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Ariel Vaughn is high powered attorney and a partner at her firm, dating one of the most eligible bachelors in New York City, who is also a powerful judge firmly. The Black Door is a place of forbidden pleasures and where every fantasy can come to life. The women in the Naughty Book Club -- Naomi, Kennedy, Mira and . texts. The Black Door. byVelvet. Publication date Topics Erotic fiction , General, Fiction, Fiction Borrow this book to access EPUB and PDF files.

The Black Door By Velvet Epub

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I drop her on the bed and attempt to think past her screeching. The glinting silver blade is all I can see. I scramble back, pressing myself against the dresser. He pauses a few feet from me. Instead of attacking, he puts the blade to his own forearm. Then he presses hard and slices deep. I stare in horror as blood bubbles up in a rush of deep red. Panic jolts through me. But before I can move, the bedroom door opens and one of the pale blond guys comes in, propping up a limp and ashen Ben.

He points his red-tipped knife at Ben and looks Her energy went a thick dark gray when she walked across the room to slug the girl. Her job was to keep a close eye on you for us, and it would have meant Her shiny red lips purse in curiosity as we turn left and head down a long hallway. And she was gawking because she knows whose daughter you are, not because I was dragging you out of an elevator.

Gray wooden floors, and white glass walls that have odd black lines and shapes on them for decoration. Not a speck of color in sight. Sketches of buildings. And I r Which is good. He practically punched the elevator button into the panel to get the doors to close faster.

I hardly notice the wait for the valet to bring the car around. I barely register getting in the Audi or driving through the city. I must be some kind of monster to feel like this about a guy I just met. There was a moment of stillness, when the warmth and comfort of my new surroundings wrapped around me, the poolside waterfall lulling me with its calming rhythm, allowing me to nearly drift off.

But then I remembered the last time I fell asleep and woke to three guys gawking at me. And the way I was trapped.

And lied to. My whole life. I just made a beeline to the couch and collapsed on it, curling myself into the throw blanket tossed over the back. Now I notice that the couch is purple velvet, soft against my skin. The blanket I was wrapped up in is a pale blue angora, and the throw pillow I rested my head on is delicately embroidered, fit for a queen; it was obviously made by hand.

I run a finger over the faded threads and marvel at the detail of the design. Like something out of one of those ancient manuscripts I saw on I climb down from the nest in the center of my new room. The dirt floor of the bungalow is cool under my feet. My arm brushes against one of the ropes of ivy hanging from the ceiling, and a few leaves wilt as I unintentionally take in a thread of life.

My head is still a mess from earlier. I need to focus. Once I got settled in here this morning, I managed to fall into a light sleep for a few hours, but the stillness was fleeting. Instead, I make my way into the attached greenh Like, really warm. A vague memory of fire and the smell of rosewater drift away as I become more aware of my surroundings.

Sweat pearls on my temples. As I open my eyes, they sting like mad, my vision blurring. No, not fog. My nerves spark, and I sit up in a rush, every muscle in my body screaming. I feel like I raced an Ironman or something. What the hell? A cough rips from my chest, raspy and thick with phlegm.

And then another. I wipe the tears from my eyes and wave a hand in front of my face to attempt to move the smoke. But when my surroundings become a little clearer, the heat against my skin dulls.

And icy threads of fear weave through me. Everything around me is black, burned, charred into rubble. And the cushy chair near the windo Unconscious people tend not to answer doors. The air smells a bit tangy still, but the smoke damage on the outer wall is gone. Do they just move real speedy, like the Flash?

Or does time just sorta stand still whenever they need to get stuff done quickly? Still no answer.

After standing on the welcome mat for a few seconds and absently watching a blue jay hop around on a nearby branch, I decide that things are way too wacky in this place to give a crap about decorum. I bend the thin metal and wriggle it into the keyhole. Aelia is looking at her nails like the secret of the universe might reside in her cuticles.

The uniformed maids are going back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room to set the table. Marius enters the room, and Aelia leaps from the couch and tackles him in a hug.

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A secret note was hidden inside, written in his own hand. I blink, trying to clear my vision, and my eyelashes catch on gauzy coating.

A hibernation cocoon? Why am I in—? I turn my head. Her hair is long and reflects the low light with a slow, pulsing glow.

Her small fingers play against my abdomen, her leg sliding against mine. My pulse picks up, my skin heating. Go where? A few drinks at The Fitz and some time with the girls sounds about right. Maybe we can even get you laid before the boring stuff takes over.

She takes me by the arm and pulls me up. I jerk away. Maybe I can go over some of the lore with her, cover some basics so she feels more grounded, more familiar with her new reality before the Introduction.

As I cross the yard, heading for the French doors at the back of the main house, I consider what needs to happen. Her lips and tongue are stained purple. The white-blond ponytails on either side of her head flick at the air when she bobs to the music.

She glances at me and gives me a quick grin, then goes back to her lollipop. A pixie? Her eyes seem teal, though, and her skin is sort of sparkly. My babysitter, Freya, settles in beside me and leans against the wall. She shoots a sneer at the girl next to me. I follow it toward the main entrance, where humans stand among several shades, all in line along the wall. A thin pixie boy slips past them into the club. No way.

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My head is already bollocks; I need to find Sage, I— A soft touch on my arm makes me look. After more than three centuries without seeing her, my breath still catches: her regal stance, th While I manage to land on my feet as the passageway releases me, Sage still in my arms, Aelia collapses on the mossy ground in front of me with a whoosh of breath, gasping and gagging.

Then she crawls into a cluster of high ferns and begins to vomit. I only have to crouch for a moment, holding Sage tight to my chest to keep from dropping her. I breathe through the flip of my gut, the buzzing in my muscles, the fading crackle in my ears, used to the odd sensations after hundreds of years of traveling through passageways.

Aelia, however, continues to throw up. I steady myself and look around. Useless any day of the week. My mind surfaces from sleep in a rush, awareness filtering in. I open my heavy eyelids, but everything is blurry. Am I still in the alley? No, it smelled like soot and smog there, and nothing was comfortable.

Memories appear like cloudy puzzle pieces: the creatures slinking from the puddles, the dark-haired guy, he. I sit up in a rush, hand going to my neck where the strange raven guy was gripping me. Am I in a forest? Faelan told me about a dark prince, and I laughed, I thought it was so funny, that Faelan was crazy, or I was crazy, someone had to be crazy, because guys called the Dark Prince are only in books and movies that nerds like Ziggy talk about.

But the hips and butt are pretty snug in the jeans, and the elastic on the bra is digging in under my arms. I move to the full-length mirror. My face. My face looks rounder. My hair is damp from my shower, but it seems longer, thicker at my neck now, and hanging farther past my chin in the front—is that right? I step closer to my reflect And again. He asks me to try to be more aware of my body, my pulse, when the emotions come.

Each time we go through it, he asks me to tell him more of what I was feeling last night, more of what happened. Each time, the heat wave takes over later than the time before. The cadence, as he called it, stretches out several more seconds until, on the third try, he tells me to open my eyes, and I watch the last of the flames slide over my arms before sinking back into my skin.

Three girls from the other night at the club follow her in: Freya, the zit critic, and the mousy girl. I was enjoying staring at the ceiling and finding animal shapes in the plaster. And not thinking about tonight. Because then I have to think about Faelan. But he got so intense when the protector thing was brought up. And everything went wacky.

But why the hell did I bring up Kieran? I handled it completely wrong. I made him feel like I was considering dumping him for a creep. What a How it might even be bloody Kieran at this point for all I know. Because I fucked it up. Instead I went for a swim and showered, reciting Beowulf to quiet the commotion in my head. And after what Kieran did to her. I know too little about practicing patience.

Time passes slowly. But the less time He looks ready to bolt. Not just the kiss, which was—wow. But I controlled it. I controlled the hunger. I took that thing in me that I felt this afternoon and forced it down deep until it was barely a buzz in my head. He was right: once I understood it better I could manipulate it. And I did.

And then he kissed me. Oh wow, did he kiss me. His brow goes up in surprise. I feel so much better. The awareness of my blood on her forehead is nearly overwhelming, the small crescent moon showing me as her chosen shadow, tied to her as long as she wishes. And after what I did beside the fountain, that idea is.

The Emergence ceremony is where the full court gathers. Tonight, however, there are several representatives from every line in attendance. The curiosity about the newblood is strong. And I have a feeling Marius is about to have serious competition for her loyalty. I wait just behind her on the small platform as each What is wrong with me? And this time was so much worse. When he whispered to me, I heard a familiar voice. I wanted to do what he said, and I wanted to hear him say my name.

It was horrible and wrong, and the things my mind pictured. I reach up and touch the thin scar on my neck, reminding myself what he did to me, how much I hate him.

Because I do; I hate him with the power of a thousand suns. Even more than I hated him this morning. He makes me feel vulnerable and weak. He takes away my will. And even more frightening, I know he can see it. A torque that belonged to my sister. But after seeing her with my brothers, the way she lets them lord over her, the old anger has bubbled up, the wound she left tearing open a little.

To me, of all people.

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Neither of us said a word the whole way home. The silence was heavy with horror and unspoken questions. I just saw my first official dead body. When I realized what I was seeing under that table—the moment my mind registered the human hand, the clothes, the torn flesh—my heart stopped and everything slowed.

But then Faelan pulled me away, and icy awareness hit me; nothing would happen because of it. No investigation, no arrests. No one would ever know what became of that person. The body was probably one of many in that place. And Kieran was standing right beside it as if it was a piece of dropped meat. On the street, you get used to injustice. The shadows are full of bastards who get away with all kinds of sickening Which is maybe a good thing.

I feel like I need to talk to her first before I tell him my concerns about Kieran and the new torque. I knock on her cottage door around ten. No answer. Th She could get stuck in there. But then I realized I was being stubborn. If I can get this Kieran weirdness off the table, then all I have to think about is learning to control my fire. Even better than your sisters. I know you can do this and make it work. The chill of the stone room shifts to the warmth of my cottage; the bed melds into my nest; the smell of snow turns to the smell of green life.

What did I just see. It must be one of these dreams. Because that was Queen Lily. I can barely believe it. A striking, vivid dream of a real moment from long ago. How is that even possible? Unless Sage was given the blood memories by someone. Who would do that? And how would I have missed it? It takes a fairly complex spell, and whoever did it would have had to store the memories for centuries.

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Publication Details Publisher: With his appearance came too many contingencies Forget her problems, if only for an hour.

File Size A few drinks at The Fitz and some time with the girls sounds about right. I wipe the tears from my eyes and wave a hand in front of my face to attempt to move the smoke.

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