A Club Sortilege Tale
By Laura Tolomei
BDSM, Multiple Partners, Paranormal, Contemporary, Time-Travel, Gay Male-Male
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?
“Adrien, do you know where my sister is?” Marcel Le Clerque’s large face suddenly came into sharp focus. Charging into the stables, he looked around as though she were hiding there.
To say that he was big was an understatement. He’d always resembled a pig more than a man. About the same age as Adrien, his fat belly protruding over thick short legs and round, pudgy face marked him as belonging to the hogs’ species rather than that of the humans.
“We’ve been looking for her all over.”
“Sorry, sir.” All deferential and submissive, Adrien didn’t even bother to look him in the eyes. “She isn’t here.”
“What about her horse, Pierre?” Swinging his gaze frantically, Marcel landed it on a distant stall. “Is he here?”
“All horses are here and accounted for.” Adrien had made sure of it.
Good thing he’d insisted on bringing back Pierre after he’d persuaded the deluded fool that was Julia into abandoning everything and everyone. It avoided unwanted questions and unauthorized reappearances.
“She hasn’t been here to take Pierre.” He stared in the direction of the magnificent brown-coated gelding. “I haven’t seen her for the past couple of days.”
“Do you know where she might be?” Marcel insisted, suspicion clouding his gaze.
“No, sir,” Adrien lied smoothly. “Why should I know?”
Of course, he knew where Julia was.
“’Cause she’s always hanging around the stable,” Marcel huffed, annoyed.
“I assure you, sir.” Adrien raised his gaze. “She seldom speaks to me.”
Except for when she begged him not to hurt her.
“Is that a fact?” Marcel eyed him with more distrust than before. “There has been some talk—”
“Malicious gossip, sir,” Adrien rushed to deny. “Nothing true there, believe me.”
“Fact is no one has seen her since the day before yesterday.” Dropping his skeptical attitude, the prized heir of the odious family now looked like a lost little boy. “Today is All Hallows Eve, and the Marquis René d’Amblairs, her fiancée, has arrived. Tomorrow, on All Saints, she’s supposed to marry him.” He wrung his hands in agitation. “Guests are also pouring in from everywhere, but there’s no trace of the bride.” Pacing around the stable, he came to a stop in front of him. “Do you understand why we must find her?”
“I totally understand,” Adrien forced his voice to be even, working hard to keep his glee at bay. “But I can’t help you.”
“Goddamn it!” Marcel punched the stable door in a fit of rage. “Goddamn women and whoever invented them!”
“Wasn’t it the Good Lord?” Adrien sought to provoke him on purpose.
“I’m beginning to think it was Satan himself,” Julia’s brother retorted angrily.
“Then, maybe, he could tell you where your sister is,” Adrien offered slyly.
“I wish he could.” After another look over the empty place save for Adrien and the horses, Marcel whirled around. “Do come and tell me if she turns up,” he ordered as he stormed out, headed toward the main house.
When hell freezes over.