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The night nurse

Author: Claire Lemaire
last update Last Updated: 2025-09-07 07:44:41

The silence of the old mansion was not an absence, but a thing, a velvet shroud that waited for the sun to drain away beyond the horizon. Anya always found the night shift the most intimate, a realm of darkness where day's proprieties opened out into shadow. Her new patient, however, was the secret at the heart of that realm. His file was a masterpiece of careful evasion, but his state was one she'd learned about in illicit medical texts and whispered legend. He was a vampire, and his needs were only just beginning to announce themselves.

His name was Valerian, a name as ancient and commanding as the man. He did not rest on the antiseptic bed, but on a low dark-leather divan, his body a marble study of repose until the last flicker of sun had gone. Anya's breath always caught when he stirred. It was not a start, or a gasp, but an easy movement from statue to living flesh. His cognac-colored, older eyes would fly open, and the broad space would narrow, pulling energy into the vortex of
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  • Compilation Of Short Stories (Erotica)   The Renegotiation

    There was no whiff of dust and decay in the vault, but of ancient power and sweetly sickly odor of an unfinished deal. It was the scent of him. He waited for her, as she had expected that he would, his form materializing from the darkness of the recess of the specially soundproof bank vault that she had demanded for their meeting. He was not a nightmare demon, not with her. He was something else: a dream of complete domination,shaped to the hidden desires she'd sold her soul on a decade ago.He towered above any man, his frame condensed into a suit which was worth more than she paid for her car, but that was irrelevant. His true charm was the way the dimmed room reflected off the angle of his jawline, the way his banked ember-colored eyes demanded hers with a power that was at once daunting and thrilling. This was her patron. Her demon. And tonight she was here to renegotiate the cost of her damnation.“You’re late,” his voice was a low thrum that vibrated in her bones, a sound that h

  • Compilation Of Short Stories (Erotica)   The Connoisseur's Appetite

    The first of the salon rules was that nothing was ever quite as it seemed to be, particularly desire.Aurelia's heart was not pounding in fear, but with hot, thrilling anticipation that made the blood sing in her veins. The atmosphere was heavy with scents of beeswax candles, old brandy, and a strong, heady, sweet scent of violets trampled underfoot. She was the main attraction tonight, and the realization created a shiver of sheer power instead of fear.She had signed in blood-red pen, submitted to health screening with sterile fastidiousness, and now stood waiting, a sapphire silk vision amidst a welter of velvet and blackness. The audience, a somberly chosen company of twelve, sat still, their eyes sparkling in the guttering candles, not with threat, but with rapt attention such as art critics give a work of art in creation. Their voyeurism was a form of worship, and she was their willing deity.Her host for the night swooped across the floor with a fluid grace. He was simply intr

  • Compilation Of Short Stories (Erotica)   The witch catalyst

    The air in the sanctum wasn't just filled with magic; it was magic, thick as honey and humming with a pent-up appetite that caused her skin to prickle. She had asked for the full-circle ritual, had begged for it, and now, standing in the middle of it, the mere weight of wanting almost made her knees buckle. This had nothing to do with soft loving; this had to do with power, with becoming the living receptacle for a raw, untrammeled power, and she was well prepared to burn.Zorvath’s voice, a low growl that vibrated deep in her bones, shattered the silence. "The circle needs a catalyst. It needs truth. It needs pleasure so keen it becomes pain, and ecstasy so intense it hovers on terror. You opened yourself up, Jessa. There will be no hiding here."Behind her, a low laugh filled the air, silky and smoky, it was Nyssa. Her cool, measured fingers traced the length of Jessa's spine that made her shiver furiously. "Look at her, Zorvath. She's already shaking. Not with fear. She's sucking

  • Compilation Of Short Stories (Erotica)   The Fae Masquerade

    During the Fae masquerade ball, the mask doesn't conceal you, but brings out the deepest, darkest, most forbidden hunger you never had the courage to speak aloud.Thalia was well-acquainted with the rule, having felt its truth humming in the air the moment she'd passed through the glittering portal and into the whirling, scented madness of the Twilight Court's ball. Her own black lace mask, which was thin as eggshell, trembled at the raw lust that ran through the great hall, lust in the sheen of eyes and the firm, wary smiles of creatures for whom lust was both currency and sustenance. She was a tiny human in a den of very ancient appetites, and all her nerves bristled with icy, shuddering awareness.It was why she didn't even flinch when the two of them advanced on her. They navigated the throng not as if they belonged to it, but as if the throng parted miraculously before them, a sea of silk and magic flowing aside to twin pillars of predator beauty. Their masks were pieces of art:

  • Compilation Of Short Stories (Erotica)   The Moon-Forged Collar

    The velvet box felt heavier than a mountain in his hands, a promise of silence for what was to be seen. Aric saw moonlight shining in Sephine's dark, wide eyes, her breath caught as she regarded the box in his hands. That raw, tender bond between them hummed with tension from her and his own hot, possessive passion. He could smell the air of her arousal on the breeze, a sweet musk that awakened the primitive nature of his wolf. "For you, my mate," he said, his words resonating through the space between them. "Forged under the full moon. For you." With a reverence that made her knees buckle under the fervor of it, he opened the box. On a black silk bed, there was a collar. But one unlike any she had ever seen. It was constructed of a weird, silver metal that drew the moonlight in and glowed of its own light, runes and oaths carved along its length. It was not a bond of ownership, but a declaration of joining, a symbol of the close bonding they were developing now. "Aric," she pant

  • Compilation Of Short Stories (Erotica)   The Alpha's initiation

    She had volunteered herself to the show, and now the amber tide of eyes looked at her, suppliant and hungry.Shadows of the fire danced across the pale skin of her back, her back stiff and submissive as the Pack Beta guided her through the crowd with a firm hand on the small of her back. They did not mock nor taunt; their respect was an alive, burning thing, a silent acknowledgment of the ferocity it had taken to defy their way. This was the public tease, the acknowledgement of the private ferocity she'd been craving since she first laid eyes on their leader.He watched from a raised dais, his throne hewn of dark wood behind him. The Alpha. His was Ronan, a deep resonant syllable, and it suited the sheer, still power he had. He did not move, did not speak, but stood and watched her come to him with a gaze that felt like a physical gaze, stripping away the fine silk of her formal tunic and baring her very soul. He was all corded muscles and silent command, his presence a weight that m

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