Sarma slowed her movements. She cast an eye over the crowd as if not interested in him. This chiseled man resembled a model on the cover of GQ magazine. Heat gathered between her legs. He took her in with his feral eyes. It made her feel naked, made her heartbeat stir. She couldn’t will herself to turn away. She relished the silent, charged energy and wanted to keep his riveted attention.
Sarma hoped that in the muted lights, no one would notice their interaction, but his companion shifted her eyes from him to Sarma, then from Sarma back to him several times. A nasty expression formed on the woman’s face.
Was this raven-haired beauty his girlfriend? Though the “Raven” was clearly miffed, “Mr. GQ” continued to face Sarma dead on, his expression heavy and intent. Intoxicated by his eyes, Sarma flushed. The base of the music vibrated through her, but the volume faded. Her dress, damp from dancing, clung to her breasts and waist. She never considered an attraction to anyone but Derek, but as the lights shifted over this stranger, his fascination with her was impossible to ignore.
Suddenly, his carnal look turned to an irritated glare. He shook his head as if Sarma bothered him, then tore off the wall with the woman in tow. His abrupt motions shocked Sarma. From heartthrob to heartless in a millisecond, her desire to dance deflated like a pin-pricked balloon.
The blonde, who danced only a few feet away, gaped at Mr. GQ as he wedged his way through the crowd. Her twin at the bar did the same.
“Let's get some water and go home,” Sarma said to Marita. Thirst parched her mouth.
“You okay?” Marita asked.
“I’m just tired.” That wasn’t a lie. She was tired, though her reason for leaving was the stranger.
At the bar, Marita asked for two bottles of water. Sarma downed hers, and they headed for the restroom. She didn't bother to check where the twins were. As long as they left her alone, she didn't care.
A commotion at the front of the line caught Sarma’s attention. As though in an argument, Raven’s voice became audible, just as Mr. GQ exited the men's bathroom. He glanced at his companion, pivoted, and strode toward Sarma. His long gait was smooth as if he glided on air. Was he going to introduce himself? Her heartbeat slammed in her chest. Instead of saying hello, he stole one hard, guarded look at her—almost clipping her as he passed.
Raven stopped directly in front of Sarma, glowering. Sarma froze. “Stay away from him,” the black-haired beauty barked in perfect but accented English. She spun away on stilettos and stalked after the man.
The man who stole her breath away.
Chapter 2
Damn. Undeniable. Racing heart, sweaty palms, and a ravenous urge to draw near the woman. Reinis stiffened in his slacks. His incisors extended as he left the club, and his pupils engulfed his green irises. Beyond irritated, he needed to ditch Riga. Now. Barely aware of the drunks and clubbers, he charged through the streets toward the riverfront. He wished to use mind control and wipe his own memory down. He wanted her. Not just wanted—every ounce of him screamed to know the inside of her thighs.
Under a dim sky, he dashed away from the main streets and ducked into an alleyway. Disgusted by his instinctual physical response, his stomach seized with nausea. Blood thirst raked through his body. Coiled for sex, hunger seething in his veins, his appetite demanded to be sated. Like a starved mountain lion that stalked its prey, Reinis’ fangs extended, his heart pounded, as he dialed in on a young woman walking down the street. He lunged, grabbed her, and plunged his teeth into her neck.
With the image of the woman in the club still etched his mind, Reinis sucked in great heaves. He’d already memorized each feature of her face. The memory of the curve of her mouth drove him to drink maniacally. This victim wasn’t attractive, but with Sirsniņa on his mind and as hard as a rock, he craved sucktaste—sex and feeding at the same time.
Terrified by this reaction, he needed to stop before he killed her. He gathered the bit of resolve he had left and tore away. After he licked the open wound, he closed the two puncture marks and propped her against a wall. Pale and weak, her eyes blinked open with a blank expression. Reinis had gone too far. He placed a hand on her chest to listen to her heartbeat. It lumbered, but she would survive. He scanned the deserted street and wiped her memory clean, then left her on the sidewalk.
In a daze, he stumbled through Old Riga like a drunk. As the first real light of day spilled across the dim sky, he raked his fingers through his hair and shook his head. Though his abilities diminished during the daylight hours, like other vampires, he had slowly developed an immunity to the sun. Back at the club, he had sensed the female’s scent wafting across the room before he even spotted her. After he discovered the source, arousal and the compulsion to feed slammed into him. Though blood thirst was slaked, his loins ached for the woman. He’d never lost command over his faculties.
He headed toward the Daugava River, weaving through back streets. Before last night, he wanted to break free from his life, to escape everything and everyone. Sirsniņa had marked him, and now a hard craving surged through his veins. Sirsniņa? He shook his head. A nickname reserved for someone intimate. How could he think of this stranger as his “little heart”?
He should abandon the car, take to the air and fly back to Liepaja, yet he hurried, on foot, to the bank of the Daugava River that curved through Riga. A shrill scream pierced the cool, morning air. Without knowing why, Reinis took off at a dead run down an empty street. Up ahead, one of the twins had Sirsniņa shoved against a brick building. The other woman was doubled over, her arms held high in the air behind her back by the second twin.
“Should I taste her? I want to know her power before handing her over.” Her fingers laced in Sirsniņa’s hair, she pressed her lips to her neck. The woman’s eyes widened and she shrank back, unable to escape.
“You cannot. She must be whole. No feeding allowed. Hurry!” She cranked the woman in the green blouse higher, shoving her down on her knees, and palmed her forehead.
Reinis pumped his legs harder and willed the blonde to free Sirsniņa as he pounded down the pavement. He focused on her arm, twisting it with his mind until she howled in pain and let go. Sirsniņa grasped at the wall, her knees buckling beneath her. The twins shot down the street, disappearing around the corner, leaving both women gasping on the sidewalk. He gathered Sirsniņa in his arms.
“Are you alright?” He stood her against the cold wall and tapped her cheek. Her skin was so soft and warm. He hadn’t intended to get this close. The heat that pooled in his loins hadn’t died off.
She fluttered her eyes open. “What happened?” she muttered in English.
He lifted her friend off the sidewalk and cursed at her bruised knees. “Forget this whole thing. You forgot your purse. Go back to the club and look for it.”
With her eyes focused down the street, she dusted off her legs and headed off in the direction they’d all come. “Let’s go. I forgot my purse in the bathroom. I hope no one took it.”
Sirsniņa gazed at her friend walking away as if Reinis weren’t with them. He returned to her side, molded his body against hers, then placed one hand on her hip and clasped her chin, inhaling deeply. He closed his eyes. “I need you.” She smelled of spring rain and pure, white, magnolias.
He captured her lips with a kiss he didn’t see coming, hard and hungry, pressing his hardened length against her thigh. That dress was so small and the fabric so thin. He expected her to pull away but instead she tilted her face and parted her lips for full access. Her arms snaked around his waist and he deepened their exchange while she pulled him closer.
The warmth in his blood flared to full firestorm, searing his chest and veins. His heart thrummed in his ears. He devoured her mouth, inhaling her like she was the lifeblood he needed to survive. They needed to get off the street, go back to the hotel, so he could taste her fully, and give her what she wanted.
His cell phone buzzed in his pocket. What now? He released her and checked the screen. Aivars. His coven lea
d. Breathless, Sirsniņa licked her lips and shook her head. A slow smile curled up on her lips. Her friend had already reached the corner and didn’t glance back as she made the turn, but Sirsniņa didn’t seem concerned. She whispered, “What’s your name?”
The phone vibrated again. He had to answer it but couldn’t abandon her. Still holding her with one arm, he swiped the phone off and palmed her forehead, guilt clenching his heart as he wiped her memories. “Forget me. Return to the club and forget about this.”
Sirsniņa blinked in the morning light, let the arm that held him swing limp, and wandered toward the disco. He followed her up the road to ensure she found the second woman. When they’d joined up and were safe inside, he returned to the Audi, and then drove back to the hotel.
No doubt about it, Sirsniņa was not a vampire. Duty rules prohibited emotional involvement with humans under any circumstances. Disobey and face death. Worse, banishment to a life outside the coven. To live alone. No contact with other vampires. Forever. No other coven would open their doors to a banished vampire unless they were willing to face slaughter. Covens communicated internationally. The names of exiled vampires became well known.
In his room, he hopped in the shower. Last night, he’d meant to enjoy himself, not seek a woman. Just his damn luck—he found someone. Not just anyone, but an incredibly sexy, vibrant female human, who made his heart race and his sex grow hard. He slammed a fist against the shower wall cracking the fiberglass.
“Fuck,” he growled. He was losing control.
Ice water rolled over his smooth chest, but it didn’t cool the burning heat that tormented him. Leaning his face into closed fists, he wished these emotions would whirl down the drain.
When he had discovered the scent of a fresh morning breeze in the dark, sweaty room, he had marshaled every ounce of his energy into ignoring the source. Yet he couldn’t take his eyes off the lovely intruder. The more he restrained his urges, the more spellbinding she became. His shaft lengthened and he imagined those soft, brown eyes, the long hair that graced her back, and the way her black dress hugged her dampened body.
He lathered soap over his scalp and chest, smoothing the suds over his ripped stomach, extending his hands to his rigid sex. With deliberate movements, he cupped his sac, and slowly tugged toward the plump tip. Submitting to his desire, he adjusted the water to warm and began a slow, tantalizing rhythm. His incisors extended as he tilted his head against the shower wall and imagined the water and slippery soap were Sirsniņa’s wetness; the hand enclosed around his shaft were her taunt insides, clenching him hard.
The beads of sweat had gathered on her chest as she danced and he imagined he caused the sweat to break out over her body. A throaty groan rolled from his mouth as the tension grew in his abdomen and his hips. Eyes closed, his hands worked his thickness with an increased pace—he visualized her naked on the bed, legs spread, her pinkness barely peeking out between her honeyed lips. Her taste. The moans she made as she spread her lips apart for him. A surge of heat shot through him, his shaft jerking in his hand, head pressed against the wall. He exhaled deeply, relieved, though instinct told him he played with a bonfire that would level his life.
Through the fuzz of the afterglow, he soaped himself again, and analyzed the evening. His enemy twin cousins tracked and attacked Sirsniņa. He cringed realizing, again, he was attaching an affectionate nickname to a total stranger. Shutting the idea off, he recalled the club scene. What were the chances they would all end up in the same place? The twin that had gripped her said she wanted to taste her power. What did an ordinary human have that witch and bitch would want?
His blood still ran hot in his flesh, even after he returned the temperature to cold. Sirsniņa’s oval face barged into his mind, those fawnlike eyes that had searched his. Fascination and intrigue hit him when he least expected it, and again, curiosity to know her inner self ate him alive. Reinis had for years had sex with many women and not one of them made him feel this way. He never had a desire for repeat interaction. The brief kiss had burned him, fractured his mind, but he let her go. He had no choice.
He shook his head, spraying water against the shower walls. Damn attractive for a human. Not as graceful as a female of his kind by any means, but tall, with sexy waist and hips, obvious muscle and strength. He urged himself to pull the brakes on his thoughts.
Reinis recoiled from the loss of the control he had over his body and emotions. He needed to maintain focus in his life. No human should faze him. He tapped his silver Namejs ring against the shower wall. As if he’d been running, his heartbeat pummeled his chest. The ring reminded him why he abhorred involvement with humans. Born from generations of pure vampire blood, Reinis was a full blood. His father Rudis gave him the ring for his twenty-first birthday—the year vampire children reach maturity.
For Reinis and their coven, Rudis was a powerful oak tree. Sturdy. He provided support and protection from the gale winds of life. When Reinis was fifty-seven, human vampire slayers murdered Rudis. Nothing prepared Reinis for their family’s grief nor for his sudden role as their primary support. Deep inside, he was aware the fallout of his father’s death hadn’t ended.
The vampire slayers dumped his father’s body in a putrid, garbage-filled alley as if he were nothing. After it happened, he wanted to track them down and execute those responsible. They never found the killers, even so, his underlying rage toward humans still burned.
Yet, he couldn't deny his feelings. The woman entranced him with her shy, averting eyes, and the seductive smile she tried to hide. It was obvious she was attracted to him, she wanted that kiss, wanted him. Which made him need her even more.
Reinis bellowed. He didn’t want to admit Sirsniņa threatened to suck him down like a feather in a thrashing whirlpool. He pressed his fingers against his temples and focused his energy on halting the spontaneous impulses. The responses were merely physical, something he experienced a million times before. He could handle this.
Incensed, he turned off the water and brusquely toweled himself off. He needed to get it together. Reinis despised everything about his life: duty day after day, protecting Laima and Velta because of the feud, and keeping a distance from other vampires. As if his mind tore apart at the seams, Reinis grasped the sides of his head and pressed with the tips of his fingers.
Duty and his coven held precedence. Humans like Sirsniņa were bestowers: incubators to produce children. Right after birth, vampires spirited newborns away from their mothers to live in covens. Insane and cruel to an outsider, it was the only means for vampires to survive. These thoughts alone should shock him back to the cold, harsh reality.
Instead, he planned how to find her. Damn. He should have taken a sip of her blood to track her scent. He’d forgotten about that. A shudder rolled through his body as he recalled her fragrance, fresh and soft as early evening dew gathering on a lily’s petals. Her scent alone made him forget his purpose. Dressing and then styling his hair, he recalled how he watched her for most of the night before she caught sight of him. It had taken everything to force away his roaring needs and let Sirsniņa go before he did something he would regret. And he almost killed a human while feeding.
Sirsniņa was dangerous.
Chapter 3
After the stranger and the raven-haired woman stormed out, Sarma and Marita ditched the disco with shaken nerves, making a beeline for their apartment. At 6 a.m., the sun broadcasted from high in the sky and Sarma couldn’t wait to get to the safety of their place. She shielded her eyes. Glad she hadn’t had more to drink, exhaustion hit her hard. Her limbs drooped and her feet ached from the heels. They walked out of Old Town toward the main boulevard, grabbed a taxi, and sat in silence on the way home.
“Who the hell were those people?” Marita unbolted the apartment door. “And what happened to you, starry eyes?”
“You noticed the two blonde girls who followed us from the first club? Just like that woman said. Two who look like one. They were watching us. Care
fully. It gave me the creeps.” Sarma pushed the door open. Something about those twins didn’t sit well in her mind but she couldn’t put her finger on it. “I knew I shouldn’t have gone out.”
“What do you mean?”
“I just . . . never mind. Nothing.” She didn’t want to go out in the first place, and now her fascination with Mr. GQ made her wish she’d listened to her instincts. She squinted her eyes straining to remember his face. Strange, she only recalled he was smoking hot but the details of his face were blurry. But one thing stayed clear—his vibe affirmed he wanted to devour her whole.
“Sure, always playing coy. You think I didn't see you drooling over that guy? Can't blame you. He was smoking hot!” Marita chirped.
“Did you see the blondes?” Sarma stuffed a pīrāgs into her mouth. They’d stopped for the piping hot bread rolls filled with bacon and onions at the bakery downstairs.
“Not until I saw one of them at the bar in the second place,” Marita said as she slipped off her heels. “I wondered why the woman who danced next to us kept staring at you. And she glared at him as if he did something wrong.”
“What happened to your knees?”
Marita glanced down. Both legs were bruised and scraped. “Wow. When did that happen? I don’t remember drinking that much.”
Sarma shook her head. “We didn’t. We had a couple drinks at the first place, and we didn’t have that much more at the second stop.” Her stomach soured. She had zero recollection of her friend falling.
Her friend giggled. “We had a lot of fun and probably drank more than we thought.”
“Probably. I’m going to go to sleep.” Marita still wanted to talk, but Sarma sauntered off instead. She couldn’t shake a heavy weight off her shoulders.
Forbidden Darkness (Immortal Desire Series Book 1) Page 2
