by K. A Knight
Oh, game on, love.
I can’t wait to have her on her knees before me, begging me, and I know before the end of this I will—it’s only a matter of time. Like fire and ice, we will either destroy each other or live in peace. I just hope I get to taste her before then, because if she tastes half as good as she smells, I will die a happy man. She heads over to a sports car, the engine idling as we pass under the gates. I quickly shake off the dirt still clinging to me and cover the distance between us until I am behind her as she pops open the boot and turns to me with something in her hand.
“You said you were thirsty, right?” She smirks, leaning back on the boot lip, her ankles crossed. She thrusts a juice box at me, apple, if I am correct.
I glance back down at the juice box then at her, amusement coursing through me as I grin.
“Not quite what I had in mind, love. How about I just sink my fangs into you instead?” I tease, but her eyes narrow on me. “No? Don’t worry, when you start begging I’ll let you have my—”
My words are cut off as something smashes into the side of my head, the ground is rushing towards me before I am knocked out cold.
Bella
He went down hard, real hard, and I didn’t even try and catch him as he fell straight on his pretty boy face. I can see why he has an attitude, he truly is handsome…no, that’s not the right word. He’s beautiful in a deadly way, with something under his skin ready to pounce, a darker side waiting until you are in his clutches. His hair is a dark black, swept artfully to the side even after being stuck in a coffin. He has stubble but no beard—which, seriously, how did he manage that in a coffin? His eyes are what stopped me though, a bright blue, almost like ice. They were startling as they locked on me and I sunk into their depths, so vivid and beautiful.
His body is no different. He is tall and slim, but I can see the pull of muscle under the suit he’s wearing and I’m betting there isn’t an inch of fat on him. His shoes are black and polished, and he even had on a waistcoat over a white shirt with no jacket. He looks like he stepped out of a magazine, too perfect to be real. I just wanted to rub some dirt on him to mess him up a bit, so I did. Heading back into the graveyard, I grab some and press it to his white shirt, staining it as I laugh before I reach down and grasp him under his shoulders. Maybe I hit him too hard, since blood is trickling down the back of his head, but when I seek him out in my head I can tell he isn’t dead.
Too bad.
Throwing him in the boot, I slam it shut and lock it before getting back in the driver’s seat, dropping the shovel in the back as I rev the engine. Fuck it, ungrateful bastard. Grabbing the juice box, I pop the corner and drink it as I squeal away from the graveyard, with Halsey blasting from the speakers as I tap along on the wheel. That meeting didn’t go well, that’s for sure, but I saw the intent in his eyes. He really believed I would let him drink from me, so I thought he could use a time out and at least I could try and curb the embarrassing pull in me that wanted to accept his offer. To know what it felt like for him to sink his fangs and cock in me, dammit. Just because he’s hot and you’re attracted to him doesn’t mean you can trust him, I lecture myself.
So I knocked him out until I could control us both. That annoyingly sexy, accented voice had been working, so yes, boot nap for him it is as I head back to the hotel to think over my next few moves. I know I need to let him feed, but the thought of grabbing some unsuspecting human doesn’t sit well with me. Maybe I can get a hooker? Why does that thought send a flash of anger through me? Nope, not examining the inner workings of my head or I might actually start believing I’m crazy after all.
So kidnapping and sex workers are out, which leaves myself or letting him go hunt, and I don’t exactly trust him to come back even with the oath. Fuck! Crushing the juice box in my hand, I glare at the road as I speed up. There’s no way can I let him feed from me. He would have more power over me then. I would be more susceptible to his influence and charm, and he would see deeper into my head…but he’s useless to me half-starved and almost feral, though he didn’t seem feral, but I’ve seen how quickly that can change with nightwalkers.
I just need to keep him fed long enough for him to fulfill his promise. Like one of those dramatic lightbulbs pinging overhead, I have an idea. Grinning, I turn the wheel and drive to the nearest blood bank. I had the right idea with the juice box, just need a different liquid. I grab my phone and do a quick google search as I’m moving down the road and grin when I find what I’m looking for.
I head to the location on the map, knowing what it actually is—if you know what to look for, the city hides a lot of darkness underneath. The supes run the show, so when I pull up around the back of the white building, cross the parking lot, and knock on the back door, I’m not surprised when a human feeder opens the door. The mark on his neck declares him as part of a nightwalker’s flock and under his control—kill one and they tend to get pissy. Not that they really care about them, just that you touched their property.
He stares at me, his bloodshot eyes flicking from side to side, his skin an unhealthy white, but other than that he looks well looked after. “Whatcha want?” he asks, his voice surprisingly high-pitched, making my eyebrows rise.
“World peace,” I deadpan, and he blinks before I crack a smile. “Blood, ten bags, now.”
He crossed his arms, watching me. “Clan?”
Shit, he didn’t tell me his name. “Valentino,” I offer, remembering a vamp’s name I’d met before. It instantly settles him and the door swings shut in my face again. How rude.
He returns not ten minutes later with a cooler, and he shows me the blood bags inside before snapping it closed. “You didn’t say which the baby vamp preferred, so I picked a mixture.” He holds out his hand and I roll my eyes, digging out some cash from my pocket and pass it over, careful not to touch his skin even through the gloves.
He shoves the cooler at me and the moment I have it, the door slams shut again. Huffing, I head back to my car and put the cooler on the passenger seat as I gun it out of there, driving back to the hotel. Now just to deal with an undoubtedly angry, hungry vamp. And to think I was complaining about how boring my life was. What I would do for a boring night with Raph, watching the shopping channel and eating spaghetti hoops with all the f’s taken out because he hated that letter.
I hear banging coming from the boot and I laugh, cranking the music higher and singing along to drown out his voice in my head as well. He soon gets the picture and goes quiet for the journey back. I pull into the empty car park just as dawn breaks. Grabbing the cooler, I drop it in the room I rented in the corner first before heading to the boot. Knocking on it politely, I let my voice carry to him.
“Now, I’m going to open this and you won’t attack me, or I’ll punch you in the cock and I’ll use the shovel again. There is food inside, understood?”
When no sounds come, I knock again. “Understood, fanger?”
Understood, love.
I open the boot and jump back in case he decides to attack anyway, but he just slowly clambers gracefully from the boot, tugging on his shirt and waistcoat to straighten it. He even frowns down at the wrinkles in his trousers before looking up at me. “Lead the way,” he drawls. I nod, moving around him and shutting the boot before locking the car as I guide him to my hotel room.
“What a dump. Are we really staying here?” he questions behind me, too close so I even feel his breath on my neck.
Turning quickly, I pin him to the wall, but I know I won’t be able to get away with this shit when he’s fully fed. “Listen here, asshole, I only need you to track. Not all of us are born rich and spend our days being waited on hand and foot. We are stopping here, and if I hear one compliant, I’ll knock you out again,” I warn, my eyes flashing even as I carefully press my leather-covered arm across his throat, preventing skin contact.
He raises his eyebrow, somehow still appearing like he’s in control even as I have him restrained. “Of course, love, apologies, I meant no di
srespect.”
Stepping back, I leave him to follow me again. I can feel his eyes on my arse, but I ignore him as I kick open the shitty room door and let him in. He closes it behind him, and I can hear him silently judging the room and me. I look around quickly. It’s not bad for a cheap, no questions asked motel. It’s clean and doesn’t smell like sex, blood, or death, and even has a double bed and a nice shower. “Your food is in the cooler.”
I head over to the small fridge and counter in the corner and pour myself some vodka. I knock it back without looking at him as I hear him moving around and opening the cooler. “What, no live blood?” he teases, but I ignore him, and the next thing I feel is my hair moving and his lips almost touching my ear. “Don’t trust me, love?”
I turn, kicking him back with a foot on his chest as I arch my eyebrow at him. “Not even a little. You said you were thirsty, feed up, we’re leaving soon.” With that, I knock back the rest of the drink and head to the table under the window, sitting down and looking out of the partially curtained dirty glass. I hear him again and sigh, turning to watch him as he folds his waistcoat and presses it down onto the bed before sitting on top of it. I can’t help a snort that escapes my lips and he shoots me a clearly annoyed glare.
“You were buried in the ground, but you won’t sit on a bed?” I grin.
He raises his chin. “Problem, love? What can I say, I like the nicer things in life, but if you were to come over here and keep me company, I might even lie on the bed…between your thighs, that is.” He winks.
Ugh, what a sleaze ball.
He clearly hears me, because that fake smile falters for a moment before he turns it up. “You want to watch me eat, love?”
“What’s with the love thing? Have you watched too much TV? You think it’s cute?” I scoff.
“Women love it.” He shrugs and that makes me see red before I can rein it in. What the hell? Where did that anger come from? “Plus, you didn’t tell me your name,” he points out, oblivious to my inner turmoil.
“Isabella,” I tell him distractedly, frowning at the chaos of emotions pulling at my chest. Am I really jealous that he calls other women love? What the fuck?
“Beautiful name, it matches you,” he comments, opening the cooler.
“Do you ever say anything without an innuendo or flirting? You lay it on so thick I can almost smell it.” I grimace.
He glances at me, frowning now. “People love my charm, it is not my fault you seem to be the odd one here.”
“Or maybe they just pretend to,” I joke, but when I see him flinch, I frown again. He busies himself in the cooler, and when he looks back up he’s grinning once more, that charm winding around him…like a defence mechanism.
He grabs a bag of blood, and I find myself weirdly entranced as he gently tears a hole in the corner and slowly drinks it. No slurping or tossing it back for this guy, he drinks it like it’s champagne. I watch, open-mouthed, as he drinks five out of the ten bags before I rush across the room and shut the lid. “I get it, you’re thirsty, but maybe don’t drink all your food, huh?”
Pointing from my eyes to his, I move the cooler away and he frowns, dabbing at his lips like there might still be blood there. “I am afraid, love, that isn’t sufficient. I need live blood if you want me to hunt down your rogue man.”
Motherfucking cherub ass. Can I hit him with my shovel again?
“No, you can’t,” he growls, wagging his finger at me. “I need live blood. I can go and hunt some down and be right back.”
“Uh, and when you don’t return? I’m not a fool, we stick together until you hold up your end of the deal.”
“Then you are going to have to let me feed on you,” he reasons, grinning, and I notice his fangs hanging over his bottom lip. I don’t know how he manages that and can look smug at the same time. We stare at each other before I jump to my feet. I can almost hear him gloating, but when I slide past him his confusion fills the air.
Grabbing a cup, I step over to him and pull my knife from my boot. I quickly slash open my wrist and let the blood trickle into the clear container. His nostrils flare, his fangs elongate, and his eyes shine brightly. I watch him grip the duvet in his hands and wonder if I’m going to have to fight him off. I pass over the cup and hold my hand against the wound, feeling it heal beneath my grip, and step back.
He grabs it and there are no delicate, formal swallows this time. He throws it back, licking the cup to catch every drop before looking at me. He seems to remember himself and sits up ramrod straight. “I am sorry for that display, love, I am never usually like that. It must have been my hunger and, well, I have never smelled blood like yours before. It was delicious, so full of power,” he whispers, shaking his head again.
I had heard our blood was almost addictive to vamps, good job he won’t get any more from me. “It’s cool, I actually prefer that side. You didn’t try and hide who you were behind fake smiles and flirting, it was refreshing,” I reply casually, wiping the blood from my arm before pulling down my sleeve again to see him watching me.
“What?” I grumble.
“No one wants to see the real you, Bella, that’s why we all wear masks,” he states darkly, his face serious for once before that fucking fake smile curls up his lips. “Plus, I am good at flirting.”
Groaning, I slump back in my chair and look out of the window. For a moment there, I thought we were going to get along, but he’s back to being his annoying, cocky self. I should have hit him with the shovel again.
Ciar
Sitting back with a grimace at the cover under my hands, I watch the woman who is staring very intently out of the window, ignoring me. I find myself unable to look away from her, even to check out the hole we are staying in. Something about her draws me in, riles me and calms me down at the same time. A light from outside streams through the window, glowing across her skin and making her look otherworldly. Isabella…the name rolls through my mind, wiping away the trace of anyone before her…like looking at a bad quality picture until you finally see the HD version. Or drinking really cheap champagne and finally getting a taste of the good stuff, Isabella is the top shelf.
I find myself wanting to reach out, to learn more…everything about her. She is a closed book, I can see it. The barriers she has in place are clear to see in her eyes. Someone has hurt her before, maybe more than one someone, and it has left a wound, left her guarded and angry. I know that anger better than anyone, but where she has let it harden her, I let it guide me, mould me until no one saw anything but what they wanted.
A playboy.
A rich snob.
A fanger.
But Isabella, Bella, saw through it within the first few minutes and called me on it. That look she gave me, questioning my charm, threw me for a moment before I recovered my mask. Did she really mean it? She wanted to see the real me…no, no one ever does. They want only what they see, and they don’t want the baggage and drama that comes with really knowing someone. They want the pretty picture, not the trash, the truth.
“Who are we hunting? You never answered, an ex perhaps?” I query, fury burning through me that it’s an ex…does she still love him? Want him? Why do I care?
She throws me a look before going back to staring out the window. “You really aren’t going to talk to me? How about I keep guessing then, hmm?” I tease, grinning when her eyes narrow on the window, but her lips stay sealed shut. “Did he cheat on you? No, that would be too easy. Stole something from you? No, that’s not it…he hurt you somehow and you want revenge,” I conclude, and she twitches slightly. “That’s it, right?”
She looks at me then, those eyes flashing and making my fangs ache with the need to taste her again, to sink inside her and see if she tastes as good as I remember…impossible. It must have been a fluke. I was over starved and she was the only blood around, no one could possibly taste that good.
“You are not even close,” she snaps, her eyes burning as she focuses on me. She doesn’t give me
just a little of her attention, like most people, she concentrates on me completely like her whole world has narrowed down to me and this shitty motel room, forgetting everything but us. It’s unusual…and oh so appealing.
“No, so tell me, Bella, who am I hunting for you?” I purr, her name rolling from my lips.
Her mouth parts slightly and her eyes flare. It’s enough, I know she isn’t as immune to my charm as she wishes she was. That’s okay, she has charmed me too.
“You don’t need to know the whys, just the who.” She recovers quickly, pushing away her need, and I spot a flash of guilt in her eyes which makes me watch her more closely. What did she just remember that killed that lust so quickly?
“If you want me to find this person for you, I need to know as much about him as possible.” I grin, knowing I will wear her down eventually and find out why…maybe even what she plans to do when she finds him, but not yet. If I keep pushing her now, she is going to shut down. I need to peel her back one layer at a time. And peel her back I will, until I discover what lies underneath, and then I will drink my fill.
Her mouth clamps shut, her eyes flickering away for a moment before she looks back at me with resolution on her face. Something else to add to the list of growing things I know about Isabella—once she decides something, she goes for it. She isn’t human, but I don’t know what she is. She is powerful and she has her sights set on making someone pay for something…but what?
“He’s a fallen,” she starts. Well, fuck, not what I was expecting. “I didn’t really know him, met him on a night out.” She falters then and fury surges through me, my hands curling into fists in my lap before I can stop myself. “He was nice, we had—” She glances away for a moment. “Things in common. I let something bad slip, something dangerous. He plans to use it against me, it will get me killed,” she snarls before blowing out a breath. “He killed my…father,” she finishes, and I know that’s not what she wanted to say.
