by Gaja J. Kos
Right as that edge of release came close enough that there was no doubt the right touch would cast me straight over, Aric slipped a hand into my panties and sought out my dripping wet core.
I spread my legs wider.
Stripped of the weight of the unending questions and calculations our conscious minds constantly drowned us in, that bond we shared, the bond wrought of lust and something far, far deeper wound between us without restraint. And I knew—I knew that this time, it wasn’t about to let us go. It wasn’t about to let us drift apart, bending to our hesitation, our whims, our fears.
Nor did we want it to.
Aric was the thrill of running under the full moon, the liquid fire of life that saturated the veins when the soul was finally set free.
And I wanted to be free forever.
As if in answer, Aric teased my nipple harder. His fingers slipped in and out of my molten heat while his thumb ground my clit, driving me so hard my body instinctively moved against him. A silken thread of velvet-dark satisfaction unspooled from Aric and bound around my flesh. He shifted his wicked caresses to my other breast, and those vibrations rippling through my body tightened.
I came with a cry, remaining upright purely due to Aric’s unyielding grip.
“Fuck,” I rasped, my thighs quivering.
Aric looked up at me, then, holding my gaze captive, began to lower himself to his knees, all the while his fingers raised the hem of my skirt above my hips. He hooked his thumbs behind my panties, then dragged them down until I was left bare before him. Shit. Obeying his silent command, I stepped out of the panties.
Excitement electrified my skin, and the mere thought of seeing Aric between my legs pushed a new wave of scorching heat through me. That he was actually—
With a filthily dominating grip, Aric threw my leg over his shoulder and buried his face in my core.
Curses tumbled from my mouth.
I grabbed fistfuls of his hair, coming undone over and over again under the ravenous possessiveness with which he ate me out. My body thrummed, and I released Aric to slap my hands over my mouth as an orgasm unlike any I’d felt before ripped through me. The cry that would have alerted every last person in the club crashed against my palms.
Holy fucking shit.
My hips bucked, and Aric held me in an iron grip as he lapped up the wetness of my climax with a cascade of masculine, mind-fucking-blowing groans. I sank into him, riding out the afterwaves of orgasm that didn’t seem to want to end, when fangs nicked my sensitive folds.
I writhed, stuttering out another “fuck.”
Aric’s low, dangerous laugh reverberated through my skin. He flicked his gaze up at me, then dragged one sharp tip of his fang across my clit.
I nearly lost it.
Blindly, I patted behind me for something to hold on to as Aric plunged his tongue inside me, then dragged it up my folds with a slowness that had me shaking all over. I wasn’t even sure my body could handle another orgasm, but when his tongue traveled up my center again, that was precisely where I was headed.
The molten pressure built up in me, then exploded into even grander proportions when I looked down to take in the fucking gorgeous sight.
Gods, we really were backstage, with Aric on his knees before me, his lips gleaming with the wetness of my arousal that he savored with every lick. Another thread of wholly different, far kinkier excitement fanned those flames within me higher.
Everything about this was so godsdamned delectable the mere thought of it turned me on even more.
As the potent energy of the fantasy I was living out seeped inside me and deepened my awareness, tuned my senses to a frequency free of chatter, hounding me that real life couldn’t possibly feel so good as this, I could have fucking sworn I ascended.
I matched Aric’s every lick with a shift of my hips, feeling endless. Limitless.
Aric’s gaze darted up, and all air fled from my lungs at the dark intensity of his hunger for me that raged within his eyes.
Whatever he saw on my face, whatever he sensed in the thrum of my blood racing through my body—it unleashed something within him.
He lapped at my sex, devouring me. My hips thrust forward, and Aric groaned, his grip on my ass masterfully bruising.
I wanted him to come up here. Wanted him to stand up and fuck me so hard I’d forget my own damn name.
But Aric had other ideas.
He sucked on my clit, then dragged his lips to the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, right over the vein.
Words that felt as if I’d heard them ages ago floated on the uncontrolled currents of my mind.
I don’t do oral or bite thighs with one-night stands.
I’d snapped at him then, asked him if I was supposed to be a non-oral kind of entertainment, too.
The glistening traces of my wetness on his lips and chin as Aric turned his face up to me, silently asking for permission, was the kind of answer I’d never expected to get.
When I nodded, Aric kissed my thigh—
Then drove his fangs inside me.
Pleasure overrode my nerve endings and shocked every cell in my body. I moaned, an edge of a growling rumble to the sound. Aric wrapped his hand behind my thigh, holding it firmly to him as he consumed me, then plunged the fingers of the other into my dripping core. His vampire strength supported my weight, held me upright, and with my trust in him saturating all thoughts and instincts, I surrendered.
The tidal wave of my orgasm blasted through me, claiming every last atom of my flesh and energy.
With every taste of blood Aric took, his fingers pumped inside me. He grazed my walls, rolled over just the right spot—
I came apart.
Aric drank me all through my orgasm, then replaced his fingers with his tongue and lips, ruining me in the most delicious way through the aftershocks. Once he took everything I had to give, he stroked the length of my thigh and gazed up at me.
Dazed with rapture and lust, I trembled.
Those fleeting echoes of sanity that still held residence within my mind wondered how this was possible.
How someone as magnetic and handsome Aric could exist.
How I could be this lucky, to have him looking at me as if he felt the exact same way.
He rose and captured my lips.
The taste of my wetness and blood tinted the kiss.
More. I wanted more.
I dragged my fingers down the wrecked fabric of his shirt, feeling the smooth, healed skin beneath. Heat built up in my core as I played with the smattering of dark hair adorning his chest, but it wasn’t enough. I yanked off the tattered shirt, then kissed my way across his chest. Down his stomach.
Fuck, I could never get enough of this.
Of him.
It was as if every seam where our skin touched was a drug, his scent an opiate my inner wolf howled for.
Images reeled through my mind.
That first Whiskey Jet Preachers afterparty, when Aric’s gaze had landed on me like a brand of fire, and a slow, earth-shattering smile had spread across his face.
When we’d first spoken, his chin titled up at an angle and eyes hooded, the corners of his lips gently turned up as if he really fucking liked what he saw.
The first time he’d grinned at me from the stage—not one of his groan-worthy, seductive smiles, but an actual grin, like he couldn’t contain the excitement at seeing me in the front row and didn’t give a fuck just how it stuck out from his rockabilly bad boy stage persona.
All the hugs, the kisses on cheeks, the way we’d always seemed to gravitate toward each other, somehow finding ourselves in each other’s proximity as the hours passed and the afterparty loosened.
How we’d taken to talking in private corners, both of us throwing out signals like we were stranded at damn sea, but neither of us wanting to acknowledge the beacon for what it was.
Then that fateful afterparty, when his hand landed on my thigh, and everything got jostled—thrown not out of balance,
but finally set on the right path as old structures collapsed.
I’d never been a huge believer in destiny, but as the reel came to an end and returned me to the here and now, it was hard not to think of all those events as fragments of a grander design.
I got down on my knees and brought my fingers to the button on Aric’s jeans. I looked up, allowing myself a moment to indulge in the way Aric gazed at me—revel in the blend of anticipation, hunger, and tenderness so breathtaking, my soul swelled beyond the edges of what I thought possible.
I flicked open the button.
Aric’s eyes blazed.
With a smile gliding across my lips, I traced a finger along the waistband—
A thunder of footsteps rolled through the backstage.
I whipped my head toward the sound right as Pascal and Finn rushed into the cramped space. For a second, we all froze, then Finn stepped forward, the tense lines of his face sharpening.
My fingers fell away from Aric’s jeans, and I jerked up, as if pulled by invisible strings.
“Gina”—Finn’s jaw pulsed—“something’s seriously wrong.”
Chapter 24
On the echo of Finn’s words, what flimsy little remnants of the earlier decadent atmosphere that had remained withered into something acrid. I stuffed my boobs in my bra and yanked up the top of my dress, only half-aware of the motions.
“What’s going on?” I approached Finn, Aric a tense presence at my back.
Finn’s gaze roamed over Aric’s tattered clothes, and I could see his brain working for that split second before he decided this particular subject could wait.
He looked straight at me. “Dominik and Emilia had another episode.”
“What?” I shouted.
Another shift so soon? Shit. The witches had barely been able to contain them inside the cell the last time…
Aric touched his fingers to the small of my back.
“There’s more, isn’t there?” I asked.
Finn nodded, then said, “They turned, and everything was the same as last time, except after a few minutes they… They just stopped.” Sighing, he tipped his head to the side, weariness marking his features. “Precisely as reports of several vamp attacks blew up ICRA’s phones.”
I swallowed and glanced at Aric. The weight in his eyes confirmed he shared my suspicions about just who was involved in these attacks.
“We already have agents out in the field, but the situation isn’t good, Gin,” Finn went on, mercifully kicking me out of the ever-deepening clutches of guilt. “We need to catch the vamp before even more bodies drop.”
I dipped my chin, then grabbed my purse off the ground. The panties, I didn’t even bother with. “Let’s go.”
Pascal spun on his heel and led the way toward the back exit while Aric and I fell in step with Finn.
“Milton attacked Aric earlier,” I said, then, when Finn’s gaze sharpened, I added, “I fought him, but the bastard got away. It’s more than likely he’s behind this.”
The words laid tart on my tongue.
I’d saved Aric’s life. At the expense of who knew how many others.
As if sensing the guilt I rationally understood I shouldn’t feel but did nonetheless, Aric whisked his fingers up and down my spine. Only Milton was responsible for his actions. Unfortunately, knowing that didn’t make me feel less like shit.
Our footsteps thundered down the white hallway.
“When did the first attack occur?” I asked.
Finn hesitated for a moment, possibly checking his inner Koldun clock given the whisk of concentration that crossed his face.
“Roughly twenty minutes ago,” he said. “That’s when we got the call, at least.”
Yeah, it definitely fit the timeline.
When we reached the back door and Pascal moved aside to let us shuffle forward, I turned to Aric.
“Stay here, all right? Stick to Pascal”—I glanced at the guitarist, who nodded—“and keep people from leaving the afterparty. If Milton’s out there, we don’t need any more potential victims out on the streets.”
“Gina…” My name was a soft sigh on Aric’s lips.
I laid my hand on his shoulder, then rose on my toes and brought my mouth to his in a dusting of a kiss.
“Please,” I murmured.
Aric exhaled into my mouth, then ran his fingers down the length of my twists before he met my gaze. After one of those moments that seemed suspended in time, a whole realm in itself, he nodded.
“Thank you,” I whispered, then followed Finn out into the darkness.
The cool night wrapped around me like a calming blanket, though that familiar buzz in my veins that always built up when I was working a crime scene persisted—perhaps more prominent than usual with the whirlwind of circumstances fueling its strength.
As we walked down the empty main street, only a taxi waiting at a stoplight in the distance, I asked Finn, “You’re saying my brother’s curse just stopped?”
“This is new, isn’t it?” The overhead yellow light painted Finn’s usually easy features stark.
“It’s got to be Milton’s witch influencing the magic somehow.” We turned a corner and headed along the parallel parked cars. “Especially since the flare-up coincided with the attacks. I’m just not seeing the connection.”
Or the reasoning behind the tactic.
Finn sidestepped a spattered burger on the ground. “I know what you mean. If Shelby wanted to overwhelm us, she would have let the curse run its course.”
“Precisely. Unless…” I narrowed my eyes, turning the beginning of an idea over in my head until it transformed into something tangible. “Unless Milton needed her for something ASAP. That could have forced Shelby to switch up the plan.”
“The witches are with Dominik and Emilia,” Finn assured me, reading the unspoken undercurrents staining my energy as he always did.
I blew out a breath. Good. I didn’t like any of this, and the last thing we needed was for the witch to trigger the curse again while ICRA HQ was left vulnerable with a whole bunch of us out on the streets. With the witches watching over Dominik and Emilia, prepared to tackle another spike, I could at least cut that particular dark scenario out of my worries.
After another turn, I spotted Roth’s imposing form standing over a body. My half-Leshy boss looked up and beckoned us over. When we cleared the parked cars, I saw that he wasn’t alone.
“Agent Brent. Agent Gerdel.” Leon Stein inclined his head but didn’t get up from where he was crouching beside the victim’s bitten neck.
“What do you have for us?” I asked.
It was Roth who answered, “Another crime scene.”
Frowning, I glanced at Finn, whose eyes tightened. Shit, he hadn’t been aware of yet another victim either.
“Two blocks down,” Roth supplied, then pulled out his phone and tapped something on the screen. “Sent you the location.”
Though with me and my wolfish nose now working alongside Finn, giving us the coordinates was hardly necessary. Even bodies drained of blood with not a drop left smeared on the pavement had a distinct scent. Much like the man lying at our feet.
“I’ve got this one covered,” Roth said.
Dismissed, Finn and I headed out. My partner checked his phone while I amped up the dial on my senses. When we reached the end of the street, a coppery twinge rode the air.
“Blood,” I said and felt the weight of Finn’s gaze on me.
We hurried along, the scent growing with every step. This kill was definitely fresher.
And—my jaw clenched—not at all like the first body.
Finn and I skidded to a stop, taking in the disturbing sight. The lifeless man lay facedown on the pavement, his limbs sticking out at awkward angles—as if he’d been thrown with no small amount of force. His neck was torn open, looking more like an aftermath of an animal attack than one perpetrated by a vampire. I shifted a step closer. Blood that seemed black in the night stained the sidewalk near th
e wound, but what caught my attention was the pool of bloody vomit not far from the corpse.
I pointed it out to Finn. “Overindulgence?”
“Explains the torn-out neck.” He dropped into a crouch, his magic rippling around him.
As unsettling as the visual of our victim was, I didn’t think the display was intentional. But if I was right, if Milton had gorged himself on blood…
“This isn’t the second victim in his spree,” I whispered, feeling my words to be the truth even if the location suggested this should have been Milton’s second target. “He circled around.”
Finn shot to his feet and pulled up the map of the district. Several locations had already been tagged within ICRA’s classified app. He added our current victim’s pin, then zoomed out to give us a better look at the crime scenes.
“Roth’s was the first,” he said. “Then here.” He pointed at a pin a fair distance away from the first. “Jorn took this one, Sarah the next. Zaynab is here.”
All three were a lot closer together, fitting the whole vampire on a rampage profile. Had our victim been the second, it would have all come together perfectly. Milton busted out of the club, lost it, and ended up murdering every person he laid eyes on. That gap, though, and the fact that he circled back after adding several more bodies to the list—maybe it was a fluke, but in this line of work, flukes were never just harmless occurrences.
“I’ll check in with base, let them know our vamp might still be in the area,” Finn said and brought his phone to his ear.
Letting him do his part, I cut out all unnecessary noise and focused on the crime scene. A vampire’s scent threaded through the death, but I couldn’t be certain it was Milton’s. The signature was faint, as if he’d just breezed through the kill, and I hadn’t really paid enough attention to the bastard’s scent back when we’d fought at the club.
Huge fucking mistake, Gina.
I circled around the body in a wider radius, attempting to pinpoint where the fucker went. In the background, I sensed Finn end the call and begin inspecting the body in detail for anything of relevance we’d missed the first time around. But our best chance of tracking down Milton was me.
