Dalakis Passion 4 - Eternal Brothers

by N. J. Walters

  Sophia's legs tightened around his flanks, holding him close. Her arms curled

  around his and her hands clung to his slick shoulders. She lifted her hips to meet his

  every thrust, which got harder and more frequent until he was pounding into her with

  the force of a jackhammer. He couldn't stop. Blood surged through his body, his head

  pounding with the force of his need for her. He would never have enough of her no

  matter how many times he had her.

  He could hear the rush of her blood as it hurried through her veins. Could hear her

  cries of delight as her orgasm crept closer. Could smell her musk and taste the salt of

  her skin as he licked her neck.

  Sophia belonged to him and he'd do everything in his power to keep her.

  He shook his head to try to clear it, but the red haze of bloodlust, of sheer sexual

  need wrapped itself around him, shutting out all else. Zane had to mark her, claim her

  again and again. He continued to drive himself into her, pushing them both higher and

  higher.

  She screamed his name. Her voice echoed in the room, echoed through him. He

  yelled her name as he came, shooting hot streams of cum deep into her. Her pussy

  clamped down hard as she came, making him yell out again. He continued to shake and

  shudder over Sophia, the strength of her orgasm making his own even sharper. He

  could feel the force of her emotions combining with his own.

  His teeth ached and he growled as he licked the succulent flesh of her neck. Sophia

  arched back her neck, offering him her very lifeblood. Unable and unwilling to resist, he

  sank his fangs deep. She jerked slightly and then relaxed as he began to suck. Her blood

  gushed into his mouth and he groaned. God, she tasted unbelievable. Every cell in his

  body rushed to soak up her essence.

  Beneath him, she continued to convulse, her pussy squeezing him tight with every

  pull his mouth made on her neck. His cock twitched inside her, prolonging his pleasure.

  She moaned softly and he stilled. He would not have a repeat of the night before.

  Carefully, he withdrew his sharp teeth and swiped his tongue over the small puncture

  marks. He kissed the tiny wounds and raised his head.

  Sophia looked up at him, soft and sated. A smile played around the corners of her

  mouth even as her eyes fluttered shut. With a faint sigh, she relaxed. Zane knew she

  couldn't be all that comfortable against the hard, wooden desk and knew he had to

  move.

  It wasn't easy, but he pulled his cock out of her. He should have been soft by now,

  but instead, he was still as hard as rock. Sophia's breath caught, but then she sighed.

  Hitching his underwear and jeans back into position, he tugged up his zipper. He didn't

  bother with his shirt, but instead leaned down and lifted Sophia into his arms. She

  snuggled close to him, nuzzling his chest as he sat down in the desk chair with her in

  his arms.

  They sat there, both of them content to just be in the moment. He felt no need to say

  anything. The slight weight of Sophia resting against his chest brought him a deep,

  abiding peace, which was amazing considering how out of control she'd also made him

  feel.

  He knew they'd have to move soon. They both had work to do tonight, but Zane

  was loath to be the one to break the intimate mood between them. He was trying to

  decide how to proceed when a shrill ring cut the air. The real world was intruding.

  Sophia's eyes shot open as she sat up, reaching for the phone. She blinked and it

  took her a moment to find her phone, as it had been pushed to the far side of the desk.

  They were lucky it hadn't landed on the floor.

  She reached for it and Zane suddenly stopped her. "Put it on speakerphone or tape

  it."

  Sophia nodded and pressed several buttons. "Hello." Her voice was husky,

  reminding Zane of what they'd just done.

  She froze, her entire body stiffening. Zane's muscles locked tight as the distorted

  voice came across the speaker. "You disappointed me, Ms. Daring. I all but handed you

  the murderer and yet no one has taken anyone in for questioning."

  All softness disappeared from Sophia's voice. "Yeah, well, it was a bit too easy.

  How do I know that you're not the guilty party?"

  "You don't." Zane could hear the malice mixed with humor in the man's voice.

  "You're a very smart lady, Ms. Daring. Maybe too smart for your own good." And he

  was suddenly very sure that it was a male, in spite of the attempt to cover up gender.

  "Maybe you need more proof." The phone clicked dead before Sophia could ask

  anything else.

  She turned off her phone and swiveled to look at him. "He's the murderer."

  Zane had come to the very same conclusion. "Why do you think so?" He wanted to

  know what she was thinking. Hoping they were both wrong in their conclusion.

  She chewed on her bottom lip and her eyes that had been filled with such pleasure

  and contentment only moments ago were now filled with dread and worry. "He's

  enjoying this way too much. You could hear the pleasure in his voice." She shivered

  and Zane cursed, wrapping his arms around her. "He's going to kill again."

  Zane sighed, knowing Sophia was right. He'd sensed the same thing. This killer

  enjoyed what he did and, for some unknown reason, wanted to frame the Dalakis

  family for his crimes. "I know." He also knew there was nothing either of them could

  do to stop him.

  "I have to call the police and tell them that I had another phone call."

  Zane nodded, his mind shifting gears. "I have to go and talk to the Dalakis family. I

  may not be convinced of their innocence in everything, but they need to know they

  have an enemy who'll go to any lengths to hurt them."

  Sophia suddenly seemed to realize she was naked. She jumped out of his lap and

  grabbed her underwear, tugging it on. Then she wrestled with the twisted ends of her

  bra. When they wouldn't straighten themselves out, she yanked the bra off, tossing it

  aside in frustration. Then she hunted around until she found her pullover and slipped it

  on.

  Zane reached to the floor and picked up his T-shirt. Standing, he turned the shirt

  right side out again and pulled it on while he watched Sophia finish dressing. He

  touched her shoulder, stopping her before she could get out of arm's reach. She stilled,

  her gaze flying to his. He started to speak, but she stopped him.

  "We don't have time to talk right now. Not about what just happened, or what

  seems to be going on between us. Right now, we have to focus on the murder and the

  mystery with the Dalakis family. If we tell the cops about the call and then go and see

  the Dalakis brothers ourselves, maybe we can come up with the real murderer. Maybe

  we can stop him before he kills someone else."

  He could tell she didn't truly believe there was any way to stop this madman from

  striking again, but knew that they had to try. If they didn't, neither one of them would

  be able to live with themselves.

  "Make your call and do whatever else you need to do. We'll leave as soon as you're

  ready." She nodded and started to walk away, but he tugged her back. His arms

  banded around her as he leaned down and kissed her. He could feel her softening in his

  embrace and relaxed slightly as he let her go. "This
is not over. Not by a long shot." She

  nodded and he knew she understood that he was talking about them and not the

  murder.

  He watched as she hurried out of the room. "It might never be over," he muttered

  beneath his breath.

  Chapter Eleven

  Blythe leaned back against the door and drew in a deep breath. She hadn't expected

  the man she'd struggled with last night to find her, but Sam Cassidy was obviously a

  very smart and resourceful man. Navely, she'd believed she could deliver the message

  to the Dalakis family and avoid detection. How was it the old saying went? "No good

  deed goes unpunished?" Well, she was through with being the one on the short end of

  the stick all the time. She'd more than paid for the mistakes she'd made in her life.

  Shuddering, she pushed away from the door. It was amazing just how difficult it

  was for her not to confide in Cassidy. The man exuded a confidence, a solidness that

  made her want to lean on him, if only for a moment. Of course, she hadn't. She'd

  learned at a very young age, when her father had abandoned her and her mother, that

  men couldn't be depended on.

  She walked to the window and peeked around the curtain just in time to see

  Cassidy disappear into the shadows across the street. The edges of the business card

  he'd given her dug into her palm. Angry with herself for even considering using it, she

  stomped over to the garbage can and dropped it inside. Slamming the lid shut, she

  began to pace. Her gaze kept wandering back to the garbage can until she couldn't

  stand it any longer. Marching back over to the tiny kitchen area, she flipped up the lid

  and pulled out the card, tucking it in her back pocket. She'd just keep it for a few days.

  Just in case.

  Taking the few steps necessary to reach her chair, she flung herself down into it.

  Maybe she should leave the city. After all, there wasn't anything holding her here any

  longer. Her mother had wanted to live out the last of her days in the city she'd been

  born and lived in her entire life, but her mother was dead now. She'd succumbed to her

  cancer just a month ago. Blythe was free to travel anywhere she chose. She just didn't

  know where to go.

  Rubbing her tired eyes, she contemplated her options. As much as she didn't want

  to admit it, Cassidy was right. This city would get more dangerous for her now that

  Adrian Prince had taken over The Club. She stared at her meager surroundings. She

  didn't really have much that she'd want to take with her. Clothing, some pictures and a

  few personal effects. Anything she'd had of value had been sold long ago to pay for her

  mother's treatment and finally her burial. But it was done and Blythe was free of

  obligation to anyone but herself.

  She was tired, she realized as she closed her eyes and rested her head against the

  soft back of the chair. Tired of always having to be the one in charge, the one everyone

  else depended on. Her mother had been a fragile woman for as long as Blythe could

  remember. Even as a child, she'd been the one to take care of the rent and bills, cooking

  and cleaning. Her mother had managed to hold down a job as a waitress, but as soon as

  she'd gotten sick, everything had fallen to Blythe.

  Not that she'd minded. She'd loved her mother. And she was no stranger to hard

  work. She'd had her first job by the time she was twelve, babysitting other kids and

  walking neighbors' dogs. She'd always made her own money to keep herself clothed

  and in school. At twenty-five, she had her entire life ahead of her and didn't know what

  she wanted to do.

  Something to think about, she mused as she opened her eyes. And if she was

  leaving town, she needed to pack. Dragging herself out of her comfortable chair, she

  walked to the armoire and dug out two large tote bags. She didn't own a suitcase, but a

  couple of these should do the trick.

  Dumping them both on the futon, she went back to the armoire for the first load of

  clothing. Someone knocked hard on her door, the loud thump making her jump. She

  scowled in its direction. For a woman who never had company, her apartment was

  certainly a popular place tonight. "Who is it?" she called, but no one answered. It was

  probably only Sam Cassidy again.

  She moved cautiously toward the door. It was probably just Cassidy again, but she

  couldn't be certain. Biting her lower lip, she debated the wisdom of calling out. Not for

  the first time, she wished her cheap landlord had installed a peephole in the door.

  Silence.

  A loud crack filled the air as her door was hit hard. The doorframe split, but the

  locks held. It was hit again. This time harder. It wasn't Sam Cassidy outside her door

  and Blythe wasn't about to stick around to find out who it was.

  Grabbing her purse, she hurried toward the window, not even sparing a glance for

  her clothing. Clothing could be replaced--her life couldn't. She did pause long enough

  to grab a tattered journal and stuff it in her bag.

  The wooden door groaned as it was hit again. The locks still held, but the hinges

  didn't. The door was shoved inward and a huge man in a three-piece suit stepped into

  the room. She didn't recognize him, but she knew the type. This man was an enforcer

  and it wasn't too far a mental stretch to know who he worked for.

  Digging her fingers into the wood, she shoved the window up and threw one leg

  over the sill. The man practically dove across the room, grabbing her leg and yanking

  her back in. She hit the floor hard, knocking the wind out of her body. The man pulled

  her to her feet, his fingers digging into her upper arm. She knew she'd have a massive

  bruise there, but she ignored the pain. She had bigger problems than that. The man and

  his buddy, who'd joined him in the room, both had handguns and they looked more

  than capable of using them.

  "Going somewhere?" the first man asked. He was big, with a shock of short gray

  hair and a pug nose.

  She shrugged, trying to appear calm, which wasn't easy with these two big men

  surrounding her. "I wasn't expecting company."

  "I don't think she likes us, Tom." The younger man glared at her as the older man

  continued. "Our boss wants to talk to you."

  "Who's your boss?"

  The older man backhanded her, letting go of her arm at the last second so she went

  flying again. She landed on the coffee table and bounced to the floor, striking her elbow,

  hip and head.

  This time it was Tom who grabbed her and pulled her to her feet. "You know Mr.

  Prince, don't you, sweet thing?"

  Blythe nodded. "Heard he was dead."

  Tom shook her so hard her teeth rattled. "Not him--Adrian Prince."

  "Never met him." Blythe had no idea why she was baiting these men, but she

  couldn't stop herself. Tired of being a victim for so long, she was fighting back. This

  time there was only herself to worry about and if they were going to kill her, she'd just

  as soon they do it quick. In the meantime, if she could make them angry, they might

  make a mistake. That is, if they didn't kill her first.

  The older man shook his head as he strolled over and caught her chin between his

  thumb and forefinger. "You'll meet him tonight." He released his grip on her face and

  let his hand slid
e over her collarbone. She swallowed hard, trying desperately not to

  give in to the panic that threatened to overwhelm her. His large hand covered her

  breast, squeezing tight.

  Blythe brought her knee up hard and fast even as she lifted her other leg, making

  herself a deadweight. The older man doubled over and Tom lost his grip on her. Blythe

  tried to scramble away. The door was only a few feet away. She could make it.

  She got one foot on the floor and was pushing herself upright when a hand caught

  her back leg and yanked. She landed flat on the floor. Blood spurted from her nose.

  A sound almost like a cough reached her ears. Another one quickly followed. The

  hand on her leg loosened enough for her to kick it away. She crawled quickly toward

  the door, but it was blocked.

  Her gaze flew upward, colliding with another massive man. This one she

  recognized. Big and blond, he filled the doorway, a gun with a silencer attached to the

  end of the barrel held firm in his hand. Unlike the other men, he wasn't wearing a suit,

  but boots, faded blue jeans and a crisp, white shirt. His blue eyes were like ice as he

  glanced down at her, making her shiver. Sam Cassidy had returned and she'd never

  been so glad to see a man in her life.

  "Blythe, come here." He kept his eyes trained on the other side of the room. She

  glanced over her shoulder and shivered. The older man was lying on the floor, while

  Tom was standing with his hands upright. No one had yelled, she suddenly realized,

  even though it was obvious Cassidy had shot one of her attackers. That's because they

  were all professionals, she suddenly realized. Oh God, who was Sam Cassidy, really?

  Tom was poised for action and Blythe knew she wasn't safe yet. At this moment,

  Cassidy was definitely the lesser of the two evils. She pushed herself upright, careful to

  stay out of Cassidy's line of fire. She wasn't sure how he planned to get them out of this

  situation, short of shooting the other man. The neighbors must have heard something

  by now. Surely it was only a matter of time until the police arrived.

  But the night sounds drifting in through the window carried only the cry of a

  distant siren. She could hear someone yelling down the street, but that was all. The air

  in the room seemed to thicken and a man stepped out from the shadows. Dressed all in