Page 26 of The Guardian's Curse

She extended her hand to him with the imperious air of a queen. He grasped it and brushed a kiss over the back of her hand. Electricity tingled down his spine as he looked up at her. “Alistair Thorne.”

“I know,” she said. “Franziska Bauer.”

“I know,” he replied.

Her smile split wide to show dazzling white teeth. “Smart lad,” she said. “Alistair Thorne, if you would let me, I will change your life.”

Despite the oddity of it, there was something mesmerizing about her. Her confidence and allure overwhelmed him. “Fraulein Bauer, I would surely let you have whatever you wish.”

“Careful what you promise, sweet boy.”

And that had been the start of it. That night he had gone home alone, but the echo of her remained with him for days. He dreamed of her at night, and thought of her when he was awake. Each hour of practice found him daydreaming of her. The thought of her watching him, enchanted by his playing, turned even the most mundane and tedious of exercises into an act of worship at her feet.

It did not take long for Franziska to find him again and deliver an invitation to the first of many private salons in her lavish home. After the second engagement for her guests, he found himself alone with her, and that was the first of many passionate dalliances with his alluring patron.

This went on for nearly a year, until one midwinter party when he was the featured entertainment. The endless medley of dance tunes were insultingly simple compared to the masterworks he prepared during his studies at the university. But the elite revelers wanted to dance, not have their ears challenged by the new compositions. And with what Franziska paid him to entertain at her parties, he would not complain about the musical selections.

At the end of a galliard, his eyes searched the room for Franziska, who sat upon a settee surrounded by admirers. With rich chestnut hair in curls piled high upon her head and a scarlet neckline that plunged far deeper than was socially acceptable, she looked like the sort of woman a priest would warn good boys to avoid.

He was no good boy, and he had enjoyed the decadence of Franziska’s generosity for many months. And if history repeated itself, he would end the evening in her arms. As if she sensed him thinking increasingly amorous thoughts, her eyes drifted toward him. Her full red lips curved into a smile, baring her gleaming white teeth. Her eyebrows lifted in a tiny motion, and he smirked at her. Her head tilted downward as if to say well?

His stomach rumbled with hunger as he continued to play. It was odd, but Franziska’s late night salons never featured the lavish spreads of food he had enjoyed at other homes. Liquor and dark, pungent red wine flowed freely, but no food would be served this evening.

The night passed in a blur, and when the last of her guests had gone, the front door was barely closed before she pounced upon him. Sweet perfume overwhelmed his senses as her teeth grazed his neck. Graceful fingers turned his face up, and she claimed his mouth in a hungry kiss. A hint of pain lanced through his lip as she nipped him, holding his chin firmly.

“Alistair, dearest,” she murmured.

His heart pounded as blood pooled in his groin. He barely understood her, as he was already rapidly working through a plan to get her out of the silken cage that encased her lovely body. “Hmm...” His hands roamed over her waist, searching for the fiddly ties. Damn these fashions that made it so difficult to get her naked.

She laughed, a rich echoing sound. “Eager boy.”

“Always,” he said.

“That word.” She grasped his wrists and pulled them away. With a little growl, he tried to reach for her again, but she held him firm. How odd. Her strength was at odds with her slender frame and delicate bones. Her head tilted, and there was a glint of red in her eyes. Just a trick of the light. “Would you be at my side forever?”

He gave up fighting for his hands, and pressed his lips to the soft ivory skin of her breast, letting his teeth graze her. If she would just hike up her damned skirts, he would do whatever she wished for as long as she wished. “You know I would.”

Her hand suddenly tangled in his hair, yanking his head back. He gasped in surprise as she straddled him, hips undulating slowly against him. He’d always appreciated Franziska’s voracious appetites, particularly when she was hungry for him, but there was something unusually aggressive about her tonight. It only made him want her more. The ache in his groin was maddening. He pried at the tight laces crossing her back.

“Forever?” she whispered, stealing a kiss. Her deft fingers unlaced his trousers, freeing him. In a rustle of skirts, she shifted in his lap. Then there was the blissful, decadent heat as she welcomed him into her, deeper and deeper until they were one. There was nothing hesitant about Franziska. He was certain that she had never been timid a moment in her life.

“I am yours,” he said.

“Indeed,” she purred. Her body embraced him, and he could only grip her hips tightly as she took control of him. A quiet moan slipped from her lips as she let her head loll back. Tension and pleasure wound together in a knot in his belly, and he was lost in the sheer sensation; the heat of her body, the smooth skin of her breast at his lips, the sweet perfume, the rustle of silk beneath his hands.

Who needed the pleasure of wine or the stupor of opium with a woman like Franziska Bauer?

He groaned and gripped her shoulder tight as he finished within the searing warmth of her body. She yanked his head back again and kissed his throat. “Good boy,” she said. “I hunger for you. Just this once.”

The strangeness of her words jutted through the soft haze, like a sharp rock in his shoe. Just this once?

Through heavy lidded eyes, he gazed up at her. The scarlet in her eyes deepened to a bright, bloody red. This was no trick of the light. A discordant sound rang out as he startled, leaning back against the piano keys. Her white teeth lengthened, until her canines were needle sharp and glinting in the light. He had heard rumors of demonic creatures, of beautiful succubi who prowled the chambers of lonely young men, but this was no drunken fantasy. Primal fear cut through his warm haze.

Sharp teeth pierced the side of his throat, sending a lancing pain down his spine. An impassioned moan ripped from her as her teeth closed on him, and he felt her tighten around him, her climax in sharp contrast to the pain. He tried to push her away, but she locked her legs around him in a mockery of the way they so often made love amidst her lavish bed. With a desperate cry, he grabbed a handful of her curls, trying to wrest her away, but her free hand grasped his wrist and twisted, snapping the bones.

He saw white as pain radiated up his arm. Despite the desperate situation, all he could think was how will I play?

His heart pounded, and the world began to sway around him. The noises that came from Franziska were animalistic, primal and terrifying. They were not the breathy moans, or even the impassioned cries of their midnight romps. This was the sound of a beast devouring its prey.

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