Gypsy: Sons of Sangue

by Patricia A. Rasey

  “Gypsy needs communion, Tamera. Are you denying him?” Draven challenged. “It wasn’t that long ago it was you trying to get in his pants. You know feeding and desire go hand in hand.”

  “But that doesn’t give them a right to act on it. You think Cara or Suzi would allow any of them”—her forefinger pointed from one donor to the other—“to take advantage of their men?”

  “The donors wouldn’t dare.”

  Tamera’s glare took in the plump blonde. “Someone forget to tell her the rules?”

  “Oh, that’s rich.” Gypsy finally allowed himself the mirth. “You, who broke the biggest rule of all? Go back to bed, Tamera. You made your point.”

  “I’ll go when I’m damn good and ready.”

  All humor fled Grayson’s mood as his anger took over. He strode over to her, stopping so close that when he leaned down, the tip of his nose touched hers. “Go. Back. To. Bed.”

  “No. You don’t own me.”

  “On the contrary, woman. You just stated your ownership.” Grayson narrowed his gaze, heat traveled his spine. “You are mine until I say otherwise. Go back to your room and I will be there when I see Draven and the donors out. Then you and I, we’re going to have a little talk.”

  Tamera glared at him, as though she might yet deny him. Wisely thinking better of it, she gave the donors one final look, then stomped off to Grayson’s old room. Had he been getting anything horizontal from her, he might just enjoy following her. Makeup sex was killer. But since he still denied himself, they were in for one hell of an argument.

  * * *

  Tamera paced the room, seething from the way Grayson disparaged her in front of Draven and the donors. He had not shown her one ounce of compassion or respect one might a mate. Of course, technically, he hadn’t made up his mind or asked for her. Until he released her, like it or not, she was his mate. It didn’t matter how it had happened. Damn it, as such, he needed to show her a little courtesy. Tamera had enough of his ego for one lifetime.

  Enough was enough.

  Moments ago, he had demanded she stay away from Anton. Seriously? Apparently, Grayson felt he could make the rules but not lead by example. Tamera had had it with his bullshit. No longer would she walk on eggshells around the damnable vampire. If he decided to give her to Anton, then so be it. She’d deal with the ramifications. Nine months was far too long to put up with his surly ass, regardless of what her libido said every time he walked into the room.

  Tamera knew the moment the donors and Draven had left the building. Their scent had followed them out the door. She heard the tires spinning gravel as Draven’s Camaro pulled out of the parking lot. Draven, in all likelihood, wasn’t any happier with Grayson than she was. Lately, he had treated everyone with complete disregard. What happened to the fun-loving Grayson she had met at the Blood ‘n’ Rave so many months ago? It seemed as if a lifetime had passed since she first saw Grayson in her parents’ mom-and-pop grocery in Pleasant. She had been so taken by the blue-eyed vamp. She would’ve done anything to get his notice, even if Suzi had warned her away from him.

  Maybe she should’ve heeded that warning.

  Standing in the center of the room, she wrapped her arms around her center and waited. Sooner or later the door would open and the war would begin. It was inevitable and a long time in coming, since they’d barely spoke to one another. She grit her teeth, her fangs biting into her lower lip and drawing blood. She traced her tongue over the prick points, quickly healing them. Long moments passed, as he likely took care of his friend thrashing about on the sofa. Surely showing much more compassion than he had given her during the change.

  Her heart panged at the memory of Anton crawling onto her bed and wrapping his thick arms about her, pulling her against his chest, easing her pain. It should have been Grayson. Anton had been the bigger man and continued to be so. She should despise Grayson for his negligence. So why didn’t she? Because you had a big hand in destroying his life. Lord, but it was the truth. Rehashing old arguments would not benefit any of them, leastwise her. She needed a clear head for the battle about to begin.

  The knob turned, catching her notice, just before the door crashed off the inside wall. He didn’t bother closing it since they were relatively alone anyway. Even if Ryder overheard their conversation, he wouldn’t care. She knew pain pretty much paralyzed him to anything but the agony and fire coursing through him. And Suzi? Since coming to live in the clubhouse and finding herself with Kaleb’s child, she had taken to sleeping with a sound machine to drown out all the excessive noise that seemed to be a constant around the place.

  Grayson’s blackened eyes damn near glowed as his anger radiated off him in waves. Tamera was pretty sure she’d never seen him this pissed before, not even the night she had drank from him. A shiver passed down her spine as she second-guessed overstepping her bounds. Maybe she had no right to claim his penis as her territory. She fought back the smile that she was pretty sure would be misplaced at the moment. It wasn’t like she had sampled it. Hell, she hadn’t even spied the size of it. Nope, he looked as if he was about to drain her, ramifications of such act be damned.

  Stopping just out of arm’s length, probably to keep from bowing to temptation, and choking the shit out of her. A muscle ticked in his cheek. His nostrils flared and his bare chest heaved.

  Lord, he turned her on. Get a handle on yourself, sister.

  “Don’t you ever pull a stunt like that again.”

  “Or what, Gypsy?” She narrowed her gaze. She couldn’t help pushing his buttons. There was something awfully sexy about Grayson when he got angry. “You going to finally just end this ruse and give me to Blondy?”

  “Ha! I think you would like that, il mio dolce rossa. I’d rather see you suffer.”

  Was he serious? “Is that why in all this time you haven’t made your decision? Because you think I want Blondy?”

  “It doesn’t matter what you want. Vlad didn’t give you a decision in all of this. Nor did he Blondy.” He jabbed his thumb against his sternum. “I’m the injured party here. Thankfully, Vlad realized that. It’s my decision alone what I do with you. Too bad taking your head wasn’t an option.”

  She rolled her eyes. “If you seriously wanted to do that, Gypsy, you would’ve done so the night I drank from you. Yet here we stand, nine months later, aggravating the shit out of each other. You can end your torment. Send me home with Blondy.”

  “No.” He grit his teeth.

  “Why?”

  “It’ll be a cold day in hell before I allow Blondy to fuck you.”

  She scrunched her brows together with the glare she shot him. “Are you serious?”

  Grayson said nothing as he stood a foot away, returning her glare. She did detect, though, the slight scent of desire emanating from him along with his ire. Maybe getting him to believe she wanted to try Anton on for size had been the key all along. After all, he had been livid at his MC brother for crawling into bed with her and helping her through her change.

  “Maybe he’s a better lay than you.”

  “You wouldn’t know, would you?”

  She licked her lips as she raked her gaze over his naked, dried bloody chest, down to his leather-clad groin. “No, I guess I wouldn’t.”

  As she worked her gaze back up, she noted his chest heaving a bit more than before. The points of his tribal, upper back tattoo snaked over his bulging trapezius muscles. Damn, but she had always loved a man with tats. Should he ever allow her close enough, she wouldn’t mind following the stark black lines with her tongue.

  “Have you fucked Blondy?”

  “Crude as ever.”

  Grayson stepped closer, leaning down so that his breath fanned her cheeks. Even Ryder’s dried blood on him couldn’t deter her from wanting to jump his bones at the moment. The air sizzled with sexual tension.

  “You haven’t answered my question.”

  “No, you jerk. I haven’t slept with your best friend.”

  “Former.”r />
  Tamera stared at him for long moments. “He’s still your best friend, Gypsy. You know Blondy loves you. He always has.”

  “The man I loved wouldn’t have thought about touching you.”

  She threw his words and thoughts back at him. “I wasn’t yours. You never asked for me.”

  His nostrils flared. But again, he remained silent. Just a mere inch and his lips would cover hers. How she wished he would do them both a favor and just kiss her. Dear Lord, she wanted him to. Tamera needed to feel his lips move across hers, to allow his tongue to sweep inside in possession. To take what has always been his.

  “Blondy would never take anything that was yours, Gypsy. If you want me, then take me.”

  Tamera couldn’t help but issue the challenge. She had said it, laid it out there for him. Her window of opportunity was closing. If he didn’t take what she was so willingly offering him at the moment, she would never offer it to him again. No, instead she would beg him to give her to Anton because she could no longer take the torment of Grayson Gabor.

  His entire frame became rigid, each muscle tightened as he warred with himself. His breathing labored, his heart pounded against his sternum. The signs were all there that he wanted her. There was no mistaking the ridge in his pants or the scent of his desire. She just needed to prod him a bit. He’d either send her packing, or give in to what she knew they both wanted.

  “I hate you, il mio dolce rossa.”

  “I know.” She placed her palm in the center of his chest and stepped forward, aligning their bodies.

  “Then why?”

  She licked the crease of her lips. “Why what?”

  “If you know I hate you so, then why would you want to fuck me?”

  “I don’t. I want to make love to you, Gypsy.”

  His laughter barked out of him falsely. “Then that’s where you fail. I’ll never make love to you.”

  “Then fuck me.”

  Grayson growled as he grabbed her by the biceps and hauled her flush against his body, covering her lips with his.

  Chapter 5

  With the first touch of her lips, he became a drowning man, lost in the sea of yearning for the one person he held so damn much contempt for. Merda! There was no saving him. No matter how much he disliked her, his body reacted on its own impetuousness. Grayson’s hunger took over, the animal in him came forth, and there was no more denying what he craved.

  Her.

  Always her.

  From the moment he’d seen her with Suzi in the little Main Street Grocery, looking for a movie to entertain, he had been infatuated. Christ, he had wanted to be her entertainment. Grayson had been on a mission to get more whiskey for Nicolas and Steve’s send off to the afterlife when he had happened upon the two women. Following the first sighting, all he could think about was the curvy redhead who suddenly had him by the balls. She had been his Eve to Adam—all temptation. From that moment he had vowed to have her, whatever it took. Kaleb’s little mate, however, tried her best to thwart his every effort, to no avail. Grayson had been pretty damned determined. Right up to the night he almost grasped the brass ring when Tamera had done the unthinkable and drank from him.

  For months he thought she had purposely cut him, that she wanted the one thing from him he would’ve never freely given to any woman. Now? He wasn’t so sure. That night and everything leading up to it had become nothing but a blur, a distant memory. He allowed his hatred to fester like a tainted wound. Even so, he knew this day would come, knew without a shadow of doubt he would give in and take what he hungered for.

  All that mattered was burying his cock, feeling her from the inside. Taking the one thing he would deny Anton. Regardless if it meant strapping himself to her for all eternity. Hate her or not, he’d take what he should have all those months ago. It was time to put his obsession to bed so he could get on with his life. If he were to suffer for his actions, then so would she. Tamera would never get a chance with Anton. She would be forced to watch the blond vamp as he moved on and no longer doted on her like a damned princess.

  Grayson was no fool. He knew if he followed through with his desires and tossed her upon the bed she had been occupying alone, taking what he craved, then he too was stuck for all time. Vlad would no longer give him a choice. Tamera Cantrell would be his mate in every sense but love? No, never that.

  His lips took possession of hers. Fangs scraped flesh, tongues tangled. Her moan traveled through his sex muddled brain, fueling his frenzy to bury himself deep. He snaked one arm about her back, anchoring her abdomen to his rock-hard cock. He slipped his free hand up her side, pushing up her red silky tank as he went, stopping just beneath what appeared to be a perfect pair of breasts. Damn, they looked to be a mouthful. He groaned as he smoothed his hand over one of them, hearing the catch in her breath. Her nipples instantly pebbled, strained against the barely-there lace, teasing his palm.

  Tamera fisted the hair at his nape, tangling her long fingers in the strands reaching past his shoulders. It seemed as if she feared he might bolt, which damn near made him chuckle. Grayson had no intension of fleeing. Not this time. He hadn’t exercised his right to take his mate, or fuck any woman for that matter, since all this began for fear of pissing off Vlad. Which left him one allupati vampire, damn hungry for the horizontal.

  Regardless of his feelings toward Tamera, it did not stop him from wanting her.

  She had killer curves that fit perfect to his lean frame. He had always liked a girl with a little more meat on her bones. Gripping the side of her red shirt, he pulled it over her head, forcing her to loosen her hold, then tossed it to the floor. The sheer red lace bra left him damn near without a breath … red being his favorite of colors. He quickly worked the button free on her jeans, then pushed them over her nicely rounded ass and down the sexiest pair of legs he had laid eyes on. He could easily imagine them wrapping his hips as he shoved into her.

  His gaze traveled back up her pale flesh, over her soft abdomen, up to her large breasts, then finally landed on her black-mirrored eyes. Damn, she made one sexy temptation in her vamp form. She stepped out of her jeans, leaving her in a set of matching red lingerie. Flat footed, she came just shy of his six foot height, which he also liked about her. Tall and curvy in all the right places. He couldn’t have handpicked a better combination.

  His gaze fell to her lace-covered breasts. His mouth went dry. Even though he had just fed, his fangs ached with the need to taste her. It wouldn’t nourish him, but neither did the whiskey he regularly consumed. And that didn’t stop him from drinking Jack.

  “Gypsy—”

  “For the love of all that’s holy, close the fucking door!”

  Apparently Ryder’s acute senses were kicking in. Grayson fought the smile as one side of his lips raised. He should feel a bit of compassion for his friend, but he was having a hell of a time thinking of Ryder with Tamera standing damn near naked in front of him. He placed a palm in the center of her chest, felt the heavy kick of her heart, and backed her toward the bed. When the bend of her knees hit the mattress, he gently pushed her onto it. “Don’t. Move.”

  Tamera licked her lips, her gaze wide. She back-crawled to the headboard. If Grayson didn’t know better, he’d swear she looked as if she were a hairbreadth away from bolting. He shook off the notion. Hadn’t it been her pushing for this very thing?

  “Stay put, il mio dolce rossa.” He narrowed his gaze. “I’m far from done with you. But right now, Ryder’s my responsibility.”

  “I was your responsibility once.”

  “Don’t start, Tamera.” He rubbed his heavily whiskered jaw. “I’m not in the mood to get into a pissing match at the moment. Deny me now and I’ll get it elsewhere.”

  She opened her mouth, but said nothing. Thank goodness for small favors. The only lip he wanted from her at the moment was her mouth wrapped around the head of his dick. He gave her his back and walked to the door, glancing to the sofa. Ryder half sat, half reclined, his crazed black ey
es glaring at him.

  Ryder hadn’t asked for this lifestyle. Okay, maybe Grayson did feel a bit of compassion for him. He knew all too well what that had been like. But faced with the alternative… “You okay, bro?”

  The start of fangs emerged from his upper lip. “Do I fucking look like it?”

  Grayson grimaced. “Look, bro, I’m sorry. I really am. But I’m about to get laid, dude. If you’re doing okay, I’m going to go back to that.”

  Ryder rolled his neck and growled. “Just shut the damn door!”

  Grayson turned with a chuckle and used his booted foot to slam the door. Ryder would manage. He was a tough nut. The scar on his shoulder said as much. He may feel like someone injected fire into his veins, but he’d survive, coming out stronger because of it.

  His gaze crawled up the bed to his mate. Her impossibly long legs stretched out before her, tightening his groin. As he followed the line of her lean legs up to her face, he noticed all traces of vampirism had receded. An ache settled in his chest. The firm set of her jaw told him she was about to shut him down. All traces of desire had dissipated.

  What the fuck?

  She had tried to seduce him, time and time again, and now she was turning him down? Talk about a turnabout. Grayson steeled his jaw. Anton came to mind. Could it be possible he had waited too long? Maybe, she had already been fucking the blond vampire.

  “You want to tell me what just happened?”

  She worried her lower lip. “I thought I could do this. I was wrong.”

  He grit his teeth, attempting to tamp his rising ire. “How so?”

  “Just go, Gypsy.”

  “No,” he roared, baring his fangs. “Not until you give me an answer.”

  Grayson tossed the comforter at the end of the bed toward her. Thankfully, she covered the red lace. “What do you want me to say? You hate me, Gypsy.”

  Fire burned in his gut. “Since when have you allowed that to bother you?”