Immortal Beloved - Kith & Kynn Book 2

by Jeya Jenson

  “I’m sorry I’ve been such a grouchy bitch,” Rachel whispered. “Let me show you much I love—and need—you.”

  Tangling her fingers in his thick hair, she guided his lips to her pink nipple. He nipped at the hard little bead and felt her body respond. Emboldened by her response, he traced circles around her soft areola before taking the tip in his mouth. The little bud was thick and swollen. He suckled hard, pulling and twisting the other one. He knew she loved her nipple play to verge on nearly painful. With enough of it, she would easily climax.

  Rachel’s body trembled against his. He could smell her excitement, which caused his silk encased shaft to surge with an electrifying intensity. Taking his hand, she guided it down between her legs. She briefly squeezed her thighs together when he drew her nipple in deeper.

  “Oh, God,” she panted. “I think I’m on fire.”

  “Mmmm…good…” He gently stroked the soft petals of her womanhood. She was moist and eager, her body fertile ground. Already planted with his seed, he could still reap the pleasurable fruits of her ripeness. Resting the heel of his hand on her Venus mound, he slipped his middle finger through her softness. He began a slow stroke against the sensitive little nubbin that was her clit. It was a move guaranteed to send a woman soaring into the stratosphere.

  Rachel writhed in pleasure, pale skin flushing with the heat building inside. “God,” she moaned, pushing her hips against his fingers. “I need you inside me. It’s been too damned long since I felt this way…”

  “Not yet, love,” he teased. He slid an exploring finger inside her depths. He smiled as he felt her narrow vagina tightly clench his finger. He pulled out and then slid two fingers in. He felt her body responding in a way that could only mean one thing. He twisted his fingers and rammed them harder into her. The wet sucking sounds of her drenched pussy was guaranteed to drive him nuts. He knew he needed to take her soon, or he was going to lose control and ejaculate without entering her.

  “Let me see you come, Rachel,” he breathed.

  Hands twisting the sheets, she moaned and shoved her hips up, growling as the waves of orgasm consumed her. She climaxed hard against his hand, and seconds after she dropped back to the bed, he could feel her creamy juices drenching his skin.

  She released her grip, panting through her mouth as he gently positioned the head of his cock at her luscious slit. Using only the slowest of motions, he eased into her pussy. They both moaned. He held his hips still, waiting to see if he was hurting her in any way.

  Rachel was the one who couldn’t wait. “Don’t be too gentle,” she grated in a husky voice. Strong vaginal muscles rippled around his shaft.

  Spurred by the need in her words, Devon thrust his cock deeper, smooth and definitely unhurried. He’d been hovering at the edge of tension too long and it was sheer hell to hold onto his control. Rachel wasn’t helping. Eyes were half closed, lips slightly parted, she caught hold of the headboard and arched her back, slamming her ass into his groin, meeting him stroke for stroke. The air around them sizzled, redolent with the scent of two perspiring bodies locked together in unadulterated desire

  Unable to hold back any longer, Devon pulled out and then rammed back in. After that, he was lost in the wonder and beauty of the simple sexual act, awesome and wrenching at the same time. Gritting his teeth against the rush, his orgasm overcame him with the force of a sun gone nova. His entire body jerked and stiffened, spilling his seed into her fertile womb. He collapsed onto his pillow, panting to catch his breath. Bodies still locked together, neither had the desire to move.

  Skin beaded with sweat, Rachel wasn’t half as exhausted. She snuggled against him and sighed softly. “That was wonderful.” She beamed at him and touched his cheek. “Do you think we could do it again—in the shower?”

  Giving a mock groan, he countered playfully, “Woman, you’ll be the death of me yet.”

  She shook her head. “Oh, no,” she laughed, patting her tummy. “You’re going to hang around and help me handle these two hellcats.”

  Devon drew her closer, giving her shoulder a playful nip. “Gladly, my love,” he whispered, swallowing to quell the lump rising in his throat. “I will cherish you and our children until the end of time.”

  Chapter Seven

  The aftermath of the feast was the hardest time to face alone.

  Adrien’s entire body surged with the energies absorbed from his victim. More than ever he became aware of far away voices on the night winds crying out to him.

  Walk with us, they whispered from afar.

  At first he listened to the siren’s song, unable to resist. The very blood coursing through his veins was the blood of the brethren. All Kynn shared that common linking; they were all brothers and sisters under the skin. Embrace their gifts and he would be welcomed—forgiven.

  Adrien felt he had nothing to be forgiven for. He had not chosen their ways. Memories of Lilith were too clear, too strong in his mind. He would not accept becoming one of them, would not join their pack for the hunt. It was the only way he could continue to hang on to his humanity, to the remnants of the soul stolen away. It was in tatters, the threads precious and few, but he clutched at them like a drowning man going under for the last time. Let them go and he would be lost in the darkness of eternal damnation.

  “You tempt me, devil,” he snarled back. “I won’t listen to the words of demons.”

  The voices faded into mocking laughter. He could banish them only temporarily. The next time he fed they would return.

  Unable to stand the thought of four walls confining him, he decided he couldn’t go home. Even the city streets seemed too narrow, the traffic an angry snarl. There was too much angst inside his brain to give him any rest or respite. He’d long ago escaped Lilith’s bonds, yet he still felt trapped. Hate kept him more shackled than any chain ever could. He walked in two worlds, yet fit in neither. He no longer belonged to the human world, yet he wouldn’t allow himself to fully embrace that of the Kynn.

  Grinding his teeth in agitation, Adrien gunned the motorcycle’s engine. He needed to get away, have some time alone to think.

  He pulled into the city park thirty minutes later with half a dozen bottles of beer in his saddlebags. Brilliantly, someone had decided it would be better located about eight miles north of town, a small oasis in the desert. He followed the meandering drive, heading for the denser cul-de-sac of towering old oaks shading a large, rambling picnic area. The tables were broken up by a series of smaller pine trees and hedges that offered a sense of privacy. Adrien chose the table nearest to the pond. During the day, ducks and other waterfowl would descend like locusts, eager to get a handout of stale bread and other goodies.

  The city didn’t pour a lot of money into upkeep and the park bordered on shabby—broken swing chains, rickety slides, glass-strewn playgrounds. It wasn’t the safest place to be at night, but neither was it the most dangerous. Like anyplace else, you drew your lot and took your chances. He doubted anyone would bother him.

  Butt planted on the tabletop, boots resting on the bench, Adrien twisted the top off his first beer and took a long quaff of the lukewarm ale. He didn’t really care for the malted brew, but it was strong and might help fuzz his mind a bit. Normally he wasn’t a drinker, but he needed to wash Trisha’s blood out of his mouth. Maybe the alcohol would help chase away the impression that he’d enjoyed the taste.

  No such luck.

  Elbows resting on his knees, he fingered the smooth glass. He stared out over the still pond. Only the barest whisper of a breeze rippled the water. The buzz of locusts filled the night’s silence. He was all alone.

  Closing his eyes, he began to walk that path in his mind, the one he always swore he would never take again. That path led to the first time he’d fed. Lilith had tormented him for weeks, keeping him in a state of hunger and constant arousal. He’d tried to resist, swearing that he would die before falling to the need burning inside his soul. He did not care if he withered away and died. Any
thing was better than the idea of what awaited him.

  Undeterred that her pet refused the feast, Lilith was determined that he would take a victim. She’d brought to his chamber a young serving wench, an Irish girl working the kitchens. The girl’s name was Brigit and she was everything a man could desire; ripe, pleasingly plump and firm. She was frightened by the madman before her, but going past fear was a deeper, more primeval vibration, one that sang out like a tuning fork hitting a pitch-perfect note. He hadn’t been able to resist her moist red lips, full breasts and pussy untouched by any man. The scent of her, the feel of her…and the taste…oh the wicked taste… The idea of taking her blood was repulsive. He’d sworn he’d never do it. Yet he had. God forgive him, he’d eagerly pressed his lips to the slice Lilith made in Brigit’s pale skin and drank down the nectar of her life. The flavor was unlike any other, a wine filtered and purified by the beating human heart. Thrusting his straining cock into her tight virgin cunt had solidified the communion.

  Adrien looked at the bottle in his hand. I accepted the demon when I drank, he thought. I am what I‘ve vowed to destroy.

  Since killing his sire, he’d centered his mind on the goal of getting even with Devon Carnavorn. He hadn’t sent any more letters lately. He’d written all that needed to be purged from his soul. He believed in writing them that he could purge the bile blackening his heart. Instead of helping to cool the heat of his anger, the letters had reignited it. He’d sent them during his move across the country, taking care that each was mailed from a different state. He did it, knowing it would make him harder to track down. The point, he supposed, was to let Devon know he was free—and hell bent on revenge. Sending Lilith’s head—well that was his coup de grace, a warning to Devon that he was on his way.

  Swirling the liquid in the bottle around, he took another drink. He grimaced when it hit his empty stomach. Blood was not a full meal for him by any means. He needed to eat, something of more solid substance. He’d been neglecting that need, eating only when necessary and not very much. He’d centered everything around his plans for revenge, to the exclusion of everything else. He wasn’t thinking about life. He was focusing on death and that wasn’t good.

  He knew every bit of Devon’s present life forward and backward. Far from skulking in corners, Devon led the high profile life of the genteel businessman. Before his marriage to Rachel Marks, he was regularly profiled in the social and business pages in many major publications. Somehow Devon had successfully embraced both worlds and then merged them into a multi-million dollar empire.

  The slayings would be shocking and gruesome, thrusting Devon squarely into the spotlight of the same media that worshipped his genius as an entrepreneur. It would be a terrible tragedy; one that would fade as new atrocities came into the news.

  He took another sip of beer and grimaced. In his conscience the battle raged on. Did he truly have the right to pursue such a devastating act of revenge? Taking the stand of the Amhais, he’d never felt any guilt as a slayer.

  So why was doubt plaguing his thoughts, gnawing at his conscience like a dog worried a bone. He’d been taught to believe that the Kynn possessed no souls. Or did they? Now, he was not so sure. He was Kynn, yet he felt that he still had his soul. He’d died…that must mean his soul was forever lost to him. But what if he still had a soul? If that were so, then he would surely be condemned by God for killing his own. The notion that mortals and Kynn might have originated from the same core of creation disturbed him.

  Dipping back his head, he cast an unsparing stare toward the depth of the sky. The full moon was beginning to wane, bathing a dark earth in its cold illumination. Stars sparkled across the endless void like dust sprinkled by pixies. The planet of earth was just a tiny speck in the gaping maw of the universe. It was awe-inspiring. He felt tiny, insignificant. At this moment there was only the darkness, stretching out into eternity. Where did the true war for lives and souls really rage—out there in that endless void or in the hearts and minds of men?

  The night didn’t last forever. He knew that. Time would pass and the earth would revolve on its axis. In a few hours the sun would peek over the horizon. The day would arrive, illumination burning away the shadowy wraiths of darkness.

  I live as one of them even as I plan to kill more of the brethren, he thought. If I deny their right to survive, where is my own?

  In the back of his mind was the vague notion that he would stay right here, waiting for the coming of morning. He didn’t have to be strong, worry about the failure to pull the trigger or slide the razor through vulnerable flesh. He would look the sun in the eye and then he would know the real truth.

  The sound of an engine and the glare of headlights cut into his internal conversation. Shading his eyes, Adrien watched a car wend its way into the park. Apparently he wasn’t the only one seeking seclusion. Seemingly unaware of his presence, the car pulled into the neighboring picnic area. The park was a well-known lover’s lane. The pond, the grass, trees, it was a perfect romantic setting after dusk.

  He sighed and tipped the bottle up, quaffing more beer. Finishing it, he tossed the bottle toward the nearby trash bin. His aim was on the mark. Score two points. He sighed aloud. Do I need another or not? Shrugging, he opened a second beer. One more and he would go. Two beers wouldn’t make him too drunk to drive.

  The driver killed the engine, but left the headlight on. The muffled sounds of conversation emanated from the car. He could make out the voices of a man and a woman, raised in argument. He rolled his eyes. Sheesh. A fine night and these two wanted to duke it out. A car door opened and the woman sprang out.

  “I told you I didn’t want to!” she exclaimed in a shrill voice. She slammed the door to punctuate her point. Clearly upset, she started to walk away.

  The man also got out. Arms spread wide, he yelled in her wake, “What’s your problem!”

  She stopped and spun on her heel. Her mistake. She should have kept on going. “You,” she shrilled. “You’re the problem, Kevin. You don’t see a woman when you look at me—all you see is a bank account.” She threw her hands up. “Jesus. Couldn’t you have at least waited to fuck me before asking me for a loan? Hell, for that much money I could have hired ten men to screw me.”

  Adrien’s eyebrows rose. Whoa! Quite a fight these two were having. Perhaps now would be a good time to get up and leave, at least let these two know they were not the only ones in the park tonight. Something—call it instinct or curiosity—kept him rooted his in spot. He remained still, peering through the hedges, head cocked to hear every word.

  The fight escalated. Time seemed to accelerate into a blur. In the following minutes, a burst of violence occurred within the blinking of an eye.

  Rushing after her departing figure, the man grabbed her arm. Spinning her around, he delivered a sound slap.

  “Goddamned bitch,” he snarled, dragging her back toward the car. “What’s the matter? Think you’re too good for me, Cassie? All that Wilson money made you rich, but it doesn’t make you better than me and it doesn’t stop you from being a slut. Everyone in town knows you’ll fuck any man who looks your way.”

  The woman screeched, twisting every which way. Her efforts earned her a second slap and a violent shove. She crumpled to the ground, whimpering in pain.

  The man dropped to the ground on top of her, pinning her down with his knees. Ripping her blouse open, he exposed her breasts. “Just like you…” he panted. "Not even wearing a bra. You’re wanting it tonight, Cassie. I bet that pussy of yours is wet, just waiting for a cock to open it up.” He started to unbuckle his belt and unzip his slacks.

  “No, Kevin,” she whimpered. “Not like this…I’m sorry… please…don’t.”

  He slapped her into silence, the force of the blow splitting her lip. “I’ll show you what the hell you’re throwing away, bitch,” came the nasty retort. Pushing her skirt up, he worked her panties down around her legs.

  Adrien had heard quite enough. Tearing around the bushy he
dges at full speed, he bounded toward the man. He hated to see the weak exploited by the strong. It ignited an unquenchable anger in him. The lady was clearly was not consenting.

  He grabbed the man by the scruff of his neck, hoisting him off the woman. With a grunt, the man broke free, whirling and attacking Adrien with a full body blow. The sheer desperate power of hands closing around his neck startled him. The man was strong, damned strong. No wonder that poor woman wasn’t physically able to resist him.

  The two men tumbled to the ground together, a mass of arms and legs. The man was as big as he was and almost as bulky. A sound punch was delivered to Adrien’s jaw, followed by a second and then a third that split his lip. He tasted his own blood, salty and warm.

  Blind, shocked paralysis quickly passed as Adrien’s own fighting instincts kicked into high gear. There was only a single thought in his mind, to pound the living shit out of this son of a bitch. The hands around his neck squeezed harder. He was losing his breath.

  Determined that he wasn’t going to take the worst of this ass-kicking, Adrien bucked his body and dislodged his attacker. Quickly on his feet, he lashed out with all the power of his right foot and tripped the man as he attempted to get up, taking him down and then delivering a devastating kick to his ribcage. When the man tried to roll away and scrabble off on hands and knees, Adrien came down with a knee squarely in the man’s back, putting him face down in the dirt. Capturing one of the man’s arms, he wrenched it up behind his back, none too gentle in his grip.

  “How does it feel to be on the other end?” he snarled.

  The man howled. “You’re breaking my arm, you bastard!”

  Adrien gave another hard twist. “Give me a reason, punk, and I will,” he breathed. The man howled.

  The woman still sat on the ground, arms wrapped around her half-naked body. Sniffling through her tears, she slowly dragged herself to her feet. She’d lost one of her high heels in the scuffle, which caused her to walk with an odd limp.