eXtasy's 8 Collective Mind Violet Visions Anthology [Anthology]

350 Pages·2016·1.69 MB·English

VIOLET VISIONS

BY

eXtasyùs Collective Mind
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and
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Violet Visions
Copyright © 2007 eXtasy’s Collective Mind
ISBN: 978-1-55410-765-0
Cover art and design by Martine Jardin

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the
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Published by eXtasy Books
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Table of Contents

Violet of the Night Astrid Cooper
Damson Rapture Evelyn Starr
Everscape K. A. M’Lady
Grapes and Gravity Viola Grace
The Purple Heart Madeleine Grant
Lorelei Astrid Cooper
Servicing the Sheika Tianna Xander
Loving the Sheika Bonnie Rose Leigh
The Last Assignation Sean MacReady
Private Dancer Lynn Crain
Reliever Jojo Brown
Saloon on the Moon Alexis Anthony
Star of the Show Stone Richards
Psiber Viola Grace
Vylet Ultra Astrid Cooper
The Artist’s Model Fawn Lowery
Chaos D. J. Manly
Twisted Ice Gabriella Bradley
To our loyal readers…
VIOLET-OF-THE-NIGHT
By
Astrid Cooper

T he hands were soft as feathers as they stroked along her
thigh, upwards, moving inexorably higher, then retreating,
until after an agony of waiting, the fingers reached her purple
curls. The fingers transformed into coils of water, thin slivers of
iridescence that shimmered in the mauve light. The water spread
over her, dipped into her, washing her every cell with silver. The
arousal spread through her, the ebb and flow, like the waters of
home, slow and thick like blood. She ran a tongue over her
parted lips and moaned.
“Majesty.”
The word barely penetrated her fevered mind as the feathers
stole into her body.
“Please, Your Majesty!”
Violet snapped out of the illusion, angry—angry at the
interruption, angry at the thwarted sex. She had taken so long to
prepare this program, to bring her to a peak that would last for
hours—or so she hoped.
She opened her eyes and glared at the minion.
“Curse your grey-scaled hide, Garit. I told you I wasn’t to be
disturbed.”
Garit, the mud demon, bowed, his peaked forehead scraping
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the ground before him.
“Yes, Your Magnificence, but this is a matter of great
importance.”
“What can be so important that you would drag me from my
pleasure?”
“A death, Oh, exalted one.”
“Death in the Netherworld is a common thing, mud-eater.”
“Yes, Your Majesty, but you need to come to the throne room
and see.”
Pleasure was out of the question, Violet thought, as she tore
off the red circlet from her head, severing her connection with
the simulator. She stepped out of the shell-shaped dome and
threw a diaphanous purple robe over her body.
Garit raced ahead of her, opening doors, and bowed her into
the throne room.
Her ebony throne sat upon a raised pedestal and around it
was another processor, the machine also shell-shaped—she
craved all things nautical, to remind her of home, a world far
away and long gone.
She strode into the chamber and halted, her gaze falling on
the body lying on her purple and silver tiled floor.
“Who is responsible for this mess?”
Violet Night scanned the line of ghouls—cowards all. They
shivered in their claws and refused to meet her gaze. The three
demons stared back at her insolently, but as they saw the
wavering conduits, like tentacles attached to her throne, they
thought better of their defiance and bowed. When she was in a
mood, the tentacles wavered and the demons made themselves
scarce.
Violet studied the human corpse—she knew it for a human
by its iron stink, but the body was badly mauled. The head hung
by a thread from a lacerated neck.
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“Well?”
Doneto cleared his throat and her gaze narrowed upon him.
“We think it was a human,” he said.
“A human doesn’t kill like this.”
“This one does, Majesty!”
Violet smiled tightly. “Doneto might be only four feet tall,”
she said, “but he’s got more guts than the rest of you put
together.” The diminutive demon beamed as the others turned
jealous gazes upon him. “But don’t let my compliment go to your
heads, Doneto.”
“No mistress.” He bowed.
“And just why do you think a human did this?”
“I… er saw something,” Doneto said. “I was patrolling the
alleys and I heard a scream.”
“You wanted a piece of the action?”
“The thought did occur. When I reached the scene, I saw this
human on the ground, and another above him, using a scimitar
to cut him.”
“A scimitar?”
“Yes, mistress. And when he’d finished, he drank the blood.”
The silence in the chamber was profound. Deep. Still. Shock
made Violet shiver. It was not often that she shivered. “He drank
you say?”
“Not prettily, like a vampire, but drank, yes. Then, when he
saw me he ran off.”
“That’s not strictly true! The demon has delusions of
grandeur!” A man stepped out of the shadows…no, not human,
vampire. Violet caught the musky scent of the undead as he
strode insolently up to her.
“Bow before Her Magnificence!” Doneto said, the bristles on
his left head rising like the quills of a porcupine.
“I bow to no woman.”
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Violet felt her fangs pierce her bottom lip. “To what do I owe
this pleasure?”
“That human was killed in the alley at the back of Midnight’s
Bar.”
The Queen fastened her gaze on Doneto. “When were you
going to tell me this?”
“I was getting around to it.”
“Hired help isn’t like it used to be,” the vampire said.
That was true. “And who killed the human?”
“It’s been dealt with.”
“That wasn’t what I asked. What is your name, vampire, and
how did you get in here?”
“Like I said, hired help isn’t what it used to be. I got through
the portal and dispatched the guards before they had a chance to
scream.”
“You killed them?”
“Strictly speaking, they were dead already.”
“Semantics,” Violet said, dismissing his words and his smile
with a wave of her talons. “And what is your name?”
“De Vargas—Santiago Vallejo De Vargas.” He bowed. “My
friends call me Val.” His black eyes were tinged with red.
“Well, senor De Vargas, to what do we owe the pleasure of
your company? It’s not often we get a blood-sucker in my realm.”
“Charming to the last, succubus.”
“You arrogant bastard!” Violet didn’t know whether to rip
him from head to toe with her talons, or drain him of his life
essence.
“Arrogant—yes. Bastard—no! My pedigree is impeccable.”
Violet sniffed. Vampires were like that—fixated on their
genealogy. “Then, for the last time, what the fuck are you doing
here?”
“Saving your skinny arse.” He folded his arms across his
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black dinner jacket and then craned his neck to look around
her. “Well, perhaps not so skinny. From what I can see through
that gown…” He licked his lips. “Tempting. I’m here on
business and my business is to let you know that your security
has been breached. Or was—this human got to within three feet
of the portal. He knew about you, about us.”
“And so, you killed him? For my sake?”
“For all our sakes. If he found out about you, then he knows
about us, and there’s no telling what else, so I had him killed,
but he had already killed this one.” He looked down at the
corpse. “He left the body where it would have been found. One
thing we don’t need is attention drawn to us, especially to the
Midnight Bar. Hell’s Gates, if you were forced to close, where
would the brothers drink?”
“So much for your philanthropy!”
Vallejo grinned, exposing two white, pointed fangs. He was a
handsome man—most vampires were, in a pale, unnatural sort
of way—though his skin still retained a vestige of the olive tone
of his ancestry, his black eyes…interesting. His black hair was
slicked back from his face and hung like an ebony curtain over
his shoulders.
“Doneto, I want the patrols tripled…any human who enters
my domain, I want to know at once.” Violet paused. “I thank you
for your diligence, senor. Perhaps you’d like to nourish yourself
before you leave?”
“Was I leaving?” His gaze swept the chamber and the demons
and ghouls looked decidedly nervous. If a vampire couldn’t get
fresh human blood, they weren’t adverse to supping on lesser
game.
Violet smiled as her minions swept back, clustering together,
alarm radiating from their misshapen bodies. “He’s not going to
dine on you, so stop that sniveling.”
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