Undying Desire Read Online Free

tension had swelled so thick and sour he could’ve tasted it in the air. Her heart rate and respiration never changed, though. Highly unusual for a human who was lying. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something didn’t seem right. She knew more than she was willing to share.
    Guerin turned his beer up for another swig as the bartender stepped up to the counter. He leaned in, the halogen beams bouncing off the silver loops piercing his nipples. Without a word, he pushed a folded slip of paper his way.
    “What’s this?” Guerin held it up between his fingers.
    “Secret admirer,” the other man replied, his words thick with a heavy German accent. “Maybe, ja?”
    “Right…” Guerin unfolded the note and gazed down at the lines of red ink.
    If you want to know about Eve…
    Meet me in five minutes.
    Behind the club. Alone.
    Adrenaline slammed into his system, kicking his heart rate into a pounding percussion in his head. Guerin shoved the slip of paper in his coat pocket and cranked his head around in Mistress Fallon’s direction. She appeared engrossed in a stack of work an employee must have placed in front of her.
    Had she sent him the note?
    He fisted his beer, then tossed back another swallow. Guerin pulled out his cell, checked the time, and section by section, continued his survey of the crowd around him. Most of the club’s patrons were focused on the various activities available in one of Nuremberg’s hidden fetish nightspots. The others, a couple of women and a few men who’d met his gaze, looked more interested in coaxing him to play than divulging information. He shoved his cell back inside his coat’s interior pocket.
    The sound of leather cracking across flesh split the air of the club and sent a chill down Guerin’s spine. A loud moan followed, and Guerin jerked his head toward the pleasure/pain-filled utterance. His gaze landed on a St. Andrew’s cross that stood spotlighted in the back corner of the club. Shackled to each upper limb of the device hung a blindfolded, shirtless man with his back to the crowd. His thin pale arms, wet with sweat, glistened in the harsh light. A crowd formed a semicircle around the display, fixated—mesmerized—by the petite bare-chested brunette and her submissive.
    Before Guerin realized he’d even moved, he found himself working his way to the front of the group of voyeurs.
    Crack.
    The whip sang out before its Mistress hit her mark with expert precision across her sub’s right shoulder blade. The man writhed and groaned as another red welt blazoned to life across his back, followed by a trickle of blood from the thin slice in his flesh.
    Arousal rolled off the humans in waves, mixing with the sensual and haunting melody emitting from the sound system like a hypnotic spell. His cock swelled to life. At that moment, a songstress crooned something about the devil making us sin. Shit. If Satan were the only thing he had to worry about, Guerin’s existence would be much less complicated.
    But there were darker creatures of the night that didn’t exist merely in the fiery pits of hell. They walked the streets and were capable of getting inside your head, creating a craving within your soul that even a century-long abstinence could never cure.
    Crack.
    The single tail uncurled through the air once more and struck its target. The sub shuddered, threw his head back, and released a loud groan. Guerin’s pulse roared in his ears. His breathing was reduced to pants, and his fingers curled at his sides into tight fists. Christ. He had to get the hell out of here.
    Swinging around, he barreled through the crowd, heading straight for the club’s main entrance. Beads of perspiration formed on his brow, and he swiped them away with a muttered curse. How many decades had to go by before he could let go of his past? Before the sights and sounds of what he’d just witnessed didn’t crawl under his skin and press every one of his fuck-me buttons.
    Focus.
    He had to stay