Reyna's Vampyr

by Zena Wynn

She’d given herself and he’d taken her. Over and over. Against the wall, on the floor, the couch, standing, kneeling on all fours, on her back with her legs in the air until there was nothing left. With no energy, all she could do was collapse.

  One of the males scraped Reyna’s clit with a claw and she jolted back to the present.

  This is wrong, some part of her screamed. This isn’t me.

  Mind and flesh waged a bitter war. Reyna refused to be at the mercy of her hormones. Refused to be a victim a second time. She wasn’t simply a female Felini. She was more.

  Pressure built in her chest. That otherness inside of her stirred and lifted its head. The part of her nature she’d been forced to hide, to keep subdued, began to feed. It fed off her arousal, fed off her memories and emotions, and fed off some outside source she couldn’t identify. It swelled and grew until her skin felt stretched too tight.

  Reyna tried to contain it, shove back into the box where it had been imprisoned, but her focus was splintered. She couldn’t fight it and her body too.

  “Stop! Stop! It’s too much.” Reyna forgot pride. Forgot everything in her terror of what would happen if what was inside burst free.

  “She’s almost there,” Jorlan said in his deep voice. “Suck her clit into your mouth while stroking the tip with your tongue. Zander, curl your fingers and rub against the front wall of her vagina until you locate her g-spot. You’ll know when you hit it. You two each take a breast and suckle with deep strong pulls.”

  Jorlan wasn’t listening to her. None of them were. Anger added to the caustic brew that was her emotions and the thing in her gobbled it up.

  

  Tariq sequestered himself inside his office with orders not to be disturbed while Enrique oversaw the cleanup and refurbishing of his quarters. Crossing over to the console behind his desk, he called up the security feed from last night, rewinding until he spotted his Heart’s Blood approaching the entrance.

  The form-fitted dress she barely wore molded to a slender body with very feminine curves. Her breasts were full, round, and bounced as she walked. She had an oval face, high cheekbones, and eyes which slanted at the corners. Skin colored a rich, golden brown proclaimed her African-American heritage.

  There was fluidity in her movement; an almost catlike grace and litheness in the play of muscles beneath her skin. Hair the color of midnight with amber highlights fell thick and straight to her narrow waist. It swished back and forth in a seductive rhythm, drawing attention to her pert, tight butt.

  Tariq felt his fangs lengthen and a snarl build in his throat watching the lustful way the men standing in line gazed at her ass as she strolled by. He wanted to rip their puny little heads off their weak human bodies. Never before had he felt possessive of a woman but his Heart’s Blood wasn’t just any woman.

  Reminding himself it was just a video, he forced himself to calm and remember his purpose. She’d reached the club’s entrance and his men. Tariq changed cameras. This new angle allowed him to see her face quite clearly. From her expression, Tariq concluded she didn’t want to be here. So why had she come? She was alone. Maybe she’d come to meet someone and they’d chosen the meeting place. Eyes narrowing, he watched Reynard, his head bouncer, eye her slender figure. He’d make it clear to the man later she was taken.

  Suddenly Tariq leaned forward as she handed Reynard something gold. A few key strokes froze the screen and magnified the image. It was one of his coins; one that allowed visiting vampyrs free passage in his territory. It was the equivalent of a U.S. passport. Tariq settled back in his chair, fingers steepled as he attempted to puzzle it out. How had she come by it? He made a note to have someone investigate. Only so many were dispensed and his people kept strict records.

  The anger he’d barely been holding in check since discovering he couldn’t track his Heart’s Blood surged. No, not anger. It was too tame a word. This was rage—bone deep and soul-searing—fueled by a sense of…helplessness? How was he ever going to find her again? Knowing he needed his wits about him, Tariq tamped down on the emotional response.

  Someone knew who she was. Perhaps he’d find the one who had given her his coin. And, thanks to an anonymous tip, he had another lead on her whereabouts. Tariq’s determination grew. She wouldn’t escape him forever. He’d find her. It was his new mission in life.

  Tariq switched cameras as she entered The Gladiator. For the next few minutes, despite being tall for a human female he only managed to catch glimpses of her as she worked her way through the crowd. She disappeared again from sight and he impatiently scanned monitors until she reappeared at the main bar on the second level. Again her expression said she wished to be anywhere but where she was. An impression reinforced with repeated glances at her watch.

  He angled his head to the side, studying her intently. Was she waiting for someone? No, he didn’t think so. She’d be scanning the crowds, checking the faces of anyone who neared. Instead she sat on the stool, her body curled protectively over the glass she rarely lifted to her lips. Her entire demeanor screamed stay away. To his grim satisfaction, the few brave souls who dared approach her were quickly run off.

  His Heart’s Blood ordered two drinks, neither of which she drank more than an ounce or two of, and spent the rest of the time either staring in the mirror behind the bar or looking down at her glass. At intermitted periods she glanced at her watch, keeping close track of the time. About forty-eight minutes after she entered the club, her shoulders sagged as though with relief as she slid off the bar and headed toward the exit.

  With eyes closed, Tariq thought back to the moment he’d first sensed her. Impatience, frustration, and nerves, followed quickly by relief. No, she hadn’t wanted to be there and had made her escape—or attempted to—as soon as she was able. His woman was an enigma, and Tariq vowed to learn all of her secrets.

  He captured the image of her as she rose from the stool, froze it, and then copied it to the hologram machine. With the touch of a few buttons he had a full, 3-D image of his Heart’s Blood displayed in the center of his office floor. Needing to be close to her, even if it was only her picture, he rose and went to stand next to it.

  As he examined her face, feature by feature, a dizzying array of emotions washed over him, almost too fast to decipher. He easily recognized anger, since his continued to bubble just beneath the surface. Vulnerability, a feeling of being trapped. Determination. Fierce concentration. Defeat. More rage with a tinge of fear. Brutal focus. Intense resolve.

  They disappeared as quickly as they’d come, cut off as though they’d never been. Who…what?

  Tariq snapped to attention. His Heart’s Blood. He was sensing her. Where the hell was she and what was happening to her? Whoever was making her feel all this would pay, but to find them, he first had to find her. He closed his eyes, opened his senses and searched the void, hoping for a glimmer of a trail. Something he could lock onto.

  Anticipation slammed into him, knocking him off balance. He stumbled to the desk and grabbed hold as his knees buckled. It was quickly followed by happiness, hope. What the…?

  Lethargy. He staggered back, managing to fall into one of the chairs in front of his desk as his muscles went lax and refused to support him. He and his Heart’s Blood were one. Shields down, senses wide open, he had no control. Her emotions overwhelmed him and took over.

  Budding desire built and grew. His cock hardened until it resembled concrete. He barely retained enough self-possession to loosen the opening of his pants and free his straining erection, and only then because the pain briefly over-rode every other consideration. His engorged penis throbbed dangerously, filled to bursting.

  Hips thrusting, he humped air, twisting and straining for release. Each time he came close, the arousal would dampen, only to come back stronger, harder. Tariq’s fangs dropped and his nails lengthened to form claws. His mind was a haze, sanity almost lost when suddenly it stopped.

  He panted, drawing in lungs full of air. His left hand shot
out to grasp his cock. Once, twice, three pumps were all it took before he spewed all over the place, the release so great he almost blacked out.

  Before he could clamp his shields back in place, it started again. Desire boiled like lava over his skin, making the orgasm he’d attained mere seconds ago non-existent. He shared his woman’s anger, fought with her to contain the relentless, all-consuming desire burning like fire in his veins. Felt her determination not to give in, not to be overwhelmed.

  “Fight, baby. Be strong,” he commanded like she could hear him, feel him with her.

  Tariq fought the need to stroke his erection, not knowing if the flow of emotions went both ways. She was barely holding on. The last thing he wanted was to add his desire to hers.

  Something happened. A wave of lust hit him so strong his defenses demolished. His hand shot out and gripped his cock, stroking, pumping as though his very life depended on it. He couldn’t stop. Couldn’t make his hand release. He got right to the edge of orgasm and couldn’t come. His balls were so tight, they hurt. A red haze filled his vision. He, they couldn’t take it anymore. Something primal stirred in him, in them, fighting to break free.

  The thing snapped and he roared.

  

  Reyna screamed as the force inside her burst loose. She blinked and when she came to herself, she was crouched on all fours, ears back, fur raised, front and back claws extended, her back against the exit. Her tawny head swung toward Jorlan and she hissed her displeasure, flashing fangs.

  “Good girl. I knew you could do it,” Jorlan said, his voice filled with pride and what sounded like…relief? His reaction made no sense.

  “She broke through the bonds. I’ve never heard of any female doing that before,” Zander exclaimed in awed tones.

  “How the hell did she do it?” Rick asked, his confusion evident.

  “L-look at her eyes,” Harlan stammered.

  The panic-filled words caused her attention to swing back to the breeders still positioned around the contraption in which she’d been restrained.

  “Shit, they’re glowing silver. What the hell is she?” Brad, the boldest of them, asked.

  Reyna realized she’d forgotten to insert her contacts.

  “Your queen, now show her proper respect,” Jorlan commanded.

  “Those fangs are not the fangs of a Felini female,” Rick muttered defiantly.

  “You think the rumors are true?” Harlan asked the others, still eying her warily.

  Reyna screamed and they flinched before slowly backing away. She could see their fear. Sense their distaste of what she was. She paced back and forth, her tail whipping the air.

  They’d come to her for refuge. Begged to live with her. She’d taken them in, given them jobs and financial independence, and allowed them to live free of the repressive restrictions of a normal Felini pride. This was how they thanked her? By subjecting her to the same rumors and innuendos which had dogged her all of her life? To her face, as though she couldn’t understand what they were saying?

  First her friends with their stupid dare. Then the vampyr who’d claimed her against her will. She’d experienced her first shift and hoped she’d finally be normal only to be subjected to this damnable firestorm by the one person who knew how she felt about them. Now her own pride had turned against her and gazed at her with disgust after all she’d done for them. It was all too much. She had to get away.

  Closing her eyes, she thought of the one place she could be free and simply…vanished.

  Reyna ran, and ran, and ran. Immersed deep within her cat, she let it have its head. She didn’t think, didn’t feel, just existed. The cat, with its first taste of real freedom, took over.

  

  Tariq burst out of his rooms, feeling wild, his blood rage barely in check. Only one thought rang through his mind, finding his Heart’s Blood. He teleported into his throne room and bellowed, “Come to me!”

  Footsteps pounded from every direction as vampyrs came pouring in. They gathered quickly, weapons ready to face the unknown threat. All ages, from fledglings to masters, warrior and trainee, they came until over three hundred plus were assembled and the room was full.

  In a small corner of his mind, Tariq knew he appeared the raving manic. Hair wild, half-naked, pants open, his chest and stomach still sporting drops of cum, claws bared and fangs extended. His cock was red and swollen, extending out from his body and bobbing with every step he took. He presented a fearful sight and more than one of his clutch drew back in alarm.

  “FIND HER.” He slammed an image of his Heart’s Blood in their mind so savagely several fell to their knees, gripping their heads. Others rocked in place, faces tight with pain.

  “Leave no stone unturned. Search all day and night if you have to but find her. NOW!” The last was roared.

  His men instantly scattered to the winds. The force of so many bodies teleporting at the same time created a temporary vacuum. Strength gone, Tariq slowly dropped to his knees. Shivering, body shaking, mind in turmoil, he bowed his head as tears streamed from his eyes. “You have to find her,” he whispered.

  Chapter Four

  Thirty minutes later, Jorlan called in to report. “I did as you commanded.”

  “What happened?” The voice was tense with expectation.

  “She broke free.” A feat no female should have been able to accomplish.

  “Good, she’s growing into her powers.” There was a wealth of satisfaction in the tone.

  “The response of the others was not…good,” he warned. “She didn’t have her contacts in and they saw her natural eye color. That, combined with her strength…”

  “Bigoted fools,” the voice sneered.

  “They are afraid,” he said in as reasonable a tone as he could manage. He’d told her a Firestorm wasn’t a good idea. Now he was the one left to deal with the fall out while she—

  “They hate and fear anything they don’t understand.” Her bitterness was unmistakable. “How did she handle it?”

  “She ran…vanished.” Jorlan didn’t blame Reyna one bit. Maybe this was the push she needed to run to her vampyr instead of away from him.

  “Unacceptable. She must learn to deal with it. Be tougher.”

  He frowned, his protective instincts where Reyna were concerned rising to the forefront. “Give her time. You’re expecting too much too fast,” he cautioned, still trying to be reasonable. “You’ve always fought against her embracing and using her gifts. Now suddenly she’s supposed to welcome them, accept her otherness? It’s a lot for her to overcome.”

  “Time is the one thing we don’t have. There are already rumblings about the success of your venture. Too many of the young ones are discontented. Having grown up on earth, they’re tired of abiding by the strictures of leaders who try to live as though we were still on Felini. They want what you have. When the others discover all is not as we’ve portrayed it to be…”

  Territorial, possessive bastards. Several of the pride’s young males and females had come to Reyna looking for a different way of life. His and Reyna’s business success was a threat to the elders’ power base. Something they couldn’t allow. If they knew Reyna had finally come into her own…?

  “The past cannot be allowed to repeat itself,” she continued harshly, fear making her voice shake.

  “Reyna’s strong. She’s already proven—”

  “Nothing!”

  “Isabella!” he protested sharply, forgetting their security measures.

  “No, Jorlan, she’s proven nothing but that she can stand on her own without the support of the pride. She must do more. She must show she’s not prey. Prove she’s willing and able to protect herself and those important to her. Learn to use the gifts and talents she’s been given. If she doesn’t…”

  Jorlan didn’t need to be reminded of what the outcome would be. They both knew in vivid detail exactly what the consequences could, and most likely would, be should their pride leader discover Re
yna was not only displaying but embracing the Vampalien side of her nature. He opened his mouth to reply.

  Jorlan.

  He sucked in a sharp breath.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” Isabella asked.

  “I’ve got to go.” He disconnected the call, ignoring Isabella’s demand he not hang up.

  Where are you? Reyna sounded weak, even communicating as they were, mind-to-mind.

  Don’t know. Hunting grounds…somewhere.

  So that’s where she’d gone. It was a hell of a jump. The Felini hunting grounds, comprised of hundreds of thousands of mountainous and forested range, were several hours away from here. Mating with Tariq must have increased her abilities.

  Tired…hungry.

  He winced. The word hunger was imbued with so much need he knew it wasn’t food to which she referred. Come home, he commanded.

  Can’t. Too weak.

  Shit! She could be anywhere on the grounds. Even with a full crew it could literally take days to find her. Reyna didn’t have that long. Are you hurt?

  Bleeding…sore.

  In heat, losing blood, and weak, her scent would be a beacon to every predator in the area. Reyna, listen carefully. Call me to you.

  Nothing but silence.

  Reyna?

  Maybe it’s better this way. The voice was faint, exhausted.

  Damn it, Reyna, don’t you give up on me! Live, damn you. Teleport me, just like when you were little. Jorlan wouldn’t let her simply fade away.

  It hurts.

  He knew she wasn’t referring to her wounds, but the pain of being too different, of never being accepted, and never fitting in. Get over it. You have a husband now.

  Felini don’t mate, asshole.

  Jorlan laughed. He didn’t know if asshole referred to him or Tariq, but an angry Reyna was a fighting one. I know who he is. Call me to you, he taunted, or I’ll tell him how to find you.