Dark and Damaged: Eight Tortured Heroes of Paranormal Romance: Paranormal Romance Boxed Set

by Colleen Gleason

  He couldn’t explain his drive toward her. On some level he’d thought if he spread her legs and spent his seed deep within her sex, he’d be free to move on.

  But he didn’t want to. He wanted to stick and that had surprised him. Nothing about Five Bridges invited permanence. Life was more about staying alive than planning a future, especially as a Border Patrol officer.

  The past twenty-four hours with Iris had meant more to him than the last thirty years of his life. The trouble was, he wanted more. And more.

  He kissed her breasts, taking his time until her body was undulating all over again. He lifted up and caressed her waist and hips, then took his cock in hand.

  Yes. Once more her voice floated through his head.

  He met her gaze, teasing her opening with the tip of his cock. You want this?

  She smiled. “More than I’ve wanted anything in a long time. I want you inside me, driving deep, your energy floating over me again. And one more thing … ” She rubbed her fingers up and down her throat. “If you’re hungry, I’d love to feed you.”

  He groaned and pushed at the same time, piercing her sex with his cock. As he moved inside her, he stroked her throat with his fingers. “I’d love to.”

  A smile infused her entire face. “Good. Because feeding you rocks my world.”

  Becoming a vampire, especially against his will, had disgusted him in the beginning, especially his drive to take from the vein. When he’d gotten the hang of things, and developed a craving for sustenance, he’d grown more comfortable with the process.

  But feeding from Iris had taken him to a whole new level and made him glad, for one of the few times in his life, for the alter.

  He drove deep inside her and she gasped then met his hips with a serious push of her own. He thrust steadily, caressing her face and kissing her, letting her know with each touch how much she meant to him. If another part of him rose up to remind him he didn’t deserve her, he shut it down fast.

  This time was for him, however long it lasted. And he intended to take it.

  Kissing a line down her throat, he smelled her blood. It was like a fresh breeze on a hot day, so different from any other woman he’d fed from. He licked her throat and her whole body responded in a seductive roll, a confirmation she wanted to feed him.

  His fangs descended and he angled just so, then sunk the sharp tips deep. She cried out, gasping. He formed a seal around the wounds and began to drink.

  He knew what to expect but the flavor of her blood and the energy that accompanied it surprised him all over again. His hips moved faster. She surrounded him with her arms.

  I love this, Connor. More than you can know.

  Me, too. And I love that I can talk to you while I’m doing this. Your blood, Iris, it does something amazing to me. I can’t explain it. I’m feeling power and sex, a drive for things I’d never thought possible.

  I know what you mean. Feeding you is like walking beneath the sun again. And your cock. You feel perfect inside me, made for me.

  He was breathing hard as he worked her sex and sucked on her vein. As before, his muscles began to grow pumped and the core of his being felt as though he could do anything.

  In this moment, he realized he was ready for life to take him an entirely new direction. In a way, it already had. He was making love to a witch, something he never thought he’d do.

  He drew back from her vein, swiping the wounds with his tongue to seal them up. He looked down at her, his hips rocking into her. “Iris, I know this will sound crazy, but will you marry me?”

  Her eyes widened. “Connor, is that what you want?”

  “It is.”

  Sudden tears filled her eyes. “Then I will.”

  He smiled as he rolled his hips. “Not even a single doubt?”

  She caressed his face, his shoulder, his arm. “No, not even one.”

  “Then we’re engaged.” Once more his guilt rose up, threatening to undo him, but he repressed all the accompanying thoughts and terrible images of his past crimes. He didn’t deserve Iris, but for these few minutes or hours, he would pretend he could have her as his wife.

  She leaned up to kiss him. He followed her back down, returning the kiss and sliding his tongue inside her mouth.

  She held him tight, embracing him with both arms. He moved faster and felt her sex pulling on him. Are you ready?

  I am.

  Faster?

  Yes, please.

  He could feel her smiling as he kissed her, then lifted up so he could watch her face. He moved faster now, slamming into her. Her fingers kneaded the muscles of his arms and her hips moved with him then against him until finally she arched her neck and screamed.

  The sight of her ecstasy tightened his balls and his release came like an exquisite fire pulsing through him. With each pump of his hips, he gave to Iris what he felt belonged only to her now.

  The pleasure opened his throat and he roared, his hips pumping until the last of his seed left his body. She’d grown lax as well, her arms no longer around him but arranged haphazardly on the bed as though she couldn’t hold them up.

  Her eyes were at half-mast.

  “Was it good for you?” He wanted to hear her say it.

  “Absolute heaven.” She lifted a lazy arm and pushed his hair back.

  He kissed her again. “So, you’ll marry me?” He was being foolish but he didn’t care.

  “Uh-huh. I will. This is the first time in ten years I’ve felt more like myself and actually hopeful for the future.”

  She’d said it right. “I feel the same way. But it’s crazy isn’t it?”

  Connor had a sudden overwhelming need to tell her about the night of the massacre, to confess his worst sin. But he didn’t want to ruin the moment, not when he was still connected to her physically and she looked so satisfied.

  ***

  Later, Iris lay in bed and pulled the quilt over her. Connor was showering and she’d follow after. She ran her hands over the nubby texture, the color scheme of the various squares mostly in pinks and greens. She’d bought it many years ago at a flea market before her abduction. The quilt was also one of the things she’d brought with her to Five Bridges from her human life.

  When Connor returned, he was frowning. He gestured to the second bedroom. “The door was open and I had a look inside. Iris, did you have a baby?”

  The question took her by surprise and without warning tears flooded her eyes. She nodded then told him about being pregnant during her alter.

  He came to sit beside her on the bed and took her hand. “I’m so sorry. Christ, you lost your husband and a baby, then your sister. How did you bear it?”

  “With great difficulty. But my friend and mentor, Eliza, helped me a lot.”

  He sighed, holding her gaze. “This is good between, us right?”

  “It’s wonderful.”

  He rose to get dressed. “The shower’s all yours. But when you’re done, we should talk.” He looked so serious.

  “I won’t take long.”

  As she gathered her things then moved into the bathroom, she wondered how many times Connor had come close to death in his line of work. Was it possible he’d chosen to work the border, one of the most difficult jobs in their world, because he had a death wish?

  Earlier, she’d wanted to address what she perceived as the darkness in his soul, but the moment had been too wonderful. Maybe he was thinking the same thing and the time had come.

  If they were to be married, she needed to know what was going on.

  When she was done cleaning up, she returned to her bedroom, but Connor wasn’t there. She heard what sounded like the TV. Maybe he was checking the news.

  She dressed in a fresh pair of jeans and another short-sleeved t-shirt, this one in red. Brushing out her hair, she bound it once more in a ponytail.

  Making her way to the living room, she saw Connor standing near the kitchen, but he looked shocked-out again. “Iris, I’m sorry—”

  “
What do you mean?”

  As she moved into the dining area, she saw that the TV wasn’t on after all. Then she felt a terrible presence; a dark witch was in her home.

  She walked slowly, her heart beating hard in her chest. Her protective spell had been disrupted after all. Reaching the point of the hall where she could see into her living room, Evan and one of the most infamous witches of Elegance came into view. Seraphina.

  “Don’t be alarmed, my dear,” Seraphina said. “We’re only here to make sure you knew about Connor.”

  She was dressed in a long, black velvet gown, had long curly auburn hair and a pure white complexion. Her eyes were black as well. They might have been a different color at one time, but the kind of craft she practiced, sometimes darkened the eyes. She was tall with a straight nose. She might have been beautiful at one time, but something about the evil she embraced had hardened her features.

  The witch continued, “I mean Evan and I can tell that you’ve developed a fondness for the vampire, as I have for my most beloved Evan. But you should know the truth about Connor before you get too involved.” She turned to the man whose arm she held. “Wouldn’t you agree, darling?”

  Evan smiled as he met her gaze. “Absolutely.” He shifted his attention to Iris. “We felt it imperative you knew everything.” He gestured to Connor. “Though I think he should tell you. My guess is he’s been trying to, but couldn’t find exactly the right time to share what he did to your sister.”

  Connor scowled at Evan. “What do you mean, Iris’s sister?”

  “Oh, yes. She was there. Isn’t this somehow poetic?” He gestured to the table. “She’s the one with you in the top photograph. That’s Violet. She and Iris went through the alter together.”

  Iris’s heart beat hard in her chest, hammering away. She knew instinctively that what Connor would say next had to do with the very thing she was most concerned about, the blackness in his soul. “Connor? Is he talking about the massacre in The Graveyard, where Violet died?”

  “My memory of that night is sketchy at best. But Evan has showed me the photos.” He waved a hand to the table. “Please tell me that’s not Violet.”

  She moved with leaden feet in the direction of a pile of eight-by-ten photographs. She recognized her sister, the life gone from her eyes. Connor was near her, naked, the red flames on his throat indicating he was high, and his fangs dripping. He’d been at the massacre, the one where Violet had been tortured, raped and killed.

  CHAPTER 7

  Connor stood in a state of shock. He hadn’t moved since Evan and Seraphina had pushed through Iris’s spell and strolled casually into her living room. They’d been smiling. Evan had even lifted both hands as if in surrender. “We come in peace.”

  But Seraphina had carried the folder tucked beneath her arm and set it on the dining table. And after flipping it open for him, she spread the photos out.

  He’d recognized the location at once, the cement walls and floor of a partially blasted out building. A dozen women had died that night and he’d been part of it. Though to this day, he didn’t know all that he’d done.

  Now Iris knew about his worst crime. Only it was far worse than he could have ever imagined, because her sister, Violet, had been among the slain witches. Guilt over the massacre swamped him all over again.

  He’d been foolish as hell to think his life could be different. But at least Iris now saw him for the monster he was. He felt the waves of her shock and her hatred for his kind boiling in the space between them.

  Seraphina addressed Iris. “Don’t take it too hard. Connor is after all a vampire first, then a man. He couldn’t resist taking out his true nature on something as lovely as your sister. You must forgive him, you know.” Then she laughed, a loud trill that set his nerves on fire.

  Evan caressed the hand still holding his arm. “I think our work here is done, my love.”

  “I believe it is. And we should definitely give these two some time to talk things out.”

  With that, a black cloud filled the room and like something from a cheap movie, the pair disappeared, the cloud with them.

  Iris’s gaze was still fixed on the sight of her sister in the top photo. Violet’s eyes were blank and empty, her skin a pure white, her body covered in blood. He forced himself to move forward then gathered up the photos and shoved them back into the folder, closing it.

  “Iris—” he began, but nothing followed. The horror of his existence in Five Bridges fell on him like a heavy weight, pressing him down, closing his throat.

  “You did this to Violet? To my own sister?”

  “I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I was there. I know I was there, but my memories of the event aren’t complete. I’ve hated myself for this, for my part in hurting these women.”

  “Why did you do it?”

  “I didn’t choose to do this. I was abducted by one of the Rotten Row death squads and shot up with a high dose of blood flame. I don’t remember anything after that, just random images of chaos and violence.” He could recall the screams of the women, the hard laughter of the men. At some point he’d passed out and when he woke up at home he had no idea how he’d gotten there. He’d been beaten almost to the point of death.

  She gestured to the now closed folder. “There was blood on your fangs and my sister was dead. I think it’s clear what happened.”

  “I know.” He sat down in the nearest chair, his mind fixed on that night, trying to remember. But it was blurred like hearing and seeing the whole thing underwater between empty stretches of nothing.

  He felt himself falling into a familiar pit only this time, he wouldn’t be able to crawl back out. He’d fallen in love with Iris, but it looked like he’d raped and killed her sister. There was nothing for him here, not now, not ever. He’d been a fool to begin to hope. This was Five Bridges where everyone’s soul came to die.

  “Get out.” Iris said quietly. He felt her killing power rising, but he wasn’t going to let her suffer later remorse for taking his life. Because of what they’d shared, she’d have guilt if she killed him.

  He rose, numb to his feet, and slowly levitated into the garden. If Evan and his witch were waiting for him, so much the better. They could have him. He was dead now, a hollowed out vampire waiting for the mortal blow.

  He levitated swiftly toward the Sissoo. Behind him, he heard Iris scream her rage and as he began to rise in the air, a terrible wind of power beat at him. Her killing drive had risen to its highest point. If she’d been close to him, she would have taken his life.

  He rose swiftly then hovered well above her garden. Grief slammed into him over and over, at what he’d done, at his life, at all that he’d lost.

  “Just as I’d hoped. Iris kicked you out for good.” Connor glanced around. He could hear Evan, but he couldn’t see him. He realized then that Seraphina’s dark cloud hung heavy in the air once more.

  He moved in a slow circle midair. “What do you want now? You’ve already killed me.”

  The cloud parted enough for Evan to show himself. He was ten feet away, his green eyes glittering. “Not quite, my friend, but we’re getting close. I just want you to know that I think you’re involvement with Iris, that you’d become lovers, is incredibly poetic and perfect. When I hired the death squad to arrange the massacre and to include Violet, I had them take you along as well for the fun of it. By then, I knew you were the one who shot my wife. I also knew you thought of yourself as a moral Border Patrol cop and I decided you needed a reality check. I think the massacre had just the right effect.

  “But it never once crossed my mind you might actually fall for Iris. In a way, I think it’s beautiful.”

  So, Evan had arranged the massacre to take Violet’s life and to mess with Connor’s mind. “You were punishing Iris even back then?”

  “And you as well, of course.”

  “You are fucking out of your mind.”

  Evan lifted both hands and several rough looking vampires suddenly f
illed the space between him and Evan.

  “Don’t worry, they’re not here for you.” Evan signaled to them and they began their descent. “They’ll give Iris a few minutes to cool down, then we’ll take her as well.”

  Glancing into the garden, Connor saw that Seraphina was below, working her magic to keep Iris’s spell disabled.

  In the weight of his guilt and remorse, he’d left Iris alone and unprotected.

  Instinctively, he reached for his sword, but it wasn’t there. He hadn’t taken it with him or his Glock.

  Evan laughed softly.

  Connor saw movement from the corner of his eye and suddenly Evan was next to him as well as two more vampires who grabbed his arms. He tried to fight them, but the dark cloud suddenly descended, confusing his mind. A split-second later, he felt a sharp prick in his neck.

  A fiery chemical entered his body.

  Once more, nothing.

  ***

  Iris sat at the dining table. She’d opened the folder and wept at the sight of her sister.

  She felt ill. She’d made love with the man who’d killed Violet. He’d probably raped her as well. And she’d let him escape.

  Rage rose once more, swirling through her. She wanted revenge on Connor and on Evan as well, on anyone involved in her sister’s murder.

  Iris, you must listen.

  The female voice was strident, not gentle like before. Iris grew very still. Violet?

  Yes, but you don’t have much time. Look at the pictures again. You’ve missed something critical.

  Iris opened the folder once more, the photo of Connor and Iris in the same picture. Connor’s fangs dripped with blood. To the right of him was a severe bite on a thigh, the flesh ripped out, leaving a gaping, bleeding hole. But it wasn’t Violet’s thigh.

  She stared at it for a long moment. The skin of the victim was very white, but not as though the body had been drained of blood. This was a familiar color, of drug-induced emaciation, the kind involving flame use and typical of death squads.

  She kept staring at the wound, knowing she needed to figure something out. Then she understood. She wasn’t looking at a woman’s thigh, but a man’s, a vampire’s. “Oh, my God.”