Maison Plaisir Read online

  The elevator shuddered. The doors whispered open.

  “But love, we’re already here.”

  What lay beyond made her jaw drop. Belle wanted to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. Usually, when she went down to her office building’s lobby, the sight of a surly old guard scrutinising everyone coming and going would be the first thing that greeted her. Instead, the elevator door opened to a busy old cobblestone street. Tall, majestic, gothic-looking buildings stretched as far as her eyes could see. Pedestrians in period costumes bustled among the street hawkers and horse-drawn carriages that parked under the city lamp posts. The air smelt of horse manure, sea air and, strangely, pine trees. Belle widened her eyes when a throng of chattering young girls swathed in lacy white outfits glided before her.

  Glided!

  Belle craned her neck, doing a double take. The girls’ legs and feet weren’t visible. They were a trailing white mist.

  Good Lord.

  Belle looked over her shoulder. The interior of the elevator had morphed into a dark storefront of an apothecary called ‘Bowerman and Schiff Co, importer of fine herbs since 227’. She blinked, and then rubbed her eyes. It felt surreal. The elevator had completely gone—the remaining link to the world she knew.

  She caught Hervé’s eyes. “Is this Seventh Realm?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did you do that? We were just in my office building.”

  “Simple magic. I actually could take you here while you were still at your office. But your friends would be frightened if you disappeared all of a sudden.”

  “No kidding.”

  “Shall we go? We’re blocking the door.”

  Belle jumped when someone cleared his throat behind her. She quickly stepped into the street. “I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, that’s quite all right, Miss,” the man replied in a thick British accent.

  Her eyes widened again when she had a good look at the man. She knew staring was rude, but she just couldn’t help it. The person wasn’t exactly a man. He resembled an overgrown bird dressed in a conservative three-piece suit. His head was big, round, and covered with snowy white feathers. He had a sharp beak and two soulful eyes. A monocle was perched on the left side of his cheek. It was connected to a fine silver chain in his jacket pocket.

  The birdman threw her an annoyed look from being blatantly stared at. He cocked his head upwards and called, “Good day to you too.” He then strolled into the street with a haughty gait. He had a cane in one hand and a small parcel in the other.

  Belle was totally bewildered. “Who…what was that?”

  “An owl spirit,” Hervé answered. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and steered her in the opposite direction to where the birdman was going.

  “Spirit?” Belle echoed. “I thought you were all fae.”

  “Not all Seventh Realm citizens are fae. We have spirits, shifters, unseelies, dragons—”

  “Dragons? Do they eat people?”

  “Only when they’re hungry.”

  Belle stopped dead in her tracks.

  “Just kidding.”

  “Are vamps and werewolves real too?”

  Hervé laughed. “Curious, aren’t you? Want to meet some?”

  All of a sudden, her neck pricked with cold shivers. “No, thank you.” Belle clutched on Hervé’s arm as they walked down the street. A surge of cold air breezed through them, making her chilled. Her thin blouse wasn’t adequate enough to shield her from the growing colder temperature.

  Hervé noticed her shivering. He stopped and shrugged off his denim jacket. He helped her don it.

  “Thank you.”

  He kissed the top of her head and placed his hand on the small of her back, leading her to their destination. Belle looked around like a kid in an amusement park. A soft jacinth glow blanketed the horizon, painting the tips of century-old rooftops red. The day turned dark. She checked her watch. It was dead. The tiny arms were stuck at four-thirty, the time she left the office. Weird. She bet her cell phone wouldn’t work here either. Seventh Realm was so out of her calling plan.

  “Where are we going again?” she asked Hervé.

  “Dinner. “

  “Where’s that?”

  “Shaman Court, a couple of blocks from here. They’ll have a special parade tonight. A lot of people will come, and usually the vendors will serve up many dishes that aren’t available daily.”

  She perked up. “What kind of parade?”

  “Nightmarchers. Night of Hundred Spirits Parade.”

  “Spirit parade? Are those ghosts of dead people?”

  “No. It’s a common misconception. Spirits—here we called them oka—are ethereal beings that embody elements of nature. Some of them are half-deities and some are very old and powerful. In many parts of your world, humans worship them as gods and goddesses.”

  “Wow. And they’re all going to be in that parade tonight?”

  “Not all of them. Only those who reside in Seventh Realm. Tonight is considered a holy day for them. Like Christmas to your people.”

  “Really?” Everything about Seventh Realm had started to intrigue her even more.

  “They’ll make a procession from the town square to the Sun temple where they’ve planted the sacred tree. And after the ceremonial blessing, the parade will head to Shaman Court for the celebration. Feasting and drinking until morning.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “It is.”

  Belle inhaled a deep breath, unable to contain her excitement. She was glad Hervé had talked her into having dinner with him. Not everybody was given a rare chance to witness supernatural beings having a party.

  Neat.

  They stopped at an intersection. Belle noticed the traffic light wasn’t powered or lit by electricity. She saw tiny fluttering people light up the sign ‘halt’. Their wings were luminous in the dark.

  “They’re pixies,” Hervé told her.

  “They’re pretty.”

  Hervé squinted. “Unfortunately, those are city workers. They have attitudes and complain a lot.”

  Belle couldn’t help grinning. The pixies sounded like most of the US government employees. After a stream of carriages, bicycles, and cars that seemed to run on steam engines passed by, the traffic light pixies moved down and hovered inside the sign ‘go’.

  Hervé held her hand and they crossed the traffic.

  The street became crowded with people. Belle had a feeling she was the only human in here. Each time some passer-by got a good look at her they did a double take and murmured, “Human,” in wonder. A pale young man with long silver hair tried to touch her arm after he recognised she wasn’t an otherworldly being, but a stern stare from Hervé quickly sent the man cowering.

  “Thousand apologies, Highness.” The pale man bowed and scuttled away.

  “Do you know him?” Belle asked Hervé.

  “No. But he should know better than to try to touch you.”

  Belle forgot Hervé could be very possessive. It was flattering, actually. A rather strange concept for her, but still. After years living under her sisters’ shadow and constant criticisms from her mother, it felt nice being wanted by someone. Or in her case, being wanted by two men.

  Hervé traced the side-line of her jaw with his fingers. “When you’re with me, you’re mine.”

  “You aren’t thinking of putting a ‘my property’ sign on me, are you?”

  “I was seriously considering it.”

  Belle grinned.

  Hervé relaxed and smiled along with her. He held her face and gave her a deep, passionate kiss until she felt as if the heels of her shoes had melted. A surge of dizzying vertigo seized her when he finally broke the kiss. She gasped, filling her lungs with much-needed air. God. Hervé was one hell of a kisser. Well, Armand was too. She wondered if all male fae were wired with insatiable sex drives and if it was infectious.

  They stood only a hairsbreadth away from each other, holding hands, amidst the grow
ing crowds of the Shaman Court, and yet at that very moment, she felt nothing else mattered and the world had been forged for just the two of them. Hervé’s gaze had drowned her in a sea of lust. Her panties dampened. Nipples hardened. Face flushed.

  A faint smile hovered on the corner of his lips. “You want me,” he whispered, telling her the obvious.

  She couldn’t deny it. Her body had become wanton from the time she’d betrayed her own promise to never give herself to any man after Trent. That night in Maison Plaisir had changed everything, the night Armand taught her new forbidden delights. She’d been addicted to it ever since.

  Belle tore her gaze from him, trying to calm her raging hormones, wondering what the hell was wrong with her. She’d turned from an ice queen to a nympho. Couldn’t say no to Armand. Couldn’t say no to Hervé either. Was it their fae nature that made her like this? All they needed to do was to take a good look at her and she went horny in a blink of an eye.

  Hervé looked as if he wanted to kiss her again, but a new commotion distracted them. Belle turned to the source of the noise. The parade was entering the court.

  Belle tiptoed on her feet, trying to get a better look above the crowds. About a half a block before them, hundreds of people in festive costumes entered the gates of the courtyard. They carried colourful lanterns while chanting a melodic song. Belle focused her sight on the procession. Those spirits, the Nightmarchers, weren’t entirely in human form. Some spirits looked like ordinary humans, but most had taken shapes of animals, vegetation, and even household items. If she didn’t know the otherworld beings really existed, she would’ve freaked out if she encountered them casually. She thought of those ghost-busters reality shows on TV. They would have a ball if they ever saw something as extraordinary as this.

  Hervé wrapped her in his arms as the Nightmarchers arrived at their final destination. Music and people chattering became rapturously loud as the last of the marchers walked past the gate. From the way it looked, the party had begun.

  The crowd moved into the Shaman Court. Hervé tugged her hand and they went to join the festivities. Belle craned her neck upwards as they strolled past the gigantic red gates. Inside, the colour red exploded everywhere like fireworks on Fourth of July. Each vendor in the Shaman Court had festooned their stalls and their merchandise with red banners, flags and decorations. The air was filled with the delicious smells of something baked, fried, steamed and grilled. Belle felt hungry all of a sudden.

  Hervé showed her around the court, explained the customs of the people in Seventh Realm, and had her sample many sweets and indigenous snacks from many food stalls, before they settled at one restaurant that was his favourite. The place looked like a tree house. They had to climb long winding stairs before the hostess seated them in a small private dining area. They had to take off their shoes before they settled in. This restaurant didn’t provide chairs. The guests were seated on floor cushions while their meals were served on a short table. The nook had a balcony that overlooked the festivities below.

  Hervé ordered drinks for them while Belle perused the menu. The hostess bowed and vanished.

  Belle did a double take. “Where did she go?”

  “Getting our orders.”

  Apparently in Seventh Realm, people could vanish and reappear at will, and the use of doors was highly optional. Unlike the human world. She returned her attention to the menu and gave up. “I don’t know what to order. Everything looks strange to me.”

  “Allow me, then.” When the hostess reappeared with their drinks, Hervé ordered for both of them. “What do you think of Seventh Realm so far, love?” he asked after the hostess left.

  “Amazing. I’ve never seen anything like this.”

  “So, you think you’ll like it here?”

  Belle paused when she caught Hervé’s insinuation. He was gauging her reaction to move to the Seventh Realm. “I…”

  “Of course, you don’t have to live here if you don’t want to. Both Armand and I have homes in your world.”

  “What makes you think I would choose either of you?”

  Hervé gave her a solemn look. “Because we won’t stop chasing you until you do. And trust me, Armand and I are very persistent.”

  No kidding about that. Hervé and Armand were relentless. The word ‘no’ didn’t exist in their dictionary. Belle averted Hervé’s gaze and looked over the festivities below, ruminating. The prospect of marrying one of them and living in Seventh Realm sounded wonderful. The only problem was that she liked them both to the point she couldn’t choose. Both of them were everything a woman could possibly want in men. Armand made her feel protected and secure, besides having a knack of driving her horny just by the slightest touch.

  And Hervé—well, she didn’t think anybody wouldn’t like him. He was one of those people who would shine the room on the dullest day with his cheery disposition. She felt comfortable around him and just able to be herself. She couldn’t even stay mad at him because he’d drugged Armand and lied to her in order to take his cousin’s place.

  And besides, she wasn’t sure if she was ready give up her safe, semi-hermetic life to take a leap of faith with one of them into the new unknown. What would happen if the marriage didn’t work? Could she get a divorce from a fae?

  Her reverie was interrupted by the loud chime of bell. Suddenly, she noticed a small bell on their table. She hadn’t seen it before.

  “Food’s coming,” Hervé noted, taking his elbows off the table.

  Belle instinctively followed suit. Moments later, a delicious feast appeared before their eyes. Plate upon plate of steaming food filled the table. From savoury-looking meats dishes to fish, noodles, soup and rice, to mouth-watering desserts waiting to be sampled. “Are you trying to feed an army here?” she asked with a laugh.

  Hervé smiled. “I just want you to try everything. We do have great food in Seventh Realm. Wait—”

  He halted her when she was about to pick a scrumptious looking piece of what looked like chicken.

  “I’ll feed you.”

  “I can feed myself.”

  “I know. But where’s the fun in that?” Hervé disappeared before her eyes and materialised beside her, curling an arm around her waist. “Try this first.” He grabbed a fork and stabbed it to a plate that was mounted with diced vegetables cooked in red sauce. “We call this jenang, one of my favourites. It’s sweet wintermelon and greens stewed in pheasant bits.”

  Belle tried it. Hervé wasn’t kidding. Jenang was delicious. Sweet and salty flavours complimented each other, leaving her palate longing for more.

  “Good?” Hervé inquired.

  She nodded.

  “Now, try this. Select bufu beef marinated in palm sugar and sautéed with special lingonberries. Oops.” Hervé had dropped a piece on her cleavage. “I’ll get that.”

  Belle twitched when Hervé used his mouth to clean up the mess instead of a napkin. The sweep of his tongue made lust flare like fuel to a matchstick. “You deliberately did that,” she accused him.

  “So?” Hervé acted all innocent. “Food tastes more delicious on a pretty woman.”

  Belle rolled her eyes. Hervé continued fondling her while she sampled all the dishes he’d ordered. He paused every so often to give her mind-muddying kisses that made her forget her own name. By the time they got to dessert, she was shaking with burning arousal.

  “Oh, Belle, I love watching you like this. Has anybody ever told you, you look even prettier when you’re horny?”

  She took a swig of water from the glass. “Damn you.”

  “Hmm. Lose your panties and I’ll give you a special dessert.”

  “Are you kidding? In here?”

  “Yes, in here. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been hard as rock since I kissed you on the street. Come on. I know you’re wet already.” To make matters worse, Hervé slipped his hand under her skirt and cupped her mound. “Oh yeah, wet. Just the way I like it.”

  “Hervé!”

&
nbsp; “Shh. Lose the panties now or you’ll regret it later.”

  “Is that a threat, mister?”

  “Hell, yes. Do you really want to go home bare-assed?”

  “Oh fuck.”

  “Language, young lady. But that’s exactly what I had in mind.”

  With trembling hands, Belle hitched her skirt and pulled down her panties. They were soaked wet with her juices.

  “Good girl. Now sit on my lap. I want to suck your nipples while I fuck you.”

  Sweet mother of God. The thought of fucking in a public place made her even wetter. Delirious with need, Belle swung a leg over his hips and straddled him. Like he said, Hervé was hard. Rock hard. The bulge between his thighs was a bit intimidating. He unzipped his pants and released his erection. Her pussy clenched the moment their sex made contact.

  Hervé hissed. “Let’s take this shirt off.”

  “No.”

  “Just a bit, love.” He freed the first two buttons of her shirt and pushed her bra up. “My. Those berries are practically begging to be sucked.” Hervé gave an experimental lick. “Mmm. Sweet. But more sweetness wouldn’t hurt.”

  Belle watched him with wonder as Hervé dabbed his finger into the dessert fruit sauce and smeared it on her areola. Her heart lurched into her throat when he licked her nipple with gusto. Hervé was a man who truly enjoyed his dessert. She bit her lip and fisted his hair instinctively while Hervé trapped her hard bud between the roof of his mouth and his tongue, sucking her as if she was the sweetest substance in the world.

  “Her…”

  He grabbed her hips and penetrated her. The crown of his fat cock speared her open.

  “…ve!” The rest of the word evaporated in her throat. Belle panted. Wide-eyed, she could do nothing but surrender when Hervé yanked her down until she was able to accept his whole erection. Fuck. She trembled. It took her long seconds to get used to being impaled by a cock his size. Her pussy quivered around his shaft. He was hot and hard. Mind-shatteringly, nerve-wreckingly good. She gushed juice luxuriously from the impact.

  He let go of her nipple and threw her a savage grin. “I love it when you do that. I’ve barely fucked you and you’ve already creamed.”