by A. K. Koonce
My jaw clenches down hard and fast. I nearly bite my tongue all the way through.
She’s watching. But the man who poses a real danger here is gone.
I’m as safe as I can possibly be for the moment.
I can’t go back into that tomb, though.
“No.” His eyes widen as I say it, and I widen mine right back at him. “You lie in here and tell me how great it is,” I snap at him in a hushed tone that still carries all through the tomb.
“I’d fucking love to!” Prey hisses with impatience. And then his hands on me are against the edge of the coffin and he’s stepping right into the meager little marble box.
“Stop it!” I push at his legs, but his fucking insulting stability never wavers. He’s sitting at my side in less than a second. “Get out!” I say louder.
He simply sighs at me and with a heavy hand against my chest he shoves me down into the terrible dooming darkness that is my deathbed.
“Stop it!” I push and claw at him, but then it happens.
He pulls the lid closed over us once more.
And that pressing darkness falls over me once more.
“Prey! Get me the fuck out of here. Move! Get out! Now!”
His arm against my chest never budges. He’s curled up against my side, and I can feel him watching me as I squirm.
I’m the prey now.
I’m the living embodiment of the weakness I swore I’d never show these damn people.
“Shhh,” he whispers warmly against my neck.
“I—I can’t fucking breathe in here. I’m suffocating! I can’t do this.”
The weight of his bicep across my body shifts, his hand lifts and just when I think he’s about to slap his hand over my mouth and force me to shut up, his fingers gently graze my jaw. It’s the faintest caress of his cool touch along my flesh. And it drifts, his hand wanders lower as he strokes along my chin and then… he skims his fingertips along my parted lips.
“I can help you,” he says it so quietly and ominously that it sounds like the devil himself is making me an offer in the dead of night.
“Help?” I ask against his fingertips.
He lingers there before tracing the shape of my mouth ever so lightly. The warmth of his breath trickles along the curve of my neck and he suddenly feels impossibly closer.
“I can make you sleep. I could give you the most peaceful sleep of your entire life.”
“That—that sounds a little too much like death, and I don’t think I’m ready for that kind of foreplay in our relationship yet. Thanks, but no thanks.”
A breath of a laugh slips from his lips and dances along my neck in such a way that it shivers right through me.
“No. Not death, but the very next best thing. You’ll sleep, and then you’ll wake up fully rested. You’ll be the same. I promise, Pretty Pet.” His taunting tone makes me want to kick him in the balls.
If only we had the space.
I hate him, I really do. But… I need him in this moment. I need to keep my cover, and I can’t do that if I’m having the kind of mid life anxiety crises that even Kanye would be envious of.
I just don’t know how to separate the line of hate and need in my head.
I can’t.
“Just do it.” I close my eyes hard and try to find what little air that might be left in this fucking death trap.
His fingers slip lower. The feel of his cool touch drifting down the line of my neck is heightened by the blinding dark. He trails lower and lower and lower, until he’s skimming along my collarbone in a distracting little taste of what I know he’s capable of.
I believe him. I know he can provide me with what he offered.
I just hope I don’t lose myself in this deal I’m making with the devil.
“Open your eyes, Pretty Human,” he whispers so softly it sounds like a sweet, sadistic sentiment. “I want to see that moment where all that despising disgust in your gaze fades out and lustful euphoria replaces it. I want to see your sensuous hate for me.”
My lashes open fast and I try to find him in the darkness, but it’s totally impossible.
“What—” I try to ask what’s thick on my tongue, but the question dissolves the moment his lips press to my throat.
My mouth opens with shock and that outraged emotion only grows stronger. His traitorous tongue slides along my skin between the open-mouthed kisses he presses swiftly and slowly down the side of my neck.
“What the fuck, Prey!” My palms flatten against his shoulders but, it’s only the briefest moment of violent intent.
The curve of his lips tilt up with a cruel smile, and that’s the last thing I remember before his sharp teeth scrape against my flesh.
And then pierce my skin.
My muscles slacken. The hard, repulsed curl of my lips fades as a gasp of wanton need sneaks out.
That’s what fucked me into this screwed up situation to begin with.
Need.
The anger in me is so far gone now that it might never come back. My palms against his soft shirt are no longer shoving, but clutching. My fingers tangle right into that black cotton tee-shirt like all I want is to pull him closer.
And so I do.
I pull until his body is flush against the side of mine and the demanding need within me settles low in my body. Lower than my stomach. Low in my sex. It pulses there, and I think my blood is pulsing itself along my throat, but I’m not nearly aware of that at all.
“Prey!” I gasp as my hand slides lower. I don’t stop until my fingertips slide beneath the cotton cloth and start trailing the hard lines of his abdomen.
A groan of his own hums against my throat, and that initial pain of his teeth is no longer there as he kisses me tenderly. Sweetly.
Lovingly.
“Sleep, Pretty Human. Sleep.” His hot mouth drifts higher and he presses a tender kiss to the line of my jaw. I turn to him like I’m drawn to the soothing sound of his delicious voice.
I’m leaning into the small space that separates us. I feel the heaviness of his breath along my parted lips. Every single thing I feel is Prey.
“Prey,” I whisper in a trembling gasp.
His hand along my face is light and caressing.
“Sleep, Pretty Pet. Before I change my mind and make you my favorite snack for the rest of your short, miserable existence.” There’s an audible sadness in his voice.
It hurts to hear. My hand slides along his ribs and I’m simply holding to comfort him now.
As is he. He lets me hold him, and I let him do the same for me.
The beautiful way he feels wrapped around me is all I can think about.
And that’s something I hope I’ll remember when I wake.
If I wake.
Eleven
Prey
Fuck.
Twelve
Aston
His back is to me, but he’s greatly aware of my presence the moment the door quietly clicks closed behind me. I know he hears every single detail from the slow stride of my shoes to the warm glass of blood I pour myself in his favorite little study. The bottle dribbles at the end, and a few droplets land on the shelf next to a set of law books.
The small room consists of an entire wall of old musty books, actually. Most of them are so ancient that the bindings are fraying apart. Other than his books, he has a lone leather chair and a messy desk with too many unread notes that he can’t bother to waste his time with.
That’s Royale in a nutshell though. Boring and wasteful.
Just as he is with Kyra.
I pull a first edition copy of—whatever is nearest, really—and the moment I open it, a thin page crinkles out and wafts down slowly to land in front of my sneaker. I toss the book back down with a dusty slam. It now sits carelessly out of place, and I know it’ll drive him crazy.
Whenever he bothers to look my way that is.
The way Royale ignores me is more deliberate today than most days.
Sure he usually hates me a
nd avoids my presence, but today he’s displaying a very special hate indeed. And it makes me wild with desire to take it further.
“Good evening!” I say loudly, my smile stretching even more with the idea of making him crack that smooth facade of clam he always carries so well.
Fuck his calm.
I want to see his chaos.
Any little emotion. Any of it. Crist, why is he so chronically boring?
Still his back is to me as he simply looks out at the dark grassy expanse that rolls across the estate. Sure, he can try to ignore me.
But I know I’ll win eventually.
I take a long sip of the fresh blood Acessa herself collected this morning. The taste of the new stock washes over my tongue and though he is a stoically boring vampire, Royale does appreciate the finest stock.
“Are you going to tell anyone?” I ask casually as I circle his tiny study. I stumble against the fine rug and leave the corner overturned as I go. I drag my hand along the sleek black fireplace and leave a nice smear of blood across his mantle as I go. The embers inside are dwindling, but still warm.
Just like she felt when I stood close enough to taste the worry in her every heavy exhale.
His lack of a response as he stands like a fucking second rate Batman overlooking Gotham baits me to push him further. Harder.
I need to fucking break him.
“Did you grow tired of her?” I take a long drink and drain the cup. The glass doesn’t shatter as I toss it onto the stack of scattered papers lining his desk. Blood rains across the pages in a splatter of pretty art. “Did you—did you kill her, Royale?” His knuckles crack as he flexes his fingers slowly into his palm. “She once told me she would have done it to you if given the opportunity.” The profile of his face is all I can see, and the strain of his jaw is like cocaine hitting my system after the last three decades of numbness in this goddamn monstrous body. “She said that right before I fucked her, Royale. Right before I made her cum.”
It's a lie, but it’s a damn good one though. Because it’s the one thing that always seems to shake and rattle his cage.
And this time is no different.
Then his hands are fisting into my shirt. He drags me so hard and fast that I can’t help the laughter that stumbles from my lips as he slams me into the shelves. Books tumble and break apart as they hit the tile floor with a series of fluttering thuds.
“Shut the fook up, Cardence!” Royale seethes through sharp, clenched teeth. “You don’t know what you’re fooking talking about!”
My heart nearly patters with fright. I wish it fucking would. I with the quiet thing would hammer like it used to. I wish he’d just lose control.
Attack!
Kill me already!
I smile at the reckless fear in his eyes.
He knows that I know.
Even if I don’t really know anything.
“Who’s the girl sleeping in croft six?”
“Kyra Vega.”
My head slams into his and he flinches hard as our skulls knock, but neither of us feel the pleasant pain like we once did.
But that was a long, long time ago.
It isn’t as satisfying as it should be.
Nothing really is anymore.
“Kyra Vega never said a fucking word to me. No matter how much I messed with her. She wouldn’t give me the goddamn time of day. So then who is the smart-mouthed woman in croft six?”
He hauls me up in a flash of power and slams me back down into his precious books. They tumble and fall around me like the pages of a history I’ve seen far too much of. He leans in close enough to… to kill me, really.
And yet still he doesn’t.
“Stay away from her. And stay the fook away from me.”
He releases me with too much force and just the right amount of anger to sedate my need for emotion. His rage is a soothing balm within my mind.
It’s delicious. It’s nirvana.
And now… it’s gone.
Fuck.
And I’m still left wondering about Six.
Thirteen
Kira
Warmth clings to my skin and I wake with a muddle of confusion circling in my mind. A charge like electric energy flows from my toes all the way up through my stomach and comes to rest like a hum within my heart.
“Prey?” I whisper into the darkness.
He’s still here.
Watching me, I know it. I can feel it.
“Y-yes,” he stutters oddly.
His uncertain tone isn’t even remotely hostile, and that confuses me.
What a weird little man.
“I feel… different.”
I remember his teeth sinking in. The orgasmic feel of his power still caresses my skin like a shadowy memory.
“Y-yeah,” he says on an unsteady exhale.
What the fuck is wrong with him?
His palm skims over my stomach and he holds me. My instinct is to shove him off me, but… it feels like the most natural reassuring thing in the world to have him close.
It feels good.
“Will I have a mark where you bit me? Do I need to cover it for a while?”
I think back to the things I left behind in my apartment. Concealer is in my old life. And these flawless fuckers probably can’t even fathom needing an under eye cream or even a smidge of makeup coverage.
“Hopefully fucking not.”
Ah, there’s that asshole tone I’ve grown used to hearing.
“Okay,” I whisper, turning my head this way and that, but not feeling any stiffness where his fangs pierced my skin.
Maybe vampires have a quick healing saliva or some magical shit. Maybe Prey just spits on me a little and no one will know an assistant spent the night feeding on a high council vampire.
“Can any of them read minds?” I ask, suddenly nervous. But seeing as we’re both locked up in this tomb, it feels like now is as good a time as any to vent all of my curious questions.
“No,” he says with a heavy sigh.
God, why is he suddenly acting like he has a lot of shit to do today?
He is an assistant. He probably does have a lot of shit to do.
That’s too bad for him. I need answers.
“Why is it that I’m on the council, but you’re just an assistant? What makes someone worthy of the High Council of vampires?”
This draws another annoyed sigh out of Prey.
“Power. Once you’re turned, your powers, strengths and abilities can vary greatly. You —I mean Kyra— was a very powerful vampire. She was just as strong as Rival, that’s why they got along so well.”
“And they were… mates?”
“What? No! Fuck no. If they were, he probably would have cared enough about her to protect her more.”
Ouch. Hostility is truly his forte.
Another angry breath heaves from his lungs, but he continues.
“Kyra and Rival were friends. He let people believe it was more because he knew people didn’t screw with her if he claimed her. But she wanted friends. She would never admit it to the others, but she wanted to feel like she once did when she was alive. She wanted some sense of normalcy in this undead world. And Rival saw that in her. He befriended her when she only had me.” A heavy pause drifts in between us before he speaks like a ghost of a word. “But neither of us were there for her when she needed us the most.”
My heart drops, and I hate that I can relate to the bloodthirsty monster so much right now.
I should have been there for Kyra. There were so many times I wasn’t there for my twin the way she was for me.
“What about Cardence?” I think about how he taunted me, and how I saw him act terribly with Kyra once before. He saw right through me. “Were the two of them ever more?”
Prey’s scoff fans across my skin and I find myself suddenly brushing my fingers along the back of his knuckles.
I blink at that and pull my hand away stiffly.
“Everyone hates Cardence. He’s
fucking depressing. He’s unique, and a cocky prick because of it. He’s an energy vampire. Kyra hated him just as much as we all do.”
Then how did he know?
I shake my head.
“Who’s the most powerful vampire on the High Council?”
I turn toward Prey in the little space and though I can’t see him, I know his mouth is so close to mine. My suddenly stuttering heart is all too aware of him since he fed on me.
I hate that.
“Zavia for sure. She has unimaginable abilities. Vanishing is a true benefit for her. Rival only grew into that power within the last few years.” Vanishing? “Most vampires grow stronger with age, or through the bond of a mate. Some seek out many mates, but Zavia’s powers are her own. She has never taken a mate, and she won’t in the future. She wouldn’t share her strength with another.”
“Did… did Kyra have a mate?”
This question draws another seething breath out of Prey.
“What the fuck is your problem? I need information. I need more than just an uncomfortable pair of heels and nice hairdo to deceive these bloodthirsty mosquitoes for you!”
His hand jerks away from me and light floods over us as he shoves the lid away and storms out of the deathbed I had gotten far too comfortable in.
My jaw clenches hard, but I manage to rise from my sarcophagus. And when I say rise, I don’t mean that I’m drawn up like an eerie creature of the night. I have to throw my leg over the edge and literally hurt my coochie trying to crawl out of this fucking stone box.
My heels stumble and threaten to break my neck on the way out.
“Fucking, vampiric bullshit!” I hiss.
But when I stand, Prey is looking at me with wide eyes and an open mouth with no cruel words falling from his lips.
And that’s how I know something bad has happened.
“Your neck,” he whispers.
“Shit, did it leave a mark? I told you it would. Dammit!”
In a flash, he’s so close that I can feel his energy prickling over my skin. And then he’s caressing my jaw. Right before he flips my chin harshly to the side and really inspects my throat.
“Fuck!” he hisses.
