From the moment Scarlet enters the antique shop she is mesmerized by Nicolai's curious affection towards the dolls, and she instantly becomes addicted to his sultry charisma, his masculine charm. He inhales her breath, feeds on her energy, brushes the invitation of immortality across her throat. He invites her lusts for fantasy to expand, and she welcomes his swift and sultry seduction.
Despite local rumours of a ghostly bordello that would not burn, of a proprietor who could not die, and of evil impish dolls who served only him, Scarlet dedicates herself to this ethereal world and to Nicolai Von Adler's every carnal demand. She has become his Mistress.
But a crusader for righteousness has followed her into the bordello, to ultimately shatter its existence and its unholy sins forever. Scarlet may be the Vampire’s devoted Mistress but does she have the power to keep him and the bordello dolls alive?
He crouched in front of her, the unblinking black eyes never faltering. She felt so weak, so helpless. Yet she didn’t sense a need for alarm. His rapt attention penetrated, flooding her with an austere sexual awareness. He was the most powerful masculine presence she had ever encountered. And as she peered back into his gaze a wash of extreme arousal eddied through her whole being.
“I know you from somewhere,” she said. “You seem so familiar to me.”
It was true. She was far too overwrought with ill-defined feelings of desire by this time to keep her thoughts concealed.
“I’m certain we’ve met before,” she added, searching her memories. No recollection rose that suited him. Unless he had simply invaded her dreams one night, a premonition of a quiet storm about the break on a new day’s dawn. “I just don’t know where. Or when.”
He didn’t confirm. His unblinking stare offered no explanation.
“I really must go now,” she said, slightly annoyed with his silence, frightened more of her rising need for intimacy. “It’s late.”
“It was a past dream,” he whispered, his voice gravelled. “A deliciously sweet dream. I am a Visionary, as are you, Scarlet.” He sighed, an elongated heavy breath, as though every particle of air was being squeezed from his thick chest. “And I see your loneliness. I, too, have been alone. Share the taste of passion with me this night. Let us learn of each other. Again.”
A blur of sensuality followed. His presence, knelt before her, became all intrusive. He shuffled forward, spreading her knees. She felt her dress shift against her thigh, letting the material rise to accommodate his being fitted there. She saw nothing except the depth of those hypnotising black eyes. She had fallen into the Visionary’s addictive grasp and she burned for his seduction.
He lifted his hand, feathering a light touch on her cheek with his knuckles. His opulent smile caused her heart to thrash.
“I would love to stay awhile,” she said.
His lips were inches from hers. He inhaled he breath of her words, his lids half-closed. A soft moan escaped from his throat. She felt his fingers clasp her shoulders. He tugged her slowly forward. The storm that had swelled in her gut broke. The heat of a wet rain was rapture between her lips as his tongue fluttered the first teasing kiss. She dared to reach up, touch his wide neck. Madness, all of it. Her passions rushed through her and she tightly held his jaw, luxuriating in the rhythmic flow of his deepening kiss, the sound of his throaty moans. Her body arched into him. Her fingers swept the cool material of his shirt, the silky smoothness of his hair. And she sighed as his mouth lightly explored the curve of her throat. She threw back her head, wrapped her legs around his torso, eagerly inviting his swaying body ever closer.
“Nicolai,” she sighed. “I am not a harlot.”
His breath was moist against her throat. He laughed. The sound delighted her, and she cupped his skull, forcing his gaze to lift and meet hers. “Then I shall make you one, so that you might belong to me” he whispered, the corner of his mouth pinched into a humourless sneer. “The Scarlet woman who found her fantasy could come true in the quiet hours between passion and death.”
Passion and death.
“A Mistress for my bordello dolls.”
While he spoke, she was vaguely aware that one hand had fallen to the front of his trousers. His shoulder flinched as he worked, preparing himself for what she understood to be inevitable. Her legs were already sprawled around him and her arousal so severe she knew that with his one thrust she would shudder to release. The very thought manifested itself into a moan that boiled up from her throat.
“This is what I can do for you, Scarlet. I shall satisfy the fantasy you have deemed most erotic and yet most unobtainable. I shall persuade you to want of only me. You shall turn this night.”