He was lean, dark-brown eyes and hair. He possessed a boyish kind of charm, and his appearance was impeccable. His clothing was upscale and expensive. He’d shaved recently, and his fingers were long and slender. They reminded me of a musician’s hands. Beyond all of that, his lust was a potent force, shimmering off of him in waves. All of it focused on me.
I’d been hungry for the last three days, and despite wandering the various bars, I’d yet to find someone I could feast on that I wouldn’t hurt. My fault for waiting too long between feedings. I’d been leaching a little here and there to stave off the overriding need. But with full moon and the partying pagans gathering along with a huge influx of supernatural over the last two weeks, I had to play it safer.
Elias would have helped out, but we were friends, and fucking friends was usually a no-no in my book. The very last friend I’d fucked to feed on had grown obsessed, and our friendship died in the ashes of his lust.
No, I kept my feeding separate from the rest of my life. Just so much easier.
This guy…he wasn’t human. If I had to guess, I’d say vampire. He was almost too pretty to be anything else. Still…vampires were usually no gos. They wanted more than fucking, and while they could be amazing in bed, Elias had a real problem anytime I indulged my more dangerous fantasies.
Still, beggars couldn’t be choosers, and I was so damn hungry.
“Hello,” I answered, leaning in to let his lust lick over my skin. Oh, it was delicious, and his pupils dilated as he narrowed the distance even further. I wasn’t the only one who was hungry.
Oh, this could work out.
One drink, and we were in a private booth and I had his cock halfway down my throat as he thrust up, desperate for the release as I stroked his balls. The feverish grip of his fingers in my hair pushed me to take him deeper, even as his lust swelled like his cock. When he came, it was a burst of salty bitterness and sweet satisfaction. The wildness of it swarmed through me with a punch more potent than the liquor he’d ordered for me.
His whole body shuddered as he dragged me up, and then his mouth was on mine. The fact that I could still taste his spunk—which meant he could too—amused me on some level, but it didn’t deter him in the slightest. If anything, it amplified his need.
When he shredded my panties and I climbed on him in the booth, it was a quick and furious coupling magnified by the beat of music around us. I loved the outfit, the leather dress and the sexy heels. The leather massaged my nipples as I moved, the buttery softness a fantastic counterpoint to the hardness of the cock he slammed me down on.
The guy’s technique was lacking, but fuck if he didn’t make up for it with enthusiasm. He bit my wrist after the second set of orgasms. His, not mine. He didn’t last long enough for mine, but I wasn’t here to get off so much as to just feed, and yeah, I was more than a little drunk on him.
The lust rolling off him grew more potent rather than diminishing. When he bit down on my wrist and fingered my clit until I came, I blissed out. Probably explained why I left with him, his come still sticky on my thighs, and why I let him take me back to his place.
Well that, and I wasn’t inviting him to my shitty little apartment. It might be small and cramped, but it was mine. I was saving everything to build my perfect place. I could see where I wanted it and how I wanted it to be. I was always redesigning it.
His place was much nicer and a penthouse.
Yeah, this dude was loaded.
We were three steps in the door when he was on me again, and fuck if I didn’t just go down for all that fierce snarling. He slammed me against a wall—yeah, it was kind of hot, and he had the dress pushed up as he fucked into me. When he bit my neck, I didn’t think anything about it.
Fair was fair. I was drowning in his lust, and he was getting off. But a guy had to eat. I’d just wait until the bite marks healed before seeing Elias.
Even after he came again, I was still feeling it. Fuck, it would be nice to be able to feed and get off at the same time. Pants open, he carried me into his room. It was so fucking over the top melodramatic, I started laughing.
Literally, black silk sheets, black wall hangings, black walls—if he’d had a coffin shaped bed, it would have fit right in with the aesthetic.
“What the fuck are you laughing at?” he demanded as he dumped me on the bed.
“Aww, poor baby, did I hurt you feelings?” Okay, so I was a little drunk, pointing one of my heeled feet at him and mocking him just a little. It was no reason to rip the shoe off and snap the heel.
Those were my best pair of shoes.
“I think you have too much energy,” he growled. “You need to remember who you’re here to serve.”
Really?
I slugged him.
It broke my hand, but whatever. When he ripped the dress open though, oh it was on. The problem was that I was already lust drunk, and the more I fought, the more it fanned his lust. Fuck, I didn’t care how rough he made it. Or that he half strangled me when he mounted me. The moment his teeth sank into my throat, I was groaning. I came over and over, but more from the lust pounding into me than his body.
Then the world darkened as he wouldn’t let go, and the pain pierced the pleasure. I fought to get his teeth out of me, but all he did was moan and suck harder, his hips pistoning until the world blotted out.
Then I was choking on blood. So much blood. It was pouring down my throat until I gagged.
I didn’t want it.
Didn’t he understand…
Terror clawed at me when I woke.
Blood coated my mouth.
The room was wrecked.
My clothes shredded.
Dimitri was gone. No sign of him anywhere.
I staggered into the bathroom and stared at the red eyes staring back at me.
What the fuck had he done?
Terror turned to rage.
I was going to kill me a vampire.
He’d wrecked my favorite outfit. Broken my favorite pair of shoes. Beyond all that, he’d poured his blood down my throat.
I couldn’t be a vampire, but my noodle like limbs and weakness decried all of that.
I didn’t heal from blood.
I didn’t…
Alfred lifted his head. She’d gone utterly limp in his arms. Images kept flashing through his mind. Her confrontation with Isaac, her city’s prince. That shit stain could die. Her internment. The warden. Dimitri’s face and name were imprinted. That was another shit stain. He’d tasted her power and wanted it, that was why he’d brutalized her. Taken and taken until she’d nearly died, the last of her heartbeats so sluggish, she should have, and then he’d fed her blood.
Cupping her face, Alfred murmured, “You will have your vengeance, hellion. I give you my word.”
Then he lifted her and carried her inside. Her heart beat so slow. Almost too slow. But he had time. He had to get her right to the very brink to break the last shadow chain. His brothers had done their best, but they didn’t fully comprehend demons—or the fact that they tangled deeper than blood.
“Alfred,” Fin called him as he passed by, striding toward the stairs to his own wing.
“Not now,” he answered. Not while he had her on his tongue and in his mind. He saw every moment from her death to her awakening to her confrontations to when Maddox arrived in her cell.
The warden’s visits were particularly colorful, and he planned to remove every inch of his taint. Of course, he’d known what she was, he couldn’t have mistaken her for anything else. To control one like her would have given him enormous power.