by Amanda Jones
Butterflies took flight in her stomach as she felt his lips travelling from her neck up to the line of her jaw. She’d never been kissed like this before. The extent of her experience with men had been kisses on the back of her hand by suitors when they’d visited during proper afternoon calls, all overseen by maids or the Baronet. Mara’s body shook with awakening passions as he moved along her jaw line and up to her lips that he took in a blistering kiss. Philippe licked along the seam of her lips, encouraging her to open her mouth to his invasion. As her lips opened to his prodding, Philippe’s tongue slid into her mouth to tangle with hers. Mara felt her body warm as he seduced her with his mouth. Philippe grasped her more tightly, his hand sliding from the small of her back down to grasp her bottom, pulling her flush against his erection. Mara moaned in pleasure.
Emboldened, she slid her tongue into Philippe’s mouth, intending to elicit the same reaction from him. Her tongue caught on something sharp inside his mouth; she tasted copper as a small amount of her blood flowed out from the wound. Philippe growled and grabbed her more tightly, holding onto her so hard she felt like her ribs were going to snap from the pressure. He kissed her harder. More blood flooded her mouth. It must have been his, as the wound on her tongue had been too small to produce this much flow. Unable to break away from the savage kiss, Mara swallowed the mouthful of their mingled blood, gagging from the metallic taste. Philippe yanked her head back by her hair. Mara felt the bones in her neck grind and heard the tiny diamond hair clips tinkle down on the floor of the gazebo. Pain shot up and down her body, she was growing disoriented from her inability to breathe, his arms like iron bands around her. An excruciating tearing at her neck made her almost lose consciousness. Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes while Mara felt a warm liquid sliding down her neck into the bodice of her dress. This was it. She was going to die here in her father’s gazebo at the hands of the man…or not a man…that she thought she would marry. Her dream had turned into a nightmare. Mara felt the horrendous suction on her neck cease, and as she slipped toward unconsciousness from blood loss she finally took a good look at Philippe’s real face. His eyes were glowing a bright red, his lips were smeared with her blood, and his fangs were long and pointed as he laughed at her in glee. Then the world went black.
Mara woke, her ears inundated by the sounds of crashing, buzzing, and wailing coming from all around her. She opened her eyes and saw colors blurring and blending into each other in the light of the moon. Mara was panicked. Her eyes weren’t opening, it sounded like she was in the middle of a war zone, but her heart wasn’t racing…and she wasn’t breathing. Her hand flew to her chest that was still as the grave. She blinked hard in an attempt to clear her vision. Looking down, she saw the state of her dress. She was covered in grass stains, dirt, dried blood, and leaves. Through her blurring and shifting vision, she peered around her, seeing only trees and nature. She had no idea where she was. Mara reached out to brace herself on a tree and came away with a chunk of the tree trunk clutched in her hand. She stared at it in confusion for a moment before dropping the hunk of wood on the ground. She tried to stand again, stumbling to her feet under her own muster. Her stomach clenched painfully and she doubled over, clutching her middle. Her jaw began to ache and she felt a shifting in her mouth. Sliding her tongue around inside her mouth she felt new sharp points protruding from her incisors.
Mara knew something was horribly wrong. She had to get home to her father. Once she got home, she’d be able to figure everything out. Her memories were jumbled and her stomach was killing her. She moved through the forest, the trees blurring as she jogged. Within moments, she neared the cottage of her father’s groundskeeper. She looked back from where she’d come. How had she managed to get this far in such a short time? Suddenly, a new smell assaulted her nose; it smelled like heaven and life itself. It took her a moment to discern what it was. When she did, her mind rebelled against her body’s reaction. Blood. Her brain told her it was disgusting, but her body said it was a sweet, life-giving ambrosia. Unable to stop herself, Mara stumbled closer towards the cottage. She peered through the window and saw the groundskeeper and his wife sitting at a wooden table eating their evening meal. Mara was close enough to hear the blood pumping in their veins. The glorious smell was overtaking her sense of reason, and her stomach was clenching and twisting with a primal need. Before she knew it, she was in motion, hurtling through the cottage door in a frenzy. Mara’s mind went blank and her body operated on instinct.
When she finally came to, Mara found herself standing in the middle of the groundskeeper’s cottage. Overturned furniture was strewn all around her. She was covered head to toe in blood, the groundskeeper’s body was hanging from her grip, his weight nothing to her. His neck was torn open, but no blood seeped from the wound. She dropped the corpse to the ground in horror. It landed with a splat directly onto the lifeless body of his also deceased wife. Mara stepped back in horror, crashing into the dining table. She raised her shaking hands, examining the blood that was now caked under her fingernails. She knew she should be horrified with what she’d done, but a part of her was revelling in the chaos she’d created.
The scrape and bang of the metal door on the roof of the hospital drew Mara’s attention back to the present. She twisted her head around and saw her favourite person in the world striding towards her with a carefree wave of his hand. Alex. What would she ever have done without him? He’d managed to drag her out of the mire of her turning, and help her become the vampire she was today. He’d given her a purpose in life and had been a constant in the strange and twisted otherworld she’d found herself in.
“There’s my crazy redhead!” Alex shouted out as he made his way over.
Mara gave him a forlorn smile. “Not feeling too crazy at the moment.”
Alex leaned on the ledge alongside her. “Wanna talk about it?”
“Oh, you know.” Mara waved her hand dismissively. “Just wondering why I’m an idiot when it comes to falling for the wrong guy. I think my picker’s broken.”
Alex gave a small nod. “I see. So, which one is it? Are you thinking about Philippe or Bataryal?”
“How pathetic would I sound if I said both?” Mara winced.
“It doesn’t make you pathetic, it makes you human.” Alex gave Mara a look filled with the irony of his words and they both burst out laughing.
She leaned her head on her friend’s shoulder. “I’m wondering how it is that I’ve felt this way twice in my life. The first time I was an expensive dinner; the second I was a way for someone to save a friend’s life. I’m wondering if I’m just broken and won’t ever find someone that will feel this way about me.”
Alex sighed and leaned his head on top of hers. “Human, vampire, demon. We’re all in the same boat. We’re all looking for something with no guarantee of finding it. Self-doubt and finding our way in this world — it doesn’t get any easier with age. If you’re broken, then you’re beautifully broken.”
“Now you’re talking crazy. I’m not beautifully anything.”
“Mara, you’re perfectly imperfect. Don’t forget I’ve known you for a few centuries now. Just look at what you’ve done with your life. You managed to pull yourself back from the brink of blood lust, forge a career saving lives, and make lasting friendships. You’re not giving yourself enough credit. Any man would be lucky to have you at his side, and if Bataryal can’t see that, then it’s his loss.”
Mara slid her head off Alex’s shoulder and gave him a small smile. “You have to say that. You’re my best friend.”
Alex rolled his eyes. “Stubborn woman.”
The ringing of a cell phone had Mara fishing around in her jeans pocket. She stuck her tongue out at Alex as she hit the send button and raised the phone to her ear.
“Hello? Hi, Sergei, what’s up? Yeah, I actually do know where he is because he was brought into my ER earlier today. No, I took him somewhere safe to heal. Yeah, sure, I can meet you guys there in twenty minutes or
so. Brimstone, you know where it is? Ok, no problem. See you guys soon.”
Mara hit end and stashed the phone back in her pocket. “Thanks for being my shoulder to whine on again, Alex, but it looks like I’m off to meet a bunch of fallen and my newbie at my ex-boyfriend’s club.”
Alex leaned in and gave Mara a quick hug. “Sounds like a blast. Need company?”
“Nah, you’ve witnessed me begging at my ex’s door once already today.” Mara smiled. “You’re a good friend, Alex. I don’t know what I would ever do without you.”
“I know.” Alex gave her a cocky smile. “Now off with you.”
With a light-hearted wave, Mara turned and sauntered back across the roof towards the metal door. Time to return her broken angel to the fold.
Chapter Fifteen
Bataryal
Her hands slid up his legs and tendrils of her hair tickled his legs as she took him in her mouth. The sweet suction drove him wild. He could feel her tongue swirling around the tip of his dick and he couldn’t stop his body from arching. Her nails dug into his hips as she moaned around him. He felt his heart kick and race as his seed rose. He was on the brink; there was no way he was going to let this end now. He reached down and grabbed her arms. Her nipples slid along his body as he drew her up to take her mouth in a scorching kiss. Their tongues tangled in an erotic duel. He moved one hand around to tease her nipple. He swallowed her noise of approval as she lowered herself to slide along his length. He reached up and tangled his free hand in the masses of curling, fiery hair. His hand travelled around to cup the weight of her breast. Then, following the line of her lean stomach, he lifted her body slightly so he could fit his hand between her legs. She broke their kiss to cry out in ecstasy as he flicked her swollen nub. He slid two fingers into her hot, tight sheath as he continued to apply sensual pressure on her clit with his thumb. She moved against him, making love to his hand, her head thrown back and her breathing becoming ragged as she neared her release. She screamed as her body rippled around his fingers. He groaned, wanting nothing more than to feel those tight contractions around his cock. Her head fell forward and he was shrouded in her masses of bright red hair as she rested her forehead against his. He repositioned her slightly and placed the head of his swollen member against her opening. Raising her head slightly, she looked into his eyes as he slid into her. He gritted his teeth, trying to keep it together as he slid home. His lover tilted her head to bite down lightly on his bottom lip as she began to move on him. His hands travelled to rest on her hips as she moved up and down along his length, her sheath clamped tightly around him. He gripped her hips harder as he got closer to his own release, her channel starting to pulse around him. She straightened her body, putting herself on full view. Her breasts bounced gently as she rode him. He was getting close to his release and so was she; her face was a mask of passion as she gazed down at him. She raised her hands above her head, twining them together. Her breasts tightened and rose with her change of position. He was so lost in the moment he didn’t realize she’d moved again until her arm swung down, her fist connecting with his cheekbone. He closed his eyes and winced in pain, all other bodily sensation was forgotten. Just as he was about to crack open his eyes another blinding punch connected, this time with his temple. Stars winked in the blackness behind his closed eyes. Why was this happening? What in Sheol was going on here?
B blinked his eyes open just in time to see a fist hurtling through the air to connect with his eye socket. His head snapped back and to the right, the vertebrae of his neck grinding from the force of the blow. Tears stung the corners of his eyes as he blinked them open against the light. Through the tears streaming from his eyes, B saw something that made his blood run cold. A black Mohawk, ruby red eyes, and a pale, pierced face stared down at him with a look of pure malice.
“Time to wake up, Sleeping Beauty.” Keir slapped him lightly on the cheek.
“Where am I?” B croaked.
Keir stepped back and stretched his arms wide to encompass the room. “Welcome to chez Keir. We are a full service resort that provides a multitude of add-ons to our guests, ensuring a memorable stay. Special services include Wolframite cuff bindings; facials…well facial beatings, weight loss treatments…conducted with a very special antique bone knife, among many others. We do hope you enjoy your stay, as it won’t be long.”
B squinted, keeping the amount of light entering his burning eyes to a minimum, and glanced around the opulent library. He raised his hand in an attempt to rub his eyes and heard the clinking of metal on metal. Peering down he saw the manacle surrounding his wrist, the inverted pentagram emblazoned upon it made him swallow a lump in his throat. The chain attached to the manacle was wrapped around the arm of a chair and disappeared along the floor, presumably attached to the wall behind him. He’d gone from the frying pan into the fire —charmed, unbreakable Wolframite cuffs, and a psychotic jailer.
Keir laughed. “What, you think I’d just plunk your sorry ass down in a chair without restraining you? What kind of an idiot do you take me for?”
B shook his head again to get rid of the last dregs of disorientation. “What I don’t get is why I’m chained up at all. I mean, you seemed pretty determined to kill me the last time we met.”
Keir smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “Oh, don’t worry; I still plan on killing you. I’ve just got another use for you in the meantime.”
“What could you possibly want with me that doesn’t involve my immediate death?” B frowned.
“Let me introduce you to a new friend of mine.” Keir motioned with his arm and a dark figure appeared in the doorway.
B squinted at the doorway as the black shape moved into the light of the room. His breath caught as the man finally became visible. It was Keir…well, another Keir at any rate. He’d fallen down this rabbit hole at Brimstone when he’d found himself staring at…himself.
“He’s a shape shifter.” Keir number one said with a note of pride in his voice. “He is quite spectacular, isn’t he? Even I can’t tell the difference.”
Suddenly, everything made sense. “So, he’s going to be me.” B said flatly.
“Damn skippy.” Keir moved around to stand beside his double, wrapping his arm around him.
“Nobody will buy it you know.” B shook his head. “The fallen have been together for centuries — they know me better than I know myself. The second he opens his mouth, they’ll realize something is off.”
“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, my friend.” Both Keirs smiled menacingly. “Shape shifters don’t just have the ability to look like others; they absorb flashes, feelings, and memories from their victims.”
Shit. That’s all B could think…shit, shit, double shit. “So, you’re keeping me alive so he can turn back into me and then I’m dead.”
Keir made his way back over to crouch down in front of B’s chair. “Well, not quite. While our lovely new friend’s abilities are indeed amazing, they do come with a time limit. He’s not able to stay in one form indefinitely, and it is impossible for him to remain in your form once you cease to exist, so you’ll be kept alive for the foreseeable future.”
“Great.” B muttered under his breath.
“Oh, don’t worry; we’ll make sure you’re kept in our most uncomfortable of suites. I wouldn’t want you to feel at home here after all.” Keir chuckled.
“Oh, no, I totally understand. That would be horrible.” B rolled his eyes.
“Well then.” The shape shifter piped up. “Shall we get this show on the road?”
“Oh yes, I think it’s well past that time.” Keir got back to his feet and turned to face his doppelgänger. “Do you have the package?”
The shape shifter patted his stomach and smiled back at Keir. “All ready to go. Thank your master for me; I’ve always wanted to see his evil in action.”
“You’re going to want to bleed him.” A disembodied, distorted whisper drifted in from the darkened doorway.
B peer
ed over in that direction yet again, trying to get a glimpse of the third party that had just made himself known. There was nobody there. The air seemed to ripple gently, but there were no shadows, or any other evidence of an actual person.
“And why would we want to do that?” Keir asked.
“He was treated by a vampire. She probably gave him blood. You know as well as I do that she can use her blood within him to track his whereabouts.”
There was something strangely familiar about that voice. B strained his memory, running through everyone he could think of, but the whispery quality of the sound kept its owner’s identity secret.
“Blood magic is very strong.” Keir motioned for Keir part two. “Bring me that bucket. I hope you’re not squeamish.”
The shape shifter dropped the bucket down under one of B’s wrists. “Not at all, I think I’m going to enjoy this.” He flipped open a butterfly knife. “May I do the honors?”
The Keirs smiled at each other. “I always like eager employees who are willing to go above and beyond the call of duty.” Keir motioned towards B. “Be my guest.”
The shape shifter stepped forward and grabbed B’s arm in his iron grip. There was no point in fighting it. He was already chained up in Wolframite, and wasn’t in any immediate danger of being killed. The bleeding would definitely suck. B knew he was looking forward to another trip down Unconsciousness Lane, but it wouldn’t kill him. His immortal body would regenerate the lost blood, so as long as he managed to keep his head, he’d be fine in the long run. He was going to have to play the long game here and live to fight another day.
B closed his eyes as the cool blade was placed against his wrist. He drew in a sharp breath as it pierced his skin and gritted his teeth as the burning warmth of the cut took hold. He opened his eyes to stare at Keir and the shape shifter, refusing to back down completely in this moment of weakness. As his lifeblood dripped down into the bucket at his feet and dizziness began to take hold, the shape shifter knelt down in front of him. B turned his head away, refusing to meet his gaze. Keir moved around to the back of his chair, grabbed his head, and twisted it back around so he was facing the shape shifter. Before he had a chance to look away he was caught in the magical grip of the shape shifter’s eyes. As consciousness began to fade, B watched as his skin began to ripple and shift, and then he was swallowed by darkness.
