Devil's Dream

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Devil's Dream Page 18

by Shayne Silvers


  Because the desire had been to kiss, not bite.

  But it wasn’t just that. I felt a strange…resonance from her. A stronger sensation than what I had sensed at the auction, but of the same vein.

  I removed my arm from her hand more awkwardly than I intended and approached Stevie, keeping my composure reserved—as much for the matter at hand as well as to conceal my suddenly turbulent emotions.

  “Tell the mothersucker what he’s still doing here,” I said, using the term he’d tossed out.

  He smiled, turning to address his wolves. “Take a look at him. Feel him,” he said, emphasizing the word. “Notice anything different from a few minutes ago?”

  The wolves drew closer, sniffing and studying me as if they could see through me. One by one, the looks on their faces began to change. Several of them sneezed, backing away to study me from a distance.

  I frowned. “Nothing has changed from ten minutes ago.”

  “Wrong,” Stevie interrupted. “Exactly one thing changed.” And his eyes shot to Victoria Helsing. Everyone turned to look at her, and it was her turn to grow instantly uncomfortable.

  I cocked my head, trying to keep my face calm. Were they sensing whatever I had sensed about her? That sense of kinship? But Victoria wasn’t a vampire. To me, it wasn’t any sort of blood bond that I had felt, but more as if she had awoken something deep within me. Something that I had honestly only felt once, very, very long ago…

  When I had gotten my first glimpse at the gods. Before they cursed me to live in the shadows and suck blood as an immortal monster.

  But what did that have to do with Victoria? I didn’t know anyone from my day with her last name, and it definitely wasn’t a Greek or Italian name.

  “I don’t understand,” she said. “I haven’t done anything other than try to kill Sorin by accident.” She winced guiltily, mouthing sorry again.

  I smiled, waving off her concern. “I’m used to it.”

  “You’re right and you’re wrong,” Stevie said, folding his beefy arms as he studied the two of us. “I can’t explain it because I don’t understand it, but something happened the moment you opened that door. Enough for me to propose a compromise, if Victoria is willing, of course.”

  I frowned thoughtfully, wondering where this was heading. “Why are none of you concerned about a vampire hunter showing up at your door? Are you already working together?” I asked. “It’s obvious that you are all well acquainted.”

  “Vickie is aces,” Benjamin explained. “Honorary pack member. She’s done a lot of good for us. I called her to ask about the auction, but I didn’t mention you at all on the phone. The fact that you two instantly knew each other—and that she apologized for trying to kill you—actually speaks to her high moral character. She tries to kill everyone, and never apologizes,” he said, grinning brightly.

  Victoria narrowed her eyes. “Sorin killed Mina Harker. I saw it. Is that what this is about? Good fucking riddance.” She glanced at me thoughtfully. “But I didn’t know you were a vampire.”

  I nodded. “Because of how you are looking at me right now,” I said, shrugging. “I’m not like the ones you know. I want to kill Dracula and his ilk.”

  She studied me thoughtfully before giving me a faint not. “I can get behind that. But I have questions.”

  “He doesn’t like questions,” Benjamin murmured. “After he kills the Necromancer, he said he would throw a question and answer party, though.”

  She arched an eyebrow and I nodded. “No time for chit-chat.”

  Stevie cleared his throat. “Victoria has a real hard-on for Dracula. He killed her father. She’s an immortal huntress, blessed by Artemis, as legend has it—”

  My legs gave out and I dropped to my rear as the room suddenly tilted violently. Victoria was kneeling before me with a concerned look on her face as she patted my cheeks. “Sorin? Are you okay?” I nodded numbly, trying to shake off the sudden anxiety creeping through my veins. Artemis. Victoria had been blessed by Artemis.

  “Just hungry,” I lied. “I’m still regaining my strength.”

  “Get the rest of the blood!” Stevie bellowed, and I heard someone rushing to obey. Victoria helped me climb back to my feet even though I didn’t need it. She studied me intently, a faint sense of doubt hidden in her eyes. “You don’t need to lie, Sorin,” she breathed—so softly that I barely heard it, even with my enhanced senses. “Whatever just happened, you can trust me. I saw what you did to Mina Harker, and that speaks louder than any words. I’m here if you need to talk to anyone. About Artemis,” she added in an even softer tone. She smirked at my faint twitch, my reaction proving her point. Then she stepped back and guided me to a nearby chair. Everyone had been so preoccupied with Stevie’s bellowing for a chair and more blood that they had missed her whispers.

  Was that what I had felt from her? Mutual ties to Artemis, the Greek Goddess of the Hunt? But Artemis had cursed me, not given me a gift. Whatever it was, I wasn’t about to entertain it in a room full of werewolves.

  “Thank you,” I said, sitting down. “It comes and goes. Not having eaten anything for five hundred years takes a toll.”

  Victoria shook her head, still trying to process my story.

  Natalie approached with an armful of blood bags and dumped them on the table beside me. Then she knelt between my knees and held up a bag, placing her hand on my thigh as she watched me with her sharp green eyes, checking to make sure I was alright.

  Her sleeves had bunched up, and my eyes instinctively latched onto the thin flesh at the top of her forearm, opposite her elbow. The thick vein beckoned, and my fangs popped out.

  Yes…my inner demon cooed. Fresh off the teat…

  I blinked, momentarily shaken. To hear that inner voice in my mind again was alarming. I hadn’t heard it since waking up from my slumber. It also meant that I was hungrier than I’d thought.

  I stiffly took the bag from Natalie’s hand, averting my eyes from her arm and using all my mental strength to turn my back on my inner demon. For him to be rearing his head was a bad sign. He only came out when I was markedly hungry. And if I entertained him, I ran the risk of not being able to turn him off. Had he remained dormant due to my extreme blood withdrawal?

  I say him like he was a separate being inhabiting my body and mind, but that wasn’t the case. He was my conscience. The instinctive part of myself that wanted only to take. When I had first become a vampire, wanting nothing more than to make the world pay for my new affliction, I had been a close companion to that new part of myself. I hadn’t known any better. Mountains of bodies and armies of angry villagers with pitchforks and torches had ultimately shown me the error of my ways, and I had fled Greece.

  I had tried to flee that part of myself, as a matter of fact. It had only been when I found a cave out in the wilderness, as far from mankind as I could possibly find, that I had managed to come to terms with it. The inner demon, as I had taken to calling him, wasn’t trying to harm me—he just had conflicting opinions about what I needed.

  Much like Victoria had instinctively attacked me when sensing a vampire in the doorway. Her own instincts—or inner demon—had commanded her to end the threat to save her werewolf friends. When her rational mind kicked back in, she realized that I wasn’t the threat she’d feared.

  It had taken me more than a year to find a healthy balance—to know how much blood I needed to control my urges, maintain my strength, and survive without becoming a mindless killer.

  And that was when I had first met Lucian and Dracula.

  A traveling hunter named Dracula had encountered Lucian in a tavern, telling him a tale about a crazed monster terrorizing a village, and that he was hunting the beast down. Lucian, having nothing better to do, and knowing that the human hunter would need all the help he could get against such a beast, had agreed to accompany him.

  Dracula hadn’t known Lucian was a werewolf.

  The two strangers soon found me and chose to observe their prey from
a safe distance. I’d sensed Lucian’s powerful heartbeat out in the mountains and had assumed it was some neighboring beast assessing the new occupant of the cave. Dracula, being a mere human, hadn’t been powerful enough for me to sense. Since the werewolf’s heartbeat remained a safe distance away, I let him be, not knowing what he was, but content to maintain my solitude.

  His urgency to kill me had quickly faded upon seeing me feast only on animal blood—and only enough to survive. Nothing like the bloodsucking monster everyone had feared. When he had watched me feast on and then bury the corpse of an elk, he had been so baffled that he finally chose to approach my cave with Dracula, demanding to know what I was doing here and why the villagers wanted to hunt me down.

  “Because I was a monster,” I had admitted. “I wasn’t in control of myself, and it took a mountain of mistakes to realize it. So, I came out here where I couldn’t hurt anyone.”

  “Why do you avoid sunlight?” Lucian had asked.

  “It burns. I was cursed by the gods.”

  Lucian had pursed his lips, nodding empathetically. “I too suffer a curse,” he’d admitted. And before either of us could blink, he had simply…changed. One moment he was a large, imposing man, and the next he was a giant black wolf of the likes I had never seen before. His shredded clothes scattered around us, falling into the fire and making it pop and hiss.

  Dracula had shouted, tripping over himself as he danced back a step, his hand settling on the hilt of his sword as he realized he faced two beasts rather than one. I had stared at the wolf, awed by its lethal beauty. That the man Lucian could learn to control such a monster living inside of him was remarkable. It gave me cause for hope. Then Lucian had simply changed back into a man, as naked as the day was long.

  “Do you intend to live up here forever? All alone? Just you and your monster?” he had asked.

  “I do not know. I’ve come to terms with my curse and no longer fear losing control,” I had admitted, staring into his eyes.

  “Are you willing to try to be a man?” Lucian had replied, staring deeply into my eyes. “To take control of your demon rather than letting it control your life? I will be there to hold you accountable.”

  “I will also stay by your side, Sorin Ambrogio,” Dracula had agreed. “I will be your conscience. I see good in you.”

  I had stared into the flames of my campfire, considering the question with all the seriousness it required. “Yes. I think I would like to be a man.”

  And that decision had ultimately doomed the world.

  Neither of us had realized that the real monster in our midst had been the only human at the fire that night—Dracula.

  The memory faded, having taken only a moment in real time. I peeled my eyes away from Natalie, who was still kneeling before me. I drew strength from my old friend’s confidence in me. It was one of the hardest things I’d had to do since waking from my slumber.

  Natalie suddenly gripped my chin, turning me back to her. She let out a nervous breath and stared into my eyes, her jaw-length blonde hair framing her face like wings. “Do you swear you mean us no ill will? That you truly want to end Dracula and his scourge?” she whispered softly, licking her lips.

  “I do,” I breathed, trying to ignore the heat from her fingertips.

  “I can tell you want to drink from me,” she whispered. “Will it harm me?”

  “It will not,” I rasped. “But it is not necessary—”

  Stevie growled aggressively. “Absolutely not—”

  “It is my blood, alpha,” she snapped aggressively, silencing him with her vehemence. “I obey you unquestioningly, but this man might be our best chance at defeating them once and for all. I’m willing to do what I can to help.” Stevie growled unhappily but relented. She turned back to me, smiling gently. “I take it that fresh blood is better?” she asked.

  I nodded, eyeing one of the bags, considering how much it held. “Those taste stale. Six of them is like drinking one bag’s worth from a living person. And nowhere near as powerful as freely given blood.”

  “How much would you need?”

  “I can stop myself long before you suffer any harm. You might feel weak and euphoric for a few hours, but nothing that will prevent you from going about your regular day. One bag’s worth would do wonders. Especially if I consume those after,” I said, eyeing the bags on the table.

  She nodded. “Then you have my permission, Sorin.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and arched her neck as she turned her back to me. “This is how it’s done in the stories, right?”

  I shuddered, my mouth immediately salivating with the venom that would first replace her pain with euphoria and then heal the wound once I finished. I nodded stiffly, even though she couldn’t see me. I stared down at her delicate neck, my stomach fluttering with anticipation. “Thank you,” I whispered, barely able to form the sentence. The warehouse was deadly silent as I leaned down.

  I placed my hands on her shoulders and she visibly relaxed. “I hope you enjoy the taste of the twenty-first century, Sorin,” she said, sounding amused.

  Her jovial demeanor made me smile. “It will be the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,” I told her. And it was partly true. Freely given blood was significantly sweeter than stolen blood. Murdering or enthralling a victim to comply wasn’t even remotely the same as freely given blood. Some form of magical bond between predator and prey—a sense of trust in the most intimate of acts. “You won’t feel a thing, Natalie,” I purred, drawing closer to the soft, berry-scented skin of her neck.

  Before anyone could interfere, I sank my fangs into her neck. Electricity rocked through us as I lapped up her blood, inhaling the heady aroma of her powerful werewolf essence and the sweet, spicy smell of cinnamon in her hair. My eyes rolled back in my head, and I heard her moan in pleasure. My mouth tingled, and time slowed as we bonded together in a way I hadn’t experienced in a very long time. Not since Bubble had permitted me to do the same—once, when we had conceived our son—and it had been a long time before I first met Bubble. I’d left my harem of willing blood slaves behind in Europe.

  But they had been mortal, nothing like a willing, trusting werewolf.

  Power rocked through me, and I began to drink deeper, squeezing her shoulders possessively, protecting this sweet, sweet prize.

  “Ohmygod…” Natalie moaned, pressing every inch of her body into mine as she panted in delirious ecstasy. Her hips began to rock faster and faster and her hands suddenly gripped both of my ankles, squeezing desperately. “Please don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop…” she begged, whimpering as her grip on my ankles tightened enough to give me pleasurable pain, urging me on. “YES!” she screamed loud enough for everyone to jump back a step.

  And her body suddenly stiffened, every muscle clenching for the span of a single moment as she climaxed with a full-body orgasm. She gasped several times, clutching tightly to my ankles as if it was the only thing anchoring her to reality as her body continued to flinch with echoing tremors of pleasure. Her back was pressed so tightly to my inner thighs that we may as well have been the same person. I waited a few moments before I released her from my bite and licked at the wound, sealing it. She continued to shudder as I held her close, her body rippling with smaller, yet no less sensational, orgasms. I’d completely forgotten about that aspect. It could often happen with mortals, too, but it always happened with werewolves. Something about our magic bonding together.

  I leaned down and kissed the back of her head. “The sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted, Natalie,” I whispered. And I meant it. It had been even sweeter than Bubble, my wife. I wasn’t sure if that was because my body was so malnourished or if it was something specific about Natalie.

  She trembled, whimpering since she was still unable to speak. I realized that I suddenly had an embarrassment of my own to conceal. I kept her pressed against me, leaning down to breathe a whisper directly into her ear, soft enough so no one else could hear. “Would you mind staying there for a fe
w minutes? I’m not decent,” I breathed, feeling my cheeks redden.

  “Sorin,” she purred dreamily, scooting even closer to me and caressing my calves with her hands in a subconscious, post-coitus gesture. “You can do whatever the living fuck you want to me,” she laughed huskily. “Sweet motherfucking god. I haven’t felt anything like that in my entire life. You just became my new best friend with benefits.” She laid her cheek on my thigh, hugging my leg possessively.

  “Friends don’t know the way you taste,” I murmured.

  Her hand clenched my leg tighter and she trembled in pleasure. “And there’s lucky number seven,” she purred. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

  I chuckled, brushing the hair back from her ear.

  I finally lifted my gaze to see Victoria staring at me in disbelief. Several of the werewolves were eyeing each other meaningfully, fishing to see if anyone else wanted to go find some privacy for a little coitus of their own.

  Stevie was struggling to light a cigar, staring at us with wide eyes. It took him a few tries because his hand was shaking.

  Benjamin cleared his throat. I glanced over at him, arching an eyebrow. “Um. Do you need any more blood?” he asked, shifting uneasily from foot-to-foot. “No homo or anything.”

  Natalie shot him a menacing growl, squeezing my calf possessively.

  Victoria burst out laughing, but I thought I caught a brief flicker of jealousy in her eyes. Interesting…

  “What is homo?” I asked curiously.

  They laughed harder.

 

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