by SF Benson
“Cass, how many times do I have to say I’m not interested?”
“You can’t blame me for trying.” She leaned over and slipped a hand beneath my robe.
I smacked her fingers and chanted a knock-back spell. The witch flew off the couch and landed on her plump ass.
“Keep your hands to yourself. Try that again, and I’ll do far more than put you on the floor.”
Slowly, she rose to her feet, dusted off her butt, and walked toward the door. “I know when I’m not wanted.”
“Took you long enough.”
Cassandra was probably the one who leaked the news of my marriage to Father. Regardless, she couldn’t be allowed to cause havoc. Dissension in the ranks was never a good thing.
Speaking of upset, it appeared Kragen and my father hadn’t thought of the consequences. It wasn’t as if they could instill fear in the agents or the Elders. The witches in the room could easily stop a vampire while the vamps weren’t terrified of their own. As for the shifters, well… It would take a lot more than blood and fangs to scare one of them.
Kragen and my father created a bad scenario. A vampire had never led the BGS before. That honor always went to a sorcerer or a witch. When Great-gran died, she passed the mantle to me, but I was too young for the responsibility. Mother didn’t want the role. She had enough to contend with managing her coven. Father was the one who suggested Kragen take over until I was ready. I had been all right with taking a temporary back seat, but as the situation unfolded, I realized I couldn’t wait six years. It didn’t matter what Mother said either. The BlackGuard needed me.
I whispered to Ace, “Just have my back.”
“Of course, dawlin’.”
Walking to the center of the room, I held up my hands. Blue sparks flew from my fingers. Seconds later, darkness surrounded us. Reaching out, I found the sources of discontent and squeezed. Their voices stopped. I hadn’t killed anyone. Simply silenced them as a small reminder of who was really in charge.
When I turned on the lights again, Cassandra lay on the floor. Beside her was every individual who dared challenge my father and our leader.
Mother stood near the fireplace with her arms folded. “Nicely done, daughter. There’s hope for you yet.”
She never could deliver praise without a good dose of judgment.
Since I had everyone’s attention, I said, “Alexander St. John is one of the ancients. That’s the reason why he’s not to be harmed. If he oversteps, then we can decide what happens to him.” I glanced at Kragen. “I’m sure our leader has a plan in place should that occur.”
He narrowed his gaze. I couldn’t tell whether he was grateful for my intervention or pissed off. It didn’t matter. I wasn’t going to let Great-gran’s achievements go up in smoke because of jealousy.
Speaking of the green-eyed monster…
Cassandra rose from the floor. “Was that necessary, Deianira?”
My mother’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “Wrong witch.” She pointed at me.
Gee thanks, Mother.
Cassandra hissed at me. “It figures you would strike me.”
“Oh hell, Cass. Get over yourself.” I faced Father. “Whether you agree with me doesn’t matter. Right now, we have two individuals who want some sort of vindication. We need a plan.”
His mouth slackened, and then he addressed the room again. “Whatever your disagreement is with Alexander, you’re not to lay a hand on him.”
“Un-fucking-believable!” Edwina stormed out the room.
Not good. The female was barely pleasant when she wasn’t upset. With the new edict, she might become completely unhinged.
Without another word, the room began emptying out. Rodrigo and Etienne pulled me to the side.
“Yeah?”
Etienne said, “Colby’s here. He’s waiting for you upstairs.”
“Is he okay?”
“He is,” said Rodrigo. “Go talk to him.”
Before I left the room, my eyes met Ace’s.
“Dawlin’, where ya going?” he said directly to my mind.
“Colby’s upstairs. He wants to talk.”
“Go. I’m going to see what I can achieve with Julien and Kragen. Wish me luck.”
“Good luck, baby.”
As I climbed the stairs, an empty feeling settled in my gut. Although Rodrigo said Colby was fine, what if he wasn’t? What if he was still upset about what happened? Had he forgiven Clint? Should the dhampir even be forgiven?
I found my son in his room. Standing at the window. Glancing out at the night sky.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hey, Colby.” I froze in my tracks. What should I say? What should I do?
He faced me and smiled. “I’m good.”
I let go of the breath I’d been holding. “Really?”
“Yeah. Rodrigo and Etienne helped a lot.”
“Do I want to know?” I walked over to the bed and sat on the edge.
My son sat beside me. “It’ll take some time for me to get over Clint. You warned me about him. I should have listened.” Colby sighed. “He won’t be my last heartache.”
I knew that. I just didn’t want him to have to endure even one.
“So there will be other men?”
He chuckled. “Smooth, Mom. I like women too. There’s no way I can know the future. My intended could be male or female. Either way, I’m good.”
“Is that what you wanted to discuss?”
“No.” In a lowered voice, he said, “I know about the trouble with St. John, and I might have a way to help. I also know about Grandfather’s edict concerning the vamp. What I have in mind, however, will keep the blame away from the BlackGuard.”
My muscles quivered. I hoped he wasn’t going to say what I was thinking. “Who’ll be responsible?”
“If I do it right, nobody.”
“And if you fail?”
Please don’t let my son volunteer himself.
“Mom, I’m the best choice.”
“No! I won’t let you!”
“You don’t even know what I’m planning.” He put an arm around my shoulders. “I love you and your concern for me, but remember I’m a Mercier. I can do things even my grandmother can’t. Dad groomed me well. I perfected every lesson he taught me.” Colby side-glanced at me, and his lips curled up. “Has the BlackGuard found the true culprit behind the deaths of the redheads?”
“Are you admitting guilt?” Was my son a cold-blooded murderer?
“Maybe.” He shot me a playful grin. “Or maybe it was Dad or Uncle C.” Colby stood and made his way over to the window. “You obliterated the corpses, but there was no trail leading to us.”
“How can you be so certain?”
When he turned around, there was a gleam in my son’s eye. “There’s no way you can prove who did it. Merciers don’t leave behind random evidence.”
Colby’s self-assurance unnerved me. Whenever he mentioned what he could do as a Mercier, it was with a chilling confidence. There was a degree of depravity with how freely my son spoke of doing harm to another. His heinous father was responsible for that attitude. If I could yank Bishop’s ass out of Hell, I’d kill him again.
“It’s too risky, Colby. I’d rather you stay out of it.”
He looked me in the eye, and his voice took on a hollow tone. “Come now, Mom. Dad always said you were a rebel. It was what Uncle C loved about you. Embrace the darkness. Let me handle St. John. I’ll make sure his demise can’t be traced to anyone in the BlackGuard or me. Unless… You have someone in mind. I can make anyone look responsible.”
It went against my better judgment, but I nodded. “I want you to work with Edwina. Understood?”
Colby leaned against the bed post. “You do realize I’m more powerful than she? All I have to do is pay Melisande or Marsilius a visit—”
“No! You keep them out of it. Edwina is trustworthy. If anything, you might find you need her help.”
He scoffed. “I haven’t ever n
eeded someone’s help to perform magic.” He pursed his lips and tilted his head to the side. “Still, if you want me to work with the hybrid, I can. Set it up. I’ll be staying here with my grandparents.”
“I thought you’d come back to the apartment.”
“Mom…” There was a shift in his demeanor. It was as if my son had a dual personality. The dark one—the one most like his father—slipped into the background. “I think Ace would prefer it if I wasn’t on the couch at night. I’ll never get a sibling if you two aren’t… you know…”
I am not talking about my sex life with Colby.
“Outside of tonight’s meeting, Ace and I aren’t welcome here.”
“Nonsense. I’ll talk to Deianira and Julien. They don’t want to displease me.”
I gasped. “You wouldn’t hurt them.”
“No, Mom.” Colby chuckled. “I simply have them wrapped around my pinky finger. Deianira loves me and only wants me happy. Julien is a little afraid of me, but I’d never do anything to him. He fascinates me too much to hurt.”
And my son scared the shit out of me.
20
Gentle Sin
Tabitha
* * *
I couldn’t breathe. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t do it. Julien’s decree, followed by Morgan’s words, ripped apart my lungs and stole my breath. I stumbled out of the drawing room and leaned against a wall. My sudden affliction had nothing to do with any illness. Not unless I counted a general disregard for justice—my justice—an ailment.
Who cared if Alexander St. John was some ancient vampire? He was a male who committed an atrocity. Whenever an innocent life was harmed, somebody had to pay. Before becoming undead, I had a bright future ahead of me. Despite what some people thought, I hadn’t intended to strip forever. I led a simple lifestyle and saved as much money as I could. When I had the right amount, I was packing up my shit and leaving town. I had dreams of going to New York and becoming a real dancer. Instead of audiences throwing money at my feet, I would have had roses tossed onto stage. A friend in the industry would have helped me get established.
Thanks to the bloodthirsty fiend, my hopes evaporated like smoke in a bar room at last call. I realized it was too late to change what happened to me, but I deserved some sort of reprisal. Neither Morgan’s father nor that pompous prick Kragen understood. I seriously doubted they would have been so complacent if Morgan had been turned into a monster. There were humans who enjoyed what some called white privilege. What did supernaturals call their sense of entitlement? Whatever name it went by didn’t sit well with me.
The walls of that mausoleum of a house closed in on me. My vision dimmed, but my resolve heightened. Suddenly, the hall filled with people. I pushed through the crowd. I needed fresh air…and blood. When someone stepped into my path and blocked me, my fangs descended. I was ready to strike whoever had the nerve to detain me, and then I saw those grayish eyes.
My canines contracted.
Breathing came easier.
My thoughts clarified.
An insatiable hunger filled me, and it had nothing to do with blood.
“I didn’t see you in the room,” I said to Clint.
He shot me an easy smile. “I just arrived. Did I miss anything?”
“Nothing important,” I lied. “Can we get out of here? I need to f-feed.” The word practically hung in my throat. Although I was still trying to wrap my head around the notion, I was getting better with it. Every now and then, however, I thought about a juicy burger and crispy fries. Even a too-sweet piece of pound cake sounded better, sometimes, than sinking my teeth into warm flesh.
Clint pushed the hair out of my face, but his hand lingered on my cheek. “Why are you lying to me, Tabitha? Something pissed you off. Want to tell me the truth, or should I talk to Kragen?”
Rather than answer Golden Boy, I went with my instincts. I grasped his hand and tugged him to the door. Yanking it open, I ran with him. The scenery blurred by as I raced down Prytania Street. I knew I couldn’t run forever. I just wanted—no, needed—to put some distance between the Vladislavs, their cronies, and myself. When I slowed down, I realized we were at Jackson Square.
As I headed up the steps to the wrought-iron gate, Clint grasped my elbow and spun me around. His eyes met mine, and he searched for the answers. Unfortunately, my mind was an open playground full of lies and mischief.
“Tabitha, you can’t. If Kragen and Julien have ruled against it, none of us can touch St. John.”
“I don’t give a fuck!” Yanking my arm out of Clint’s grasp, I bypassed the park and headed up Chartres Street.
For a moment, I gazed upon Muriel’s. It was one of my favorite restaurants, but I never dined there often. When my rent was paid up, and I hit a windfall at the club, I went there for Saturday brunch. The three-egg omelet with bacon, spinach, and Manchego cheese was my mainstay. People who knew me called me a foodie. My goal was to try everything on Muriel’s menu—at least once. Something else St. John stole from me.
Clint caught up with me before I turned left onto Dauphine Street. “Where you going?”
“Home, but I didn’t invite you.”
“That’s okay. I’m good with letting myself into places.”
“Yeah, I know.” I picked up the pace.
Honestly, I didn’t mind the company, but I didn’t want to misread the situation again. A girl could only take so much rejection. With the quagmire of shit I was wading through, I couldn’t handle any more mess. I also couldn’t cope with the multitudinous sounds in my head. Every conversation playing out in the area filtered to my ears. It was like trying to pick out one favorite song with thousands playing.
Maddening.
Chaotic.
I wanted to scream, but only lunatics and the homeless bellowed in public. Maybe that was why Hollywood depicted vampires as solo creatures. Someone knew the fiends couldn’t tolerate the noise of crowds.
Instead of calmly walking, I ran. I ran so fast I lost direction. When I stopped, I was in front of Clint’s building. An overwhelming desire for quiet hit me as I collapsed against the wrought-iron gate.
“I got you, Tabitha.” He lifted me into his arms and carried me to his apartment.
I didn’t fight him. Frankly, I was tired of it all. Ever since that bastard tore my life to pieces, I’d been in attack mode. Morgan thought I hadn’t tried to find some semblance of peace. She was wrong. It was why I sought comfort in Alexander’s arms. I figured if I had to be a creature of the night, I’d be his completely. But the jackass ravished me and used me like his personal plaything.
Clint took me to his bedroom and gently lowered me to the mattress. His hands traced my curves as if he was studying me. I hadn’t been wrong. Clint wanted me.
“I’d never use you, Tabitha.”
“I know,” I whispered.
In the darkened room, my gaze found his. His eyes, filled with desire, caressed me with lustful, invisible fingers. My breath caught while lust burned in my brain. All I could think of was fucking… No. That implied a lack of respect. I wanted to love him. Appreciate every part of his body and soul.
“We don’t have to.”
“But I want to.”
His lips parted like he had something more to say. Instead, he lowered his head and claimed my mouth. Kissing Clint was magical. We didn’t need to say a word, but everything we felt bubbled to the surface.
Such soft lips.
I opened up to him, and his tongue slid inside. He tasted sweet like Tennessee whiskey. The longer we kissed, the hotter my desire came. A sensual feeling of warmth stole over me. Reluctantly, I broke off the kiss and sat up.
Panting, Clint asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Absolutely nothing. I just need to get undressed.”
He chuckled. “Yeah.”
We watched each other as we shrugged out of our jeans. I only took my eyes off him long enough to tug my T-shirt over my head. Seconds later, Clint, completely naked,
was on me again. He fiddled with the front hook of my bra. Frustration set in, and he ripped it apart. As he laid me down, his eyes settled on my breasts. He awkwardly cupped a tit in his hand and squeezed.
“Easy,” I said. Clint handled me as if a woman’s body was foreign to him.
When he lowered his head, however, and sucked my nipple, my panties dampened. My toes curled as my head fell back. “Oh shit…”
Clint was like a kitten with catnip, and my throbbing pussy was dying to be stroked. I writhed beneath him.
“Make love to me.” I moaned as my eyes closed.
His clever mouth set off a blinding heat as it journeyed over my stomach and to that secret part of me. Clint took his time, exploring me with his tongue. My thighs clenched around his head while my fingers pulled at the sheets.
Every lash of his tongue tantalized and teased me, setting a pleasurable fire to my body. Clint pushed me over the edge. Closer. Closer. And then… Before I drowned in ecstasy, he pulled me back.
My eyes popped open.
Clint hovered over me. His sleek muscles, like the physique of an endurance athlete, tempted me. I ran my fingers over his sculpted abs and stopped short of touching his thick cock. I licked my lips, wanting a taste.
When I reached out, Clint took my wrists in one hand and held them above my head. “Later. I want to bury myself in you.”
He parted my thighs and pushed my knees up. I was so fucking wet. Clint teased my folds, coated himself in my juices, and pressed into me.
I gasped.
So big…
His dick filled me, but there was no pain. Only pleasure.
Slowly, we moved together. With each thrust, he drove deeper and deeper. Harder. Harder. Faster. Faster. Faster.
And then…
And then…
Clint’s body stiffened, and his pulsing cock gushed into me. Seconds later, I vibrated against him.
But I wasn’t sated.
Not yet.
His pulse was as loud as a jungle drum in my ears. It had its own language, and it called me. My fangs ached for his throat. I wanted to taste his flesh and the sweet nectar flowing through his veins.
