Van Helsing Rising (Immortal Hunters MC Book 1)

by Helen Scott

  “My ex?” I admit, bucking my hips, because I’m not thinking of that bastard. I’m thinking of Dragon and that big cock of his.

  “You volunteered to be experimented on to escape a man?”

  “Not…any…man. The devil.” I close my eyes. “Please don’t make me think of him now. I’ve had so much pain. I just want to feel good for a minute.”

  He’s quiet as I continue to work myself. “Your arousal isn’t real. It’s one of my gifts.”

  “It’s real,” I whimper. “Now I’ve told you everything, so give me what I want.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Make me come,” I plead.

  He swears. “I already told you, this isn’t real…”

  “Then let me pretend for a minute.”

  “That’s what you want?”

  I nod, not opening my eyes.

  A second later, he pushes my hand away and his mouth replaces my fingers. And holy hell, it feels good. Better than anything I’ve felt in my life. His tongue dives into me, sliding along my clit and around it. I shout his name. I grab hold of his hair and grind against that sinfully delicious mouth of his.

  My legs end up around his shoulders and I squeeze my legs. He seems to completely lose all control. His tongue flicks faster and faster until I scream and come, crashing over the edge.

  I’ve never had an orgasm like this in my life. It comes in waves. Every time I think I’m finished, it hits me again, and that delicious mouth of his keeps licking and sucking. By the time a fourth orgasm leaves me panting, I collapse against the bed. I know I’m finally done. My muscles spasm around me. My head feels light.

  And I swear I’ve never been happier.

  I feel him spread my lower lips, and I look toward him. He stares at me blatantly. “You have the most beautiful pussy I’ve ever seen.”

  My cheeks heat. “It’s not.” I try to close my legs, but he keeps me spread with his elbows.

  “Dragon!” I say, my embarrassment growing.

  “I just want to get a good look at you. I want to remember the way that pussy of yours looks.”

  And then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. The camera flashes, and he checks the image before putting it back in his pocket.

  “Did you just take my picture? Why?” I’m kind of shocked.

  “You got off, sweet tits, but I’ll be using that later to take care of this.” He grabs at his cock.

  “I thought you had enough women that you didn’t have to take care of yourself.”

  He grins and runs in thumb along my clit, making me jump a little. “I think I’d rather have your image, sweet tits. At least tonight. Unless you’d prefer I delete the picture and find another woman instead?”

  To my surprise, I shake my head. It turns me on to think of him jerking off to my picture just as much as it pissed me off to think of him touching someone else.

  Then he pulls up my pants and underwear and fixes my top. “Thanks for the info.”

  “Info?” I try to think back to what the hell just happened. “Did you do that to get information from me?” I sound a little pissed.

  He smirks. “I didn’t do it for fun.” Then he stands. His cock is still hard and erect, tenting his jeans.

  He follows my gaze to his erection, and his smirk fades.

  “Looks like you had some fun after all.”

  He moves to the side of the bed, so that his erection is close to my face. “Next time, I’ll let the Prez torture the information out of you. How does that sound?”

  “It’ll be more fun than what we just did,” I say, trying to sound just as much like I don’t give a shit as he did.

  “You loved every fucking second of that!”

  I shrug. “It was okay.”

  His hand slides down my belly and is back in my pussy within seconds. I barely have time to gasp and grab his arm before he’s working me. My nipples are painfully hard and I’m panting, head swimming. But he doesn’t stop, or slow, until I’m screaming his name and coming again, grinding myself against him.

  When I fall back onto the mattress, he’s standing over me, fingers still stroking my pussy, a smug look on his face.

  “It must be nice to have the power to make women come,” I throw at him like a weapon.

  He leans down, so close that I think he might kiss me. “That time…it was all me.”

  He pulls his hand out of my pants and goes to the little bathroom. I hear the sink running, and then he comes back out. He types in a code, speaking over his shoulder when he says, “I think things have quieted down upstairs, but I’m not sure. I’ll check it out, tell the others what you told me, and send someone down here to get you.”

  “You’re not coming back?” I try to hide the disappointment from my voice.

  “Nah, I think I’ll get some whore to suck me off. Besides, I’ve got all I need from you now.”

  He pulls open the door and closes it behind him.

  I’m left alone, staring at the ceiling. Part of me hates Dragon right now. But the other part? The other part doesn’t give a damn if it’s him or his powers. I just want him back here. I want him to bury that hard cock inside of me, not in some other woman.

  But just as I’m starting to feel low, I remember how he took my picture. Was that something he did with all his women? Or just me?

  I want to think it’s just me, but maybe that’s pathetic.

  13

  Dani

  I don't know how much later it is when one of the men comes to get me. All I know is in that weird red light of their hideout, bomb shelter of a basement, I actually start to think of myself as a person again, as human.

  In my mind I've referred to myself as human, but I'd stopped actually feeling that way a long time ago. Henry had turned me into something to be used and discarded, then the scientists had thought of me as nothing but a number, an animal in a cage, and that's what I'd become. I never spoke unless forced, I would lash out as soon as anyone got close, although that had been true for most of my life, at least emotionally, but in the tender care of the cabal it became true physically as well. If the men that have taken me from the scientists hadn't already saved my life more than once I'd probably be doing the same thing to them.

  But they treat me like a person.

  For the most part.

  So when the door opens and the man who'd been guarding my room when the creatures attacked comes down the stairs I don't run, don't try to hide myself in a corner like I used to. I watch him like a hawk. I’m not stupid, but I’m not going to react in fear, not any more. Or at least, I’m going to try not to.

  "The attack is over. Prez wants you back in your room." The man jerks his head toward the door. "Don't run. You won't like what happens if I'm the one that catches you." A soft creaking sound draws my attention to his hands where his fists, which are clad in leather gloves, are flexing at his side, like he wants to reach out and touch me, but can’t.

  "I'm not going to run," I say quietly.

  His gaze, which has been staring at the rumpled bed sheets, snaps to mine. "I was worried you were going to go mute again," he says, relief coating his words.

  This man I didn't know was worried about me?

  "If you'd lived my life for the past few years you wouldn't trust anyone either," I mumble.

  "Listen," he says as he comes over and squats down next to the bed so we are about eye level. I have to fight to not crawl backward from him. The man saved me, one of his friends just gave me the best orgasm of my life, and though the Prez is kind of an asshole, the other guys seem okay. My gaze skims over his leather vest and latches on to the name patch that reads 'Striker'. When I meet his gaze again he continues, "Every single one of the brothers in this MC have been through hell and survived. If anyone is going to get close to understanding what you've been through, it's us. I know being here hasn't been easy on you, but you have to look at it from our perspective. Most of the people you were with died or turned into some freaky mons
ters. We weren't sure what was going to happen to you so we had to keep everyone safe. Now that we know you're not going to turn, we can get to know each other a little better." My eyes must have flared because he quickly adds, "Not like that, unless you want to, in which case I doubt any brother would turn you down. I know where some of them have been though, so make sure he wraps it up if you do go that route."

  "I, uh, what?" I stutter as I try to wrap my head around what he’s saying.

  "Sorry, post-fight adrenaline makes me chatty. Shall we get you back to your room?" Striker asks as though he’s offering me a choice of movies to watch. God, it’s been forever since I've seen a movie.

  "You were fighting one of them when I ran past," I blurt as the memories of how I came to be in the basement swirl in my mind. It isn’t that I'd forgotten about them, but my moment with Dragon had distracted me for a while.

  "I was," he says with a nod, his tone noticeably darker.

  I gulp in a breath of air. "You don't look too injured." There is a little swelling around his left eye but nothing like what I would have expected for someone who had been going hand-to-hand with one of those things. I remember the mess of a man on the floor outside my room. "There was another man by my room. Did he survive?"

  "Right now, Tank is alive, but he might not last the night." Suddenly all the adrenaline that’s making Striker peppy seems to leave him, like the wind vanishing from someone's sails.

  "I'm sorry. I know they were coming after me, and I wish your friends hadn't gotten hurt in the process."

  His eyes snap to mine. "I'm just glad you're okay. When you ran past me, I was terrified that I wouldn't be able to help you. I know that the men who died tonight died doing what they loved, fighting monsters and protecting people. No one would have wanted you to go with those things. They may have come here for you but we would have tracked them down eventually." His tone at the end didn't leave a shadow of doubt in my mind that they are going to go after the cabal, the Necron Order, but I still don't understand why.

  Have they been hurt by them somehow?

  Before I can ask, Striker pushes to his feet and holds a hand out to help me up. I slip my small hand into his bigger one and he almost launches me into the air with the force of his help. I don't care though, instead, I’m marveling at how soft his leather gloves are. I've never felt anything like it. They are like butter under my fingertips. I know gloves can be purchased like that, but I've never seen them in person before. The only way I’m familiar with that gets leather that soft is to wear the absolute shit out of it.

  I can feel his dark eyes watching me. The moment I flick my eyes up to meet his, though, they are studying something across the room. His hair is just as dark as his eyes and slicked back, but even in the red light I can tell that it has some wave to it. The longish strands are pulled back into a tight bun at the back of his head, barely big enough to even be called a bun. It makes me curious what he looks like with his hair down.

  He has already turned away from me though and is starting to walk toward the stairs. I stumble after him since he hasn't released my hand yet. Another thing about this man that is curious. Now that I've had a little sexual pleasure it seems I want more, and apparently my brain currently thinks anyone with a dick will do, because as Striker leads me up the stairs, I can’t help but watch the fine globes of his ass move and flex through his jeans.

  Ugh.

  I’m like a horny teen all over again.

  Maybe if I just ignore it then it will go away until I figure out what I am doing here or how to get out. Not that the second part is really an option until I discover how the monsters are tracking me. I hope it isn't just scent because that would mean I could never escape them. The thought makes my heart seize in my chest.

  As we come out of the basement, my eyes go wide at the sight of the door and the destruction that has been caused around it. The thick steel door that Dragon had shut behind us is scored and dented like it is made of thin aluminum, and honestly, looking at the marks, I have no doubt that had they not been shot by some of the other men the monsters would have eventually made it through to us and I would have been dragged back to the Necron Order.

  I would like to say I'd have gone kicking and screaming, but I doubt it.

  Those assholes won’t put up with shit like that, and I know that they would have just knocked me out or something. They might be monsters, might even be considered animalistic, but when they are given orders they follow them to the letter. I've seen the scientists test the theory in the lab. I’m one of the few that seems to remain able to think for themselves. Eventually most give in, though.

  When I trip over a piece of broken floor board, Striker catches me before I hit the floor. "Careful, baby girl." He props me back up on my feet, looking a little embarrassed at the pet name that slips out. He’s not carrying me when he gets frustrated with me like Dragon does, and I appreciate that. Dragon carrying me had been nice, but I'd also been terrified and needed comfort. Doing that right now would have made me feel weird and incapable. I know I am capable. All I have to do is look at the shitstorm of my life and what I'd survived to see the answer to that question.

  As we climb the second set of stairs and go down the hallway, my brain seems to blank out. Tank has lost so much blood it looks like the entire end of the hallway is covered in it. How someone can survive that I’m not sure. I know there is something weird about these guys though. I mean, Dragon told me it was his ability, or power, or whatever, that had turned me into a sex-starved idiot. Phoenix had done that weird thing where we stared at each other and I felt like he was a part of me. I hadn't noticed anything with Crash or Striker, but that doesn't mean much.

  All I know for sure is that these aren't just normal bikers. And if they aren't normal bikers, then what the hell are they?

  14

  Crash

  I've been sitting outside Dani's room most of the day. Not that I think she’s going to come out, but it’s my shift on guard duty even though anyone with more than two brain cells knows she won't be running after last night. Those monsters found her somehow, which is a problem we need to figure out.

  Dani has been sleeping all day though, the stress of the attack and being up all night taking its toll. When Striker meanders up the hall toward me carrying a couple bottles of beer, I know that he’s coming to check on me as much as he’s coming to check on Dani. He'd told us all about her reaction to the monsters. I know he hates seeing anyone, but women especially, being scared like that. Hell, most of us do, and for good reason.

  He plops down on the floor next to me and offers me the second beer. I take it with a nod of thanks and raise it to my lips, taking a long swig of the amber liquid. It barely tastes of anything, just a little hops and some of the richness and bitterness of coffee. I generally prefer something a little stronger and richer with more flavor, but I’m not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

  "She woken up yet?" Striker grunts.

  "Nah, passed out as far as I can tell."

  We sit in comfortable silence for a while. As much as we’re macho assholes who don't talk about their feelings, I know every single brother who is part of the Immortal Hunters and even more so our inner group of the Sons of Helsing is still feeling the ramifications of the attack last night. The clubhouse and compound have always been a safe haven. Hell, there are enough fences and gates around the place that most people wouldn't even think about trying to break in. Now? We've been attacked in our own home. Some of our brothers were massacred in their beds, some while they were fucking a sweet butt, some while they were walking to or from the bar. The loss is felt keenly among us, even though it’s part of the life.

  No one in a one-percenter MC knows when their number will be up. It isn't like we play it safe. Our lives are more about breaking rules than following them. But being one of the Sons of Helsing is especially dangerous, as demonstrated last night. Our enemies outnumbered us easily and were bigger and more powerful than we
could ever hope to be, even with our gifts. None of them had ever dared attack the compound before, and that had made us lazy, made our response sluggish, and had ultimately cost the lives of sweet butts and brothers alike.

  When Phoenix and Dragon show up a few minutes later each carrying a six pack, I know that the bodies have been buried and the funeral rites completed. That's the only way they would have come back. The two of them are identical if you look closely enough, but they are so different in their personalities and style that it’s almost hard to tell at first. Part of me wonders if Dragon will be adding to his tattoo, a tally mark for every life lost that he feels responsible for. I hope not, since he isn't responsible for any of what happened last night.

  He'd kept Dani safe and that’s what matters.

  The thought stuns me for a moment. She doesn't matter more than my brothers. Hell, I barely even know her outside of saving her life. But I can't deny the draw I feel toward her. I shake the thought from my head. None of that is worth thinking about. She’s a pretty face and a flawless body from what I can tell, but that is it.

  The twins sit down on the floor on either side of the hall while I lean against the window frame. None of us speak; we don't need to. This is part of our grieving process, even if we don't acknowledge it. We offer each other silent support, a place to be with the people we consider family without having to get shit-faced or high as a kite to deal with our grief.

  It’s only a matter of time before the Prez calls a council meeting and Striker and Dragon, as the VP and Sergeant-at-Arms respectively, will be stuck behind closed doors until they figure out how we’re going to retaliate. Whether or not we will isn't in question. We have the data off the hard drives. Sure, we haven't prevented any of them from having it since they'd had it all backed up on a cloud server, but at least we know a lot of what they know now.

  I still want to go over it all with a fine-toothed comb once the Prez gives me the go ahead, but that’s getting ahead of myself.

  Sherry appears a moment later, carrying a tray of food. We are all on our second beer at least. At first I think it’s for us, but then, seeing the tiny amount on the tray, I know it has to be for Dani. No way would she be sent up here with that much food for me. It would only take me two bites to eat it all.