by Ana Calin
He pushes my thighs higher up with his, and drives his big thick cock inside of me.
I breathe in, my hands sliding to his buttocks and grabbing him firmly. He pushes in inch for inch, parting my walls. I push my head into the pillow, my eyelids fluttering from the pleasure and the pain.
“Oh, fuck me hard, Tristan, fuck me like you own me.”
He pushes deeper, harder, until he’s balls-deep inside of me. I bite my lips, trying to keep from screaming with pleasure, but when Tristan loses a low groan, I can’t hold back anymore. I scream in ecstasy as he rams into me.
Tristan’s hand presses hard on my mouth while he pumps me like a madman. He comes violently, his whole body convulsing while his deadly blue eyes stare straight into mine, which are scrunched and burning from the effort and the orgasm.
I moan against his palm, the delightful sound of his manly, low growls vibrating all through me in waves of pleasure.
We fall apart in each other’s arms, his muscular wall of a body pressed against my sweaty tits.
“I’m yours, Tristan,” I whisper in the dark while he breathes into my hair, his face hidden in the pillow. He breathes in deeply.
“The scent of your blood is driving my crazy.” He turns his eyes to me, and his stare chills me. Bloodlust has taken over his passion. “I can’t hold back anymore.”
Hypnotized, I can do nothing to stop him when the same stone-hard fingers that have pleasured me only moments ago sink possessively into my hair.
The rims around his eyes grow red as he transforms into a beast, and his beautiful lips curl over his teeth to reveal growing fangs as sharp as blades. My heart hammers in my chest, certain this is it. Tristan DeKnight will take my blood. Now that he’s owned my body he will possess my blood, possibly all of it, to the last drop. I finally understand what he meant when he said this might do me more harm than good—it could kill me.
Tristan
SOMEONE KNOCKS ON THE door, threatening to throw it off its hinges. My fangs retreat in a flash, the hot redness leaves my eyes, and my mind makes a U-turn toward reason again.
Shit! I was just about to bite Isolde! Plus that the entire villa must have heard us fucking like devils, and now everybody knows she’s here. At least it happened just in time before my fangs pierced her skin. I could have killed my sweet little white dove, right after she gave herself to me completely, in the most intimate way possible.
I jump off the bed, zipping up, my eyes on her naked figure on the bed, vulnerable and dependent on me.
“I shouldn’t have done this,” I think out loud. What the fuck had I been thinking, I knew I was a monster.
I get to see disappointment falling over her face just as another wave of angry knocks threaten to break down the door. Isolde flinches, her eyes blasting wide. Emerging from the trance I put her in, she realizes what’s happening, and she’s scared as hell.
“Stay there,” I command. “Whatever happens, don’t move.”
I head to the door, unlock it and yank it open.
Darius the alligator shifter towers big and broad in front of me, casting a big shadow into the room. The chamber is completely immersed in darkness save for the rectangle of light coming from the hallway behind him, over which his own shadow looms. His scarred face resembles a zombie’s head on his thick, folded, tattooed neck.
Suspicion and aversion are imprinted on his face. He puts a large hand on the door, his thick fingers sticking out of a fingerless leather glove.
“She’s in here, isn’t she.” It’s not a question, and he already makes to come in.
I take a step to him, knocking my chest into his. I look up from under my eyebrows, not raising my chin.
“One more step, and I’ll take you down.” I keep my voice low and even. I can hear the leather cut squeak on him as his large body tenses under it.
“The boss’s woman.” His voice is slow and hollow, reminding me of fucking Frankenstein. “You screwed her, and for that you’ll both die.”
“I am with a woman, but she’s not your boss’s wife. And I’m not done with her.” My upper lip curls over my teeth, and my fangs elongate. I run my tongue over them. “I’m a vampire, remember? I need to feed. And for that I need my privacy.”
Serpents have gathered behind Darius, and I’m coming to terms with the prospect of a fight, when someone speaks up.
“Leave the man in peace, Darius, he needs blood. Hasn’t had any in days.” I don’t need to see that lecherous face to know the voice is Mark’s.
His serpents move out of the way as he approaches in a floral silk robe, the cordon tied loosely around his waist. He stops in front of me. He keeps a stretched-out grin on his face. I wonder what part of his body he used to cause the bruises on Isolde’s neck, and I vow that will be the part of him that I saw off first.
“We don’t need to go inside to check,” he addresses Darius and his other men for show, but keeps his eyes provokingly on me. “He will kill her now, yes?” he folds his arms across his chest. “We’ll wait. We have time. When you’re done, come out and show us her blood.”
My lips slowly stretch in a grin, my fangs out there for all the serpents to see.
“It could take a while.”
“Like I said, we have time.”
I give my archenemy a mocking elegant nod back. As I close the door, slowly, my eyes keep locked on his. I can barely repress the hatred rising in the pit of my stomach. I yearn to split him open with a blunt knife, so that he’ll feel as much pain as possible as I saw away at his flesh. I crave to put up a show of cruelty right before Isolde’s eyes, avenging her.
I find her curled up on the bed, bracing her knees, rocking back and forth.
“This is my punishment,” she mutters through trembling lips, white from fear. She knots her hands as if she’s having a nervous breakdown. “There’s no way out of it.” She looks up at me. “But at least I got to feel your hands on me. The last thing I did in life was make love to a man I wanted beyond rhyme or reason, and I’ll scream it in Mark’s face before he kills me—provided that you’re safely away from him.”
“Nobody is going to kill you.” I release my powers, helping my white dove relax. I sit slowly on the bed.
“Yes, that’s how I like you. Relaxed, carefree.” Her lids flutter, those long lashes caressing the top of her virgin-like cheeks.
This woman is now mine. I want her sweet voice spoken only for my ears, and the delights of her body available only for me. I crawl on my hands over her, causing her to lean back on the bed, giving in to me. Her eyes lock in fascination on my face.
“I’m going to eat your pussy again, and I’m going to make you come fast. If you want to scream, do it, as loudly as you want. And, most of all—trust me.”
I go down on her, stroking her sweet, creamed pussy with my tongue, locking my lips lustfully on her outer and inner folds, then suckling on her clit. Sweet fuck, how I love licking this woman. If she was mine, I’d keep her in a room for my pleasure, making sure I’m the only man those sparkling angel eyes see, the only man they crave, the only man they—Stop! I’m fantasizing about caging her, and that’s despicable. Besides, I just made her mine, and then I almost killed her. In the long run, I’m no safer for her than that bastard Mark, and I should stay away after I free her.
But tonight, I’ll relish every last drop of her juice, especially because I know it won’t happen again. Tonight, I get to offer her one last hard, powerful orgasm.
Her thighs flex and quiver against my cheeks as she comes, her clit throbbing, pouring the cream of her climax into my mouth. A brand new desire surges inside of me—I want her to mark me with the juices of her body like I’m her property. I want to be her slave, hers to do with as she pleases. Sweet fuck—I want her to dominate me.
I make sure that her pleasure is so intense that she screams. In the end, she falls back on the bed, spent and smiling like she’s high.
I can’t get enough of looking at her like this. I spend a wh
ile by her side, drinking her in, imagining her dominating me in the most shameful ways. Damn, what’s happening to me? This woman brings out a side of Tristan DeKnight that I never even suspected existed.
A knock on the door brings me back to reality. It’s been a while since Isolde screamed—apparently because I’d bitten her—and they want to see blood. I can sense serpents lurking around outside the terrace doors, too. Of course, Mark sent them to make sure that I didn’t let my ‘food’ out, in case it was Isolde.
I cover Isolde’s sleeping form on the bed, and turn toward the door, ready to face Mark, Darius, and the rest of the serpents. As I stride towards them, I strip off my shirt, and grab the old one from the chair—the shirt I was wearing when I killed the rapist by the dumpsters, the shirt that is stained with his blood.
CHAPTER VII—The Plan
Isolde
“YOU WANT ME TO DO WHAT?” As Tristan predicted, Mark is so taken with Tristan’s plan of getting his hands on Father Ruben that he doesn’t dwell much on last night. In the end, it was his main man Darius the alligator who found me at the nursing home, curled on the terribly uncomfortable leather couch in what used to be my office. I was still wearing the silk nightgown, and my feet were muddy.
Of course, Tristan strategically planted me there before the morning hours, and skillfully led the alligator during the brainstorm about where I could be. In the end, the alligator thought it was his idea to look for me at the nursing home.
Mark doesn’t waste any time to tell me all about the plan since, to my astonishment, it involves me. He stands up from his regal chair at the end of the table, and walks over. He gestures enthusiastically as he speaks.
“Tristan is right. For a whole year we’ve been trying to find Ruben Parvan. Now, we’ll bait him to come to us. And you, Isolde, are the perfect bait.”
I can barely refrain from laughing out loud.
“What makes you think he’ll come to me?”
“You saved his life last time, didn’t you?” The glint in his eyes tells me he remembers that part with particular pleasure. My skin creases. “If he finds you in distress, he’ll do anything to help you, to return the favor.”
“I was in distress all this time. Still, I don’t see him anywhere.”
“Because you were too heavily guarded. But picture this—you travel to his village in the Western Mountains, having run away from me—”
“You’ve already searched the village, and those surrounding it,” I interrupt. “He was never there.”
“No, because nobody can ever find Ruben. That only happens if he wants to be found, and I see that now. And here is where Tristan DeKnight had a brilliant idea. Ruben hasn’t showed his oh-so-precious face in over a year because he knew better than run directly into my hands.” His gaze darkens, showing his cunning. “But if he thinks that you’re alone in that village with the vampire....” He trails off, letting me draw my own conclusions.
“You can’t possibly expect me to—” Wait a minute. I frown at him, not sure I got him right. “You’re going to let me go with Tristan alone?”
“I’ll have my people in the localities surrounding the area, but yes, mostly it’ll be just you and Tristan in Ruben’s old village.”
I can’t believe my own luck. It’s like the sky opened up and God himself is reaching down to pull me up. It’s hard to contain my enthusiasm. I could do the happy dance.
Still, I need to somehow make sure Mark and Soraya drink from the potion before I leave, so that by the time I escape, Mark will be too obsessed with her to care about me anyway. My eyes move to Tristan, full of hope that he can pull this off.
“Like Mark said,” Tristan offers, “there would be no serpents, it would be just you and me. But we have to work out a solid and believable story to explain what we’re doing together in the village. Father Ruben isn’t stupid, he’ll smell a trap if we don’t do this right.”
My spirits sink at the thought of baiting the good old man like that.
“But can we even be sure that Father Ruben still lives in that area? The serpents searched those places many times.”
“Father Ruben knows how to hide, and he knows the secret caves in the Western Mountains like the back of his hand,” Tristan replies. “He’s basically a walking map, so no one will ever find him if he doesn’t want to be found. When people know places the way he does, these places transform into an emotional map for them. No matter what, they always return to the spot they feel most connected to.”
Jesus, how can he talk to me as if I’m nothing to him, staring coldly into my face? Last night we took each other with mad thirst, how can he act as if nothing happened?
I square my shoulders and look around, from Mark and Tristan to the rest of Mark’s people, my eyes resting on Soraya. She’s sitting on the windowsill of the far window, holding a cup and a saucer like a lady, drinking tea and observing the rest of us. The alligator hovers around her.
“I risked my life once to save Father Ruben’s,” I tell Mark, raising my chin. “What makes you think I’d do the opposite now, for a man who treats me like garbage, no less?” I pull down the high collar of my cashmere turtleneck. The makeup may cover the bruises on my face, but the ones on my neck are black and hurting. Even some serpents gasp. “I will certainly not help a man who did this to me.”
A grin stretches slowly on Mark’s face.
“Yes, you will, because if you don’t, you’ll have his blood on your hands.” All it takes is a jerk of his head for his serpents to pull out guns and point them at Tristan. Tension spreads into the room in a flash, and I stiffen.
Tristan sits in a chair on the right side of Mark’s ‘throne’, surrounded by black gun barrels pointed at his head. Just like in an ad for an action movie, those electric blue eyes stand out, focused and cold. He seems unimpressed, completely unfazed, as if he either expected this, or he’s been in such situations so often it’s got nothing on him anymore. But my heart breaks. There’s absolutely nothing he could do to dodge the silver bullets in these guns. On the inside, he must be afraid.
“I know Tristan isn’t by far as close to your heart as Father Ruben,” Mark speaks as he touches my head like he’d stroke a child. “But still, can you live with the knowledge that a silver bullet tore straight through his brain because of you?”
I’m focused on Tristan, on his icy eyes that don’t move away from my face.
“All right, you win,” I whisper.
The serpents slip their guns back into their holsters.
“Wonderful then.” Mark reaches out, inviting Soraya over. It’s the first time that I feel something close to jealousy—He shows her much more respect in front of the serpents than he ever showed me. She runs half of his business. Some people speculate she’s his sister, some that she’s his lover. Sadly, I know for a fact she’s neither.
Isolde
IT SEEMS THE STARS have finally aligned for me, and everything runs smoothly. Mark has called a small dinner party at the villa to celebrate the upcoming mission, and tomorrow Tristan and I will be on our way.
Mark spent most of the day in his office with Tristan, his men, and, of course, Soraya, while I’ve spent the final hours preparing for the journey. Happy. Happier than I’ve been in years. I actually sang while I packed—I’m so close to freedom from this monster.
But when I walk into the dining room later in the evening, my heart sinks. Of course, something had to go wrong, didn’t it? And that something knifes me straight through the heart.
Soraya’s arm is hooked around Tristan’s, looking like a true lady next to her ice prince. He doesn’t strike me as terribly uncomfortable with that either. Anger and a streak of despair tear through me.
I pick a tumbler of sparkling wine and skulk about, spying them from a distance. Jealousy bubbles in my chest.
But, after all, what the hell did I expect? It was clear from last night there wouldn’t be anything long term between Tristan and me. With an aching heart I realize that
he and Soraya actually make a good match, her with her mysterious, reserved, feminine air, and him with his dangerous, forbidding aura.
As for me, I’m just a whining nurse, whose tears have always flowed too readily, and who could only be a drag and a burden for Tristan. I’m the damsel in distress, the princess in a tower that men are sick of. Too old fashioned, too sensitive, too whiny. I’m no match for this ice prince.
Fighting the tears, and refusing to make a fool of myself, I jut out my chin. No, I refuse to be stupid, and I refuse to be a victim again. I drain my tumbler.
What the fuck had I been thinking last night? I can’t have sex without getting emotionally involved, because of all the old-fashioned junk that I’m made of, but still. I should have known better than seducing the vampire assassin and expecting that it would mean to him what it meant to me.
I should focus only on freeing myself from Mark, and I resolve to keep my eyes fixed on that prize. I won’t let Tristan DeKnight throw me off route with his ice prince beauty, his sensual lips or his electric blue eyes full of power and danger.
“Isolde.”
I spin on my heels to see Mark heading toward me with Darius the alligator.
“You look stunning, my love.” He measures me theatrically from head to toes, taking my hand. “Spin for me, please.”
Of course, he has to make me look like a trophy wife in front of his men, remind them I don’t mean more to him than a piece of ass. I take a long swig of my sparkling wine before I pirouette for him. For the first time ever, I do it with drive, the shiny folds of my dress sweeping the floor like a spinning wheel.
“Wow.”
“I’m glad you approve of my look, husband.” I even smile at him. What the hell, why am doing this? Am I trying to make Tristan jealous?
The more wine I drink, the more I enjoy this game. I raise my chin, take Mark’s arm, and walk among the serpents with the dignity of a queen, even though they all know how he abused me. And when he actually leads me to sit down with Tristan and Soraya, I have the sickening feeling we’re not only on some deranged kind of double date, but also that Soraya is included in our plans.
