Dark Stranger Immortal

by I. T. Lucas

  CHAPTER 15: SYSSI

  As she held Kian close, running her hands up and down his strong back, a flood of endorphins washed over Syssi, bringing about a profound sense of relief. Clinging to his warmth, inhaling his scent, feeling his familiar hands roaming over her body, she felt as if he was her home, and without him, she was just drifting. Rudderless.

  It scared her.

  Was it just her? Or was falling in love terrifying for everyone? If Kian didn't feel as strongly for her, she'd be crushed. But it was too late to shield her heart.

  She was a goner.

  Still, to let herself go with that feeling—to revel in it—required the kind of trust she believed existed only between child and parent, and sometimes not even there.

  Her body, though, enraptured by the carnality of Kian's kiss, had no problem ignoring the turmoil going on in her head. As he plundered the cavern of her mouth, retreating to nip at her lips then plundering again, the tiny zings stoked the flames of her desire. And as he moved to the column of her throat, the gentle scrape of his fangs was so damn erotic, it pulled a ragged groan from her chest.

  With need unfurling in her belly, she welcomed the familiar tightness in her breasts and the contracting and wet warming of her sex. To abandon herself to her body's cravings felt good, uncomplicated.

  Easy to fulfill.

  It didn't leave room for doubts or fears.

  “I'm taking you to bed…” Kian hissed through his fangs, swiftly snaking his arms underneath her and scooping her up effortlessly.

  Curling into his solid body, Syssi smiled. “What took you so long?”

  Kian chuckled and dipped his head to kiss her again. "All good things come to those who wait."

  "If you say so…" Without realizing it, Syssi had spent the last two years waiting for Kian. She was done waiting, and impatient.

  He carried her to his bedroom, stepping inside through the open terrace doors, and put her down on his bed. Taking his time undressing her, he kissed and caressed every inch of skin he was exposing—driving her absolutely crazy.

  “Patience, my sweet girl.” He pulled her hands away from the jean button she was fumbling with. “I don't want to rush it.” He placed her arms at her sides, then kissed her belly before tackling the same button.

  Slowly, he unzipped her pants, his lips trailing kisses down her lace-covered mound, but as he stopped right above the juncture of her thighs, Syssi voiced her protest with an angry groan.

  Kian lifted his head and smiled an evil, fanged smile before peeling her tight-fitting jeans all the way off her legs.

  As her pants hit the floor, Kian paused for a moment to admire what he'd just unveiled, but then as his gaze climbed up to where her pink lace panties were soaked with the evidence of her desire, his eyes lit up and he sucked in a harsh breath.

  With hands that trembled with his effort to keep the slow pace he was dictating, he caressed, kissed, and nipped his way up, starting at her toes and culminating at that sweet spot.

  Panting with anticipation, Syssi lifted her hips to meet his lips, but Kian would have none of that. Spreading her thighs wide with his hands, he anchored them to the bed, preventing her gyrations. Blowing gently on her hot sex, he cooled it a little, taking his sweet time before finally placing his lips over her small greedy nubbin and kissing it gently through the wet lace.

  Syssi was hanging on the precipice. Being held down was turning on the heat, as were his teasing lips, but it was not enough. She needed more and Kian knew it, torturing her with his soft, gentle touches.

  He kept alternating between kissing and blowing air on her burning core, denying her what she desperately wanted.

  But besides panting, Syssi did nothing to hurry him on. Sensing his determination to go slow, she yielded to his will. And as before, that surrender added another dimension to her pleasure.

  Finally, Kian pushed her panties aside and slipped one long finger inside her, groaning when she clenched around it. But his finger didn't move. Holding her still, he pinned her down with his other hand, preventing her from writhing and providing the friction she needed.

  Syssi bit down on her lip, struggling to stay still and not plead for him to make her come. But she couldn't stifle the desperate, keening moan that escaped her chest. She was so close. Just a little bit more, and she would go flying.

  And still, Kian denied her.

  Smiling wickedly, he pulled his finger out and pushed up to kiss her parted lips. “I want you on edge when you take me in your mouth.” Climbing higher, Kian straddled her head, then pulled off his shirt and unzipped his pants.

  Freeing himself from their confinement, he braced his hand on the headboard above her, looking at her lips as he teased them with the velvety head.

  “Open for me,” he commanded.

  Yes! Syssi closed her eyes, his tone and his words sending a bolt of fiery arousal straight to her sex.

  She surprised herself with how much this turned her on; how much she craved taking him as deep down her throat as she could and pleasuring him into oblivion.

  Kian went slow, pushing just the crown past her lips. She licked, savoring his taste and the smooth texture of his shaft. He pushed a little deeper, then retracted for several shallow thrusts before going a little further; careful not to overwhelm her.

  When he reached as deep as he could go, he once again pulled out, feeding her just a small portion of his length, making sure she didn't gag.

  Syssi moaned around him, in part because she was so turned on, but also because she knew the vibrations would add to his pleasure. No longer restrained, she sneaked her hand to rub at her clit, her hips gyrating in sync with Kian's thrusts.

  She was so close, needing just a little more to combust, but the edge eluded her. Kian was getting close as well, hardening and thickening the way he did when his seed was about to burst. And as she prepared for it to flood her mouth and go down her throat, her moans became frantic. Not because she was afraid of how it would feel or taste, or if she would be able to swallow it all, but because she was hungry for it, and the crescendo leading up to the grand finale was driving her wild.

  Kian stopped and pulled out.

  In seconds, he shucked his pants while she watched—waiting for him with parted lips and heaving chest.

  With a growl, he plunged deep into her wet heat.

  Syssi was so ready for him that his impressive girth slid effortlessly through her dripping wet folds, denying her the little bite of pain she needed to careen over that elusive edge. Still, the way he filled her felt amazing. Arching her back, she urged him to move.

  Kian remained still. Buried deep inside her, he waited. “You're not up there with me, yet.” He hissed through gritted teeth as he looked into her questioning eyes.

  She had no idea what he was talking about. The pleasure was so intense that her eyes rolled back in her head.

  But then, as he began rolling his hips, thrusting in and out slowly and forcefully, the pleasure became almost unbearable, and the imaginary rubber band holding her back got pulled taut, reaching its utmost limit.

  But Kian held onto his steady pace, not letting it snap.

  Bracing on his forearms, he looked down at Syssi's pained expression as he held her mercilessly on the edge—not letting her fly. “I know, baby. I know how much you want to come. But not yet, just a little longer and you'll fly higher than you have ever flown before. And when you come down, I'd be right there to catch you.”

  Syssi looked up at Kian, her focus splitting between the pulsing and throbbing of the steady push and pull going on below, and the fierce expression on his handsome face. With his eyes glowing again, and his lips peeled back from his elongated fangs, he looked like a monster.

  My beautiful monster.

  Not letting go of her eyes, he increased the force and tempo of his hammering thrusts and closed his fingers around her taut nipples, gradually increasing the pressure.

  Syssi squeezed her eyes shut. It was almost too m
uch, and yet not enough.

  But then, as she heard him hiss and felt his fangs pierce the skin of her neck, her eyes flew open and she screamed. The exquisite agony of the twin pricks finally snapping that rubber band.

  The orgasm that exploded over her kept coming in wave after wave of pleasure so intense, she felt herself catapult into a different plane.

  Coming down, Syssi had no idea how long she'd been out, or which cloud she'd been on while there. Not that it really mattered. She felt at peace, lying encircled in Kian's arms with her face tucked into the crook of his neck, his familiar, masculine scent grounding her in this reality.

  “Welcome back to earth, sweet girl.” Kian's chuckle reverberated from his chest.

  “How long was I out?” Syssi whispered hoarsely, her throat parched and scratchy. She must have been screaming for a while but couldn't remember if she had.

  Kian took a water bottle from the nightstand and brought it to her lips. “Here, drink this.”

  She drank greedily, the water cooling and soothing her sore throat.

  “My sweet girl.” He kissed her damp temple.

  Handing Kian the empty bottle, she curled into his embrace and closed her eyes.

  CHAPTER 16: DALHU

  Sitting in a darkened corner of the nearly empty pub, Dalhu glanced at his phone. It was after two in the morning, and still no word from his men.

  After trolling four clubs, he had given up, finding reprieve in this modest establishment. Here he could breathe, as opposed to those bastions of depravity where he'd found the stench of mortals packed tightly like sheep in a pen hard to endure.

  It wasn't only the occasional nasty odor of a sweaty, unwashed body—that he could've handled easy. It was the cocktail of other smells mortals produced that had gotten to him—the hormonal outpour of their various emotions—lust and anxiety, greed and envy, rejection and despair, fear…

  Nauseating.

  And the ogling looks he'd gotten from the females, and some of the males, had disgusted him. No decorum, no modesty. It was Western fetid decay at its worst.

  The clubs were brothels and drug dens combined. Except, unlike the brothels, money didn't exchange hands for sexual favors granted or received. The money bought the drugs, and sometimes the drugs also bought the sex. But mostly sex was free.

  Except, when it was not. He had spied a few prostitutes working the crowd.

  Dalhu took another sip from his drink and shifted in the booth, trying to find a comfortable position for his long legs. The damned thing wasn't built for someone his size.

  As it turned out, he didn't have to wait long till texts from his men began coming in, admitting defeat.

  Truth be told, he hadn't expected them to succeed. There were hundreds of clubs throughout the big city, and finding an immortal with only seven men on the job was like sifting through rocks at the bottom of a stream—hoping to find gold. Even with the reinforcements, due to arrive in a few days, it would be more of a miss than hit game.

  Where the hell did the bastards go hunting? There must be a way to narrow the search.

  Think, damn it.

  Where would the privileged sons of bitches hang out? What kind of clubs would appeal to their spoiled sensibilities?

  The fuckers were filthy rich—capitalizing on their stolen knowledge and amassing untold fortunes. They claimed it was all in the name of helping humanity. As if getting obscenely wealthy in the process was just a byproduct of their noble cause. And as the lucky bastards were known to play nice with each other, everyone got to share in the loot.

  They are so full of shit…

  They claimed they wanted to bring progress and freedom to the mortals. Freedom from oppression, freedom from hunger, hard labor, discrimination…

  What an idiotic and naive notion.

  Mortals were not designed to be free. With their herd mentality and the ease with which they were brainwashed by their own leaders and their misguided, blindsided media, it would only take one insane and charismatic ruler to end their world.

  Which the bleeding heart idiots made entirely possible by providing mortals with nuclear knowhow.

  From Annani's clan perspective, it had been a last resort, desperate move.

  The forces of evil, as they had called the Nazis and their cohorts, had been winning the war. Navuh's clever machinations had finally been working, and about to bring humanity's age of enlightenment to a crushing and devastating end.

  The clan-sponsored Industrial Revolution, together with the new ideas and philosophies they had promoted, had been threatening to catapult mortals into a new era.

  That progress had to be arrested and crushed.

  Navuh had maneuvered the events that brought on World War I, and when that war hadn't achieved the desired results, he had easily manipulated the weak and appeasing Western leaders into allowing World War II to go on unchecked while millions had perished.

  Humanity had been on the verge of being plunged back into the Dark Ages.

  The cataclysmic losses and devastation would've pushed humans back into the arms of their various religions. And those, influenced by Navuh's propaganda, would've blamed the brutal blow on their followers’ immoral behavior. They would've zealously shunned their newfound ideas and technology as ungodly and greedy, blaming them for earning their God's wrath.

  It had been a beautiful and simple plan that had worked time and again in both enlightened and backward societies.

  Humans were so gullible.

  But the clan had intervened. They had done the unthinkable, supplying the Allied forces with the tools to develop a nuclear bomb.

  For a while, the technology had been closely guarded by the West, but eventually others had gotten their hands on the secret, and now even Navuh's protégés had it.

  Funny, how it had come back to bite Annani and her progeny. Their stupidity now threatened to bring their own annihilation.

  The virus that had helped bring down Iran's nuclear facilities had only slowed production, as nothing short of a full-out invasion could've brought it to a halt. But by interfering, they had tipped their enemies off.

  He had their location. Sort of.

  Think! Dalhu commanded himself again. What kind of clubs would the rich go to?

  Motioning the waitress over with his empty glass, he placed a hundred dollar bill on the table and pointed to the seat across from him.

  “Sorry, honey, as tempting as the offer is, I'm not allowed to sit with customers…” She leaned to wipe the table, offering him a glimpse of her ample cleavage. “It's almost closing time, though. If you can wait, I'd love to, but I don't take money for it…” she whispered throatily.

  “The money is for information I need. It will only take a couple minutes of your time… though I'll gladly take your offer for later,” Dalhu said quietly, his words coming out somewhat hissed.

  She was a pretty little thing, and the thought of fucking her shoved against a wall behind the pub, with his fangs embedded deep in her neck, had his erection and his fangs throb and elongate in unison…

  Yeah, that would be very nice… Dalhu readjusted his uncomfortably hard shaft in his pants.

  Enjoying his heated reaction, she smiled at him brightly, then turned toward the bartender and lifted two fingers. “Okay, ask. You've got two minutes.” As she took the seat across from him, she leaned forward as if to prevent anyone from overhearing their little chat.

  “I need the names of the most exclusive nightclubs in LA,” he said.

  She looked surprised, probably had been expecting something more exciting, but he didn't offer an explanation. It was none of her business.

  Scrunching her nose as she tried to come up with the names, she looked cute and very young. Too young to be offering quickies to strangers behind the pub. The thought momentarily tugged at what remained of Dalhu's conscience, only to be shoved aside. She offered herself freely, expecting nothing but pleasure in return.

  Dalhu smiled a tight-lipped, cruel smil
e. That, he could definitely give her, and then some.

  It seemed the girl found his nasty smile concupiscent. As the heady scent of her arousal wafted up into his nostrils, her nipples grew visibly taut beneath the flimsy fabric covering her breasts.

  She shifted in her seat. “I heard talk about a club named The Basement. Personally, I've never been there, nor did anyone I know. It's way, way… out of my league, or yours… Only the rich and famous go there, it's not for regular folks like us.” She snorted derisively, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “Why would you assume it's out of my league?” Dalhu had taken offense at being bundled in the same category as her. She might be regular people, but there was nothing regular about him. He was one of the finest male specimens of a superior race; the progeny of gods. He wished he could show her. And maybe later he would, just to see her reaction before erasing it from her memory.

  “No offense, honey, you're gorgeous… But your Levis and Nikes don't peg you as a potential customer for The Basement. These people wear thousand dollar jeans and designer watches that cost more than a new luxury car, not the imitation crap you're flashing.” She snorted again, waving a dismissive hand at his Rolex.

  “And anyway, you need an invitation from an insider or a lot of grease money to get in. And I mean; a lot of money,” she emphasized.

  “I guess you're right, it sounds like it really is out of my league. Thanks for the info.” He let his lips curve in a tight smile.

  “No problem… sorry I wasn't much help. It's just that the clubs I go to aren’t fancy, they are for regular people. I could ask around tomorrow, maybe there are some nice clubs that are not that snooty.” She pushed up from her seat, hesitating for a spell. “Would you still wait for me? Closing time is only like half an hour away…” Waiting for his answer, she held her breath.

  “Sure will, sweetheart…” He winked at her. She was pretty enough, and a free fuck was a free fuck. He was in no hurry.

  Watching his little waitress cleaning tables and stacking chairs, he made his plan for the next day. He'd need to go shopping for the type of designer apparel she described and make a bunch of phone calls to see which of his contacts could get him into that club.