by Tina Folsom
The breathing of the other vampire slowed.
“I’m sorry.”
As the vampire’s eyes flew open, a faint glint sparkled there. “It is time to die. Good-bye my friend, and promise me, you’ll kill them all, you’ll kill the men who did this to us.”
Z.A.N.E. nodded and lowered his head to the man’s neck. When his fangs sank into his flesh, he pulled on the vein and sucked the vessel until it was dry, until the heartbeat inside the shell disappeared. He felt his own body fill with the life giving liquid, his muscles strengthening, his mind thinking clearer now.
He was a killer now; nothing would ever change that.
The Czech vampire had been right. With his blood, he was feeling stronger, and his tenth attempt at mind control finally produced the expected result: he was able to control one of the guards and mentally forced him to free him of his silver chains while the second guard had nodded off.
He drained the guard who’d freed him and dropped his lifeless body to the ground. He felt a surge of strength and power in his new body, but before he could reach the second guard, he’d awakened and sounded the alarm. From everywhere, more guards came running.
In an effort to create confusion, Z.A.N.E. managed to open several cells so some of the inmates could escape. He used the uproar to search for his sister. Shots were fired, and a battle broke out between the released prisoners and the guards. Desperation, and the hope of a rumored rescue by the Allies, lent the human guinea pigs more strength than the guards expected, and more than they would have had before the rumors.
But there was no time for Z.A.N.E. to rejoice. He found Rachel in one of the treatment rooms, strapped onto a gurney. Her head thrashed wildly. Her body was broken: they had carved her womb open while she was still alive. He could only assume so they could examine if she had working reproductive organs.
His heart clenched. “Rachel.”
She opened her eyes then. At first, they didn’t focus, and she stared blankly, but then a flash of recognition lit in them. “Zacharias.”
“I’m here now. They can’t hurt you anymore.”
She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. “Let me go.”
“Yes, we’re going. I’ll help you heal. Human blood,” he murmured. He would get one of the remaining humans and have her drink from him, so she could heal.
“No. Let me go. I can’t live like this. Let me go,” she begged, and he finally understood.
“NOOOO!” he wailed.
She stretched her hands toward him, her eyes repeating her wish. Then her eyes darted toward a table with instruments. He followed her gaze and saw the wooden stake the doctors had fashioned. Whenever they were done with one of the vampires they had created, or when they feared the creature would become too strong, they used it to be sure it would not.
His feet moved before he knew his brain had made the decision. When his palm wrapped around the smooth wooden surface, he felt as if somebody was ripping his still beating heart from his body.
But when he looked back at Rachel and saw her give him a faint smile, he knew it was the only solution.
“I love you, Zacharias.”
Then he did what he had to do. It was the last time tears streamed down his face.
Heavy sobs brought him back to the present. The tears weren’t Zane’s but Portia’s.
“Baby girl, why are you crying?”
“They hurt you so much.”
The chains around his heart loosened further. “Don’t cry for me. I’m a killer.”
She shook her head, her long hair caressing his chest in the process. “They're responsible. It’s not your fault. They're the monsters.”
“Most of them are dead now.”
He tipped her head up with his thumb and forefinger and wiped her tears.
“The assassin Quinn spoke of the other night. Is he one of them?” she asked.
“He was Brandt’s hybrid son.”
Shock widened her eyes. “But Brandt was human.”
“They used the blood they drained from the vampires they created and fled with it the same night I escaped. They knew how to turn a human into a vampire, so they performed the transformation on each other. It was what Müller always wanted: immortality and a master race. He had what he wanted.”
“How do you know that’s what they did?”
“I had my suspicions when they fled and all of the vampire blood was gone. And it was confirmed later when I found one of them. He was a vampire then. And I killed him. First Wolpers, then Arenberg, then Schmidt, then Brandt.”
“And Müller?”
“He’s still out there. He’s the one who sent Brandt’s son after me, I’m sure. He wants me dead. He knows I’m hunting him. And he knows I won’t stop.”
Portia’s hand came up to caress his cheek. “I hope he dies a horrible death.”
Zane put his finger to her lips to stop her from speaking. “Shh. I don’t want you to be infected by my hatred. This is my business.”
“You’ve been through so much. I want to support you.”
He sighed. “Oh, baby girl, you shouldn’t get entangled in this.”
“Too late,” she whispered and brushed her lips against his.
Her tempting scent washed away the memories of his past and reminded him why they’d come to his cabin. “God, you feel good,” he mumbled as he drew her closer.
“Can we make love again?”
“As often as you want to.” And even that wouldn’t be often enough. But at least for a few hours or maybe even a few days, he could forget that he had a past, and how uncertain his future was, and live only in the moment.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Daylight came and went, their time in bed only interrupted by short trips to let the dog out and feed him.
Portia rolled to her side and noticed that she was alone in bed. Zane’s scent still lingered. She must have fallen asleep sometime around sunset. Her eyes fell onto the clock on the bedside table. It was just past nine o’clock.
Stretching her pleasantly aching muscles, she slid out of bed and snatched one of Zane’s t-shirts from his closet. Dressed in only the shirt that reached almost to mid-thigh, she wandered into the living room.
Zane sat at a small desk with his back to her, dressed in a t-shirt and boxer shorts. On tip toes, she snuck up, but her silent approach was announced by the happy barking of the dog.
“Z!” she admonished. “You’re spoiling everything.”
Zane turned to her, revealing the computer screen that had been hidden by his body. “What were you trying to do? Wrestle me to the ground to have your way with me?”
Portia bent to pet the puppy as it excitedly moved around her legs. “Would I have to fight you for it?”
She stepped within Zane’s reach, and his arms instantly came around her waist, drawing her closer.
“I’d wrestle with you any day.” He buried his face in her stomach, audibly inhaling her scent.
Portia’s gaze fell onto the monitor where an email program was open. “What are you doing up?”
“I was checking messages.” He motioned his head toward the computer. “Can’t switch on my cell phone; otherwise my colleagues can trace me, and there’s no landline in the cabin. But I have a program that logs into my cell messages and transcribes them.”
“It sends them to your email?” she asked. “That’s useful. But can’t your colleagues trace from where you accessed your messages?”
“Chances are very low. Everything is encrypted and routed over several servers.” He pulled her onto his lap, his lips seeking her neck and nuzzling there. “But I needed to know what’s going on back in San Francisco.”
“Anything to worry about?”
He shook his head. “My colleagues are livid. Nothing new otherwise.”
Portia’s eyes honed in on a sentence of the message currently displayed on the screen and read it. “Quinn has a lead on the assassin? And you’re telling me there's no news?”
Zane didn’t even move his head and continued nibbling on her skin. “Quinn is lying. He’s got nothing. It’s a trap.”
“How can you be so sure?” She read more of the message where Quinn talked about a cell phone chip and several phone numbers that were programmed into it.
“He’s trying to trick me into coming back, and he’s using the one thing I want most to do it.”
“But what if he’s telling the truth?”
Zane lifted his head and looked at her. “Quinn was the one who ratted me out to my boss. He’s the one who told them about us. That’s why they pulled me off the assignment. Trust me, he’s trying to play me right now.”
“Oh, but he seemed such a nice guy.”
“Nice? That’s what everybody thinks because he has the angelic face of a college kid. Don’t let that fool you. He’s a dangerous man. And he’s no longer a friend.” There was a harsh undertone in Zane’s voice.
Portia pressed a soft kiss onto his lips. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
She shook her long locks. “It is. If I hadn’t pestered you to do this, you wouldn’t have lost your friend.”
“Pestered me?” He smiled softly. “I guess that’s a way of looking at it.” He slanted his mouth over hers.
“Then come back to bed,” she whispered, feeling his hunger physically. Her body instantly responded to him, her nipples tightening into hard points, hot lava shooting through her veins instead of blood.
“I can’t.” Zane pulled back.
His refusal jolted her. Had he already had enough of her? Disappointment stood at the gate, ready to enter.
“I have to go feed.” He lifted her from his lap and stood. “Let me get dressed. I promise you, I’ll be back within an hour.”
Dumbfounded, she stood there for a second as he walked toward the bedroom. Then her lips parted and words tumbled from them. “Why don’t you want my blood?”
Zane rocked to a dead stop.
Her eyes bored into his back, and she noticed his shoulders tense.
“Portia,” he started before his voice faltered.
“Why?”
In slow motion, he turned. His eyes were glowing red and his sharp fangs protruded from his lips. As her gaze swept lower, she noticed his boxer shorts tenting. Her mouth watered in response, and she realized that the thought of drinking her blood turned him on.
She took two determined steps in his direction, yet he still didn’t move.
“You do want my blood, don’t you,” she husked.
Her hand came up to stroke over the pulse on her neck, drawing his attention to it.
“Then why not take it? Why not sink your fangs into me and drink from me?”
She licked her lower lip, the image her words painted making her knees weak and her pulse pound against her skin.
Zane’s feet finally moved, his hesitant steps bringing him closer until he stood only a few inches from her.
“Yes,” she breathed. “I want your bite.”
Her hand dropped to his boxers, brushing against the hard shaft beneath. It jerked as she pulled the waistband down and freed it.
“And I want your cock inside me.”
She wrapped her hand around it, feeling the heat beneath her fingers. “Deep.”
She stroked down its entire length. “Hard.”
His ragged breath bounced against her. “Fuck, Portia.”
His hand clamped down over hers, stopping her from repeating her movement. “If I take your blood, I won’t be able to stop.”
“When,” she corrected him. “When you take my blood, we’ll both make sure you won’t hurt me.”
***
Zane closed his eyes, the sensations coursing through his body too intense to bear. “Portia, are you sure you want this?”
Had she really offered him her blood or was he hallucinating because he needed blood so badly? After everything she knew about him now, did she still believe him worthy to take this gift, to allow him this ultimate intimacy of feeding from her?
The last twenty-four hours had depleted him. He could barely remember when he’d last fed, but he knew it had been too long ago. Making love to her all night and day had robbed him of his reserves, and now he was wiped. If he didn’t get blood in the next six hours, his hunger would grow to frightening proportions, and his control would snap. Hell, he’d probably even attack the dog to feed, even though animal blood would provide him with little nourishment.
Knowing how close he was to giving into the bloodlust that hovered just below the surface, how could he accept her offer? What if he couldn’t stop?
His dark side reared its head. She would taste delicious, better than anything he’d ever tasted. To fuck her at the same time would make it all the better.
“You want it,” her voice repeated.
“But do you?”
“I want what you want. When I drank from you, it was the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”
Zane’s eyes dropped to her throat where her pulse jumped against her skin.
“The best thing I ever felt,” she continued, her voice a mere breath. “I want you to feel the same.”
It wouldn’t be the same. It would be much more. Her blood was so much more potent than any pure vampire’s blood. Hers was laced with the sweetness of human blood. Not only would it nourish him and strengthen him, it would make the connection that already existed between them more pronounced.
He’d felt it instantly the moment Portia had taken his blood, and then again later when they’d made love again and again. There was something between them that couldn’t be denied, even if he wanted to. He wanted to claim her as his, damn the consequences, and she would agree, he read that much in her expressive face. But it wouldn’t be right. She was young and he was her first experience. He had no right to bind her to him when this was only a temporary infatuation on her part.
“Portia, don’t tempt me any longer.”
She brought one hand to his lips and brushed her index finger over his fang. A flame of desire shot through him.
“So you are tempted.”
Despite the hand he’d clamped over hers that clasped his cock, she managed to move it to stroke his shaft.
“Fuck!” he hissed.
“Bite me. Take my blood.”
Ah, fuck it! Even he didn’t have enough strength to resist. In one fluid motion, he lifted her off her feet and carried her to the sofa, letting himself fall onto it as he positioned her in his lap. Her legs spread, and the t-shirt that she wore rode up, revealing her lack of panties. He let out an appreciative grunt.
The scent of her arousal instantly wrapped around him, only intensifying his hunger.
“This won’t be gentle,” he warned before he rammed his shaft into her soft core. Liquid silk engulfed him, the warmth and wetness of it intoxicating.
Her head fell back, exposing her neck to him in all its vulnerability. The ivory skin beckoned him, the pulse that beat against it acting as a countdown to his approach. Tap-tap-tap, it called, but his eyes drifted lower.
He’d had his teeth in so many necks in the last decades, that he wanted something that would set this time apart from all the other times. His hands came up to grip the collar of her t-shirt. He ripped it, tearing it into two right down the middle.
Portia gasped, her eyes widening as understanding bloomed. “What—?”
“Too late, Portia.” Too late to protest now.
His action couldn’t be stopped, not by her, and certainly not by him. With one hand, he cradled her full breast, enjoying its weight in his palm. Underneath the pale skin, his keen eyes noticed the blood vessels that sat close to the surface, close enough for him to smell their sweetness.
His throat constricted and his cock jerked inside her.
“Ride me,” he ordered gruffly.
She lifted herself onto her knees, making him withdraw, then came back down, impaling herself again.
“Harder!”
&nb
sp; His body tensed, welcoming her movements. He’d hoped to savor this moment, but his control what shot to bits. Without another coherent thought, he sank his lips onto her breast, pulling the nipple into his mouth. As he licked over it, his fangs drove into her flesh to either side of it, drawing the blood from her tit.
Portia jerked under his hold only for an instant, before her breathless moan drifted to his ears. Her rich blood ran over his tongue and down the back of it, trickling down his throat, different flavors bursting on his taste buds. Spicy and sweet at the same time, it was everything he’d ever dreamed of and more.
He groaned, his hips thrusting in synch with Portia’s movements as she continued to ride him, her tight muscles clenching around him on each down stroke and releasing on each withdrawal.
When her hand cupped the back of his head to hold him closer to her breast, Zane’s heart jumped with joy. He felt accepted and wanted by a woman who could have anybody. Yet, she’d chosen him to show her what pleasure and passion meant. Would she want more from him? Could he hope that despite her youth and inexperience, her heart could feel the same as his did?
He shook the thought of it off, not wanting to taint this experience with the inevitable disappointment that would follow. All he could ask for was this moment, the moment of total possession, of acceptance, of surrender.
Portia was in his arms, moaning out her pleasure, riding him hard and fast, urging him to take more of her blood. Only the present counted. There was no past, no future. Only the here and now.
With her blood filling him, reaching every cell in his body, he felt like the richest man on earth, a man who had everything, who lacked nothing. And at the same time, he had nothing to give her, only his body, only the love that was inside him, bottled up and hidden. He could admit it to himself now, but he could never tell her. It was the one secret he had to keep from her. Because if she knew his feelings, she would feel obligated to offer him more. She was too sweet to leave him. She would confuse her own feelings with love, when the things that she felt were merely desire and lust for something she’d only just discovered: sex.
