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The Siren Series 3: Brandon (A Siren Novel)

Page 5

by Eros, Marata

I huff a disgusted sigh.

  “Leave her with us. No harm shall come to her. We interrupted the human males’ beating of her.”

  Point for that.

  “You will not harm her per se, but she'll be the sexual slave of the Reapers,” Ren elaborates.

  “And why is that bad?” Mikhail asks.

  I narrow my eyes on him. “What? I'm nobody's slave.”

  Kellan snorts.

  He's kind of a jerk, I decide.

  “You'll beg for it, breeder.”

  Definitely a jerk.

  I put my hands on my hips. “Not from you, pencil dick.”

  “Nova,” Ren groans, “please.”

  “Nope. No can do. They're hunky but too bossy in their tight-ass pants.”

  Kellan the Reaper's mouth hangs agape.

  Mikhail removes a dagger from a hidden sheath at his waist. “This will not end well, Harborer.”

  “For whom?” Ren asks.

  I back away as Ren brings it.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Brandon

  I want to gorge on her like fine chocolate. Instead, I ease my stiff cock inside her tight opening, relishing each ripple of sleek, wet muscle that strokes me.

  I spread her wide, my gaze pegging that sweet spot where her pulse leaps in the hollow of her throat.

  Soon.

  I hold out, knowing when I come, I'll hit that throbbing vein and take.

  She moans as I reach the end of her. My cock searches for that divot in her womb that signals she can take my nuts if I want to go balls deep.

  I can't find it. Not Druid enough.

  I pull out of her, a slick pull of resistant flesh. Gripping her shoulders, I shove her harder against me as I pin her deep inside.

  “Ah!” she yells into the cab.

  I hit the gearshift with my thigh, and it moves into neutral.

  I ignore everything but the female beneath me. My hands slide from her shoulders to underneath her body, finding her ass cheeks. I grip them, lifting her hips so I can plunge with greater depth and speed. Her tight hole takes everything I give. Her breasts dance inside the torn remnants of her bra.

  Soft mewling sounds exit her mouth, and she cries, “Harder!”

  I slam into her, holding nothing back. Sweat beads on my temple, rivulets running down my face and splashing on her jiggling tits.

  Then it happens.

  Her womb opens, and I sink deeper.

  “Yes!” I yell as my balls sink into her willing channel.

  I was wrong. She is Druid enough. She's just never been fucked by the right male.

  I lay on top of her, and her hips lift to meet my pumping cock. I press deeper, pushing my feet hard against the door. I sink inside her, and we are so deeply locked, I feel as if we're of one body.

  With a final thrust, my seed shoots out of me. Fangs fully extended, I slide my hand to her head and push the side of her face against the seat. I strike, and she screams even as her body gushes in a wet hard pulse around my prick, milking it and extracting a second course of essence from deep inside.

  I pull hard at her throat, and she gurgles beneath me.

  I feel the pulse of her pussy and heart. One takes from deep within me as her blood provides for my starved body.

  Her heartbeat grows dim, and I release her throat.

  I move her face to the side, and it falls back, her eyes fluttering shut.

  Fuck.

  I took too much.

  Saving her is dangerous, but at this point, I'm murdering a female of Druid blood. She’s not fully Druid, but enough to allow my balls entry and suck them dry.

  I stroke her face, jerking my now-flaccid cock out of her.

  A low, satisfied moan escapes her lips. Great, but she's still dying.

  Dying of pleasure is still just as dead.

  I squeeze her lips together, and they pucker like a blow-fish’s. They're cherry red and ready.

  My cock gets hard again just thinking about those lips around it. Maybe later.

  Right now, it's saving time.

  I slit my wrist with a swipe of fangs. Blood drips in a steady stream, and I raise my arm above her mashed lips. Blood falls into her mouth like liquid rubies, and I use my other hand to massage her throat.

  She convulsively swallows. I watch my blood work on her body until she’s breathing more evenly, her eyes slowly opening.

  My hand drops from her throat, and I allow the wound I made to close.

  She blinks up at me. “What was that?”

  I smile, sitting back on my haunches. “That was us fucking.”

  A ghost of a smile flashes across her wet lips. She swallows. “I think I get that. But what about you—feeding me?” There’s a little bit of yuck in her tone.

  I chuckle. “That was me saving you.”

  We stare at each other.

  “I don't think I'd need saving if you hadn't been biting my neck and taking my blood.”

  Good point. “I'm Brandon.”

  She covers her breasts with her arms.

  I chuckle. “Don't bother—I've seen the whole show.”

  Her hands slap the cloth seat of the semi-truck. “Yeah,” she whispers. “I'm Alicia.”

  “A-lee-c-ia?” I ask, wondering if I heard it correctly.

  She nods and puts her hands over her face. “I'm such a slut. I had sex with you in a stranger's truck, and I let you go in me without a condom or even knowing your name!”

  Women.

  “Hey, now,” I say, jerking up my pants before I pull her into my lap.

  I'm not without compassion. I’ve never taken an unwilling female or hurt one. Many vampires could not say the same. I will fuck females and leave them, but I don't want them against their will. There is no need, and it lacks compassion.

  Now, Constantine... I'm pretty sure that's all he ever does—take.

  “There's no reason to put on a freak,” I soothe.

  She slaps me.

  So much for the compassion angle.

  “Don't patronize me. If I want to feel like shit because I just fucked a stranger in”—she looks around and grunts in disgust—“wherever the hell I am, I can.”

  “Fine.” I tighten my arms around her. “I can't deny you that, but hitting the guy who gave you a good orgasm and saved your life is not the way to show gratitude.”

  Alicia seems to consider that. “I guess you're right. And for the record, it wasn't a good orgasm.”

  I feel my eyebrows pop like a jack-in-the-box. “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah—it's was fan-fucking-tastic.”

  I grin.

  She smiles back. “I don't know about the whole blood weirdness but...” She gives me a look from beneath hooded eyes.

  “Ask.”

  “Are you—a vampire?”

  I laugh and watch a blush flood her face. I feel the heat exchange as the waste of blood gorges the surface of her skin.

  “I—that was a dumb question,” she admits.

  Humans want to explain the inexplicable. “Yes,” I answer anyway.

  She tenses. “Oh my God.”

  “I don't know that He has anything to do with it, actually.”

  “Whatever, I thought it was all bullshit.”

  I push hair out of her face. “No. It's not bullshit.”

  Breath leaks out of her. “I didn't think so, after what we did.”

  Alicia looks up at me, a tight circle of nakedness on my lap. “ʽNoʼ what?”

  I sigh, stroking the back of her head. “I was in terrible need. I had to fuck and take blood. Only you could have saved me as you did.”

  “You're talking weird.”

  “Sorry. What I'm saying is, you have the type of blood I need and your... body eased mine.”

  “You're saying I was a good screw.”

  I crack a smile. “Not a ʽgood screwʼ—a perfect one.”

  My smile fades.

  “What?” Alicia asks, looking alarmed.

  “I took without thinking. I didn
't think you were Druid enough to matter. But now that I've opened your womb—others might smell your ripeness.”

  “Druid what?” she asks, her brows puckering.

  I don't answer. Instead, I gather her torn clothes around her.

  She gestures toward the irreparable fabric. “That’s not working, just saying.”

  I look at the top split down the front and the useless jeans. “You're right. We—we'll use your vehicle and get some new things from your house. Then maybe we can figure something out. If you can take seed, you might be a breeder.”

  Alicia scoots away. “Listen, jack—Brandon. Whatever your name is. It was super fun. You, you're—wow. But I'm not a Druid-whatever-it-is, and breeder sounds pretty unappealing too. So let me just take my ass home, and I'll see you later.”

  I narrow my eyes on her. “No. I have caused this, and now I will help make it right.”

  “Right,” she says, popping the door handle behind her and sliding out the passenger side.

  I'm out the driver's side and around to hers before her toes tap the asphalt. I capture her body as it slides out, and she gasps.

  “That's not possible,” she whispers.

  I nod. “It is if I'm vampire.”

  “Right,” she says for the second time.

  I watch her eyelids flutter as her body goes limp.

  I don't think it's from blood loss this time.

  Probably too much to absorb. It's not every day a woman gets fucked, bled, and told she's from an ancient sect of witches.

  Scanning the parking lot and finding it quiet, I blur to her small VW Rabbit and grab the keys from my pocket where I stuffed them earlier.

  I open the door and slide Alicia in the back seat.

  Now I have two problems. I have a part-blood breeder and a pureblood. One I found through circumstance and desperation.

  The other calls to me like a beacon from a light house, as though I'm a lost ship at sea.

  I hop in, start the car, and with a short search, find the address for Alicia's domicile.

  I pull out of the parking lot without a backward glance.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Nova

  Ren takes out two sabers, and I gulp back a gasp. He might have been out carousing for a good chunk of the night, but he'd not made himself so scarce he was MIA on the Protect Nova detail.

  The Reapers circle him, Kellan trying to get closer to me.

  “You'd have to rape me to stick it to me, Reaper,” I say. Just to, yʼknow, strengthen our position.

  It doesn't really do that, though—it just pisses off the meanest of the three.

  He hisses, leaping forward, and I try to dodge his grasp. Kellan's hands circle my wrist like a vice before I can move an inch. He's that fast. Reapers make regular vamps look like snails.

  “Let me go, ya turd!” I scream into his face.

  He hisses, diving for my throat like a bloodthirsty hummingbird.

  I pinwheel backward, hitting the button on my switchblade I remembered to bring, and nail a lucky stab right underneath his chin.

  Neither vamps nor Were dig the high silver content.

  Kellan bats it away with his free hand. The hilt breaks, skittering across the archaic, pockmarked vinyl flooring.

  The blade breaks off inside his mouth like an exclamation point.

  Interesting look.

  Kellan's face thins down to flat planes and sharp angles. This close to him, I can taste his anger. I don't see him move, but I sail through the air when he backhands me.

  I land into the rack of Twinkies, Ding Dongs, and pink Sno Balls. My teeth snap together as I slide down, landing hard on my ass. Again.

  A Twinkie falls into my lap, and like bad comedy, my stomach roars to life.

  Kellan is making for me and I don't have a lot of choice.

  I get out my second blade I am never without, bathed in magic and slice my wrist. I’m careful to make a horizontal cut so I don't accidentally kill myself.

  The Reapers scent the air like blood hounds, and I note Ren has removed the arm of one of them.

  The Reaper spins, blood spurting from his shoulder even as the limb tries to re-grow.

  Goddess, he's like an octopus. Or a sad Monty Python re-make.

  My fingers tingle as blood leaks from my arm. I use the still-standing rack beside the smashed Twinkie to stand. Scooping blood from the slit at my wrist, I recite a spell so ancient, so simple, I hold it like a nursery rhyme as I fling blood at Kellan.

  It smacks his face, and he stops, frozen in place.

  “Now,” I say with a smile as I saunter toward him. “You're all bound up and shit, so this is the time for me to cut your teeny weenie off.”

  He hisses, teeth snapping to get at me.

  I toss more of my blood at him, and his mouth stops moving. Only his eyes hate me from across the tacky convenience store.

  I make a cursory pass around the place, realizing that All Night Long is missing Wu.

  Mikhail and his cohort approach me cautiously.

  “Don't,” I say. “It only takes a drop, guys.”

  Mikhail's nostrils flare, and he shakes his head, as though trying to come free of a terrible stupor.

  “Kellan is young. He acted rashly.”

  I shake my head as Ren comes to stand behind me. “Every drop you lose shortens your life, Nova,” he says with the authority of long experience.

  “I know,” I say, briefly touching the hand that grasps my shoulder.

  “Stop it,” Ren says.

  “Not until these guys get going. And where the hell is Wu?”

  Ren leaves me to check behind the counter. Seconds tick by.

  “Out cold!” he calls.

  Must've shit a brick when these guys came through.

  I return my attention to Mikhail and Damon, the Reaper twins. I suppress a slightly hysterical giggle. “Kellan's not young. He's a woman beater. You Reapers,” I tsk with my voice, “always try to breed and bleed. Just go away. Leave the Druid women alone.”

  Another drop of my blood falls to the floor with an echoing splat. The Reaper's eyes track it like hawks.

  Their eyes find Ren behind me.

  Another drop sounds.

  Mikhail's gaze tries to command me, but I'm too Druid for thrall. “Please, come with us.”

  I look over at the frozen Kellan. “Nah, I think I like where I'm at. And for the record, your acquisition tactics need work.”

  Splat.

  “Nova,” Ren warns.

  I close my other hand around the wound, holding it tight.

  “Thanks for saving me from those guys, though.”

  Mikhail steps toward me and I feel myself go weak from their presence and my blood loss.

  These guys are such bad news.

  “I would do much more than save you if you would but trust us,” Mikhail says.

  My gaze flicks to Kellan significantly then back at Mikhail. I shake my head. “He would nail me the first time your back was turned—even if I wanted to go with you, which I don't.”

  “He will be punished for hurting you.”

  I lick my swollen lip. “He checked his swing like a real gentleman,” I say with a sad laugh.

  “We don't hurt breeders,” Damon scoffs.

  I roll my eyes. “Clearly old Kellan here didn't get the memo.”

  Kellan's mouth moves.

  Ren squeezes my shoulder. “Time to go.”

  I nod. He steps backward, and I follow.

  Damon and Mikhail stay still, watching. Their eyes are so unnerving. I feel as if I'm drowning in a pool of mercury.

  Ren gives me a little shake.

  Mikhail moved closer as I stared at him for just that short moment.

  Sneaky hottie.

  I move another step away. The bell jingles when Ren opens the door behind us.

  “How long will Kellan be...” Damon gestures at the dickhead Reaper.

  “When I stop bleeding.”

  As if on cue, Kellan's
foot moves, his eyes narrowing and beginning to blink.

  “This is not over, breeder,” Mikhail says.

  I give a short laugh. These guys. “It's so over.” I let the door shut behind us.

  Mikhail meets my gaze through the glass, then Ren and I run toward the apartment. At the last second, he veers toward his car and opens the driver's door. He practically tosses me inside as he slides in beside me.

  He shuts the door and cranks over the engine.

  I glance at All Night Long.

  The building is dark, electricity off. Or cut.

  “Let's get out of here, Ren,” I whisper, though no one can hear me but him.

  He tramps the accelerator and the car lurches over something in the middle of the street. One of the tard patrons from Lue's tavern?

  Something lands on the hood.

  Kellan.

  I plaster stiff arms against the seat. “Go!”

  “I can't,” Ren says.

  I glance at his foot, and it's buried in the floorboard.

  I turn around and see Damon has the bumper in one hand. He’s doing a small wave-like salute with the other.

  Mikhail comes around, tears the driver’s door off, grabs Ren by the throat, and tosses him aside.

  I crawl across the seat, my back pressed to the inside of the passenger door.

  Mikhail ignores Ren on the ground behind him and crawls across the seat to me. The door handle digs into my back.

  I put up my hacked arm. “Don't hurt me.”

  “Never,” he says.

  I gasp as he moves between my legs. My breaths come in excited, scared little pants. I vaguely see Kellan leap down from the hood, and the car bounces lightly as Damon sets it down.

  Keys are ripped from the ignition.

  I groan as the lead Reaper palms my sex through my jeans.

  Oh goddess, no.

  Then he pries my forearm away from my face. Gently he turns it over and licks my self-inflicted wound.

  With each rasping lick, my skin grows warm.

  Then hot.

  Rapidly, the damage I caused to keep them at bay heals.

  His thumb slides against my jeans, pressing on my clit, and I gasp at the instant thrum of pleasure. He captures the noise with his mouth, pressing his body between my legs and taking my tongue in swirling hot ownership.

  I try to move now that my once-injured arm is healed. I struggle against him, worried for Ren... worried for me.

 

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