 1 The Corner, Faldingworth Road, Spridlington, Market Rasen, Lincolnshire, LN8 2DE, UK.

  Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has been rated Total-e-burning.

  Voracious Vamps


  Nadia Aidan


  New Orleans, Louisiana 1858

  Roarke slipped into the darkened room and listened. He couldn’t stay there long. The band of vampires after him would surely barge into every room in the house in order to find him.

  He was irritated that he had to be there in the first place and now found himself in this predicament. For one, he despised these damn quadroon balls, the very notion of them despicable—mothers selling their daughters to French men, who would just make them their whores, their placees. Their greed and shame for who they were was the very reason why some had begun to exploit the situation. They thought their daughters were being kept as wealthy mistresses of French settlers, but they were being sold. Free women, of the gens de coleur de libre, were being kidnapped and sold to plantations in the South, their education and beauty making them treasured commodities.

  The New Orleans Supernatural Crime Bureau were convinced a vampire had lured these women, seduced them with the kiss of the Vampese, then sold them to human slave traders for a hefty profit. Roarke had taken this assignment, his last one, and when he was done he would head north to Philadelphia for a well deserved break. Now all he had to do was stay alive long enough to wrap up this case.

  There was a commotion down the hall, and he knew he had to get out of there quick. He turned towards the window but froze, his gaze glued to the revolver pointed at his chest.

  He looked up. A woman. He couldn’t see her face, her face hidden behind a mask, and the tiny window left the room shrouded in almost complete darkness, but he sensed she was probably a beauty behind her disguise.

  “Pardon moi, Mademoiselle. Can I trouble you for a favour?”

  “A favour?” Her eyes widened. “You’re in my boarding room. You need to leave.” She emphasised her point by lifting her gun higher.

  “Please.” He jerked his head towards the door. “You hear that noise on the other side? There are some men out there, and they will kill me if you don’t either let me go or help me.”

  Her brow furrowed. “Why would someone be trying to kill you?”

  He didn’t have time for this. He was seconds away from knocking her unconscious and jumping through that window. But if he fled, he’d cause enough commotion to arouse suspicion, and if he were a criminal, that would be enough to make him pack up shop and move on to the next town. Roarke refused to let that happen. He touched her emotions using his empathic abilities. She was frightened, but that was it. She seemed trustworthy enough. “Those guys out there are protecting a man who is kidnapping women and selling them into slavery. I’m here to stop them and if you help me I can—”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “Then I’m going to have to wrestle that gun from you, knock you out, and escape out that window behind us, but the guy I’m after will probably get away if I have to do that. So I’m hoping it won’t come to that.”

  She hesitated and seconds ticked by before she slowly lowered her gun. He breathed a sigh of relief, although suspicion was still etched across her face.

  “How can I help you?”

  The raucous sounds were getting closer.

  “You can lie down on that bed, lift your skirts, and pretend that we are making love.”

  “Pardon moi!”

  He really didn’t have time for this. They were only one door away. He moved with supernatural speed, wrenching her gun from her hand and setting it on the floor by the bed, out of sight. Before she could utter a protest he had her flat on her back, her drawers off, skirts up and was between her thighs.

  She pushed at his chest, ready to scream, and that just wouldn’t do. He captured her lips in a searing kiss, using every skill he’d learned from the courtesans in India to seduce her. She resisted, and he was impressed—women never resisted him, but he was determined.

  Still probing her sweet mouth, his hands slid up her stocking clad legs, caressing the bare skin beneath her garters. He rocked his erection against her pussy, and what had been resistance just moments ago, now turned into moans. Her bodice was low, the swells of her breasts spilling over the top. He ached to rip it down, to reveal the soft mounds, but remembered himself. This was only a game of subterfuge, which reminded him. He needed to make it look real.

  He didn’t think any of the men had caught his face, but just in case, he needed them to be so shamed that they wouldn’t question why he didn’t lift his head.

  He undid his trousers, pushing them past his hips, his bare ass on display. Despite the fact that it was a ruse, his cock hardened, a blatant response to the woman beneath him.

  He settled between her spread thighs, careful not to enter her, but it was a struggle. She was just so hot, so wet, so achingly tempting. He groaned. If she gave him just the slightest hint, he would be inside her in seconds.

  He lifted his head, her eyes were glazed with lust, her lips full and puffy as if a bee had stung them.

  “When they come in, do not break the kiss to look at them, you understand?”

  She nodded and he captured her lips again, chanting to himself that this was not real—not real.

  Everything after that happened so fast, most of it was a blur.

  She wound her arms around him, her thighs holding him close. A ragged moan escaped him when she lifted her hips, the tip of his cock parting her wet folds.

  He wanted to call her name, bite out a warning, but merde, he hadn’t asked the lady her name. He started to lift his head, but the door burst open.

  He plundered her mouth.

  Her hips jerked higher.

  Unable to stop himself, he pushed inside her, and her cry ripped through the air.

  There were a series of muffled apologies and the door slammed shut.

  “Merde,” he cursed as he held himself still above her, his breaths coming in choppy pants as he fought to quiet the urgency that raged within him.

  “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

  He touched her face. “At least remove your mask so I can—”

  “No,” she said softly, her hips moving beneath him, sending him tunnelling deeper.

  He let out a hoarse curse, his control slipping as he drove into her, burying himself deep inside her until he could not go any further.

eir bodies moved in unison, as they twisted together against the sheets, their muffled cries and groans of pleasure echoing off the walls of the room.

  Her body was tight around him, but it opened to him, yielded beneath him and he moved within her at a frenzied pace, his thrusts now deeper and harder as he neared completion. She surged up to meet him, her hips lifting off the bed to pull him deeper within her body and he rode her with rough strokes, his hips bucking furiously.

  She clasped her ankles around him, her body tensing beneath him. She’d barely climaxed, crying out in pleasure, before he erupted. With a strangled groan, he thrust into her one final time and released his seed deep within her womb.

  They collapsed against the bed, their breathing laboured as sweat trickled across their entwined bodies.

  He cursed under his breath and rolled off of her. It had been her first time—she deserved so much better than to be tumbled in the sheets with a man who was nothing but a stranger to her. But he had to go. A transaction was taking place tonight. If he missed it, he wouldn’t get another chance like this again.

  “I have to go. The man I’m after will escape if I don’t leave now.”

  She nodded, her eyes wide. She looked both innocent and seductive, with the bed sheet clutched to her ample chest. “I understand.”

  He could tell she didn’t. “What’s your name at least? I could find you when this is over and I could see you again.” That was a bit of a lie. He didn’t really want to see her again. She wasn’t part of his plan. All he wanted to do was wrap up this case and start anew in Philadelphia.

  Her eyes narrowed, a flash of pain leaping in her eyes before it quickly disappeared.

  It was almost as if she’d heard his thoughts. He touched her emotions again. He didn’t feel any pain, and he would have known if she was a vampire, or another supernatural being. No, just an ordinary human.

  “You better go,” she said softly.

  He hesitated. “But what about seeing you again?”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “At least tell me your name.”

  She shook her head, a smile on her face that he swore was forced, but in the darkness he couldn’t be sure. “No names. It’s better this way. Go,” she whispered, urging him to leave again.

  So why didn’t he? He cursed. He felt as if he should say something—do something. He reached inside his pocket. His watch.

  “What is this?” she asked when he handed it to her.

  “You can remain a mystery, but my name is Roarke Dimitru. I’ll be leaving for Philadelphia as soon as I finish here, but I have a home in the Bayou. It shouldn’t be difficult to find my residence, I’m well known in the Bayou, just ask someone. If you ever need anything, go there and present this watch. My servants will know how to find me.”

  He knew before he slipped out that she would never look for him, and when he’d later returned to search for her, it was as if she’d vanished into thin air, like the mist along the Bayou.

  Chapter One

  Las Vegas, Nevada—Present day

  Jasmeene LeCourt smoothed her sweaty palms down the length of her jean clad thighs, blowing out a long, shaky breath. Butterflies fluttered in her belly, but she ignored them and lifted her fist to rap softly against the door.

  The deep, brusque voice on the other side called for her to come in, and before she lost her nerve she stepped inside.

  Lieutenant Roarke Dimitru’s head was down, his attention focused on the stack of papers littering his desk. Jasmeene studied the older vamp, and the impressive swell of muscle and sinew beneath his grey t-shirt, the corded thickness of his large biceps straining against the soft fabric. He was a ruggedly handsome man with his stubbled jaw and chestnut brown locks that curled lazily around his broad shoulders.

  His head snapped up then, and her gaze collided with his piercing emerald green eyes that she swore could see straight to her soul.

  “Can I help you, Detective?” His full lips curled into a flirtatious grin and he leaned back in his chair, his hands clasping behind his head, drawing her attention to his broad and defined torso.

  She fought not to roll her eyes, her lips twisting into a frown. He thought he was God’s gift to women—all women—supernatural and human alike, and he never passed up an opportunity to display the reason why he held that notion. She hated men like him, men who took advantage of women just because they could. Men who were liars, cheats and users. Had she not been a rookie, and had he not been her superior, she would have told him what to do with his conceit. But she needed this position, this assignment in particular, and was determined to do a good job. She was the first, and only of her kind to be recruited to the Las Vegas Supernatural Crime Unit. She had a lot to prove—mainly that she was just as capable as any other supra.

  “Captain Alekseev sent me. Said you needed a single female for this assignment.” She’d thought it was a strange request, the need for a single female, until she’d read the specs for the case. There were already few females who worked for the unit, even fewer single females, and none who possessed her unique talents. The captain had picked her because she was the only one in the entire unit who could actually complete the assignment.

  Roarke raked his gaze over her, and she bristled when his eyes settled on her breasts, before dipping lower to stare at the juncture between her thighs. Her temper—that blasted Southern temper of hers—flared to life, and a fiery insult was on the tip of her tongue when Roarke abruptly shot out of his seat and propped himself against his desk, his arms folding across his chest.

  “So Gabe sent you? A rookie.”

  “I assure you, I can do the job. I graduated top of my class from the academy and I’ve worked with Lieutenant Talbot-Alekseev on my last four assignments who has spoken very highly of my performances—”

  “This isn’t vice, rookie. We’re investigating three homicides.”

  “I know that sir. I read the specs.”

  He was quiet, his face impassive. She knew how dangerous this assignment was. A group of rogue vampires were running an illegal prostitution ring of human females and using a strip club as the front. It would have been a job for vice alone had some rogue asshole not bled three human females dry.

  “I’m ready for this assignment.” Her voice was firm. “Captain and Lieutenant Alekseev would not have recommended me had they not thought I could handle it.”

  Roarke stroked his jaw, the strong tanned length of his fingers drawing her gaze. Her breath hitched in her chest when his emerald eyes darkened to a forest green and he stood straighter, the intensity of his stare making her want to fidget.

  “I trust Collette and Gabe with my life, so if they think you’re ready then I believe them.” He circled her, and she forced herself to remain rooted to her spot as if she was at attention. “But while we’re out there on assignment, it’ll just be you and me, working alone. It’s up to us to bring this creep in, so I have to trust you.” He stopped behind her, his body so close she could feel heat vibrating off of him in waves. He swept her hair aside, his lips so close to her ear that his warm breath tickled the skin along her neck. “I need to know that you’re willing to do anything to get this job done. That you won’t let your fears blow our cover.”

  Superior or not, she batted his hand away, skin growing hot as her temper ignited.

  She wasn’t stupid—his veiled insult hit its mark. He questioned her half-human blood, the part of her that was weak—that same part of her that allowed her to mask her vampire blood from other vampires—including a rogue vampire killing human women. That same part of her made her the only supernatural in the entire unit who could do this particular job.

  “What is it that I need to do to prove to you that I know how to handle myself out in the field?” she bit out, her entire body vibrating with barely controlled anger. She’d been taunted and teased all her life—an outcast among both humans and vampires. His insult didn’t so much as pierce her armour, it only made her m
ore defensive, more defiant, and even more determined to do well.

  He didn’t step back, not even an inch, as he circled around to face her. They stood eye to eye, toe to toe, heat radiating from their bodies, tinged with emotion. Hers was that of anger, his—desire?

  “Before I let you go out into the field with me, I need to be certain of your abilities, which is why I need you to do one thing for me.”

  She arched a single brow. “And that would be?” she asked, when he didn’t move to finish.

  His lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. “I need you to strip.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Your assignment is to pose as an exotic dancer so I need you to strip, right here, right now, for me.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t really think that’s nece—”

  “Oh it’s necessary. Earlier, when I stared at your breasts and your pussy, you got upset. Just now, you cringed at the mention of the word ‘pussy’.” He drawled out the word, his lips quirking into a grin. He was enjoying her embarrassment.

  “You’re serious?”

  “Very. What stripper doesn’t strip? What stripper winces at the word ‘pussy’? If you can’t strip for me, then you can’t strip in a club packed full of men.” He inched his way closer, the broad width of his chest grazing her breasts. She fought not to react, but it was a struggle, her body and emotions warring. “You said you read the specs for the assignment, so you must know that I’m posing as a buyer, and that I intend to purchase you for a night, maybe more.” He leaned into her, his words barely a whisper, but she heard every single one. “There is a possibility you will end up in my bed, and you will have to do it, Jasmeene. You will have to fuck me as if you are a real stripper, making money on the side.” She shuddered at his words. She’d read the specs, knew that was a possibility, but to read it and be confronted with it, no correction, to be confronted with the man she would possibly have to sleep with, were two different things entirely.

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