Chocolate Damsel. A.C. Masons

leaned in, kissing Henna’s cheek. “Not tonight. But I will watch, if it pleases you?” The answer was always the same.

      As she nodded, her face lit up.

      “VanWolf.” Griselda tapped his arm. “I’m not done talking to you.”

      “Yes, you are.” He slipped into the room. “The mated require my attention. Good night.” Then he shut and locked the door.

      At the far end of the room, Sascha lay on top of Eline with her face buried between the folds of her legs. Heavy blond curls framed her face. Eline’s elegant fingers slid in and out of Sasha’s wet opening, her head rested on the floor beneath. Pleasure flushed the females’ skin and their eyes gleamed with passion. Eugen stroked his cock, coating the shaft behind Sascha’s plump bottom, his lean body tensed with need. Then he pressed the head to the dark opening above Eline’s fingers. Sascha gasped, throwing her head back.

      VanWolf’s length grew stiff at her display. Once, he too had taken part in such nightly pleasure, but just as wine lost it flavor, the dullness in his heart had muted the bliss of physical exchanges.

      Veltin dipped the tip of his penis into his wife Eline’s labia, then brought it up to her nub.

      Sharp grunts escaped Sascha’s parted lips as Veltin brought the tip of his cock to her lips. The length vanished inside her mouth, and with a slow motion, he pumped into her.

      Pleasure and joy filled the air as he slipped from the room, leaving them drowning in their own ecstasy.

      * * * *

      VanWolf stared at Emmiline’s smiling face. He hated these dreams, tormented by the memory of his lost beloved–Treiama. The link between his heart and soul had severed when she died. Only the damned were haunted by such horror.

      He lay stretched out, his head resting on her lap as she gazed down at him. Everything else around them appeared veiled in mist. It didn’t really matter where they were, just that they were together.

      “My sweet.” Her voice sent agony through his heart, for how he longed to be with her once more.

      Why had he been condemned to live on when his mate and child did not?

      “Because you were meant to love again–a lesson in living with no regrets. I chose you even though I knew I would die. You too will have to risk loving her or she will die.”

      Who was this woman she spoke of? No one could touch his heart. Long ago he’d lost the one it belonged to. He missed how she’d gentled him.

      “The copper beauty.” Those bright blue eyes of hers beamed with love at him.

      No, this couldn’t be. The woman was meant for Cathen. VanWolf couldn’t possibly get between Cathen and the woman meant to be his–Treiama.

      “You are the other male her heart will belong to.” She traced the patch over his eye.

      “I could never.” He took hold of her delicate fingers.

      “She is meant to be your mate. To mend the broken link between your heart and soul. She will remind you of what living without fear despite loss is like, and you will give your life for hers. Otherwise she will die. Cathen will be lost forever.”

      “He’ll never forgive me for coming between him and his love.” VanWolf caressed her cheek, wanting to remember her softness.

      “He will one day, but you do not need his absolution.” She kissed his forehead. “For you will love her.”

      Impossible.

       Chapter 2

      Tension filled Alexia Pane as she and her fellow dancers, Monique and Jill, peered out the window as they waited for Annette to return with news. Waves of fear pounded her body from all directions. The citizens of Paris radiated dismay. Her vision blurred, and she gripped the table next to her. Swaying slowly, she inhaled then exhaled. She hadn’t felt this disoriented since the night her brother drowned. Would she survive the night? Being an empath had its advantages, but right now, her senses fried on overload.

      “Nazi soldiers are marching toward us.” Annette rushed backstage. “Alexia, hide, and no matter what you hear don’t come out.” The sharp edge of her maple stare sent a shiver through her. She pushed Alexia toward the inner wall.

      As word got around that Paris would fall, the women she had danced alongside for the past year had devised a plan to keep her out of sight. Being an American and a woman of color put her in grave danger.

      Behind Monique’s dressing station an opening gaped in the wall. Monique and Jill pushed aside the dresser covering it.

      The weary gazes from the women worried her. Alexia sighed and climbed into the crawlspace. The hole in the wall was sealed with the dresser. Hot, muggy air hung in the small enclosure. Not a smidgen of light entered. She lay flat on blankets and pillows they’d been gathering for this purpose. Rations were kept in a tin at the far side. None of them had wanted to believe this day would come, but war was at the doorstep.

      Hard boots pounded on stone. Then stillness. Door by door, the soldiers knocked. Systematically, they identified Jewish residents. Time passed in silence, then an occasional shot came followed by a dreadful cry. She covered her ears, not wanting to hear the terror. Deafening bangs accompanied stomping on the road.

      Wound tight with the fear around her, she lay unable to sing or chase away the horrid feelings bombarding her. Her stomach churned. What wretched pain shocked the once lively city.

      Heavy footsteps drew near.

      Alexia sat up and brought her legs to her chest. Breathing became impossible. Sweat slid down her collarbone and her chest heaved. She covered her mouth with her hand and pressed to the wall to listen.

      “The city is under curfew. What are you doing here?” a man said, his harsh pronunciation making him difficult to understand.

      “We work here, sir,” Annette said with pride.

      A loud smack sounded. Jill and Monique squealed. Three beautiful women without a male or family to protect them were left terribly vulnerable.

      “Not anymore. The only work you’ll be doing is for me and my men.” Disgusting, depraved sensations of arousal moved through her from a number of males in the room. Five, if she had to guess, based on the energy and footsteps.

      “I’d rather die.” Annette’s words were brazen, but inside a glimmer of hope remained that today would not claim her life.

      A hard slam hit the wall. Annette cried out. Dust showered Alexia in the small space. She pinched her nose not to cough.

      “That can be arranged after we’ve broken you.” He laughed.

      Alexia buried her face between her knees. What terrible men.

      “Where are the rest of the dancers?”

      “Most of them left days ago out of fear of you.” Annette’s voice sounded forced. Distress radiated from her.

      Arousal levels rose from the males. Her friends were so panicked Alexia felt their fear throbbing through her veins. Annette whimpered and pain ruptured from her.

      “But not you, a willful salope.” Slut. He groaned low. “What a feast we’ll have tonight, men.”

      “Any Jews among you?”

      “Non.” Jill spoke up.

      “Your papers?” Sheets rustled. Moments passed. “All of them French. Ralf, take those two back to the regiment, and I want this one in my room. And make sure she doesn’t escape.” Horror ripped through her like a wound. The man took such pleasure in the torment and abuse of others. “Board up the place.”

      Steps against the wood floor shuffled away. Shoes dragged as the women struggled.

      “Wait.” Hard stomps moved back