Olivia grazed the point of one of his fangs with her fingertip. He remained very still and she had the strangest feeling that he was letting her see him like this.
“You’re not... like any vampire... I’ve seen.” Her words swam in her head, disjointed. Was she making sense to him?
His lips quirked.
“Not a vampire,” he whispered and drew her closer, and her gaze lingered on his mouth. Decadent. Profane. A mouth made for kissing. She wanted to kiss him. Olivia shook herself. It was just the blood loss talking. He frowned, a flicker of concern in his purple eyes, and then his expression turned guarded again. “Perhaps I am a forefather of that species.”
He leaned down and she didn’t resist him. His cheek brushed hers, cooler now, and he licked her throat. The gentle sweep of his tongue over her flesh sent a shudder through her and the achy heat returned, making her skin feel too tight.
She lost herself again in that caress, each stroke of his tongue cranking her temperature up another ten degrees, until she was burning inside.
His words swam around her cloudy mind.
“Forefather.” She frowned and the fog began to lift, bringing with it too many questions, all of them centred around the gorgeous male clutching her against his naked body, licking her throat. “How old are you?”
He lifted his head and stared down into her eyes.
Alarms shrieked and the room spun in a blur across her eyes, and suddenly she was behind him, her bottom against the empty inspection table, and he was in front of her. He reached behind himself and grabbed her arm, pulling her closer to his back. Bottom. Oh my. She stared at it, blaming the blood loss for her shamelessness. He had a fine backside. The markings swept above it, meeting on his spine and drifting up his back to his shoulders.
She dazedly reached out to touch them.
The doors burst open and the man jerked her closer, smashing her against his back. She peered past him, touching him forgotten. Two men were there and she didn’t recognise either of them.
The men she worked with didn’t wear black armour like these men. It was like a second skin on their bodies, covering them from jaw to toe. Their helmets were fashioned to cover all but a V across their eyes and rose back into two dragon-like horns. She gasped when the part that swept downwards to conceal their nose and mouth opened, each slat sliding beneath the next.
The man shielding her said something in his foreign tongue.
Olivia pressed herself against his back and eyed the tools just a few feet away from her. A scalpel wasn’t a weapon, but it would suffice in an emergency. This was definitely an emergency.
Were these the men who had harmed the one in front of her?
The alarms continued to shriek and she prayed the resident hunters reached her before it was too late and these men attacked.
She dived for the tray of tools, but wasn’t quick enough. The man grabbed her right wrist and pulled her back to him, the swiftness of the action too much for her in her weakened condition. Her legs gave out and she hit the pale floor of the medical room, her left hand catching on the trolley and sending it crashing into the monitor stands.
One of the other men spoke.
In the same language as her specimen.
He answered them and she looked up at him, on her hands and knees on the floor. The men pressed their hands to their chest in a sort of salute. They were with her specimen. Here to take him from her. He reached for her and voices sounded outside in the corridor. The two men rushed forwards to grab him. The male snarled something dark and looked at her with striking purple eyes that spoke of anger, confusion and regret.
And disappeared in a brief flash of violet and blue light that left a flickering outline of him behind that lasted barely a second.
Olivia stared at the space where he and the two other men had been, blinking slowly, trying to get her head around what had just happened.
Hunters raced into the room, her friend Sable leading the charge. She rushed over to Olivia and helped her stand. He had wanted to do that. He had tried to protect her from men who clearly served him.
Olivia rested against the inspection table, confused and dizzy.
What was he?
She tugged the collar of her white coat up to conceal the marks he had placed on her throat, her fingers lingering over them.
He had bitten her, but said he wasn’t a vampire. A forefather of that species.
Olivia turned her head and stared at the remains of his clothing, replaying everything that had happened after he had bitten her. He had taken care of her, sealing the puncture marks, and then he had protected her.
And then he had held his hand out to her.
She had the weirdest notion he had meant to take her with him and had been angry because the arrival of the hunters had stopped him from doing so.
“Are you alright?” Sable bobbed around in front of her to get her attention, her golden eyes shining with concern.
Olivia focused on her friend and nodded.
Lied.
She didn’t feel alright.
She wasn’t sure she would ever feel right again.
Not until she knew what he was.
Not until she saw him again.
Not until she gave him hell for biting her.
CHAPTER 2
Loren curled his hips, driving himself into the female’s supple body, tearing another sweet moan from her lips. Her fingers tangled in his black hair and she kissed him, her mouth hot and teasing, her tongue sweeping along his. He took control of the kiss, mastering her mouth and forcing her into submission. Her tongue danced with his, her lips soft and yielding, her taste addictive. He caught the nape of her neck with one hand and held her in place, taking her mouth as he took her body, his kiss as aggressive as his thrusts.
Her feet tightened against his backside, a silent plea for more, and he clutched her hips, dragged her to the edge of the black-rubber-topped table and pumped her harder, thrusting as deep as he could go. She tipped her head back, causing the soft waves of her chestnut hair to spill around her shoulders, a beautifully wanton and wild look in her rich brown eyes. Loren growled and took her harder, driven by a need to claim all of her. He grunted with each thrust, each meeting of their hips, lost in how warm and wet she was, tightly gloving him and driving him crazy with a need for more.
A fine sheen of sweat slicked her flushed cheeks and dappled across her bare breasts, some drops gathering on her beaded nipples.
Another growl escaped him. He wanted to taste those exquisite buds as he took her.
He leaned over her, pressing her down into the table and rising above her without breaking his rhythm. Her white coat parted, falling away from her body and revealing all of her to his hungry eyes. He snarled possessively and swooped down to claim her left nipple, tugging the hard pebble into his mouth. She mewled, clawed his shoulders and dug her fingers through his hair, clutching him against her. Her body clenched his, drawing him deeper, heightening his pleasure as he thrust into her with long measured strokes, feeling all of her.
Loren still needed more. It wasn’t enough. He needed to know she was his and she knew it.
She rocked her hips, countering his movements, taking him as deep as her body would allow. The tip of his length struck deep inside her and he withdrew almost all the way out of her before he plunged back in, striking her again. He moaned and curled his hands around her shoulders, settling his weight on his elbows. He dragged her against him with each thrust of his hips, desperate for more, needing to take her harder and deeper, ruining her to all other males. His legs quivered but he didn’t stop. Couldn’t. He wanted to possess her. He wanted to stamp his mark on every inch of her.
Loren rammed harder into her, making her feel him, wanting her to know she was his now.
She groaned and arched her breasts into his mouth, and he sucked harder on her nipple, teasing it with his blunt teeth as he continued to drive into her, relentless and hard, unable to ignore his need to take her so
thoroughly she would never want another male and would never forget him. He lightly bit down on her nipple and her husky moan went straight through him. His fangs descended in response and he rose off her again, bracing himself over her as he plunged into her, bringing her towards her climax with savage relentless strokes. She thrashed her head and arched upwards, her body tightening around his, ripping a groan from his throat. Her feet pressed into his buttocks, forcing his hard length into her each time he withdrew. Her dark eyes pleaded him for more, her breathless moans his guide, telling him that she was close.
Loren wanted to feel them climax together.
His lips peeled back off his fangs and she obeyed, turning her head to one side, revealing the marks he had placed on her before, in this same laboratory. He struck hard again, burying his fangs into her soft warm flesh and pulling hard on her blood. She cried out and her body quivered around his, her pleasure racing into him through her blood, bringing him to climax. He shuddered and jerked, growled into her as he came, pumping his seed into her hot core as he pulled her blood into his body.
Loren shot up in bed, breathing hard and shaking, his senses reeling with the intense pleasure boiling in his veins. His cock ached, the brush of the silk covers pooled around his waist agony against his sensitive flesh. He rubbed his palm down it and heat shot through him, sweeping outwards with his groin at its epicentre. He groaned and flopped back onto the bed, struggling to catch his breath.
It had been two days since he had woken a captive of a mortal organisation and taken the female’s blood. Every time he had closed his eyes to catch some sleep and speed his healing, she was there waiting for him in his dreams.
Erotic, intense, incredible dreams.
Loren palmed himself again and then dragged his hand away. He was only inviting the dreams if he pleasured himself because of them. He dug his hands under the soft pillows beneath his head, caging them there, and stared at the wooden ceiling of his rooms.
Why couldn’t he get his mind off her?
She haunted him every waking hour and every sleeping one, filling his head with thoughts that had him needful of her and aching, hard at some extremely inappropriate times.
Loren sincerely hoped that his clothing had concealed the erection he had sported during a council meeting. It had refused to go away, dragging his mind through the gutter, making him imagine taking the female right there on his throne. He hadn’t heard a word his trusted advisors had said as they had gently berated him about his lack of caution that had led to him being injured and left at the mercy of demon hunters.
He scrubbed a hand down his face and then shoved his fingers through his black hair, yanking it back hard enough to hurt.
He hadn’t experienced lust in forty-two centuries, not since he had gone to war with his brother. He also hadn’t thought of anything other than Vail and their war in that time. He didn’t like it. He needed to focus on his brother now that he had re-emerged from hiding.
Searching for his brother had occupied most of his days since their war had begun. Vail cloaked himself, making it impossible for Loren to find him through the link between their blood, so all searching had to be done manually, using scouts and his dwindling army to follow up rumours and find clues.
His brother had been gone without a trace, clue or rumour to follow for almost four centuries.
Loren’s guard had been down three nights ago when walking the castle grounds, needing the space from his aides so he could think. Vail had defeated him before he had even managed to rally his senses and begin to defend and retaliate.
Somehow, he had ended up in the mortal realm. Was Vail there now?
It unnerved Loren. Vail had never taken their battle to the mortal realm and the council were concerned that he intended to reveal the existence of his kind to the humans.
Loren’s people were already low in number as it was, weakened by attacks resulting from his brother’s nefarious plots throughout the centuries. He wasn’t sure they would survive should the mortals discover a way into this realm and send in their armies.
The council were using this latest attack, and almost successful attempt on Loren’s life, to force him to agree to drop his attempts to capture Vail and end him instead. Loren closed his eyes, his chest aching at the thought of killing his brother, his only family. He was still convinced that Vail could be saved, but he was the only one who felt that way. Everyone else, even his second in command, Bleu, believed that Vail was a tyrant and deserved to die in exchange for the lives he had taken on the battlefield, both by his own blades and by underhanded tactics.
Loren had a duty to his people.
The council took great pleasure in reminding him of that and Loren could never argue against it. His duty was to his people and he would do all in his power to protect them.
Even kill his brother.
He wasn’t sure he had the strength to do it though. Whenever he saw Vail, he wanted to capture him and bring him home. He wanted to save him and he hesitated because of it, allowing his brother to escape.
Now, Loren feared that it was a fool’s dream and that he would live to see his kingdom fall and his people suffer because of his love for his brother.
Because of his inability to place his people before his only family.
The council weren’t on the battlefield to see what he witnessed. Whenever he met Vail in battle, they dealt each other blows, but it had always felt as though they were toying with each other, neither of them desiring the death of the other.
The times when Vail’s female were present were different though. The witch had been present at many of their fights over the centuries and each time Vail had been a savage, wild man, focused and determined. The sight of his brother like that left Loren with the feeling that his brother had completely lost his mind.
Whenever they had crossed swords without Kordula present, Vail still seemed crazed, but not savage or mindless. He flitted between attacking and retreating, as though he was split between them, his mind torn in two.
Loren heaved a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.
He still ached. No longer the ache of arousal. The wounds on his body were healing but sore, a lingering reminder that Vail was dangerous and had almost killed him this time.
Why now?
He couldn’t recall everything that had happened. There were pieces missing and he had a strong urge to return to the female doctor and finish finding out how she had come across him.
Not a wise idea.
Common sense warned that he really wanted to return to her because he had another strong urge, the one that occupied his dreams and had him rising beneath the sheets again.
Loren sat up and shifted his legs over the left edge of his expansive mattress. He shed the dark purple sheets and rose from the bed, stretched and tried to ignore how hard he was again. It was no use. He had ignored it for two days and it wasn’t going to go away until he found release. Many in his court would suggest finding a female to slake himself on but he didn’t want a stranger in his bed, a female who would be there under orders no doubt, doing her duty for the kingdom.
He hadn’t bedded a woman since long before he had gone to war with Vail. He wasn’t going to start now. He wanted his ki’ara. His fated female. He wanted the one destined to be his forever.
He crossed the room, heading towards the arch to his right, beyond the wardrobes that lined the opposite side of the wall to his bed. His bathing room was half the size of his bedroom, all dark stone on the floor and walls. A beautiful crystal chandelier hung above the bathing pool that was set into the floor. The crystals shone in different colours, casting them around the room.
Loren bent and swept his hand through the water in the large square pool. It was warm. He stepped down into it and sunk under the surface, holding his breath and letting the water heat every inch of him. Coloured light rippled and danced across the surface above, and a sense of peace flowed through him. When the need to breathe became urgent, he broke the s
urface and moved to the side of the pool closest to his bedroom. He leaned back against it and closed his eyes, resting the back of his head on the edge.
Thoughts of the female instantly invaded the darkness behind his closed eyes. Loren focused on the warmth surrounding him and how peaceful he had felt while under the surface, trying to shut them out. His cock ached again, rigid beneath the water. Loren ignored that too. He would soak to ease his tired muscles and sore body, and then he would rise and dress, and would speak with Bleu.
The female danced back into his mind, wearing the parted white coat and very little beneath. He pictured her standing across from him, at the edge of the pool there, her brown eyes dark with desire as she raked them over him.
She cocked her head to one side and ran her fingers down her chest, circling her breasts with them, shifting the two sides of the white coat and flashing her dark nipples. He groaned and she smiled, hooked her fingers into her coat and slowly opened it, revealing all of her to his eyes. She let the material slide down her body and pool around her bare feet, and then stepped into the water.
Loren swallowed hard, transfixed by her as she waded towards him, her hips swaying with each leisurely step, teasing him.
He ran his arms along the edge of the pool, waiting for her.
The female stopped before him and he held one hand out to her. She slipped hers into it and he lured her down to him. She pressed one knee beside his thigh and straddled him. Loren swallowed again and eased lower in the water, took hold of her hips, and brought her into position above his hard length.
The head of him nudged into her hot sheath and she moaned, easing down onto him, taking him deep. Loren clutched her hips and groaned as he raised her off him and then brought her back down, setting a slow pace this time. She held on to his shoulders, causing his markings to shimmer brightly, and began to ride him, seizing control of their lovemaking. Loren let her, laying back and enjoying the feel of her taking him into her body, squeezing and releasing him, making him buck beneath her. She smiled whenever he thrust upwards, unable to help himself, and rode him harder and faster, until they were both panting and moaning, lost in the moment.
Kissed by a Dark Prince (Volume 1) Page 2
