Love Bite (Vampire Romance)

by Celia Kyle

  The twisted innocence was gone. The sadistic vamp back in place.

  “Does it matter?” Arik shifted his stance ever so slightly, balancing his weight as if ready to spring. “Even if I told you, you are still not walking out of here alive. You will experience mercy. Willingly or not.”

  An unnatural stillness drifted over the room, blocking out all sounds, surrounding them in a cocoon of quiet.

  And then it snapped, a balloon popping and spinning out of control through the air.

  The war began and Zoe wondered who’d walk away… and who wouldn’t.

  Arik rushed forward, fingers stiff and claws prepared to sink into flesh only to have Cason block the strike. That did not mean he didn’t try again. And again.

  They traded blows, some landing, others not. Cason’s moves transitioning from smooth to choppy and back again. He hadn’t seen the instability in his bloodchild before, but it was obvious now. He was still stuck in the past, in that time when he’d witnessed his family’s death.

  He punched Cason, the vampire stumbling back, and he followed the hit with a kick, sending him reeling. “Submit, Cason. I can make it painless.”

  It. Mercy.

  “Never,” he sneered in response.

  So be it.

  He dedicated himself to the battle once more, cutting into flesh until his claws met bone, blocking kicks and dodging Cason’s attacks. His speed outmatched his bloodchild’s, but Cason had studied warfare over the years, dedicated to learning all the ways to cause pain.

  Cason had learned them well.

  His bloodchild sank his fist into Arik’s side, nails slicing through muscle until his hand was embedded in Arik’s body. Cason curled his fingers, scraping at Arik’s organs, sending new waves of agony through him.

  Agony he would use for his own purposes. He punched and then clawed Cason, opening new wounds on the vampire’s face, scraping off his cheek only to have the man heal. The attack forced Cason to release him, though, and Arik eased back. The agony pulsed in his veins, but the wound was already in the midst of healing, muscles knitting together.

  Cason still wasn’t giving up.

  And Arik… was done. Perhaps it was some part of his mind as a sire. That he should protect and not harm. But he spared a glance for Zoe, for the deep furrows that marred her face.

  That last tendril of caring for his bloodchild vanished.

  He went on the offensive. Punch. Kick. Punch. Punch. Pushing Cason backward, keeping up the pressure until the man’s back struck the cinderblock wall. Arik grabbed him by the throat then, fingers wrapped around his neck, and squeezed.

  Cason struggled, fingers scraping at Arik’s hand, peeling away flesh and muscle.

  But he refused to be stopped.

  Legs struck him, arms flailing and punching, claws reaching and finding home in battered flesh. Arik remained steady. He tightened more and more, nails bringing forth his bloodchild’s blood until it flowed down Cason’s shirt.

  “Goodbye, my son,” he whispered the words and prepared himself. Prepared for the upcoming ordeal.

  “Papa.” Tears escaped Cason’s eyes, but Arik knew not to trust that show of emotion. The vampire was broken beyond repair, his son damaged and destroyed by time and the change.

  Arik kept his gaze on Cason, their eyes locked, and then he finished it. Twist. Snap. Pull. It was easy, the action that ended his bloodchild’s life. Quick and done between one blink and the next.

  Ash fluttered to the ground, falling into a gray pile of what used to be the one he called son.

  The rest… The rest was just as bad as the whispers he’d heard.

  Arik’s soul was ripped in two, a hunk stretched and snapped away by the sudden loss of Cason. He fell to his knees, body burning with the absence of his connection to the other vampire. His stomach heaved, trying to empty, but there was nothing to release. His nerves burned, fire scorching him from inside out, and his blood boiled with the unending agony.

  He felt split apart, shattered and floating through the air, in the world and yet not. As if a Valkyrie snatched him from the world to spirit him away to Valhalla.

  But that wasn’t what he desired. “No,” he moaned. “Stay,” he groaned.

  At least, he thought he did. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think beyond the feeling of being torn to shreds and tossed into the ether. The Valkyrie returned, fingers clawing at him, scraping his skin while she tried to steal him away.

  He wasn’t ready. “Zoe.”

  He had to stay for his hjarta. His heart.

  “Here,” a gentle whisper, a soft lure that he tried to follow.

  Arik curled in on himself, clinging to his legs, forming a ball so he couldn’t be shredded by the Valkyrie. “No.”

  He wouldn’t be taken. He wouldn’t. He would defy Odin. He would defy them all.

  “…feed…”

  “…no…”

  “…must…”

  He… he recognized those voices. Maybe. Had the Valkyrie left him alone then? Left him to suffer on Earth?

  No. No, she hadn’t. Slender fingers pulled and tugged, shoving his arms away. Other hands were there, yanking on him, forcing him to roll to his back.

  “No!” He wouldn’t be handed over so easily. “No.”

  A familiar palm cupped his cheek, the scent that followed soothing his tortured soul. “Easy, Arik. Hush.” He recognized the voice, the sweet cadence of Zoe’s words. “Now drink.”

  Drink? He…

  Delicious blood slid over his lips, dripping into his mouth and then sliding down his throat. He instinctively swallowed, drawing it into his body. Those few drops soothed some of the sensations consuming him and he sought more. He pulled at his arms and legs, anxious to capture the source of that blood and hold it steady while he drank deeply.

  But he remained restrained.

  “More,” he begged and was given what he desired.

  A wrist was pressed to his mouth, the blood flowing from a small slit. Not enough, not nearly. He opened his mouth wide and sank his fangs into the flesh, sucking hard when the blood flowed freely. He swallowed more and more, the delicious, coppery flavors putting out the roaring flames of his loss.

  Cason was gone—his bloodchild. Then he remembered why, remembered what’d caused him to go after the other vampire.

  His Zoe. Her blood filled his mouth, her scent surrounded him, and her entire presence soothed the rough edges of his broken soul. The hole remained, gaping and wide, Cason snatched as if he was a physical part of Arik.

  After a thousand years, he almost was.

  Each swallow healed more of him, his body and heart recovering from the loss of Cason. The gaping hole lessened, filled by Zoe and finally… Finally, he sighed, releasing his hjarta’s wrist with a soft kiss, lapping at the sluggishly bleeding wound until he no longer found a hint of her blood remaining.

  “Hjarta.” He forced his eyes open, meeting Zoe’s swollen-eyed gaze. His heart was damaged, bruised and battered nearly beyond recognition. She’d endured much in the few days they’d known each other and he resolved then, at that moment, that she would never feel such pain again.

  Arik Lange had killed his own bloodchild for harming his hjarta. Others would take that as a warning.

  8

  Arik had not slept in two days, each moment spent watching the rise and fall of Zoe’s chest. She still breathed. She healed.

  Yet she hadn’t woken.

  The worst of her injuries, those that would have scarred, were treated with Arik’s kiss. They’d re-opened each one, making it fresh, before using his saliva and droplets of blood to encourage healing. Most were gone, a few remaining pink against her pale skin. The bruising remained dark purple and sickly green, but even those were improving.

  “Arik?” Stian’s soft voice drew his attention and he curled his lips in a silent snarl.

  “I don’t want to be disturbed.”

  His longtime friend didn’t even blink at his tone. “You need to f
eed.”

  Arik shook his head. “I will only ever feed from Zoe.”

  He couldn’t imagine placing his lips against another’s skin, or sinking his fangs into another’s flesh. Ever.

  “Then feed from Zoe, but feed.”

  Arik glared at his friend. “She’s— “

  “Unconscious, not dead.”

  “You—” He rose to his feet, prepared to launch himself at Stian for even uttering the word “dead” around Zoe.

  “Coming at him like a battering ram doesn’t help things,” Espen drawled, appearing beside Stian. “He’s trying to tell you that Zoe is as healed as she can be right now. She can feed you and your bite—saliva—can only help her.”

  “You want me to take her blood without permission.” Arik shook his head. It’d been centuries since he’d done such a thing.

  “She became yours the moment she brought you back from Valhalla after granting Cason mercy.” Reidar’s voice held a hint of awe and respect… for Zoe. The vampires practically worshipped his hjarta now.

  “I…”

  “A sip, Arik. Nothing more, nothing less. See how she reacts. Your connection to her is different now. Even you have admitted this.” Stian pointed out and Arik nodded.

  It was different, tighter, stronger.

  “You will know the moment you ease toward taking too much,” Espen assured him, and Arik turned back to Zoe. He stared at her still form, wondering if his friends were right. Would his bite help her recover?

  He reached for Zoe’s hand, carefully turning her arm to expose her wrist. Movement near the door told him that his friends sought to leave, but… he didn’t trust himself.

  “Stay.” An order, not a request.

  They stopped in place and the heavy weight of their gazes settled on his shoulders. “Don’t let me hurt her.”

  The last thing he ever wished to do was hurt her.

  Arik lifted her arm, gaze focused on the smooth pulse in her veins. He let his fangs drop, sliding free of his gums, and then he gently placed his mouth on her skin.

  He… He bit. Blood flowed into his mouth, the delicate taste so deliciously perfect he wasn’t sure he’d ever get enough of her. She was hot yet sweet, savory with a hint of sugar. He suckled on her wound, drawing another mouthful from her wrist. He savored it as it flowed down his throat, heating him from inside out.

  He wanted another taste. And another. And another. But now wasn’t the time.

  “Arik?” Reidar’s voice broke into his thoughts, confirming his need to halt.

  He carefully withdrew his fangs and then sealed the wound with a swipe of his tongue, hoping that sip had helped in some way.

  Arik rubbed his thumb over her wrist, the wound sealing and vanishing before his eyes. Gone as if it’d never existed.

  “Arik?” Espen’s rasp was barely audible.

  That was when he lifted his head, tearing his attention from his hjarta’s arm and to his friends—his brothers in arms. Espen and Reidar shared the same expression—eyes wide and mouths hanging open—but Stian grinned and tilted his head toward Zoe.

  Zoe, with her eyes open. Zoe, with her groggy smile. Zoe… his hjarta.

  “Hi,” she whispered and he ignored the stinging in his eyes.

  Vampires did not cry.

  “Skatten min,” he brushed strands of her hair from her face, cupping her cheek. She still looked too pale for his liking, more like a vampire than a human, but at least she’d woken. Now he could work on getting her healthy.

  But first… “If you ever sneak from our home again, I will tie you to the bed and never let you leave. I will…”

  Keep you safe if it kills me.

  She blinked slowly, smile widening ever so slightly. “Our home? I don’t think I agreed to that.”

  Arik stared into her dark eyes, allowing his emotions to rush forward even though he was surrounded by his friends. They would tease him endlessly, but Arik was still going to be with his hjarta. She was worth teasing.

  “The moment I saw you, you were mine. The moment I smelled you, this house became yours. The moment I tasted you, I knew I would never let you go.” He leaned down and brushed his lips across hers in a gentle kiss. “You are my skatten min and my bite will keep you at my side. Forever.”

  When his hjarta remained silent, he took that as agreement.

  Even if she was silent because she was sleeping.

  About the Author

  Ex-dance teacher, former accountant and erstwhile collectible doll salesperson, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Celia Kyle now writes urban fantasy, science fiction (as Erin Tate), and paranormal romances for readers who:

  1) Like super hunky heroes (they generally get furry)

  2) Totally dig beautiful women (who have a few more curves than the average lady)

  3) Love laughing in (and out of) bed.

  It goes without saying that there's always a happily-ever-after for her characters, even if there are a few road bumps along the way.

  Today she lives in Central Florida and writes full-time with the support of her loving husband and two finicky cats. (Who hate each other with a passion unrivaled. What’s up with that?)

  Find Celia on the web…

  @celiakyle

  authorceliakyle

  www.celiakyle.com

  celia@celiakyle.me

  Copyright © 2016 by Celia Kyle

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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