A Club Sortilege Tale
By Laura Tolomei
BDSM, Multiple Partners, Paranormal, Contemporary, Time-Travel, Gay Male-Male
“With erotically raw language and content, this paranormal, erotic, dark fantasy holds all the drama and sexual tension that readers expect from Author Laura Tolomei.” BM Global Network rated it 5-Stars
He wasn’t looking for love or soul mates. He was looking for that Halloween high. Such was his justification. What comes around goes around was more like it.
When Eunice Saint Jacques meets Adrien Ascott at the Halloween party of one of New Orleans’s prestigious hotels, she thinks he’s cute.
Nah, she thinks he’s the most gorgeous creature ever. Little does she know he isn’t all that he seems to be, and that this Halloween will seal her destiny forever!
While it’s Presentation Night at Club Sortilege, the renowned New Orleans BDSM club, Yvette Carlisle, the Grand Master’s slave, is worried. What happened to her friend Eunice should never have happened.
Hell, not for a long time.
Yet, here she is, talking to Adrien and uncovering an age-old curse that makes his karma as deadly as that of Count Dracula himself. Is it true, or is he spinning just another tale of bondage and sadism in the plush lounge of Club Sortilege?
He was gorgeous.
No, he was magnetic.
Something about him didn’t allow her gaze to waver, no matter how much she wanted to steer clear of him. Something inevitably brought it back and refused to let go, not even to blink.
Amazed and scared at the same time, Eunice ogled him without being able to stop herself.
“Please, let me offer you another drink since this came to an untimely end.” He smiled, and it was like the entire world had brightened in spite of the candle lights. “What were you drinking, My Queen?”
“Hem…” Startled, she jumped back as if coming out of a dream. “It’s all right.” Realizing her bad manners had taken the better of her, Eunice composed herself. “I’m the one who should be sorry, and you don’t owe me anything.”
“I insist, Milady.” For good measure, he grabbed her hand.
She had no choice, no choice except sink into purple eyes that promised delights and pleasures beyond her wildest dreams.
“It’s obvious it’s all my fault.” Both firm and proprietary, his squeeze seemed to urge her to acknowledge him fully.
Which she did.
From the exaggerated tilt needed simply to glance at his eyes, she guessed he was six feet five or six. Muscular without the body-builder inflated torso, he had a masculine face with a square jaw, high cheekbones, straight nose, and full lips. His dark complexion blended well with the shoulder-length, thick black hair, but what kept her glued to her spot were his purple eyes that seemed transfixed on her.
“What can I get you?” Gently, he let go of her hand and grabbed her nearly empty glass. “This looks like Long Island Iced Tea.” Bringing it to his nose, he sniffed it. “Smells like it, too.”
“Yes, it’s Long Island Tea.” Shaking herself out of whatever confusion this incident had thrown her, Eunice nodded. “But you don’t have to worry about it, Mister…”
She searched his face for a name that didn’t seem to be forthcoming. Then, her gaze dropped to his outfit, and a shiver ran down her back. Maybe, it was her impression, but his tuxedo and black tie reminded her of a vampire she’d seen in a popular TV show. The sensation was further heightened by the nineteen-century-style top hat that sat so elegantly on his head and made him look older, nearly ancient given the drawn lines on his face.
“Count Dracula to your rescue, my dear Queen Elizabeth.” Flipping off his hat with his free hand, he went for another curtsy. “If you can wait here for a moment, I’ll get you the new drink.”
“Yes.” Breathless, she couldn’t think straight until someone nudged her on the right side, and she realized that she was in the middle of the chamber. “No, actually, I’ll wait over there.” She pointed at a faraway corner. “I wouldn’t want to run into more mishap while you’re gone.”
“Smart move.” He approved, beaming. “It won’t take long.” He headed toward the bar where another long line was waiting to be sated.
Navigating the crowds in her cumbersome attire was no easy task, though she managed to accomplish it with a good deal of push and shove. Once she reached her destination, she conquered a position with her back right against the wall.
Such had always been her spot on those rare occasions when she’d been invited to parties. Never one to mingle, she’d usually spent her time watching others dance, drink, talk, and have fun. Not anyone’s problem if she was rooted to her spot, terrified to leave it to be precise, as though danger lurked just beyond, as though hell might swallow her whole if she dared to budge.
Now, again, she was up against a wall.
Only, this time, it would be different.
She was sure of it.