by BJ Wane
Even though he had done everything right, spent time trying to arouse her, silently complimenting her by remembering how much she liked her nipples suckled, how she loved being finger fucked with several fingers and how any ass play increased her excitement, she didn’t respond. She felt pleasure but not excitement, she grew aroused but not to the point of ecstasy and she shut down completely when he ejaculated and his come filling her sheath felt like a fiery blowtorch searing her walls.
“Shit, baby, you didn’t get off, did you?”
Abrielle breathed a sigh of relief as he rolled off of her, the withdrawal of his cock from her pussy making it difficult for her to control a shudder of respite. “It’s not your fault, Roger. I enjoyed that even though I didn’t climax,” she lied. There was no use trying to explain the pain when she didn’t understand it herself. Roger had been the only man she hadn’t insisted wear a condom and, after he had assured her he was clean and she had assured him she was still on the pill, she saw no reason to change that tonight. But she had never experienced such discomfort when he had ejaculated inside her before and the only thing that has changed since is the appearance of her mark, her physical connection with Damien.
“Give me a few minutes and I’ll make it up to you,” Roger said as he leaned over and drew her right nipple into his mouth.
Abby’s pussy clenched as he suckled her nipple and her hands automatically went to clutch his head to her breast. It felt good, the tingling pleasure in her nipple spreading south to elicit a warm gush of cream from her still sore pussy. But when his hand drifted down her waist to cup her damp flesh, the mind numbing pleasure she was seeking, that same body encompassing ecstasy she had experienced while lying bare assed over Damien’s lap, simply wasn’t there. Frustrated, angry and disappointed, she gently shifted away from Roger and slipped out of bed.
“I really need to get going, especially if you don’t want to be late meeting up with your friends.” She felt his eyes on her as she slipped her panties and bra back on and knew he was wondering about her lack of response, something that had never happened when they were together before.
“It’s him, isn’t it?” Roger asked, not moving from the bed, enjoying the sight of her dressing even though it meant she was leaving.
With a sigh, she turned to face him as she buttoned up her blouse. There was no use denying it, they both had known each other too well in the past. “Yeah, it’s him. I’m sorry, Roger. I didn’t know…”
Holding up a hand, he stated quietly, “No need to explain, baby.” Rising, he walked to her, cupped her face and kissed her. “For the record, he’s a fool. It was good seeing you again, Abrielle.”
Abby let herself out after promising Roger she’d hail a cab even though her shop and loft apartment were only a few blocks away. But once she stepped out into the sultry night air, the urge to walk and clear her head had her taking off on foot instead of keeping her promise. Now that Mardi Gras was over, the streets were quieter, especially the residential areas. A glutton for punishment, she tried reaching Damien again, only to run into a wall of silence, making her think Roger had it wrong. She was the fool, not Damien.
She would just have to try harder to move on, she sternly told herself as she neared her corner. It did no good to pine over what she couldn’t have. The problem was, since Damien had entered her life that fateful night twenty years ago, there hadn’t been anything she wanted that she couldn’t have, and she wasn’t willing to settle for less now. Okay, maybe that did make her the spoiled brat the guys always teasingly called her, but she had no desire or intentions to change. Which meant she had to find a way to get Damien to change.
Determined to have it out with him again yet having no idea where to find him, Abrielle got in her car instead of going up to her apartment. The only thing she knew about how Damien spent his nights was that he and the others patrolled the most dangerous streets of New Orleans in order to keep them safe. However, there was one person who might know where she should start looking. Several years ago, while out partying with some college friends, she had spotted her guardian coming down the side staircase of an apartment above a popular voodoo shop. Curiosity had her visiting the shop the next day and she had been stunned when the proprietress had greeted her with, “You must be Damien’s Abby. Welcome to my shop.”
Her name was Marie; she was a beautiful, middle aged woman with a full figure and kind eyes that saw too much. Abby wanted to hate her, but simply couldn’t. She had been old enough to know this woman had an intimate relationship with her beloved guardian, but back then she had only felt a mild curiosity about that relationship. Now, she couldn’t repress the burning jealousy cramping her stomach at the thought of Damien and Marie together and didn’t know what she would do if she found him there tonight.
Parking in front of the darkened shop, she headed to the side stairs, her disappointing encounter with Roger fueling her anger and determination to find Damien, even if it meant rousing him from Marie’s bed. She winced at that thought, knew if Damien was up there, he wouldn’t appreciate her popping in, but she had come too far to back out now.
She was half way up the stairs when a blood curdling scream came from Marie’s apartment, a pain filled cry of terror that had Abby shoving aside her misgivings and running up the stairs as she struggled to get her phone out of her purse. Punching in 911, she held the phone to her ear as she pounded on the locked door in the hopes of stopping whatever was happening behind it.
“Police are on their way!” she called out frantically as another scream rent the air, one that had her flesh crawling and her nerves strung tautly. Turning to flee back down and wait for help, she was brought up short by the sight of a menacing figure slowly lumbering up the stairs, blocking her exit.
“They won’t get here in time to save you or the other one.”
If that low guttural threat wasn’t enough to scare the hell out of her, the sight of his blood dripping fangs as well as the ghoul’s blood splattered clothes were. Unlike Damien, this creature was one of the undead that people whispered about and feared while denying their existence. Terror had a tight grip on her throat but instinct still demanded she try to run. Grabbing the rail, she attempted to jump over the side to the walk below, but he reached her with a super human burst of speed before she could even cry out. The fetid stench of him hit her as hard as his body did, knocking the breath from her. The sound of sirens gave her a glimmer of hope right before that glimmer was put out and everything went black.
Chapter Four
Damien wrapped his arm around Micah’s head and rolled with the five hundred pound plus tiger across the lawn, laughing when the cat pulled free and butted his head into Damien’s stomach, pushing him back a foot. Powerful muscles rippled under the coat of reddish-orange fur with its pattern of dark vertical stripes as Micah stalked him from the front. A hard shove against his ass had him sprawling and pounced on again by both tigers.
“No fair coming at me from behind, Tasha,” he scolded the feline only to have her rub her sleek body against his and look up at him with adoring yellow eyes. “Yeah, okay, I forgive you.”
Struggling to his feet, he scratched both cats behind their ears before sending them back into the bayou and heading inside. Jon and Luc were out on patrol and Jacob had laughingly told them it was ‘date night’ with his girls, the two best friends he had been fucking for the past few months. Even though Jacob wanted nothing more than to settle down with his mate, he didn’t let the fact he hadn’t found her yet keep him from enjoying all the pleasures their transformation gave them. Unlike Mason who seemed to spend his time dwelling on the past and what couldn’t be changed instead of making the best of what fate had thrown at them. Of all the brethren, Mason was the only one who had been married with a family. Some of the others, like Jacob, had been involved with someone special, others, like Jon and Luc, had still been enjoying the pleasures of being unattached. All had watched parents and sibling’s age and die and had eventually com
e to terms with those losses. Mason had never been able to come to terms with having to stand by unseen and watch his wife and three children pass away never knowing what had become of him, thinking he had deserted them.
His bitterness had kept him from forming any attachments to the brethren and, other than when pairing up to patrol the streets, he kept to himself. But none of that had explained his sudden determination to move out of the manse into town and the way he had been avoiding them since. Damien had gone to see him a few days ago, but hadn’t gotten anywhere with him. Agreeing to meet him at a bar in the Quarter, Mason had been amicable, but not forthcoming about his move. He had agreed, however, to resume pulling his weight and putting in time on patrol.
Damien didn’t need lights as he made his way past the large, top of the line kitchen to what used to be another parlor and was now his office. Why people needed so many parlors back then was beyond him, but the small cozy rooms had come in handy when the house had been filled with all fifteen of his brethren. Now, the big plantation home was much quieter, and without the distraction of having a lot of people under foot who all had issues to deal with, he couldn’t help but dwell on his own problems. The most pressing was the report from Thomas Reich a few days ago about an attack by rogues in Tulsa, where he lived with his mate, Kate. Thomas insisted they were vampire rogues who had attacked a young college girl, but, due to the girl’s critical condition, he had to let them escape. If he was right, that meant they were dealing with another master vampire turning people for his or her own pleasure.
Taking a seat behind his desk, Damien booted up his computer and ran a search for recent attacks similar to the one in Columbus and now Tulsa. While waiting for results, his mind wandered to his other concern, Abrielle. It had been a long, tortuous week keeping himself closed off from her. He had never gone this long without communicating or seeing her, and it was killing him to stay away. Along with missing her, he had been plagued all evening with a sense of doom, a niggling itch that she needed him, an itch that had become more persistent as the evening wore on. He knew it was best for her to find someone her own age, someone human to have a relationship with, but every time he pictured her with some nameless, faceless man, he was infused with rage and jealousy, which was why he had stayed away from her all week. All he had to do was remember another young woman who had her whole life ahead of her, a life he had deprived her of because of his uncontrollable bloodlust. In hindsight, he had been able to see how Isabelle had manipulated him, how, by withholding both sex and blood from him for several weeks had driven him to the point of desperation, how his need for not only the strength and power he had gotten used to, but for simple life sustaining nourishment had pushed him past conscious awareness of his actions.
That was his cross to bear, he thought now, his alone and no matter how much he wanted Abby, no matter how often he recalled the sight and feel of her naked ass, remembered how she responded so openly to each smack, how hot and slick her pussy felt clamping around his fingers, he wouldn’t risk being driven past that point of no return again. Running a hand tiredly down his face, Damien skimmed through the data the computer had come up with, but there were no other attacks that involved blood taking or looked suspiciously like they were committed by one of the undead. Still, he thought it might be prudent to send a message of caution to all the brethren, warning them to be on the lookout for any suspicious attacks. Using both e-mail and telepathic communications, he quickly got the word out and shut down the computer, instinctively knowing he wasn’t going to be able to concentrate on any work tonight. He always enjoyed managing the business’s he was invested in, but tonight he was strung too tight to sit still and concentrate on numbers.
Intent on hooking up with Jon and Luc for the remainder of the night, he rose and grabbed his phone, noticing for the first time the blinking light indicating he had a missed call. His smile when he saw it was from Marie was short lived when, instead of hearing her ask for his company in her sexy, southern drawl, he heard a pain-filled, terror driven scream followed by the distinct sounds of an attack. With a string of desperation laced curses, Damien dematerialized and sped as fast as he could to her home, praying he wasn’t too late.
The sight of Marie lying in a crumpled, bloody heap when he materialized in her parlor almost brought him to his knees in grief and rage. “Mon Dieu,” he breathed as he bent over her, checking her pulse as the sight of numerous, still bleeding bites on her tender skin had him seeing red in uncontrollable rage. “Marie,” he whispered achingly, sorrow consuming him as he realized he couldn’t save her. A flutter of her lashes and a soft mumble had him leaning closer to her mouth hoping she could tell him something, anything, about who did this.
“Kept….kept s…saying, I’m not…the one...” Taking one last, deep, painful breath, Marie struggled to open her eyes. She couldn’t feel anything, knew her time was near, but she needed to make sure Damien went to Abby as soon as possible. “Damien, not…me, Abby…Love you.”
“Marie!” Her words sent a cold chill through him as her meaning sunk in. If the rogues who did this stripped her looking for a crescent shaped mark, then they were specifically looking for a mate. That had to be what they meant by ‘not the one’. Being the soulless creatures they were, completely without conscience or constraint, they hadn’t let that fact stop them from their malicious attack. Easing away from her, Damien swallowed back the guilt and opened his mind to Abby just as a startled cry from the balcony was abruptly cut off.
Damien appeared on the balcony just in time to see a rogue shred Abby’s top and lower his head to her neck, his fangs and mouth still gleaming with Marie’s blood. Grabbing him by the hair, he flung the putrid smelling creature against the brick side of the townhouse.
The rogue knew he was looking death in the eye as the man who glared at him with hate-filled anger, oozing power he couldn’t hope to win against, wrenched his head back. “Wait! Mistress sent us….”
His words stopped abruptly on a bloody gurgle as Damien slit his throat then shoved his blade into his heart. The myth about a vampire having to be staked by a wooden implement was just one of the false rumors handed down over the centuries. Any sharp object would do as long as it was long enough to penetrate the heart completely.
“Behind you!”
Damien whirled at Abby’s warning and lifted his arm to block the attack from another rogue. Images of Marie’s ravaged body kept him from ending this one’s existence too soon. Grabbing his arm, he flipped him over his head to land against the wall with a sickening thud. Ignoring Abby’s gasp, his mind intent on revenge, he stalked his prey with slow deliberation.
Abby had roused to blinding pain in the back of her head, her top torn to shreds and her bare breasts cut and bruised. Her fear returned tenfold when she saw Damien thrust a small rapier into the heart of a man just as another one appeared behind him. Calling out a warning, she struggled to stand, grabbing onto the rail and pulling herself up, her eyes never leaving Damien’s ruthless assault on the man who looked to be a deranged, evil being. This was not the gentle guardian she had known for twenty years. Damien showed no mercy, his attack brutal and terrifying, a side of him she had never witnessed or dreamed he possessed. Body rippled with strength and power, his eyes glowing deep, dark red, a cruel twist to his mouth she had never seen before and sharp fangs gleaming wickedly as he slowly inflicted deep cuts that bled profusely, this was indeed the feared creature of vampire myths. Yet, oddly, she wasn’t scared. The slow, torturous death he was meting out told her what she would find inside Marie’s house, and she felt for both her and Damien for what she must have suffered.
Some sound must have caught his attention, because Damien ended the fight with a single thrust of his blade, piercing the heart with unerring accuracy and watching the body disintegrate as quickly as his friend as the sound of approaching sirens alerted him to the folly of sticking around. He took a step towards Abby when another rogue appeared at the bottom of the stairs, looked
up and, seeing the pile of ashes his friends had been reduced to, shimmered out as fast as he had showed up. “Are you all right?” Damien asked Abby as he swept her up in his arms.
“My head’s ringing and I’m scared shitless. Other than that, I’m fine. Marie?” Seeing the pain enter Damien’s eyes followed by a familiar, closed off look, her suspicions were confirmed.
“We need to get out of here. We’ll have to get your car later,” he said, disappearing as the first police car pulled up out front.
Damien was sending an urgent message to the others as he appeared in his bedroom and laid Abby on his bed, the sight of the bruises already forming on her breasts making him itch to draw blood again. Remembering Marie, he could only be thankful he had gotten there in time to save Abby from the same fate. With his waning strength and his nearness to her semi-naked body, his palm and his cock were both demanding he claim her as his mate. Despite the bruising and scratches, she had beautiful breasts, soft and full, her nipples light pink and currently pointing right at him in hardened temptation.
“Damien?” The look on his face was a combination of anger and lust and Abby felt a reciprocating response in her body. Anger at what had happened to Marie was accompanied with pure, unadulterated lust and aching need. The pain from Roger’s ejaculation was gone, replaced with a warm gush of moisture as her pussy prepared for Damien’s cock.
