The Last Vampire- Complete series Box Set

by R. A. Steffan

  When he finally surfaced and prowled up the length of my body, I was panting as though I’d been the one underwater all that time. He was hard again, his erection sliding along the crease of my hip—inches from where I needed it more than I needed my next breath.

  “Please,” I begged shamelessly, arching beneath him. “Oh, god. Please... please... I’ll do anything, just fuck me!”

  His mouth slanted over mine, smothering my words. Devouring them. He swallowed my loud groan as his cock rammed home, drinking in the desperate sounds I made as he fucked me roughly, churning the water around us into waves. Before I could properly brace for it, my body clenched. I jerked my lips free of the kiss, the back of my head thumping against the side of the tub as a full-throated scream tore free of my throat.

  Every muscle convulsed, my body clamping around his dick and pulling him along with me. My vision whited out, despite the fact that my eyes were squeezed tightly closed. I only realized that I’d slipped beneath the surface without meaning to when a strong hand pulled me up again, coughing and gasping and still coming.

  “Mother-fucking sonuva bitch,” I rasped, once my wits started to return.

  Rans slid off me with an uncharacteristic lack of grace, and shook his head as though to clear it.

  “Note to self,” he muttered, sounding thoroughly wrecked. “Put the person who still needs to breathe on top for the actual fucking. Sorry about that, love.”

  A startled bark of laughter escaped me, and I coughed again. “Believe me—the uncontrolled cursing wasn’t intended as a complaint,” I clarified. “Kind of the opposite, actually.”

  He snorted. “Oh? Well, that’s good to hear.” Fingers smoothed waterlogged ringlets of hair back from my face, and he kissed me again before adding, “Now... stop being witty, will you? You’re still supposed to be floating in sub-space. Relax for a bit while I get you untied, and then I’m drying us off so I can put both of us to bed.”

  I let him fumble at the knots holding me bound in place, blinking up at the spotless white ceiling. “Seriously, though,” I said. “That was without a doubt the most intense sex I’ve ever had in my life. And I wasn’t even feeding from you.”

  He unwrapped my left wrist and rubbed at it, making the skin tingle pleasantly. Then he kissed it and moved to my other wrist. “The more stubborn the sub, the harder they eventually drop,” he said lightly. “And you, dear heart, are high on the list of the most stubborn people I’ve ever met.”

  “Uh. Thanks... I think?” I continued to stare at nothing, my brow furrowing as I poked at the strange and unfamiliar feelings he’d cracked open inside me.

  Next, Rans unbuckled the belts that had held my legs bent double. “Hmm. This leather may never be quite the same again. Ah, well. It was worth it.”

  I was still distracted, busy making mental connections. My eyes shifted to him as he frowned down at the waterlogged straps he was holding.

  “Tell me something... was this whole elaborate setup a case of a vampire trying to train a succubus to be more trusting, using sex?” I asked.

  He tossed the belts aside. Metal buckles clinked against the marble floor beside the tub. His blue eyes regarded me frankly as he started massaging my knees and calves, working out the kinks from being bent double for so long.

  “Among other things, perhaps,” he said. “Why? Do you think it’s working?”

  I prodded at the little oasis of mental serenity, which seemed to have appeared within the disorganized turmoil that usually defined my thoughts.

  “Yeah,” I said slowly, not sure quite how to feel about the idea. “God help me. I... kind of think it might be.”

  NINE

  MUCH LATER, AFTER Rans had inspected my finished salt-dagger properly and given it his seal of approval for limited use in a fight, we lay together in a tangle on the couch. I’d poured a second cast of salt-infused resin into the mold, but it would take time to cure. With nothing more pressing to do, I was subjecting Rans to a movie marathon of Interview with the Vampire, The Queen of the Damned, and Dracula 2000.

  “This is quite possibly the worst film I’ve ever seen,” he said with something like awe, as a group of vampires attacked Lestat at the music concert in Death Valley. “How is it that I’ve never heard of this atrocity before?”

  “Probably because it only has a twelve-percent approval rating on Rotten Tomatoes,” I said around a mouthful of popcorn.

  “Seriously?” Rans asked in clear disbelief. “Twelve percent of people approve of this?”

  I shrugged. “What can I say? At least the cinematography is decent.”

  He blinked at me. “I’ll have to take your word for it. I... honestly couldn’t get past the lack of a cogent plot long enough to notice.”

  I’d just shoved another handful of popcorn into my mouth to stifle my snort of laughter when I felt him tense against me. Adrenaline immediately shot through my system—a result of the life I’d been living these past couple of months, I supposed. Nearly choking on the popcorn as I swallowed it, I bolted upright on the sofa and looked around. “What?”

  “Nigellus is back,” he said, all of his loose easiness falling away, replaced by tightness.

  My racing heart slowed, though the tension in my shoulders matched his. “Oh. Well, at least he didn’t come back while you had me tied up in the bath with your head buried between my thighs.”

  He consciously loosened his posture. “A fair point.”

  Too late, something occurred to me. “And... he probably just heard every word of that, didn’t he?”

  Rans lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “I would imagine so, yes. The good news is, he’s usually quite discreet.”

  I sighed. “Awesome.”

  A few moments later, the demon in question entered the room, his dark eyes flicking over the images playing on the television. His gaze turned to me, one eyebrow lifting.

  “Anne Rice despised that film adaptation, you realize,” he said.

  I shrugged. “Really? Oh well, it’s not like she didn’t get a fat royalty check out of it for the movie rights. So, how’s my father doing?”

  Nigellus looked drawn—almost haggard as he scrubbed a hand through his close-cropped hair. I shouldn’t have cared, but somehow it was still a bit disconcerting to see him in any other state than cool and put-together.

  “He is well enough. Edward is with him. They seemed to be getting on—Edward is in his element with someone to fuss over, as I’m certain you can imagine.”

  Despite everything, I took comfort from his words. For the dozenth time, I hoped I wouldn’t come to regret my natural affection and trust for Nigellus’ soul-bound butler.

  “That’s good,” I said cautiously. “Thank you for arranging it.”

  “Did your business in Hell conclude the way you’d hoped?” Rans asked, as though the being in front of us hadn’t been secretly betraying his trust for centuries.

  Nigellus’ expression went flat and distant. “Not particularly, no,” he said. “But, that being said—as long as the wards are in place, it needn’t concern either of you.”

  “I disagree,” Rans shot back, a hint of steel creeping into his tone. “Anything that would concern us if the wards went down also concerns us while they’re up, Nigellus.”

  Vampire and demon gazes locked for a long moment, neither backing down. I glanced back and forth between the two of them, like someone watching a tennis match. The silence stretched. Somewhat to my surprise, it was Nigellus who broke first.

  He turned away, waving a dismissive hand as he paced the length of the room. “Myrial has already lodged a complaint with the Council. Not an unexpected move.”

  “A complaint against me, you mean?” I clarified.

  “Who else?” Nigellus replied. “As I said, though, you need not concern yourself. I will attempt to deal with the situation.”

  But I wasn’t about to accept another pat on the head and a mouthful of platitudes under these circumstances.

  “
What if I want to lodge a complaint against Myrial?” I pressed, anger flooding me. “Does no one in Hell give a damn that she... he... violated the treaty once, and made a pretty spirited attempt to violate it a second time by shooting silver bullets at Rans in St. Louis? If I’m demon enough to get through the gate from Hell to Earth, don’t I merit protection under Hell’s laws?”

  I was on my feet, fists clenched, not remembering when I’d risen from the couch.

  “Politics,” Rans muttered from behind me, his voice tight.

  Nigellus turned, so that his back was no longer to me.

  “Strategy,” he corrected. “You are young, Zorah, and you were raised in the human world. I chose to prioritize your immediate physical safety over dealing with the matter in front of the Council, by bringing you here and arranging for the wards to be put in place rather than going straight to my fellow council members. That decision left an opening for Myrial to take. It was a calculated risk.”

  My eyebrows went up. “Wait. So you’re an actual member of this Council?” That probably shouldn’t have been a surprise, I supposed. “What is it, exactly? The governing body in Hell? Does it cover the tithelings, or just demons?”

  “Yes, yes, and both,” he said, with the air of someone who found the fact that he needed to have this discussion with me endlessly tiresome.

  I took a moment to match the list of answers with the right questions. “Can’t I go and make an unrelated complaint about Myrial trying to bully my father into a soul-bond? He’s a titheling now, and you said demons weren’t allowed to bind tithelings.”

  His lips quirked down. “I said it was frowned upon. There’s a significant difference.”

  I caught Rans’ brief expression of surprise at Nigellus’ words, but he shook his head minutely when I shot him a questioning look. I let go of it and returned my attention to the current subject.

  “Okay, fine. But even if trying to bind a human against his will isn’t a crime in Hell, surely breaking the treaty is. Call me naive, but ‘politics’ isn’t an adequate explanation for ignoring the fact that Myrial fathered a cambion on Earth a few decades ago, in clear violation of the peace agreement.”

  “Perhaps it wouldn’t be,” Nigellus said grimly, “if a credible accusation were leveled by the Fae Court, with incontrovertible proof of the perpetrator’s identity attached.”

  I tried to digest that. “So the demons only care about getting caught? Not about the law itself?”

  “Elegantly put,” Rans muttered in a sour tone.

  Nigellus shot him a dark look. “The governance of Hell is a complex system, and not one best understood within a human frame of reference. The behavior of Hell’s denizens is shaped by contracts and agreements, not mandates.”

  I shook my head, frustrated. “Isn’t the treaty with the Fae both a contract and an agreement?”

  The demon tipped his head in the barest of acknowledgements. “It is. However, as I stated—the Fae are the only ones with legal standing in the matter, and they have not brought a complaint against Myrial.”

  “No,” I snapped. “They were too busy coming after me.”

  My brow furrowed, and I tamped down my frustration with the conversation in favor of contemplating the logistics involved in getting hold of Albigard for a little off-the-record chat. If I’d understood things correctly, he wasn’t a member of the Unseelie Court himself, but I wondered if he might have contacts that could bring such a complaint.

  Nigellus’ expression grew jaded. “You are considering reaching out to your Fae ally.”

  I covered the jolt of surprise that rattled me. Had he plucked that thought directly from my mind somehow, or was I just really, really predictable? Rans face went hard, and I gathered I’d be hearing objections about my half-formed idea from that corner as well.

  “I’m considering my options,” I shot back. “If you don’t like them, give me some better ones, damn it.”

  “If the Fae did manage to prove a treaty violation,” Rans said, sounding tired, “They wouldn’t simply go after Myrial. They’d tear up the entire treaty and toss it out the window, then immediately start sharpening their swords for a new battle against Hell, with Earth stuck in the middle as per fucking usual.”

  I deflated, and turned a glare on Nigellus. “Why do both of your damned races have to be so bloodthirsty?” I snapped.

  “Says the human whose government holds enough nuclear warheads to destroy the entire planet in the space of a day,” Nigellus said mildly.

  “I’m not human,” I said sharply. “Myrial ensured that much.”

  But it was a weak argument, and I knew it.

  Nigellus and Rans both drew breath to say something, but the stately chimes of the doorbell cut them off before either could speak. They frowned and turned as one toward the front of the house, on sudden alert like a pair of Dobermans. It took me a second to remember why someone being at the door was cause for such a strong reaction, and then it hit me.

  Right. Invisible house—hello.

  “Wait. What the actual hell?” I asked, casting around for an explanation. “That... couldn’t be Edward, could it?”

  “No,” Nigellus said, “It couldn’t be.”

  Of course—Edward would need Nigellus to be physically present to get him back through the gate of Hell using the soul-bond.

  “Then... who on Earth...?” I began.

  Rans swirled into mist, reappearing mere seconds later with a sword in one hand and an iron dagger in the other. “Take this,” he said by way of warning, and I snatched the weapon out of the air as he tossed it to me hilt-first. My heartbeat pounded in a staccato beat as adrenaline flooded my system.

  Nigellus did not move to arm himself with a weapon, but he did trade a quick glance with Rans—who, in turn, jerked his chin at me in silent command, urging me toward the stairwell leading upstairs. I jogged up the steps, Rans at my heels, even as Nigellus moved slowly toward the front door. We set ourselves on one side of the upstairs landing, where we had a view of the front door but wouldn’t be immediately noticeable to someone standing outside unless they thought to look up.

  A distant corner of my mind didn’t want to be part of a well-oiled team with the demon who was hurting the man I loved, damn it. I spared a sidelong glance at Rans, but he was focused intently on the entryway below us—his sword held motionless behind his body, completely invisible to anyone on the main floor. I followed suit, holding the dagger behind my back and trying to breathe silently.

  I was, I realized, getting a glimpse into a fighting partnership that had been honed over centuries of warfare, even if it was tainted now by the knowledge of what Nigellus had been doing to Rans since the peace treaty took effect. An ache of regret tried to take up residence in my throat, but this wasn’t the time for it.

  Below us, Nigellus opened the door without so much as looking through the peephole first. I wondered if he really was so powerful that he could sense whoever was on the other side, or if he just didn’t consider anyone in the human realm to be a threat worth worrying about. I peered down, staying still and silent in the shadows. Nigellus’ tall frame blocked most of my view, but I got a brief impression of long, white-blonde hair and blue eyes before a bell-like voice spoke.

  “Ah, Mr. Benecea,” said the woman. “Good. You’re finally back from your business trip. Did you know your house is invisible? You should probably get someone in to take a look at that.”

  TEN

  “MS. LANE,” NIGELLUS said in a tone that could have stripped varnish from wood.

  “I’ve told you before, call me Neveah,” said the woman, her voice as bubbly as a glass of champagne. “Now, do you have a moment to talk? It feels like I’ve been trying to chase you down for ages.”

  I shot a questioning look at Rans, but he shrugged minutely to indicate he was none the wiser about Nigellus’ unexpected visitor.

  “This isn’t a good time,” Nigellus said in a flat voice.

  I caught a flash of a bril
liant, feminine smile, and felt an odd little flutter in my stomach that made me frown. What the hell? Curious, I tried to reach out with my magical senses, hoping to get a better read on the blonde bombshell at the door. I could tell right off that she definitely wasn’t Fae. I was fairly certain she wasn’t a demon either. And she obviously couldn’t be a vampire... but how would a human have been able to find the front door when the house was warded?

  “Oh, I understand! I’ll only take a minute of your time, in that case,” the woman—Neveah?—said. “Perhaps you could tell me why out-of-state auditors are here in California, looking into your property records and recent business dealings, though? It all seems rather irregular, given that you’re not even listed as a resident of the state.”

  “I’m sure I have no idea,” Nigellus said. “Perhaps you’d do better to ask them. Good day.”

  He closed the door in her face, cutting off her cry of, “But Mr. Benecea, wait!” and locking the latch behind her. I could see the demon’s shoulders rise and fall in a sigh of irritation. A moment later, he turned to regard us at the top of the stairs.

  “Is the rest of the house secure?” he asked. “I wouldn’t put it past the bloody woman to try and sneak in a back door or take photos through a window.”

  “Yes, of course it is,” Rans replied. “Doors locked, shades drawn. So... would you care to explain that?”

  “Some explanations would be good, yeah,” I said, fighting down a sudden chill. “Who on Earth was that woman, and why the hell haven’t you mentioned anything about out-of-state auditors before now?”

  We made our way down to the main level, where Nigellus raised an eyebrow at me.

  “I will admit, I’m surprised the state of my finances on Earth is your main concern under the circumstances,” he observed.