Blood Judgment (Judgment Series)

by Nickie Asher

  Pure instinct made him horribly aware that she was in heat. The facts penetrated his brain and went straight to his cock. He hardened instantly.

  A growl rumbled out of him and he bared his fangs in a dominance display. He needed to get inside her and reclaim her as his property. Needed to mark her and rub his scent all over her. Needed to claim her with his cock and spill his seed deep inside her. Needed to breed her.

  “Julian,” she moaned and clung to him.

  He pulled away and tore off his clothing, tossing them on the floor. Feral with lust, he grabbed her and shredded the long tee she wore, tearing it from her trembling body. Nude beneath it, she arched her back and ran her hands over herself. Her breasts were swollen, the nipples a deeper pink.

  His cock throbbed. Her scent was driving him mad with the need to mount her. She spread her legs and touched herself. Growling, he climbed onto the bed.

  “Take me,” she moaned.

  His lips found hers in a hard, bruising kiss. He skimmed his hand down her body and slipped between her legs. She groaned and spread them wider.

  She was hot, wet, and swollen beneath his stroking fingers, ready to be mounted. He cupped her and she writhed, rocking against his hand.

  He moved closer and captured a breast with his mouth, suckling at it until the nipple pebbled even harder. He nipped and soothed the bite with his caressing tongue.

  She arched her back, pushing closer, whimpering. He abandoned her breasts and pulled himself up over her. He wanted to pleasure her, but he had to get inside her. Instinct trumped determination.

  “Mate me,” she whimpered.

  He lunged, pinning her beneath him. His need to dominate and breed overwhelmed everything else. He entered her with one hard thrust.

  She shrieked and sank her nails into his back, scoring his sensitive skin with burning furrows.

  This wasn’t about making love. This was about mating—breeding, animalistic, instinctive behavior.

  He growled and clamped onto her throat, sinking his teeth into her. He held her still with his teeth and pounded between her legs until she had to be sore. And still, she begged for more. He released her with his teeth and pumped away at her.

  She bit him and, with a hiss of pleasure, he turned his head to give her better access. If she wanted to feed, he would let her take his blood.

  She sucked on the wound, but only took a little. She backed off and ran her tongue over the punctures, cleaning him.

  He pumped hard and fast, though he wasn’t going to last much longer. Her scent and the silk of her skin were so over stimulating he was barely able to maintain his control.

  Rocking her hips with abandon, she cried his name and clawed his back.

  He howled in triumph and climaxed, filling her with his worthless seed, shooting into her in long, hot spurts until, panting and sweat-soaked, he collapsed on top of her.

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to smash you.” He rolled off her, but her hands were right back on him, stroking and teasing until he mounted her again.

  HE MATED her repeatedly through the night and into the following day until exhaustion left him panting and spent, though his cock was still hard and painful. He’d lost count of how many times they’d coupled, but she had to be raw.

  He reached for her, wanting to draw her close to his body. She pulled away, turned her back to him, and jerked the blankets over her body.

  “What’s the matter?”

  She didn’t say anything.

  His heart sank. “Saranna…”

  “Don’t Julian. Not now.”

  She’d rejected him. She’d used him to give her relief and now she didn’t need or want him. “Saranna?”

  “Leave me alone.”

  He grabbed her and forced her onto her back. “I’m not finished.” His stomach twisted with anger.

  “Get off me.”

  “I’m taking what belongs to me.” He covered her, his cock pushing at her opening.

  “Go ahead, rape me then.” Her voice broke.

  He stiffened and backed off. Jesus. What had come over him? “We’ll talk later,” he said past the constriction in his throat. He slid from the bed and dressed quickly.

  TEARS DRIPPED onto Saranna’s pillow. Now that the horrid itch and pain had abated, she was sorry she’d allowed the mating.

  Worse, he’d shown the male aggression and domination she’d feared would eventually come out of him. He was beautiful and talented, but no better or different from any other male of her species.

  He’d left the house. Would he come back? She hoped he didn’t, yet the idea of never seeing him again cut to her core.

  She loved the son of a bitch. But it didn’t mean she had to let him back in her life. Ashton liked him and would probably ask him to join the Resistance at some point, so there was no reason to think he would move out. She had no control over that, but she sure as hell didn’t have to share a bed with him.

  She sat up and wiped her eyes. He wasn’t worth tears. The bastard. She got up and snatched his pillow and the heavy blanket off the bed.

  With determination in her steps, she marched to the stairs and threw the bedding down to the lower level.

  Screw him.

  JULIAN WANDERED the streets until he entered unfamiliar territory in an industrial area.

  What in God’s name was he going to do? He needed to be with Saranna. He needed to mate again. Needed to lay claim to her physically. Instinct and biology demanded it.

  Shit. He was so fucked.

  How in the hell had he ended up in such a screwed up situation? And how was he going to fix it?

  He shoved his hair from his face and the damp breeze blew it back into his eyes. He had to make up with Saranna. She might deserve better, but he could only do his best to set things right or at least as right as possible.

  What in God’s name had made him react so violently? He’d had every intention of mating by force. Raping her. Oh Jesus. Why had he done such a thing? How could he have hurt her and violated her trust in such a horrible way?

  He was just like his raping, murdering father. He not only looked like Christopher, he’d inherited his father’s evil. What would he do next? Kill some innocent woman for the thrill of it?

  A little moan escaped him.

  Please, God, please don’t let me be like him.

  He stumbled, but caught himself.

  No. He wouldn’t be like his father. He would not. He was half human. He was not a cold-blooded rapist and murderer. He wasn’t.

  After walking for a long time, some of the fear drained from him. He might be his father’s son, but that didn’t mean he had to be like Christopher.

  He would make it up to Saranna. And he would die before he hurt her again.

  JULIAN RETURNED to the house an hour later and nearly tripped over the bedding lying in front of the door. The message was clear. She didn’t want him in the bedroom. Knowing her, the door would be locked. Not that he couldn’t get in, but breaking the lock wouldn’t exactly endear him to her.

  He padded into the kitchen and dug through the refrigerator. After some debate, he snatched a hunk of Colby cheese and a Mountain Dew. He’d barely finished the soda and crumpled the can with a slight squeeze of his hand when the door opened and Ashton and Slade made their way to the kitchen. The scent of smoke clung to them.

  “Hey. Where the hell have you been?” Ashton clapped him on the back.

  “Went to take care of some unfinished business. Things didn’t go the way I planned.”

  Slade stalked toward him, hands clenched. “I should kill you for hurting Saranna.”

  “Stay the hell out of their business,” Ashton cut in.

  “He hurt her.”

  “It’s our business, not yours,” Julian said.

  Slade’s eyebrows drew nearly together. “If she has any sense, she’ll not take you back.”

  “This is between me and Saranna. Not me and you and Saranna.”

  “Fu—”

&nbs
p; “Drop it. Right fucking now,” Ashton snapped.

  Slade stomped to the other side of the island and sat. His lips flattened and he jutted out his chin, but he didn’t say anything.

  They sat in awkward silence for a few minutes.

  “You missed a party last night,” Ashton said. “We boogied with those trader boys and closed down another one of their dance halls.”

  “Another place?” Julian asked.

  “Yeah. Got some intel. We blew that son of a bitch sky high.”

  “Firebombed it?”

  “Explosives.”

  “Sweet.”

  “They have one we can’t level,” Ashton said. “A warehouse on McMillian. We’d take out an entire block if we bombed it.”

  The front door opened and the unmistakable sound of Vali dragging his useless legs filtered into the kitchen.

  Vali hobbled in. “Julian, thank God, you’ve come home.”

  If only Saranna had been so happy to see him.

  VALI SAT alone in the living room and tried to concentrate on a movie. But the harder he tried, the more scrambled and fragmented it became.

  Sick to his stomach, he hoped he wouldn’t throw up again. He shouldn’t, there was nothing left inside him. Couldn’t be.

  Chills crawled over his skin.

  Dawn hovered on the horizon and the others had already gone to bed.

  He clicked off the TV and gained his feet with the aid of the crutches.

  The refrigerator kicked on and he jumped so hard he almost fell. He had a sudden horrible feeling someone or something was in the house with him. Something evil and threatening.

  His skin pimpled and chills swept over him in unrelenting waves. He hobbled for the stairs and the safety of his bedroom.

  Halfway up the steps, he lost his balance and clutched at the banister as a burst of panic almost felled him. His heart pounded and he shivered to his core. He tried to calm himself, but the fear was in control.

  He glanced over his shoulder. There… In the shadows by the door… Had something moved? He strained to see. Yes, something was there. He was sure of it.

  He sobbed and pulled himself upward on the banister, dragging his crutches with him. At the top, he scrambled to his bedroom.

  Panting for breath, he locked the door and leaned against it. He needed a stronger lock. A little girl would be able to force his door open with that pathetic excuse for security.

  He shuddered with heart-stopping fear for what seemed like a year before it eased.

  What was he doing? No one was in the house with them. No monster or human threatened him. Nothing was wrong. Except his failing mental function.

  A real terror gripped him. He was going mad. Slowly.

  What would happen to him? It was bad enough he was crippled, but without the mental ability to take care of himself…

  What would they do with him? He would be a nuisance and, worse, he might be dangerous to others and maybe to himself.

  Those questions were too terrifying to explore. He maneuvered to his bed and sank down.

  With shaking fingers, he undressed. He maneuvered into bed and clutched at the blankets, pulling them tight around him in an attempt to eradicate a soul-deep chill.

  Heart pounding, Vali pulled the covers over his head. “Please,” he prayed aloud to a God he wasn’t sure he believed in. “Please help me. I don’t want to be crazy.”

  He shivered and waited for the fear to abate. The attacks were coming with greater frequency and each one lasted a little longer. The terror of falling into an attack and never emerging seemed all too likely.

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  CHRISTOPHER STOOD with his arms folded, listening to Ryan Banks continue his tirade and dressing down for not bringing in the little snot in the photograph yet.

  His direct boss, Framer, cowered near the door as if he were thinking about making a run for it.

  This was the first time Christopher had been summoned to the Regional Administration Building where Banks had his office and he didn’t appreciate it one bit. But, unlike Framer, who looked like he might piss on himself any minute, Christopher’s anger ratcheted up another notch with each passing second.

  “Well?” Banks said. “What excuse do you have? Why haven’t you detained him yet?”

  The truth was Christopher hadn’t bothered to look for the kid. “I’ve been trying to locate him. He hasn’t been out in public much. No one will talk.”

  “I don’t care,” Banks all but shouted. “You find that little bastard. Now. Not when you feel like it.”

  Christopher didn’t bother trying to smother the smirk crawling over his face.

  “You think it’s fucking funny?” Banks went beet red.

  “Kind of.” No, he found it annoying. Fuck the asshole. A little poking was in order. “You’re about to give yourself apoplexy over some poor little kid. What the hell did he do to rile you up so bad?”

  Banks looked like he was about to detonate and Christopher had to give him credit for keeping it together. “Why I want him is none of your business. I want him brought in as soon as possible. I will tolerate no more bullshit. You have a job to do. If you can’t do your job, you will be terminated from the Guards. If you fail, I’ll have you processed and branded as a common no-good vampire, just like the others.”

  Christopher stared at Banks. Had he heard the pompous piece of shit correctly? “You don’t want to threaten me, Banks.”

  “That isn’t a threat. As far as I’m concerned, you’re no better than the low-life scum we process every night. So you can take it as a promise.”

  Christopher’s hands cranked into fists, itching to pound Banks through the floor.

  Banks grabbed a stack of papers on his desk and shoved them at Christopher. “After you bring that little fuck in, you can start on these. I’m sure you’ll find the reward money well worth your time.”

  Christopher took the warrants. He would have told Banks to shove it, but he never passed up an opportunity to collect reward money. Vampires who made the wanted list with reward money offered were usually Resistance and they were at least a challenge.

  He would do his job. He would bring in the scrawny little juvenile for Banks to torture. Then, Banks had better grow eyes in the back of his head.

  Nobody threatened him and got away with it.

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  HOW MUCH of his father’s evil festered inside him?

  Still shaken from the encounter with Saranna, Julian had come to the only logical conclusion possible.

  He had to make his father acknowledge him and he had to stop him. If he didn’t, he was no better than the male who’d sired him. He twisted the silver ring, evidence of his lineage, around his finger. He ought to have worn it before, but it shouldn’t have been necessary considering they looked so much alike. His father knew, of course. He just wouldn’t admit it. He’d have to now.

  Christopher was a serial killer. Julian couldn’t pretend he didn’t know. Not without being an accomplice to murder. And not without making him unworthy of Saranna, the Resistance, and the vampire blood in his veins, diluted or not.

  Maybe if he stopped the monster in Christopher…

  Maybe the good in him would outweigh and control the dark side he’d inherited. And there was no denying traces of it had always been there.

  He tried not to think as he walked because he didn’t know what he was going to say or do. When he arrived at his father’s condo, he didn’t allow himself to stop and contemplate how to proceed. He slipped inside the building.

  The aroma of apple pie greeted him. He pictured a white-haired grandma as the maker of the sweet delight.

  He hit the stairwell and ran up to his father’s floor. At the top, panting for breath, he waited until his breathing returned to normal before going on.

  He hesitated in front of his father’s place.

  If he kills you, you deserve it for being stupid.

  He knocked hard.

  And
waited.

  No sounds from inside the condo at all. His father wasn’t home. Didn’t that figure? Though he didn’t want to acknowledge it, relief surged through him. Confronting his father was not going to be fun, but he had to do it. That he was glad to put it off, at least another night, disgusted and alarmed him. He wasn’t afraid to get his ass whipped. He didn’t doubt for one minute that his father would beat the shit out of him. But only a fool would assume it would stop there. He might put himself into a situation he wouldn’t survive.

  He didn’t want to die, but that was a chance he was going to have to take. He couldn’t live with the knowledge that his father was killing innocent people while he’d done nothing to stop it.

  Deflated, he hurried from the building and headed back toward home. Looking to make better time, he turned down a quiet side street. That he didn’t hear the stealthy approach of another vampire until the last moment should have been warning enough. Before he could react, an iron hand landed on his shoulder and yanked him around.

  He stared into his father’s livid, snarling face.

  “I smelled the stink of you before you even made it up the stairs. You aren’t very bright are you?” Christopher said.

  Heart pounding, Julian pulled against his father’s hold.

  Christopher shook him with vicious jerks. “You went to my place. Why?”

  “To reason with you!”

  Christopher stilled, then threw back his head and roared laughter. He cocked his head. “And why would I give a fuck about anything you have to say?”

  “Because you’re my father.”

  “You’re nothing but a pain in my ass that I’m rapidly tiring of.”

  “You’re my father. I have your ring.” He jerked his hand up, exposing the ruby and silver decoration.

  Christopher’s eyes narrowed. No longer able to deny the truth with the evidence thrust in his face, he dropped all pretenses. “Thinking perhaps you might redeem your evil papa?”

  “How—”

  “I can read your thoughts almost before you have them,” Christopher said.