Sanguine Scent Read online

  Sanguine Scent

  Real Men Romance

  Reina Torres

  Contents

  About This Book

  Foreword

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  About the Author

  Other Books By Reina Torres

  About This Book

  Amaro Casal cares about three things: life, love, and women. And not in that order.

  Amaro Casal cares about three things: life, love, and women. And not in that order. He’s as wild as they come, but when he crashes a garden party he discovers the one woman who may be able to tame the wild within.

  Then she’s snatched from him and he has hell to pay.

  What’s the use of vampiric immortality if he’s forced to live alone forever? All he has left is a thirst for revenge.

  But when his friend brings him to Othercross he catches a glimpse at a second chance…

  Alba Pacetti uses her love of nature to create the most beautiful gardens in the world. Her ability to tap into the magic of the earth makes her a hot commodity for the warlock who wants to own her, but her heart belongs to someone else. Someone she lost a long time ago.

  When Amaro finds himself within reach of the woman who was torn from his arms, he’ll stop at nothing to make her his Beloved.

  Sanguine Scent by Reina Torres is part of Real Men Romance Season One, a multi-author world created by Celia Kyle and Marina Maddix.

  Foreword

  Welcome to the Real Men Romance World, where other ah-mazing paranormal romance authors write books set in the world we first created with Real Men Shift, then continued with Real Men of Othercross, Real Fae of Othercross, Real Men of Wildridge, and Real Men Love Witches.

  Each author in Season One was personally invited to write in our world because we're also SUPER FANS of their work. (For realsies!) They bring their own unique vision to the RMR World, with some even tying them into their own established series or starting a brand-new series just for our awesomesauce fans. Below you'll find a list of the books in Season One—we think you're going to love each and every book!

  SEASON ONE

  Sanguine Scent by Reina Torres

  Feral Fated Mate by Anne Hale

  Howl for Me by Cecilia Lane

  The Vampire's Pixie by Moxie North

  Howling for You by Kate Rudolph

  Finding Her Home by Willa Hart

  We'd also like to invite you to our Facebook group, where we give away prizes, interview authors, and get up to all sorts of hijinks. We hope you'll join us!

  www.realmenromance.com

  Chapter One

  A Little More Than a Year Ago –

  If there was a party, Amaro Casal was there. Invited or not, it made no difference to him. There was no gate that remained closed when he walked up to it. Some called it charm, but he’d heard words like glamour, magnetism, and charisma. As far as he was concerned, they could call it whatever they wanted as long as they let him in.

  The purpose for the garden party was something he hadn’t paid much attention to. What mattered to him was the appeal of this clothing and the women he would meet. If he ended the evening wrapped in the arms of a willing woman, then all would be right with the world.

  Amaro was not the kind of man who lacked for partners. Even with the mystical appeal of vampires who lived in the area, he had more than his share of admirers. He just had fewer years to enjoy them.

  Which was why he didn’t waste time seeking or waiting for invitations. He went where he wanted.

  And he wanted to attend the garden party.

  A passing server paused to offer him the selection of drinks and food from her tray. Her eyes offered him more.

  With a teasing smile, he took a glass from her tray and waved off the other available items. He liked to get the lay of the land and discover the full array of available beauties before he made a decision.

  Holding the elegant flute of champagne by the stem, he began his tour of the gardens.

  Elegant stone arches radiated from the home like spokes in a wheel and visitors had to enter and exit through an archway to pass through the different areas on display.

  Amaro had been in those gardens before. The last owners of the property had cared little for natural beauty and had allowed the greenery to grow wild. So over-grown, he’d found many a shadowed corner or shaded arbor to take advantage of trysts that he’d been offered by women attending the soiree.

  Those hideaways were gone. Whoever they had hired to transform the gardens had done their job well. The various shades and shapes of leaves and flowers that graced the stone walls and the plant beds were even more beautiful than the women he’d seen along the way.

  That thought alone slowed his steps. Women had always been the beauty in his world. Flowers?

  Flowers were the things he offered to his potential dalliances. Flowers were the things he compared to the blush of their skin, the soft curve of their lips. Flowers were what he used to tempt and tease.

  Amaro stopped walking and took in the natural beauty around him.

  Perched on the corner of the home was a rather unpleasant looking stone gargoyle. He was familiar with the creature as he’d spent a rather memorable few minutes reclined on a nearby bench, staring up into the night sky as one of his many dalliances had literally taken him in hand. The expression on the ancient stone face looked as if it was mocking Amaro as the woman had struggled to find a pleasurable rhythm of her hand against his flesh.

  Now, standing there, looking up at the creature, he could have sworn the craggy face was smiling down at the beauty surrounding them both.

  Amaro reached out a hand and set it against the stone wall, turning his head to admire the way that vines clung to the stone surface. He knew the dazzling purple blossoms had been coaxed from the vines by a masterful hand and as he lifted his hand from the stone, he drew the pad of his thumb along the edge of a paper-thin petal. “It’s hard to imagine that a mere human brought such life to this garden. I thought it was beyond hope.”

  “Gardens are like people. If you give them a chance, they might just surprise you in the best way.”

  The voice that reached his ears was delightfully feminine and when he turned to look in her direction, he found himself stunned by her appearance. If he had been gifted with the ability to create his own vision of perfection, he would have created her.

  No, she surpassed the limits of his imagination for he was merely a human and she… she was transcendent. Her dark hair framed her face and descended down her back in a cape that put the finest ermine or mink to shame. He found himself searching for any indication that someone had a claim on her, but his eyes were continuously drawn to her own gaze.

  Her eyes were a dark mahogany brown, richer in tone than the finest artisan woods with a vibrant luster in them that he could not ignore, let alone turn away from.

  “What,” he was relieved to find that his voice still worked, for his was sure he had stopped breathing the moment he heard her speak, “what chance would you give me?”

  He saw the quizzical lift of a smile at the corners of her mouth.

  “How would you like me to surprise you, mi cielo? Just say the word and you shall have it.”

  A myriad of emotions flickered through her eyes and Amaro knew he would be willing to spend the rest of his life discovering those thoughts and turning her heart toward his.

  “I am already surprised.” Her voice was delicate but carried with it a dulcet sweetness that was gentle but not cloyingly sweet like most women in his circle. “For you seem to care about the garden surrounding you.”

&nb
sp; He gestured with his hand at the sweeping archway above his head. “How could anyone be so blind that they could not see the colors of the sunset in these blooms?”

  She took a few steps closer to him and he remained still, watching the gentle sway of her hips. He knew that he would dream of those moments for the rest of his life.

  “Is that what you see?”

  He swore he could hear a tinge of humor in her tone.

  “The warm oranges, fuchsia, and purples remind me of the sky over the ocean at twilight, only becoming more vibrant in those moments just before the night sky descends into darkness. That’s what I see here.”

  A few more steps in his direction and she was almost close enough for him to touch.

  And still he held back.

  Amaro watched her carefully, as if she were likely to disappear if he didn’t keep his gaze fixed upon her.

  She tilted her face up toward the stone archway and his eyes fixed on the elegant curve of her neck and the delicate line of her jaw.

  He had desired women in the past. He had bedded them. And done other things that didn’t need a bed, but standing there with this mysterious woman, he found himself hungering for her touch.

  And that was why Amaro had yet to try.

  Something deep within him, perhaps his basest instinct for survival, told him that a touch… yes, a single touch, might consign him to a life that he had so far eschewed.

  One touch.

  One taste.

  One single breath of her scent would change the very fabric of his existence.

  He was not yet ready for a life that had substance. He was more than happy to spend years sating his more ephemeral needs. Settled life was what his older brother had. Joaquin had the head and heart for responsibility.

  And Amaro? His heart pumped blood through his body for other purposes.

  Making him hard enough to take her against the stone wall just a few feet away.

  “You see it too?”

  Her voice was full of wonder.

  “My mother would say that it’s as plain as the nose on your face, but there is nothing plain about you, mi cielo.”

  Before he could stop himself, Amaro reached out and touched the tip of his finger to her nose.

  It was a simple gesture. One that could have been completely innocent.

  The instant that his skin touched hers he felt like he was on fire.

  She must have felt something, maybe a spark from their contact, and tipped her head back to meet his curious gaze with her own.

  Her eyes were a rich, chocolate brown with a delicate mossy green at the edges. Amaro felt the gentle caress of her soul in that moment, a whisper of a touch against his own.

  He could not let her go.

  Nor could he restrain himself in that moment.

  Reaching out a hand, he slipped his fingers through the curtain of her hair and gently cradled the nape of her neck in his hand. “You are the earth goddess incarnate, mi amada. Coaxing life from the barren vines and beauty from the soil beneath our feet. Could I dare to taste your lips and summon some of your magic into my soul?”

  He didn’t wait for an answer.

  His lips pressed to hers in a searching question. The subtle pressure he applied could easily be broken if she moved away and his body felt like a bowstring, strung entirely too tight from one end to the other.

  Any movement from her, even a subtle shift away, and he would let her go.

  Of all the women who he had pleasured with his body, he never once had taken what wasn’t eagerly offered.

  And this woman, this creature from his fantasies, was even more important to him. It felt, as he wrapped his free arm around her and splayed his hand against the curve of her lower back, as if she had been created to fill his embrace.

  He froze at her indrawn breath.

  And he unwound when she leaned into him and fitted her lips to his with breathless abandon.

  Something akin to lightning arced between them and seared him down to the bone.

  It wasn’t pain that assailed him. It was pleasure.

  His whole body was alive with it.

  From a kiss.

  From this woman.

  And he didn’t even know her name.

  “Alba!”

  Amaro heard anger in the man’s voice, but the woman in his arms opened her lips. He answered the gesture, going lightheaded as his breath entered her lungs and her own poured into his.

  “Alba! Stop!”

  Amaro was thrown back and into the wall.

  The hedge held thorns that ripped through his clothes and into his skin, but nothing compared to the loss of her.

  Alba.

  The pale light of dawn.

  And she was just as glorious as her name intended.

  He could see her pale complexion loose the warm blush that their kisses had brought to the surface.

  The color drained out of her skin as someone yanked her off of her feet with just his hold on her arm.

  The glorious woman who had quite literally stolen his breath, fell to her knees in the grass. Amaro lurched forward, freeing himself from the hedge and the thorny branches of the bougainvillea.

  He might have been young and physically in his prime, but the man who had somehow separated him from Alba caught him easily.

  By the throat.

  Amaro’s words of protest were lost as he gasped for breath, and his fingers scraped and tore at the hands around his neck.

  “Go, Alba.”

  Amaro could not see the man clearly as the lack of air in his lungs had darkened his vision, but he could still see Alba. Watched as her eyes fixed on his. Watched as tears glistened on her ink-dark lashes before coursing down her cheeks.

  The man with Amaro’s life in his hands barked one last order at the woman and even though Amaro could see how much she wanted to stay, she seemed to fade into the very air, or perhaps the ground at her feet.

  It was, his mind struggled to make a clear judgment, for the best. For her benefit.

  Such a gentle woman should not have to witness his death. Any death.

  But Amaro was sure that his life would be ended shortly.

  His mind descended quickly into darkness, making any thought a true gift.

  And that’s all that he seemed to have left, the gaping maw of darkness surrounding him.

  Perhaps, he struggled to grasp onto one more thought, it was best this way as well. If he had found the perfect woman only to lose her for all eternity, it was better that he was dead so that he wouldn’t have to mourn her loss.

  Amaro awoke to the feel of cool stones at his back and the stink of something rotting in the darkness.

  He tried to sit up and found the effort was beyond him.

  Instead, he lifted his fingers to feel the air around him.

  “Alba-”

  An explosion of pain shot through his side.

  “You don’t get to say her name!”

  Even as he wrapped his arm around his ribs in his attempt to soothe his pain, Amaro found himself smiling in the darkness.

  Alba.

  It was her name.

  He didn’t have to wonder.

  “She’s not for the likes of you.”

  Heavy boot falls paced near his head and echoed off the walls. Amaro had enough control over the thoughts in his head to know that he was surrounded by rock walls, likely a cellar of some sort.

  “She is meant for greatness. For a truly gifted life.”

  Amaro didn’t argue with him. He was in enough pain to know that he had best lay still or risk further injury.

  “You were not invited.”

  Licking at his lips, Amaro realized that he had injuries he didn’t recall receiving.

  “You should have stayed outside the walls.”

  “I... I apologize,” he barely held in a pained moan. “I would like to apologize to the both of you.”

  The man’s haughty expression darkened, but as he pulled back his leg to deliver ano
ther blow, a pointed cough came from the dark corner of the room.

  “My lord.”

  Amaro’s tormentor paused and answered back. “What is it?”

  “Remember your plans.”

  Setting his botted foot back on the floor, the man straightened his back and look down into Amaro’s eyes. “Yes, my plans. I didn’t kill you earlier because there were too many people at the party. Someone could have come across us at any time and seen your body. I don’t want to answer questions, it wastes my time.

  “As soon as we leave the room, the guard will remove the lock on the cell in front of you. When it opens, the vampire inside will tear out your throat and kill you. He’ll rip your body limb from limb, and I won’t have to worry about what to do with you after the deed is done.

  “And I won’t have to worry about you any longer.”

  Stepping back, the man moved toward the far end of the room to the only door that Amaro could see. The other man who had spoken from the shadows followed his master from the room.

  True to his threat, the cell door swung open with a long, sweeping sound before it landed heavily against the wall of the cell.

  Amaro heard a shuffle along the stone floor, but he could not seem to sit up with pain radiating from his ribs. “I don’t suppose you’ll let me live?”

  The soft shuffling sound stopped less than a foot from his head. “Master Sunderland has me under his spell.”

  “Spell?” The word felt like sandpaper in his throat.

  “He’s a witch,” the vampire spat the word out onto the stones and Amaro cringed when some of it landed on his cheek. “He hides it well. Casts his evil spells in secret. It’s how he controls me, the bastard.” The tone of his voice made it clear that neither of them was happy with the situation.