I see. This was what Tom wanted her to discover—Issac with Clara at the Arcadia. That made more sense than him sending her into a demon club.
Or maybe that was just her hoping for the best.
Issac led Stas into a rear hallway lined with doors, causing her to frown back at the reception area. A booth, in the open, surrounded by people, seemed like a much better plan.
He stopped at a random door, twisted the knob, and practically pushed her inside. She opened her mouth, but no words slipped past her lips.
Because she didn’t know what to say or where to start.
The door slammed with a finality, shrouding them in darkness and silence.
“I-Issac,” she whispered, her heart in her throat.
She squeaked as he grabbed her and pushed her up against the wall, his hands in her hair, his mouth a hairsbreadth away from hers.
It happened so fast.
Too fast.
Stealing her breath and her fight all at once.
“There are cameras everywhere,” he warned, a dark edge highlighting each word. “And they all have night vision, so put your hands on me and make it look like you’re enjoying this.”
She swallowed and lifted her arms to wrap around his neck. This is Issac. He won’t hurt me. He needs me. If she told herself that enough, she’d believe it. Maybe.
“What are you wearing under this dress?” he asked, his mouth brushing hers, the words whisper-soft.
Not what she expected him to say. “E-excuse me?”
His teeth sank into her lower lip, making her yelp. “Focus.”
On what? The demon club? The humans dying downstairs? The fact that you’re a fucking vampire? Where should I begin?
He sighed, his forehead falling to hers. “Astasiya, we have very little time to sort this before the Conclave. I need you to work with me. Both our lives depend on it. What are you wearing?”
She cleared her throat, her hold on his neck tightening as if needing his support to respond. And maybe she did. This was all a lot to take in. “A, uh, thong,” she managed to say. “And a strapless bra.” Both black and lacy, but she didn’t add that part.
One of his hands drifted from her hair to her waist, then down to her ass. His palm flattened and forced her to arch up into him. A breath hitched in her throat at the feel of his growing arousal.
He’s turned on… here… now?
She trembled, the heat of his body seeping into her cool skin, warming her blood. They were standing rather close. And he smelled amazing, as always.
Anywhere else, in the dark, she’d have kissed him.
But here…
“The dress will have to stay, then,” he said, the disappointment evident in his voice.
She frowned. “What’s wrong with my dress?” It hit her midthigh and clung to her curves. She looked good in it.
He ignored her, his mouth brushing hers in a chaste kiss as his hips pressed firmly into hers.
Definitely aroused.
“You’re going to see things tonight that will make you want to scream, but you must remain calm and quiet. Mortals who overreact die, and they die badly.”
“Wh—”
Issac lifted her off the ground one-handed, her legs wrapping around him automatically for balance. And, oh God, that placed his thick erection right against the scrap of lace between her thighs.
Any other place and time, her body’s instinct to move against him would have won out, but not now. The shiver that traversed her spine was from his words, not his touch.
Mortals who overreact die. Her arms tensed around his neck.
Issac had already admitted that her involvement as his pawn would likely lead to her death. And now…
I’m going to die here.
“It’s imperative they believe you’re human,” he whispered, his groin moving in a sinful circle against her. Such a subtle move, but one that sent tingling sensations through her entire body despite his words.
I should not… This cannot… Oh, he just did it again…
“I need to know you understand me.” His peppermint scent seeped through her parted lips as he spoke the words against her mouth, stoking a forbidden fire inside her.
Pull yourself together, Stas.
This isn’t the right place.
Just ignore—
His hard length caressed her hot center again, causing her to arch against him in a blissful mix of confusion and need. The heady combination left her light-headed, lost, unable to focus.
Who knew fear could be such a turn-on?
“Astasiya.” He punctuated her name by nipping her lower lip, causing her to cry out. Whether in protest or because she liked the other things he was doing to her, she didn’t know.
Reality started to blend with desire, making it difficult to discern right from wrong. It was as if her mind had shut down in favor of her body’s needs. So much easier to rely on than to think about what she’d learned, what she’d observed, or the fact that she may very well die here.
“They cannot find out what you are,” he growled against her mouth. “Both of our lives depend on it.”
His words registered through the haze of passion clouding her mind. “No persuasion,” she repeated. That seemed like common sense considering their surroundings. As did not giving in to her baser needs. Logic.
“One last thing.” Issac licked her bottom lip, eliciting a stinging sensation. His bite had broken the skin, and the way he laved the wound now sent tingles down her spine.
Why does that feel so good?
“You can’t enter the Conclave unmarked.”
“Conclave?” she repeated.
“A meeting of sorts for Ichorians.” His tongue traced a pattern against her mouth before dipping in to dance with hers.
What are we doing? she wanted to ask. Why are we doing this?
Instead, she kissed him back, welcoming the reprieve from her mind, needing a break from the danger lurking around them.
Not smart.
I don’t care.
Think.
No.
She gave in to the urges, her mouth moving against his without restraint. It felt so natural, so calming, so real. Every embrace between them seemed experienced somehow, as if they’d been kissing each other for years. She already knew him, his wants, his needs, his desires, and she unleashed that knowledge with her mouth.
He groaned, his hips grinding against hers, their passion no longer an act, but true. One palm remained against her waist, his other wrapping around her nape. He slid his lips across her cheek to her throat, his exhale warming her skin.
“It’s either this or we both die,” he whispered. “And I’m particularly fond of living.”
“Issac?” she breathed, uncertain of what he meant.
“Forgive me, darling.”
12
Broken Blood Laws
What the hell was Thomas Fitzgerald thinking sending Astasiya here? The bloody idiot threw her right into the middle of an Ichorian haven.
Fuck.
Issac wanted to torture and maim the imbecile, but first, he had to focus on protecting Astasiya.
By marking her.
His lips skimmed her pulse, the delectable scent taunting his senses. He meant to feed yesterday, or earlier this evening, but hadn’t, his tastes for this woman all that drove his desires. And now he had her pinned against a wall, his mouth against the very artery he craved.
Consent mattered to him.
The rolling of her hips against his, despite the confusion underlying her voice, provided him with the acquiescence he required. Not all consensual cues were spoken; some were given through body language, and Astasiya’s lithe form sang of approval, of a yearning just as fierce as his own.
“I need to bite you,” he whispered. “To mark you as mine to protect you.”
She swallowed, her hesitation palpable. After a beat, she breathed, “Okay.”
His incisors ached from that one word alone, her blood so cl
ose, so potent, so perfect. He sank his teeth into her skin, breaking the surface swiftly and efficiently and eliciting a sharp squeak of protest from her throat. It was quickly replaced by a heady moan as he unleashed the endorphins into her bloodstream—a mechanism used by Ichorian kind to help subdue their prey.
Astasiya’s arms tightened around him, her lower body arching and seeking purpose against his cock.
Mmm, what he wouldn’t give to be inside her right now, to feel her slick walls tightening around him as he fucked her into oblivion. That was how he preferred to feed, but tonight required a more delicate introduction, one that would leave her well sated while only providing him with the sustenance he needed for survival.
She tasted amazing—sweet with a hint of fiery power that called to his very soul.
Such a unique flavor, unlike any he’d ever sampled.
Addicting.
Powerful.
A few pulls of her blood rejuvenated his spirit, energizing him in a way it shouldn’t. Not yet. It usually took a few pints. But her essence, fuck, it was amazing. He swallowed more, savoring every drop, loving the way her heartbeat accelerated as if wanting him to devour her.
Astasiya groaned, her lower body pressing into his as the euphoria from his bite lit her on fire from within.
Fucking glorious.
A younger Ichorian would be lost to her responding passion, especially one who had gone so long without feeding, but he held himself in check, ensuring her pleasure while indulging in her blood.
Her head fell back against the wall, eyes glazing over in confused bliss. Balancing her between his torso and the wall, he slid his palm from her luscious ass to her exposed thigh, delighting in the energy traversing between them.
So perfect.
Delicious.
More…
He explored upward, eliciting a gasp from her as he found the lace undergarment adorning her hip. Her penchant for lingerie was fast becoming his favorite trait about her. If only he had time for a preview.
Alas, he’d kept the lights off for a reason.
If she saw the torture instruments surrounding them, she’d fall into a fainting fit.
“Issac.” His name on her lips undid something inside of him, his control hanging on by a thread.
He wanted her more than anyone he could remember ever wanting before.
Maybe it was the moment.
This place.
Her.
He didn’t know. Didn’t care. He just wanted to rip the thong from her body and take her. Hard. Fast. To possess every inch of her and stake his claim. The possessive need overwhelmed him, calling to the predator inside and sending a tremble through his limbs.
This is dangerous.
Issac never felt this way for anyone, never even bedded a woman twice, but Astasiya had him wrapped up in a web of sensation carefully woven with feelings he couldn’t even begin to define. As if his very purpose on this planet was to be with her.
I hardly know her.
But she’s already mine.
The thought shook him to his core, forcing his teeth from her skin on a shudder so violent it was a wonder he kept her against the wall.
Her whimper confirmed he wasn’t alone in the passionate struggle.
A weekend in bed. That’s what they required, all he would allow, to kill this unhealthy obsession between them. But first, they had to survive the Conclave.
Issac traced the tempting line of lace beneath her dress, allowing himself one last indulgence. So alluring. So gorgeous. So ready.
“If we live through the night, I want to see what these look like without the dress,” he whispered, his tongue tracing the marking on her throat. He left her purposely unhealed, needing everyone to know whom she belonged to, even if just for tonight. “If I had it my way, we’d be on our way to my bed right now, Astasiya. I want to devour every inch of you.”
“Yes,” she hissed, her agreement a welcome sound in his ear.
He took her mouth with his own, binding the agreement between them with his tongue.
She would be his—soon.
He would possess her.
Worship her.
Mark her in a way no other ever could.
And he promised her that with his lips, carving his name into her very being.
She was his, for now. No one else would touch her, taste her, or fuck her. Only him. Astasiya responded in kind, solidifying the vow, the heat pouring off her sinking into his skin, to his blood and soul.
This was never his intention, an infringement on his plans, but he cared fuck all about everything now. Only their survival mattered tonight.
An image of a clock flashed in his mind, courtesy of Tristan. He followed it up with a vision of the door, a silent way of saying that he and Mateo both stood in the hallway waiting. Issac manipulated the picture to show five minutes on his wristwatch. He wasn’t done here yet.
With a final thrust of his tongue, he broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to hers, loving the way her exhales feathered over his lips.
Since when do I enjoy embraces such as this?
He shook off the bizarre, undesired feelings and focused on the task at hand—remaining alive.
“Ground rules,” he started softly. “Do not speak to anyone even if they speak to you. Do not comment on anything. Do not react. Do not scream. And most importantly, do not use your talent for persuasion. If you break any of these rules, we both die. Do you understand?”
Her pulse kicked up a notch, flaring the mark he left on her neck.
He frowned. His predatory response to mortal fear didn’t appear, only a foreign urge to console her. This woman has clearly broken me.
Yes, part of the blame fell on him for her presence here. Had he properly warned her of his kind, she’d not have felt the need to explore. And now she might die as a result. Or worse.
However, Thomas deserved substantial credit for her being here.
Yet it was up to Issac to protect her.
And I will. No alternatives. She would not die here tonight.
He grabbed her hips and helped untangle her limbs from his body, encouraging her to stand on her own. Her nails dug into his suit jacket, her heart rate shooting higher. Terror poured off her, the reality of their situation settling between them.
Issac cupped her cheek and brushed his lips over hers softly, tenderly, providing the only semblance of support he could offer. “You’re in the heart of my world right now, Astasiya, and it’s not kind to mortals. Especially those with psychic abilities.”
Another kiss, this one lingering as her pulse slowly calmed, her grip on his clothing loosening, her body melting once again.
“You have to do what I say and trust me,” he whispered against her mouth. “Can you do that?”
She remained quiet, her expression invisible in the dark. Predator he might be, but night vision was not one of his strengths. Unfortunate, considering the situation, as he enjoyed the way her eyes telegraphed her thoughts. Particularly as he couldn’t access her mind in the way he could everyone else’s.
“I’ll protect you, Astasiya. You have my vow, but I need your cooperation for this to work.”
“You need me alive,” she finally said, her voice careful.
“I do,” he agreed, his fingers sliding to the back of her neck, tightening. “But more importantly, I want you to live.” An admission that cost him more than she’d ever know. Because he’d just confessed something to her he’d not wanted to disclose to himself.
I don’t want to lose her.
A dangerous, lethal realization, one he would pay for dearly later.
Alas, that was a concern for another time. Tonight, he already had his hands full.
“Oh.” A puff of air against his lips followed by more silence.
His palms began to perspire, his heart in his throat. They could not leave this room until she agreed. But if they were late…
He winced at the line of thought.
Being late
was not an option. “Astasiya—”
“Yes,” she interrupted. “I’ll trust you. Tonight.”
His shoulders fell, his forehead finding hers again. “Thank you.” He meant it, something that seemed to surprise her, as she stilled against him.
He busied himself with fixing her dress, pulling the fabric over her ass—something she’d yet to do after he set her down—and running his hands over her sides to ensure it was in the right place. Then he adjusted his own clothes, specifically his pants, and ran his fingers through his hair.
The rumpled look would serve them well.
As would the fresh bite on her neck.
No one would question his intention with her, though they would be curious. Issac never brought pets to the Conclave. Ever. That alone would garner quite a few stares.
Issac pulled Astasiya’s blonde waves over one shoulder, leaving his mark exposed. This is the best I can do. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
He opened the door before she could reply and linked his fingers through hers to pull her into the hallway before she could glance around the room they’d just occupied. It would only worsen matters, and he finally had a grasp of control between them, one he desired to keep.
Mateo and Tristan stood just where he expected them, the picture of elegance and superiority against the hallway wall.
“Miss Davenport,” Mateo greeted, his charming grin in place as he openly tested Astasiya. “Lovely to finally meet you.”
She glanced at Issac, deferring to him. That couldn’t have been easy, but it confirmed she’d heard his rules. A good sign if they wanted to survive the night. Oddly, however, he missed her voice already. Strange.
“Oh, look at that. You trained your pet,” Tristan said.
Issac gave the jackass a hard look. Sometimes he wished one could disown progeny, but turning Tristan into an Ichorian made him responsible for the bastard, even when he chose to be an ass. As he clearly intended to be now.
“Well done, Issac,” Tristan added, smirking.
Issac lifted Astasiya’s hand and placed a kiss against her wrist, a formal declaration of ownership in his world. “Astasiya, I believe you’ve already met Tristan. Might I introduce my other progeny, Mateo?”
Vote Then Read: Volume I Page 135
