Read The Dark's Mistress (The Saint-Pierres) for Free Online Page B

chose otherwise.
    “I wish you to spend some time with me before your show tonight, Kambriel.” 
    His deep voice always slicked warmly across her skin.  Not quite evil, yet innately wicked.  If he ever belted out a slow, simmering love song, the result could prove dangerous to her wanting desires.
    Kam toyed with the hem of the chemise.  She’d passed the afternoon thinking about that kiss with Johnny.  Over and over.  Stolen right out in the public gardens for all to see.  Except for the one who stood before her now. 
    Anticipation did not suit him.
    Perhaps the look he wore wasn’t so appealing after all.  She readjusted her image of sexy to scuffed boots and pants hanging low at the hip to expose sensual, taut muscles, and a crazy haircut that revealed sharp cheekbones and a switchblade smile—
    Kam pushed the image away as quickly as it had formed.
    Himself had an innate way of knowing what most attracted those who would look upon him.  If he ever assumed Johnny’s look, she would be in serious trouble.
    “I was going to head over to the club early,” she offered, “to make some adjustments to my costume.  Maybe some other day—“
    Her breath gushed from her lungs.  Chill air crept across her skin.  Before she could protest, Kam was seated before a grand, black marble table, outfitted with a feast.  He could transport her anywhere, anytime, whenever he wished.  That was one of the disadvantages to being his girlfriend; these sudden trips to his lair were unexpected and rarely announced.
    She cast her gaze over the food and drink displayed to entice.  Everything was always black, silver, or some kind of shiny hematite.  Looked like something a robot would consume, if robots needed to eat.  It couldn’t be real food.  She’d never tried more than a few nibbles for she always lost her appetite.  Not that she, a vampire, had an appetite for food.
    Always, the goblet filled with blood sat on the opposite end of the table—before him.  Seated on his throne, he posed with one knee draped over a chair arm, his head tilted to watch her with those all-seeing black eyes that glowed red when he was angry or pleased.  Now they were cold matte black that, with a blink, sheened briefly with silver.
    “I’m not so hungry.”  Kam pushed a plate of jiggling chrome baubles away from her.  Something on the table slithered between a pair of silver candelabra.  She gave it no regard.  “Show me your true self.”
    “Why?”
    “Because if you wish the truth from me, I wish it from you.  You know I prefer you in true form.”
    She honestly did, as horrible as that image was.
    The man on the throne transformed in a blink.  The pale muscled skin turned red and then black as pitch until she could not determine where flesh ended and the black metal throne began.  Ebony horns jutted out from his temples, long, curved and deadly.  His face changed, lengthening and defining cheekbones and deep eye sockets.  Fangs elongated, cutting through leathery lips, spilling not red blood, but black.  A terrifying vision to wake to in the middle of the night.
    Kambriel preferred him in this form.  It was who he was.  His truth.  She could face this demonic form with more confidence than the pretty, handsome visage he wore for her because this was not her image of what she desired, but rather, the truth of her life.
    And she must never forget that.  For though her thoughts were often muddied, and she couldn’t always remember past events or names, or even her family, she had to cling to the reminder something in her life was not right.  And never would be right.
    Still painfully underdressed in the form-clinging chemise and red-bowed stockings, she stepped up onto her chair, wobbling slightly on her high heels.  He’d seen her in all states of undress.  She wasn’t ashamed for him to look upon her, though, in her deepest being she thought that she should be.  It was one of those things she hadn’t