by Julia Mills
Climbing onto the bed, with the grace and swagger of a jungle cat and gloriously naked, the tip of his cock sliding across the soaking crotch of her panties, Ashlynn’s hips rose to meet his as Alaric chuckled, “In due time, my sweet. Somethin’ this perfect must be savored.”
No sooner had he spoken the words than he reached between them, rip the flimsy silk from her body and threw it over his shoulder. “But then again, savoring is overrated.”
“Oh yes, it is.” Shouting her last word as the tip of Alaric’s erection pushed through her curls and into her throbbing pussy, Ashlynn’s hands flew to his shoulders as her legs wrapped around his hips, her ankles crossed and she forced him into her body as far as he could go.
Holding perfectly still, staring into the eyes of the man she was already falling in love with, she refused to think, forcing herself to only feel as her body adjusted to his size. Ever so slightly rolling her hips, teasing Alaric as he’d teased her, Ashlynn knew the exact second she’d pushed her Vampire too far as his ash-blue eyes turned a deep gunmetal gray and the tips of his fangs bit into his bottom lip.
Pulling out of her so far that she tightened her legs around his waist to keep him from completely retreating, Alaric smiled a devilish smile as he plunged back into her, immediately pulling out then repeating the action, creating a perfect rhythm Ash fought to match. Awash with so many sensations, so many emotions, so very much of absolutely everything, everything Ashlynn felt as if she was being reborn, seeing the world for the first time through the eyes of the man who was capturing her heart with his every move.
Feeling another earth-shattering orgasm thundering through her body, she thrust her fingers into his long dark hair, fisted the silken tresses and dragged his lips to her neck. “Bite me, Alaric. Love me. I am yours.”
Goosebumps rose on her flesh as he taunted the overly sensitive skin of her neck with his fangs. She heard his whispered promise of, “As I am yours,” just as the sharp points of his canines pierced her vein.
Wringing climax after climax from her until Ash ran the blunt tips of her nails down his back, her pussy gripping his throbbing cock as her hips pounded against his and her heels dug into the hard muscles of his ass. The pull of his fangs from her flesh made her pussy grip his cock with a renewed vigor pushing Alaric over the edge as he threw back his head, diving deeper still into her. Roaring her name so loudly she was sure the windows rattled, Alaric emptied himself into her over and over bringing yet another orgasm from her.
Letting his head drop forward, Alaric captured Ashlynn’s eyes with a powerful look of possession and passion as he took her lips in a slow, sensual kiss that touched not only her heart but her very soul. Sliding his arms under her, he slipped his cock from her as he rolled them over on their sides, facing one another with their heads on the pillows at the head of the bed.
Looking into one another eyes, Ashlynn was just about to ask about the magnificent dragon tattoo whose head was over Alaric’s heart while the rest of his body covered the left side of the Vampire’s body when he lifted his head, sniffed the air and bellowed, “Fire!”
Chapter Thirteen
As the acrid scent of burning petrol and the unmistakable heat of an open fire filled his penthouse, Alaric pulled Ashlynn into his arms, jumped out of bed, and set her by his closet as he grabbed clothes for both of them. Shoving a pair of sweats and jacket in her hands, he ordered, “Put these on,” while shoving his legs into a pair of jeans and his feet into his boots.
Grabbing her shoes, he wrapped his arms around her waist and headed out onto the terrace, going down the same fire escape he gone up the night before. Calling to Ruari, glad his friend lived next door above The Galley, Alaric ordered, “Call the fire department. CRAVE is on fire.”
Stepping onto the concrete of the alley behind the club, he dropped Ashlynn’s shoes and set her feet next to them as he called to Sampson, “Come now. There’s a fire at the club. Bring Axel.”
Not waiting for an answer, he quickly scrolled through his contacts, hit the one marked MATEO and before the newest Enforcer could even say hello, snarled, “My club’s on fire. Come do your job.” Disconnecting the call as the other Vampire was speaking, Alaric handed the phone to Ashlynn and pointed to the covered porch on the backside of The Galley.
Hearing the sirens at the precise moment Ruari appeared, he wrapped his fingers around Ashlynn’s upper arms, looked her right in the eye and for the only time in his life he could ever remember, the ancient Vampire begged, “Please don’t follow me into the club. I can hear your thoughts. I know that you plan to be right by my side, but I cannot do what I must if I am worried about your safety.” Motioning with his head, he added, “Go over there. Stay out of harm’s way. I will come for you.”
He could feel her resistance, her need to help and immediately appealed to the Healer within her. “In the closet in The Galley, there’s a large first aid kit. Go get that and help any who are injured. Your handprint is already programmed into the ID pad at all the entrances.”
Smiling as his astounding Bloodmate turned and rushed away, Alaric followed Ruari through the backdoor of CRAVE, into the supply closet and grabbed a huge fire extinguisher. Each walking through one of the sets of double doors that led from the kitchen into Silk Fantasies, the ancient Vampire stopped cold as a familiar scent, one he hadn’t encountered since leaving the bonny shores of Scotland in 1716 rose over the dark, billowing smoke.
“Can you smell that?” He asked Ruari, careful to keep his mental blocks locked tight as he sprayed white foam from the hose attached to the fire extinguisher in his other hand.
“You mean the rancid smell of Scotch malt, Buckfast, and a fuckin’ useless, traitor of a Vampire?” Ruari yelled above the roar of the fire, quickly answering his own question, “Yeah, I smell the son of a whore, but I can’t see him, and the scent of human blood is much stronger.”
Putting the flames wherever he could, Alaric crossed the huge dancefloor making his way to the bar where he could see the outline of his Second through the haze of smoke and falling ash. Looking behind the scorched wood and soot-covered granite he could barely believe his eyes. There, decorated with thousands of scorched, bloody white rose petals was a sickening pile of drained human torsos and severed arms and legs.
Moving closer, shocked at the extra attention the killer had shown by creating a perimeter of wet bar towels around the bloody body parts, making sure they were not engulfed in flames before they could be found. Pounding footsteps and orders hollered through a megaphone drew Alaric’s attention as the firemen came through the front and back of the club dousing the fire with gallon upon gallon of water.
Working alongside the first responders for countless hours, Alaric, Ruari, and Sampson helped to extinguish the blaze until Mateo finally arrived, asking them to meet him outside. Walking through the ruins of his club, the smoldering remains of one of his most profitable businesses, Alaric led the way out the back, thanking his employees who had shown up with water, Gatorade and food for all the firemen and EMTs who fought to save their place of employment.
Shielding his eyes from the late afternoon sun, Alaric looked all around for Ashlynn, calling to her as he walked towards Mateo and the others. Not worried when she didn’t answer, assuming she was at the First Aid station the EMTs has set up at the back of The Galley he stopped next Ruari and asked, “What do you need? As you can see, we’re a bit busy here.”
“Yes, and I’m very sorry for the loss of your club and for those who were indiscriminately hacked to bits by the rogue. We have determined this is the work of one Vampire and you are his target.”
Mateo was scrolling through his phone not making eye contact until Alaric snarled, “You fucking think so, Mat?” He purposely used the Enforcer’s nickname just to piss him off. “You think I’m the target?” He glared at the Enforcer as he pointed at what was left of CRAVE. “Let’s see, he’s done everything but write down the address to every murder. He’s used my family’s crest,
my grandmother’s ring, the tartan of my Clan and written a note in Gaelic with one of his victim’s blood.” Taking an aggressive step forward, furious that the Directive had let it get as far as they had, he roared, “Now, why the fuck are you wasting my time instead of catching the crazy motherfucker.”
“So, you know who it is?”
Mateo looked shocked, making Alaric think about ripping the Enforcer’s head from his shoulders and throwing it into the few flames still burning at the corner of his club. Poking Mateo in the chest, he ground out, “It’s got to be Androu. It can be no other. I told you I couldn’t locate him, that he wasn’t responding, and that he was the only other who would have had access to Brygid’s ring. What the fuck are you waiting for?”
Unfortunately, Alaric never got to hear Mateo’s response as one of the younger firemen came running out of the club, holding a small metal box and calling to him. Turning towards the man in silver fire gear with a respirator hanging around his neck, the ancient Vampire waved his hand, stepping away from Mateo and holding out his hand.
“We found this beside the bodies,” the fireman stated, handing Alaric the box. “It’s so scorched there won’t be any fingerprints, so the Captain said I could bring it to you. I made sure it was cool enough to handle.”
“Thank you so much,” Alaric forced a smile. “Please be sure to get something to eat and drink and tell all your mates.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
Turning back towards Ruari and Sampson, ignoring Mateo, Alaric opened the box, lifted out a stack of pictures that were laid face down with a large scrolling script inked on the back. Reading the words, his blood ran cold, and his rage caught fire. “A Bloodmate for the traitor. This simply cannot stand. Bring me what you took all those years ago and you may retrieve the body of your beloved where the bodies of the freed African-Americans were laid to rest.”
Dropping the box and racing to The Galley, Alaric immediately saw that Ashlynn was frighteningly absent from the scene. Slamming his hand against the ID pad, he nearly ripped the heavy mirrored-glass door from its hinges as he raced to find his Bloodmate as dread filled his soul.
Stopping dead in his tracks as the scent of Ashlynn’s blood smacked him square in the face, he gaped at what used to be a stark white wall leading to the vault and read the words painted in his Bloodmate’s blood aloud, “A thabhairt duit, Deartháir.”
Walking straight to the farthest corner of the building, he stepped into the private elevator, pushed the button marked U and as he descended to the underground garage only very few knew existed, the enraged ancient vampire whispered, “Aye, to me it is, Brother, and may God have mercy on your soulless hide when I find you.”
Chapter Fourteen
She’d heard the sound of one of the doors of The Galley opening and closing, had been sure it was Sampson since Alaric had called the Viking before sending her away and hollered over her shoulder for him to come help her find the First Aid kit in the enormous closet. No sooner had the words left her mouth than the creepy feeling of spiders crawling up her spine made her shiver and the stench of old beer and stale whiskey nearly made her gag.
Slowly standing up, she turned towards the smell and tried not to react as she took in the eerie, gaunt man standing behind her. Tall, lanky to the point of being nearly emaciated, with his long black hair matted in clumps as it hung in oily strings well past his shoulder, the stranger’s nearly transparent skin confirmed that he was a Vampire even before she saw his fangs as he smirked in her direction.
Trying to muster the courage to speak, Ashlynn refused to be bullied as she threw back her shoulders in defiance when the Vampire lisped around his fangs, sounding more like a snake than a man, “Sso, thiss iss what all the fusss iss about? The bastard’ss Bloodmate.”
“If you’re looking for Alaric, he’s over at CRAVE fighting the fire.” She pointed, proud that she’d kept the tremble from her voice and attempting to distract the Vampire long enough to figure out how to contact Alaric with that mind trick he kept using. “Do you know where that is?”
Yeah, it was a stupid question, but she was still trying to call to Alaric. Stepping forward, the unnerving Vamp slowly shook his head, “Nay, I have found who I want.”
Moving back as the man raised his fist, Ash didn’t even get the chance to scream as the jerk opened his hand and blew some kind of nasty smelling shit right into her face. Coughing and sputtering, she remembered falling backward before her world went completely black. The whole fainting and waking up in weird places was getting really old, especially since this time there was no sexy Alaric.
Musty, decayed, and bitter, the scent of old bones, long-forgotten earth and formaldehyde filled her nose making her eyes water as her hacking cough echoed through the darkness. Just as if someone or worse yet, something, had heard her thoughts, a torch, hanging from a sconce on the far side of the room burst to life. Once her eyes had adjusted to the sudden influx of light, Ash immediately wished she was back in the dark and unconscious.
Looking up and down one wall and then the other, she counted over eighty crypts in what she now knew was a mausoleum. Squinting to read their names, she saw things like Jezebel, Matthias, Adam, Ezekiel. Pushing her sight as hard as she could, she was finally able to make out what at first had seemed like a strange emblem but soon she recognized as pictures of broken shackles.
“The Old Dallas Burial Ground,” she murmured, trying to show reverence and her respect to the cemetery that was formed in the early 1840s in an impromptu manner when the first death to occur in the newly formed village of Dallas dictated its necessity.
She remembered visiting the graveyard in her undergraduate years while taking forensic biology. Professor McKinnley’s voice still rang in her ears, his deep Texas drawl somehow adding to the importance of the place. “Now, students, it is important to think of all factors when searching for forensic evidence, not just what you find on that remains of the deceased. You must look at the whole picture, for example, this mausoleum, as well as the cemetery as a whole, is highly atypical for the antebellum South. The Old Dallas Burial Ground which was later named Freedman’s Cemetery marks the final resting place of white settlers, enslaved African Americans, and freed slaves.”
“Researchers have found that Freedman's Cemetery’s origin ultimately traces back to a slave cemetery that later became the first ever communal graveyard and led to the name of the town of Freedman, in which men of all races were considered free and could own land.”
“Kind of ironic that you find yourself shackled to the statue of St. Benedict the Black, the patron saint of freed slaves.” He walked around her, talking in a haughty tone with one arm behind his back like a nobleman and the other motioning as if he was addressing Parliament. The only comfort that she could find was that he was no longer lisping which meant his sharp, deadly fangs were no longer showing and he was talking instead of draining her dry. All she could do was pray Alaric would find her before Cuckoo Pants ripped her to shreds.
“Did you know that the Italian black Catholic saint’s, Benedict, was the son of African slaves. He gained sainthood because he inspired black identity and pride. I wonder if there will ever be a Vampire saint. Don’t you think there should be? We are, after all, the superior race.”
Not answering the raving lunatic, Ashlynn tried to untie the ropes securing her hands behind her back. She may not be able to outrun the fucker, and fighting him was a fool’s errand, but she damned sure wasn’t prepared to die with her ass in the dirt while some deranged asshole gave her a history lesson.
Stopping in front of her and smiling, the asshole Vampire surmised, “I’m sure you have questions.” Standing so close to Ashlynn’s outstretched feet that she jerked them towards her body as she craned her neck to look up at his grossly decorated face, the idiot actually smiled – one that reached all the way to his beady black, soulless eyes making them sparkle in the firelight. It was literally the creepiest thing she’d ever seen, and she oversaw
the insect breeding program at Harvard for a year-and-a-half.
Taking in the layers of dried, caked-on blood, dirt, bits of hair and flesh, she shoved the bile rising in her throat back, tried to school her expression and nodded, “Yes. Why am I here?”
“Excellent question, my dear. You really are as smart as they all say.”
Wondering who ‘they’ were, but was working so hard not to throw up that she had to breathe through her mouth while sitting perfectly still as the crazed predator before her went back to walking and talking.
“You are here simply because you, lovely girl, are the only thing in this world that Alaric loves. You,” once again he stopped right in front of her, “Are the only thing I can take from him that will make him understand the pain I have suffered for nearly four hundred years.”
Remembering something she’d learned in an Abnormal Psychology class about speaking to someone who was suffering a psychotic break, Ashlynn took a deep breath, slowly letting it out, kept her tone soft and even and coaxed, “I am so very sorry for your loss. Would you like to tell me what happened?” Then recalling that she was supposed to use his name as much as possible, she smiled and asked, “Can I know your name?”
Praying with all her might that she could keep Captain Crazy talking, she continued to look into the void that was his gaze as the Vampire responded, “I am Androu, of Clan MacAngoran and your Beloved’s Maker.”
Holding her smile while stuffing her shock at the fact that the Vampire before her could have had anything to do with the man she’d spent the last twenty or so hours with, Ash sweetly replied, “It is nice to meet you, Androu.”
Barely nodding to acknowledge her words, the Psycho went on, “Alaric betrayed us, every member of our Clan, every person who ever loved and cared for him, by leaving Scotland and heading to the New World. He left us when we needed him most, when the Jacobites were invading our island.” Kneeling down to her right, so close that she could feel his cold, fetid breath on her cheek, he seethed, “He left his dear grandmother, Brygid, the woman I loved more than my eternal life, the only woman who ever truly saw me for what I was, and appreciated me, to die, to lose her head on the battlefield like so much fodder for the Duke of Agryll’s war.”
