Auctioned for Her Blood: The Vampires' Illuminant Book 1

by Mara Leigh

  She turns her delicate facial features toward me and smiles, her violet eyes flashing in the light and all of it forming a transparent expression, full of nerves and desire, but also innocence and hint of darkness and pain.

  The pain in her eyes is something I’ve seen often in vampires—lifetimes of pain in the eyes of someone appearing young—but I’ve never seen it in a human, at least not in this excessively comfortable century.

  I follow her down the hallway, and her body… Fuck, the girl is smoking hot. Unsuccessfully trying to put the key into her apartment door, her hands tremble, and my eyes feast on the curve of her back, the round mound of her ass as it presses against that silk dress.

  Finally penetrating the lock with her key, she looks back over her shoulder, and my cock throbs with near painful desire.

  But my interest goes far beyond Ember’s obvious physical charms—otherwise I’d already have taken her. Or perhaps I’m learning the benefits of delayed gratification? I almost chuckle at that idea. I’m going to gratify the hell out of myself with this wench.

  “Would you…” her voice is quiet, and she sucks on her cheeks for moisture and courage “…would you like to…to come in?”

  I lean against the wall next to her door. “Yes. Very much. If you’ll have me—inside.”

  She fumbles to remove the key now, her cheeks turning bright pink as they have many times this evening. Everything about her body is responsive, she can’t hide a thing, and she’s been close to an orgasm several times this evening, even though I’ve barely touched her.

  Her physical attributes explain her effect on my cock, her youth and vitality explain her affect on my fangs, but what remains a mystery is my compelling desire to protect her from…from everything—from me.

  But I remind myself who I am. Who she is. Ember is tempting and easy prey, and I am a fucking pirate. A fucking pirate who loves to fuck, so it’s time to step up, to snap out of whatever spell I’ve been under and act like one.

  “Can I get you anything?” Inside the apartment, she turns to walk backwards, leading me into her humble home, her nipples taut under the silky fabric of her pale pink dress, barely shielded by a see through jacket. “I have some white wine open in the fridge.”

  “Well, I am very thirsty.” Wrapping my hand around her slight waist, I pull her forward.

  Her body makes contact with mine, and she exhales—hard. My fangs pulse, determined to spring into action and plunge into her vein, but I catch myself.

  I want to fuck her first, fuck her before she’s under the effects of my venom. Even though the bodies of sleeping humans respond to pleasure under the influence of vampire venom, vampires who fuck unconscious humans are depraved. There are few lines I won’t cross but that’s one.

  Besides…for some reason I want her to remember the feeling of my dick ramming inside her. I want to imprint myself in this woman—both in her cunt and her mind.

  “I, ah…” Her heart gallops, sending her sweet, sweet nectar racing through her body, and the scent of her blood is intoxicating, heightened by the hormones that reveal her emotions and desire.

  Poor thing can’t decide whether to be excited or afraid at the moment, and I can’t help savoring the knowledge that I am inciting both.

  Her fear—fear and anticipation of what she thinks I might do to her—hardens my cock to a point that’s unbearable, and I hold her tighter to make sure she feels it pulsing against her hip and belly.

  Her breathing grows even more thready and her lips part. She is beyond ready to be fucked. Leaning toward me, every part of her body is inviting me to do whatever I want.

  I step back.

  “Wine would be lovely. Thank you.”

  Her knees quiver as she walks slowly toward her kitchen, moving like a fawn on new legs, or more accurately like a wench who’s already been thoroughly pounded by my hard cock.

  My need is rock hard and pressing against my leather trousers, and I lean against the door jam as she fetches two short glasses and pours us some wine.

  I want this woman; I want her more than I remember wanting any woman in my entire life. I should take her right now in the kitchen. Fuck her hard and fast, and then put her asleep to let her cunt recover as I drink from her vein.

  It would be so easy to claim what I want—what I fucking need from her—and leave her none the wiser, ignorant of how I used her as a source of nourishment after the pleasure.

  Vampire venom is what’s kept our species a myth for millennia, what’s allowed us to peacefully coexist with humans. Until recently, our two species’ symbiotic relationship existed in the shadows, near-perfectly hidden, until our damned king revealed our existence to humanity, putting innocent vampire lives at risk.

  Turns out, humans, although weak, are dangerous when armed with stakes, silver and ignorance.

  Watching Ember from behind, my urges goad me to grab her, to lift that dress above her ass and plow straight into her, to drive until she can’t take anymore and then to drink, to take what I crave even more than her cunt.

  But for some strange reason, I want… Fuck. I want her to know who I am first, what I am.

  What is wrong with me? I’m no rapist, but neither have I ever asked for permission to fuck or feed, never mind confessed what I am to a human. Never had to. The women I’ve wanted have been beyond keen to rut, and I always take what I want.

  But something about Ember is making me hesitate. Clearly it’s been too long since I’ve plundered.

  Fear snakes through me, icing my veins.

  Once she knows the truth—what I am—she may not say yes, and then I’ll be forced to take what I want, take it from her like the pirate I am.

  Because I don’t have the willpower to leave this apartment without having Ember—without totally possessing her vein and her cunt. But I’m also certain I’ll regret claiming either without her consent.

  It’s the most foreign feeling I’ve had in my life. I know what I am—I am and have always been bad—but for the first time in my life I regret it.

  We move into her living room, and she sits on the sofa, then nervously touches the cushion beside her, inviting me to sit close.

  I sit at the opposite end of the furniture, bending up one leg and turning toward her, casual as all fuck, not a care in the world. I should get an Oscar.

  She looks disappointed that I’m so far away.

  “Sorry,” I say softly, the word foreign on my tongue.

  “What for?” She takes a sip of her wine, clearly trying to mask her emotions, her desire.

  I slide my foot back to the carpet and grin. “Boots on the furniture.”

  “Oh!” She laughs, a spontaneous outburst that cuts the tension. “Don’t worry about that. Your boots look clean. But—” She interrupts her own thought and frowns slightly. “Feel free to take them off, if you want. Make yourself comfortable. Please.” She smiles softly, and then her teeth scrape the edge of her lip.

  Her scent and her body language are making it clear that she wants me, perhaps as badly as I want her, but I’m enjoying making her wait.

  Crossing my leg over my knee, I pull off one boot and set it on the carpet, then cross the other leg, and pause with the sole of my boot facing toward her.

  “Can I help?” she asks quietly.

  Grinning that she caught my hint, I extend my leg toward her, my back braced against the arm of the sofa.

  She pulls, and it’s cute to watch her try to remove the boot that fits me like a second skin.

  “I need more leverage.” Still holding my foot, she slides off the sofa, and I pivot to lean against the back of the sofa.

  Planting her feet, she tugs harder but then, slipping on the carpet, she tumbles back.

  I catch her before she hits the floor.

  Her eyes widen with surprise as she looks up at me, her weight supported in my arms, her lips parted and flush with her blood, as if begging me to devour her.

  “How did you do that?” Her voice is breath
less, and she pants from the effort of using it.

  “Do what?” I smile, hoping to distract her.

  “You moved so quickly. How?” She shakes her head. “Sorry. I should have just said thank you for catching me.” Her hands slide from my neck toward my shoulders, and she bends one leg to brace her foot on the floor, readying herself to stand. “Can you help me up?”

  I grin. “What if I like you in this position.”

  Unbalanced, supported in my arms with her head a couple feet above the carpet, she sucks in ragged breaths and her pupils dilate. She likes this position too—me dominant above her.

  I could be inside her before she perceives any movement, plowing her hard on the carpet. My cock urges me to act. But her eyes change as fear overtakes her desire. One of her hands slides to the top of my chest and she pushes against me.

  Shocked that I care, I snap out of my lustful stupor and lift her to her feet.

  Startled by the sudden movement, she sucks in a quick breath, and then her chest heaves as she fights to return her breathing to normal.

  Confused by the rapid movements, or maybe by what she’s clearly feeling inside her cunt, she licks her lower lip and gazes into my eyes, seeking answers.

  The air between us is on fire.

  Stepping forward, she reaches up and pulls me into a kiss.

  Hiding my surprise, I let her set the boundaries, keeping our kiss chaste, chaste by my standards, as she presses her lush lips against mine.

  Using every ounce of my self control to hold back my fangs, I sense the blood pulsing inside her, her taste promising sweetness and mystery, and carrying some exotic flavor I’ve never tasted in the tens of thousands of veins I’ve sampled over my lifetime of travels.

  Kissing her, I’m overwhelmed, fighting to concentrate as ecstasy muddles my thoughts.

  Breaking the kiss, she looks into my eyes. “Is it…” She blinks. “Is it okay that I kissed you?”

  Her uncertainty moves me. She misunderstood the hesitation in my kiss, and my inner pirate wakes from sedation.

  Wrapping my hand around her waist, I pull her hard against me and kiss her again.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ember

  Ryker pulls me closer, and I gasp as my breath is stolen by his lips that crush mine and move as if starved—sucking and nibbling as if my mouth contains the source of all life.

  I can barely sense my feet on the carpet. I’m floating, dizzy, my legs jelly, and I’m not sure how my body is staying upright. I’m being fully consumed, devoured by Ryker in a way that goes beyond anything I’ve ever imagined in my most sexy dreams. All of my focus is on my lips’ response, moving to match his fervor and taking part in the frenzy as if they’ve always known how to perform this devilish dance.

  And then, as if feeling neglected, my tongue flicks out to better taste him, and he groans, more like a growl, while his hard body grinds against mine. His thick, hard tongue plunges inside my mouth, stroking the side of my tongue, darting everywhere, tasting me, and it seems as if my tongue knows what to do too, our tongues easily playing together and waking even more parts of me, until my body’s fully on fire.

  Wantonly, I pulse against him as his hands reach under my sheer jacket to explore, their large size spanning every inch of my back, and then shifting lower to cup my ass and pull me even more firmly against his hard body.

  Somehow my dress is now gathered up near my waist, and his hand slides over the backs of my bare thighs and then their fronts.

  Shuddering, I can barely breathe through our kisses as his hand moves to rest over my belly and then circles downward toward my hot core.

  I pull back. “Ryker.”

  “Fuck. Shit.” He staggers back.

  I almost fall, but his strong hand takes hold of my waist.

  “Too fast.” He shakes his head. “I got carried away.”

  “It’s okay.” Taking his hand, I stroke his palm with my thumb, marveling how even that part of him feels impossibly thick and strong. I never thought I’d find fingers so sexy. “It’s just. I don’t know…”

  “Don’t know what, luv?”

  I look down. “I don’t know what I’m doing…”

  “Oh.” He steps back from me. “You’ve changed your mind.” The resignation and disappointment in his voice are obvious. “I understand.”

  I shake my head. “No, that’s not what I mean. I mean, I do want…this. I do want…you.”

  His eyes darken, his pupils expanding as his eyes pierce me, like he can see directly inside me. But he doesn’t move closer. He’s waiting for a signal that I’m not sure how to send.

  My mouth dries as nerves overtake me. Part of me wants him to know that it’s my first time and part of me doesn’t. According to things I’ve read, some men don’t like the hassle of dealing with virgins, and I feel ridiculous that I’ve reached this age with so little experience.

  “What is it, luv?”

  I look down. I’m ruining this, and the only thing worse than passing up this chance to have sex, sex with Ryker, is that I might disappoint him.

  His bent finger urges up my chin and I open my eyes to look into his.

  “You’re a virgin,” he says softly.

  “No, I—” I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, and then nod.

  “Oh, my innocent little dove.” His fingers stroke my face and he peppers my forehead with kisses.

  Disappointment washes through me. He’s kissing me like a kid now, but then his hands drop to my shoulders and he pushes off my sheer jacket, sending opposite signals.

  Looking up into his eyes, I wriggle out of the garment and let it drop to the floor, and then his lips shift to my throat.

  He lingers there, close, breathing heavily as his teeth scrape over my skin, and then he shifts his lips’ focus to my shoulder, to my collarbone.

  The zipper of my dress slides down my back, his fingers grazing the bare skin at its side, lighting it on fire, and I suck in a shuddering breath.

  “Do you want me to make love to you, little dove?” He looks into my eyes, with heat and concern.

  I nod, not sure I like his new nickname for me. My mouth is so dry now, my mind so muddled, I don’t even try to form words.

  “Let me take care of you,” he says softly. “Let me teach you about pleasure.” His hands glide over my skin, almost gracefully, tracing from my neck to my collarbone and then back, over and over, as he presses soft kisses onto my cheeks, my forehead, my eyelids.

  “Will you grant me that honor?” he asks, his mouth pressing against my ear. “The honor of giving you pleasure? Of teaching you the ways of physical love?”

  “Yes.” The word escapes my lips like a wheezing exhale, and then he captures my lips again, kissing me with renewed fervor, kissing me in a way I can feel through my entire body, but especially between my legs. The dampness and ache there is growing, and my insides pulse, tightening and releasing over and over like my sex is crying out for more—for him.

  My breath shudders against his lips as my body pulses, and I’ve never felt anything so wonderful. And we’ve barely started—I hope.

  I want this part to go on forever, his lips kissing, his hands exploring, the ecstasy of the feelings it all ignites inside me, but as much as I love this, my body craves more. The intense internal waves of contraction have slowed now, but the rest of me—it continues to move under his touch.

  Out of my conscious control, I slide and press against him, as hungry for his skin as his hands seem to be for mine.

  A hand nudges the back of my thigh, and I lift my leg without thinking. Clearly my sex is making the decisions now, fighting to get closer to his hard body.

  My action’s rewarded, and he pulls me in tight against his leather trousers, his thigh even more rigid than I expect.

  I moan against his lips as the new pressure sends even more pleasure coursing through me, tightening parts deep inside and sending sparks to the outer universe of my being.

  My hips pulse ag
ainst his leg, and his hand grabs my ass to press me in harder and I realize the ridge I’m feeling against my needy softness is…

  “Ah!” I throw back my head and cry out, unable to contain the pleasure as I realize that it’s his erection rubbing my sex, stroking me with only leather and the thin strip of my thong between us.

  My body is completely flooded with desire now, and I tense for a moment, wondering if he can tell how wet I am, wondering if I’m soaking his trousers with my dampness.

  He pulls his hips back and lowers my foot to the floor, but before I can process my disappointment, he encases my skull in one large, strong hand and kisses me again, while his other hand slides under my dress to caress my upper thighs.

  I miss the strong pressure of his sex on mine, but this, this soft stroking so close to where I’m on fire, is divine—better than divine—and then my vocabulary utterly fails me as his fingers stray higher, teasing the junction that joins my legs to my torso, tickling my pubic hair and stroking softly over the thin silk covering my mound.

  My breathing accelerates as my dress drops off my shoulders, and then, not breaking our kiss, he adjusts our bodies to let my gown drop to the carpet.

  His thumbs hook into the elastic at the top of my thong, and he crouches as he pulls the flimsy garment down to my ankles. I lean onto his shoulders as he carefully helps me lift one foot then the other, to step out of the panties.

  Rising again to tower above me, he guides me forward, hands grazing over my butt, the backs of my thighs, and I step past my discarded clothing. I’m fully naked before him now, but not cold; my skin blasted by an internal furnace and the heat of his hands.

  I close my eyes as we kiss, and we start moving. It’s not toward the bedroom, but I trust him to guide me; I’m not even sure I’d be able to see if my eyes were open. Then he turns me, and my back touches something hard and cold.