Dark Desires_A Novel of the Dark Ones

by Aja James

“How about you come home with Ava when she returns from Japan? You know, on a nice little vacation so you can see New York and where she grew up and all that. Maybe you’ll like it here.”

  “I live in New York City, Mrs-Ana-Mrs. Monroe,” Ryu said rather clumsily, closing his eyes at his own articulateness. Or lack thereof.

  Ava looked up at him at that. Her mother was quicker to jump on the implications.

  “Well that’s just perfect! Ava, did you know that? You don’t have to do a long distance relationship if he lives right here in the City.”

  Ava hadn’t really thought beyond the next few hours, to say less about an extended relationship, long distance or otherwise. But she did know that she wanted to be with him, that she’d move heaven and earth to be by his side.

  At her mother’s mention of “relationship,” Ryu looked away from Ava.

  She decided to rescue this one-sided conversation before it went further downhill.

  “Mom, we have to go. You know—work stuff. I’ll call you later, okay? But I might not be able to call every night for a while, until we straighten some things out. It’s going to be hectic around here.”

  “Well, all right, baby girl,” her mother reluctantly conceded, “but be sure to put Ryu on the phone again next time. I love hearing his voice.”

  Some muffled grumbling could be heard in the background.

  “You know I love your voice best, Gavin Monroe,” her mother called out. “But you gotta face it, the boy’s got something special in that husky baritone of his. Sends shivers down a girl’s spine, it does.”

  Ava moaned silently, banging her forehead on the desk she sat at.

  She didn’t see Ryu look back at her and tip up his lips in a genuine smile of amusement.

  “Until next time, Mrs. Monroe,” he said to Ava’s mother. “Good night.”

  A bit more squealing and gushing took place over the speaker before Ava’s mother hung up the phone.

  “Now I know where you get your… candor,” Ryu said when the coast was clear.

  Ava opened her eyes to glare at him.

  “And your persistence.”

  More glaring.

  He came to her and braced his arms on the desk behind her as she swiveled to face him in her chair.

  “And your open-hearted affection.”

  She decided that last comment was a compliment and smiled hesitantly up at him.

  “I’m experiencing many firsts with you, Dr. Monroe,” he murmured softly.

  “Yeah?” she wanted to know all about them.

  “First kiss?” she prompted.

  “First comparison to a…”

  “Dark-chocolate-fudge-Arabian-stallion.”

  “That.”

  “And?” she nudged, surreptitiously unwrapping his towel and taking possession of his world-class ass in her hot little hands.

  “First time I’ve fallen asleep with someone beside me.”

  “You mean wrapped around you, while you’re inside me,” she corrected innocently.

  “Yes,” he hissed, as her words spiked his blood. “First time to sleep inside and with someone.”

  Ava grinned happily. She loved being his first! She was already thinking of things to add to his list.

  “First interaction with a parent.”

  At this, he grimaced, as if either the experience or his part in it was less than satisfactory, perhaps more along the lines of excruciatingly embarrassing.

  “And how do you feel about that?” She reeled him in closer so that she could bury her face in his midsection and inhale his clean, just-showered scent.

  “I like your mother,” he said with a note of surprise. And a good dose of shyness.

  “Well, she just loves you,” Ava said with one-hundred-percent certainty. “I think you had her in the palm of your hand the moment she heard your voice.”

  “Ava—”

  “What other firsts?” she interrupted.

  His tone when he said her name had been dangerously contemplative, as if he was about to tell her some bad news. As if he was about to dash her hopes for them and give her another injection of reality. She just didn’t want to hear it.

  He didn’t answer. But on the other hand, he also didn’t finish the thought he started with her name. He simply regarded her solemnly with those fathomless black eyes.

  “Has anyone ever tasted you? Here?” She’d gotten down on her knees and was nuzzling his groin, her hands coming around to fist his staff.

  He exhaled deeply, his voice lowering to a rumble.

  “No.”

  She looked up at him, into his eyes, as she licked him from root to tip with the flat of her tongue.

  “Is this a first?” she stopped to ask.

  His jaw clenched.

  “Yes.”

  She took the plump head inside her mouth and sucked it gently, with just enough pressure to tease but not enough to satisfy, popping it in and out of her hot, wet mouth like it was an ice-cream cone.

  His breath hitched. One hand cupped the back of her head.

  “Was that a first?” she asked again, taking his erection out and nuzzling it against her pillowy lips, her soft cheeks.

  “Ava.”

  Now that was more like it, she thought. When he said her name just then, it was all passion and no hesitation.

  She smiled a Cheshire cat smile and nipped him all around the swollen glans with her teeth, then lapped at his pre-cum in small, delicate licks, while her hands worked up and down the column, squeezing and kneading slowly and rhythmically.

  “And that?”

  She was driving him insane, she knew. She could tell from the way his hand tightened in her hair.

  “Do you want me to beg?” he said roughly.

  “Would that be a first too?”

  She was treading on very thin ice. She could almost feel how painfully aroused he was. It was as if her blood within him communicated to the blood within her, letting her feel vicariously what he was feeling.

  “Take me into your throat and suck me hard until I’m dry,” he growled.

  Then added after a beat, “Please.”

  “Your wish is my command,” she answered, taking him fully inside her mouth, sucking him as far down as she could, all the while holding his glittering black gaze.

  As her mouth milked him with increasing pressure, one hand moved down to cup and knead his scrotum, two fingers exerting exquisite pressure against his perineum.

  He gasped and spread his legs farther apart, as if to stabilize himself, as if he was on the verge of collapse from the intense pleasure she gave him.

  She could feel it, his ecstasy and his frustration, inside her own core, which clenched hungrily in an empty orgasm as she led him to the edge, then held him back with a squeeze of his scrotum, then led him to the edge again. And again. And again.

  “Ava.”

  It was too much. The pressure inside was too great to keep contained. He came on a shout that was hoarse with emotion, so deep and guttural it rose from his center and shook through his body and past his lips like a force of nature.

  His penis jerked powerfully and continuously with the flow of his seed, washing down her throat in creamy waves.

  Ava held onto him covetously and swallowed everything he gave her, but some fluids still leaked out of her mouth and dripped down her chin.

  Suddenly, he pulled away from her, and before she knew it, he’d set her on the desk and rammed his still pulsing shaft into her welcoming pussy, making her clench him with her whole body in an almost violent orgasm as he hit home.

  As he drove over and over into her, pulling her legs around his hips, his mouth claimed hers in a wild, consuming kiss, the taste of him still tangy and rich on her tongue. He pulsed in never-ending tides within her, flooding her womb, drenching himself in her release.

  At the last he held his body still but tight, every muscle tensed, his sex still jerking against her womb, nourishing it with his seed, her core still pulling strong
ly at him, milking him for every last drop. He kissed her swollen lips tenderly, never leaving her, as if he couldn’t get enough of her taste.

  Lord, the man could kiss! Ava followed where he led, chasing his tongue when he retreated briefly, sucking it back into her mouth, her fingers wrapped in his wavy raven hair, holding his head in place so she could plunder his riches to her heart’s content.

  When the roar of blood in his ears had subsided enough for him to hear, she kissed her way from his mouth to his jaw, then to nip at his earlobe and said, “That was a first for me too.”

  Her arms wrapped around his neck and she hugged him tightly.

  “All of it a first. Because I’ve never loved before you,” she whispered.

  Ryu pulled back slightly to look into her eyes. He raised his hand to smooth a thumb over her cheek. She was gazing back at him, not with expectation but with contentment and trust.

  Why was it so hard to put his feelings into words, he thought, frustrated with himself. Perhaps if he just opened his lips and tried…

  But just as he did, the red-light security alarm blinked silently in the corner of his eye.

  Someone had gotten past the first barrier. His safe house was no longer secure.

  *** *** *** ***

  Sōsuke rarely visited shrines. Especially in the black of night.

  Unlike most touristy temples and monuments, the streets that led to this particular shrine were unpaved and lightless. The only sound was the wind rustling through the cherry trees that lined the cobbled path.

  It should have been a romantic scene, but in the eerie glow cast by a wan moon, the normally light-hearted pink blossoms took on a deeper hue, almost crimson, the scattering of petals reminding Sōsuke of blood splatter.

  He came to a stop at the foot of a steep hill where a meandering ladder of steps led to an unseen destination.

  He was certain that the shrine looked perfectly quaint and harmless during the day, and that resourceful tourists found it through diligent research and flocked here to pay homage. But at night, in the darkness, when there was no one about save a lone man without protection…

  Sōsuke shook himself mentally. He had very little to be afraid of. It wasn’t as if death could come for him twice.

  He climbed up the steps determinedly, despite his shortness of breath and light-headedness. He just hoped the slightly higher altitude wasn’t going to make his nose bleed again. The loss of blood would only make him more faint. Or worse, attract unnecessary attention.

  Although, couldn’t vampires smell rotten blood? Like humans could smell soured milk left out in the sun too long? Wouldn’t they be disinclined to drink from a poisoned well?

  Sōsuke trudged up another series of steps.

  Why did the shinobi have to make his residence here of all places? You could turn back time several hundred years and this place would look exactly the same. Sōsuke would bet all of the facilities at his destination (if he could ever get to it) were originals from the fourteen or fifteen hundreds, which would certainly be a draw for Japanese history enthusiasts, but didn’t make for comfortable living conditions.

  Abruptly, he stopped thinking, his mind fogging with the lack of oxygen. How he hated his weakness. He gritted his teeth and climbed on.

  After what seemed like a thousand steps, he finally reached the top of the hill. In the center of a large courtyard stood a gnarled cherry tree, its trunk like two bodies twisting around each other, straining toward something beyond reach. Or battling each other to reach the same goal.

  He made his way toward it until he was standing directly beneath its wide-spread branches that fanned out like questing arms and hands and fingers, heavy with giant clusters of ripe blossoms.

  And waited.

  He wasn’t sure what the protocol was to make contact with the shinobi, and really he didn’t understand why he was sent here instead of one of Medusa’s minions, but the collaborator in the police department told him that if he wanted to find Ava Monroe, of whom they had found no evidence besides a few of her ruined belongings, unlike the other members of the project team who had been officially declared deceased—the shinobi could find information about anyone and everyone in Japan.

  Plus, there had apparently been evidence of some bloody battles in the destroyed labs. The blood had been too singed from the blast to further analyze, but the stains they made had been burnt into what remained of the walls and floors. The shinobi would know what to make of that too.

  Why the source believed this, Sōsuke couldn’t guess and didn’t care. He just wanted to find out whether Ava Monroe was indeed alive, and if she was, he wanted her to finish what she started with the stem cell research.

  He had to assume that all of their work was totally lost, but he could probably get more samples from GTI, and he’d need her expertise to expedite the experiments. He could do it alone, but it would take much longer, with more trial and error, and he was running out of time.

  Besides, he felt…elated that she might be alive. Even if her end came soon hereafter. Perhaps he could convince Medusa to spare her. Maybe figure out a way to bring her into the fold, so to speak, without damaging her impressive mind. Maybe, if she lived, if he lived, they could form a partnership, become a dynamic duo that took their research to the next level…

  Sōsuke stopped himself. It was fruitless to think about the future. He was already living on borrowed time.

  He sat down beneath the tree when an hour, maybe two, had passed, his exhaustion making it difficult to remain standing.

  How long did he have to wait here? When would the shinobi come? If he came.

  Something buzzed and vibrated against his leg.

  He reached into his pant pocket and took out Ava’s iPhone, restored, unlocked and obligingly charged by the techs at the investigator’s office and delivered to him by his source.

  Someone was calling, with the ID “Ma.”

  Sōsuke slid the arrow to the right and answered the call, not speaking, only listening.

  “Ava? Oh thank goodness I reached you,” a woman’s voice came through the speaker, sounding remarkably like Ava Monroe. “I was afraid you haven’t found your phone yet.”

  When Sōsuke remained silent, the woman said, “Are you there?”

  After another pause, Sōsuke decided that if he wanted who appeared to be Ava’s mother to keep talking, he had to speak himself.

  “Hello? Mrs. Monroe?”

  “Who is this? You’re not Ava’s sweetheart.”

  Ava had a sweetheart? Sōsuke didn’t want to examine the dive his heart took to the pit of his stomach.

  He cleared his throat.

  “I’m Ava’s friend Sōsuke Matsumoto. We work together. I have found her phone and want to deliver it to her. Do you know where she is?”

  “Oh. I see.” Ava’s mother sounded disappointed, which made Sōsuke disappointed in turn. Was she hoping to speak with Ava’s…sweetheart? If Ava herself couldn’t be reached?

  “I’m not sure where she is,” Ava’s mother answered. “I spoke to her just a little while ago though. I wouldn’t have called again so soon except her father is having some issues and I had to take him to the hospital. I just wanted her to know. But maybe it’s better I didn’t get her, since I might have her worrying for nothing.”

  So Ava was indeed alive and well, as of a “little while ago” at least. Sōsuke thought fast despite his light-headedness.

  “How is Mr. Monroe?” he asked solicitously, “Ava mentioned about his Parkinson’s.” He then rattled off some free medical advice to Ava’s mother, while she diligently took notes.

  “You are such a big help, Mr. Matsumoto!”

  “Please, call me Sōsuke.”

  “Well, I better get going now, the Doctor is coming this way.”

  “Of course, Mrs. Monroe. But tell me, is Ava with her sweetheart now? I think she’ll want her phone back, and I can also update her on progress at the labs.”

  “Yes, I’m sure she is,
” Ava’s mother sounded quite happy about this fact, “I’m sure Ryu is taking good care of her, so you don’t need to worry.”

  “Ryu…” Sōsuke prompted, as if he knew the name but couldn’t quite recall it in the moment.

  “Ryu Takamura.”

  Silence.

  “Hello? Sōsuke?”

  But Sōsuke was looking up at the shadowy figure all cloaked in black that had suddenly appeared before him when Ava’s mother had said the name Ryu Takamura.

  Keeping his eyes unblinkingly on the male, he said into the phone, “Yes, that’s it. I remember Ava telling me about him. Farewell, Mrs. Monroe. I don’t want to keep you.”

  As the call ended, Sōsuke slowly rose to his feet, keeping his gaze trained on the glittering black eyes of the shrouded figure before him.

  The male was tall and lean, taller than Sōsuke, who was six feet. Only his face showed in the pale moonlight, and only because it contrasted so starkly with his long black hair and clothes.

  It was not a Japanese face. Nor Asian in general.

  Sōsuke could not place its origins, perhaps because there was no comparable in modern times. It was a classically beautiful face, no matter the era or the place. Translucent white skin with bold black eyes and brows and elegantly sculpted features, the most arresting being his large, double-lidded black eyes emphasized by long, spiky lashes.

  A sardonic half-smile tipped the stranger’s blood-red lips.

  “If you are looking for Ryu,” he said in a low, dark voice, “I can help you find him.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The prisoner listened with empathy as the young kite walked around and around their shared cell, pecking at the walls, scratching at the ground, intermittently letting out a cry of distress or frustration.

  He had been that way in the beginning, wasting his limited energy on trying to find a way out of whatever prison he was in. Long, long ago, when he’d been stronger and uncrippled, she’d had him guarded closely, watching his every move. He knew that she enjoyed his struggles, often giving him false hope, letting him “escape” only to recapture him and with false justification, punish him for the attempt.

  Now that he was so debilitated it was an effort just to keep breathing, she left him alone for long periods of time. Sometimes days, weeks or even months. A guard would bring food and water every few days so he didn’t starve to death, but as always, what they brought was calculated down to the morsel to keep him on the edge of death.