by Mara Leigh
“From a friend.” I set the bottle on the carpet. “A vampire friend.”
She sucks in a sharp breath and her entire body contracts in fear, her knees pull into her chest and her feet slide over the worn leather until she’s almost in a ball. “Who do you work for? Which syndicate?”
I shake my head, looking directly into her very scared eyes and hoping mine will quell her fear. “It’s not like that. My vampire friend, we met eighty, no, more like ninety years ago.”
Her leg muscles relax a bit and she adjusts the T-shirt to hide the obvious fact she’s not wearing panties.
My cock twitches in its confinement, refusing to stand down, and I hate myself for being aroused—especially now she’s so vulnerable and frightened.
“My friend Malcolm is part of a syndicate here in the city,” I continue. “More like a corporation than a syndicate, from what he’s told me, but I’ve got nothing to do with them.” Selina needs protection and Malcolm, or more likely his mate Astrid, can make sure she gets it. It’s selfish of me to want to be the only protector she’ll ever need.
And beyond the protection, Selina needs proper training, and while I can improve her fighting skills somewhat, there are things best learned from one of her own kind. Malcolm and Astrid can help Selina with that. If she’ll let them. If she even lets me help.
Selina doesn’t offer anything else, so I prod. “Your Maker. How soon after turning you was she killed?”
“Why do you think she was killed?” Her head tips to the side as if the thought had never occurred to her. “And she left before I turned. Bitch sucked me dry and left me for dead in the alley. I never saw her again.”
I swirl the whiskey in my glass, giving her time to adjust this obvious lie.
When she doesn’t, I lean forward. “That’s not how it works, Selina. There’s no way you could have turned without your Maker’s help, especially if she nearly drained you.”
She lifts her chin, slightly. “Well, that’s what happened.”
I frown, thinking it through. “And you were human when she drank from you.”
She nods. “Very human. And happy.” She glances down to her hands. “Truly happy for the first time ever. I was about to start a new job. And move into a new apartment with my friend… I had my whole life set and she ruined it.”
“Your friend did?”
“No, my so-called Maker.”
“None of this makes sense, Selina.” I draw a long breath. If I accuse her of lying I might lose her trust again. “Okay. So, your Maker drained you and left you for dead. Given that, how can you even remember her? Her venom—”
“I know.” She shrugs. “I don’t get it, either. But I remember that night in vivid detail. I was chatting with a woman in a gallery, and I remember how sophisticated she was—or seemed—how generous and kind.”
She frowns. “And I also remember how she pushed me against the wall the second we got into the alley. I can still feel the cold hard bricks against my back, and how the impact knocked the air out of my chest, how she grabbed my head and twisted my neck to the side.” Her expression turns cold, angry.
“And I remember the searing pain when her fangs punctured my skin. And the intense pleasure that followed…” She shudders and her cheeks pink. “I remember how good it felt at first when she fed, how my entire body was bathed in pleasure, but then all of that changed.”
She shakes her head. “I grew tired. So tired. And so desperate. I clawed and fought. Even as my mind grew foggy, I fought and fought. I tried to pull away from her fangs until the moment my pulse disappeared.”
“Acushla…” My heart is breaking.
“I even remember how the ground felt when my shoulder struck it, then my head. I remember the smell of piss and oil in the alley, the light from a donut shop flashing in a puddle a few feet ahead of me as I watched her walk away, the red soles of her Louboutin stilettos reminding me of all the blood she’d drained from my body.”
“You poor thing.” The sound of Selina’s voice, the look on her face… What she’s describing isn’t possible, but it’s clear she believes that it’s true.
“The transition itself was even worse,” she continues. “So much worse. I…” She turns away. Her voice trails to nothing, and the pain on her face is more than I can bear.
“Listen.” I stretch my hand across the back of the sofa toward her. “You don’t need to tell me more. Not right now. Not if you don’t want to. And my friend, Malcolm. He should hear this, hear you describe your transition. As a vampire, he might better understand how it happened.”
Fatigue takes over her face, her body. It won’t be long before she falls asleep and I mentally triage all the things I want to ask her before she does.
“Do you know who was stalking you tonight?”
“Besides you?” The side of her mouth quirks up.
I raise my glass toward her.
Her expression clouds, then she draws a breath so ragged it’s like she’s inhaling shards of glass. “His name is Pike. He’s part of King Xavier’s Guard.”
“King Xavier?” I lean forward.
“So you don’t know everything about vampires.”
“Never said I did. Just that I’m friends with a few.”
“King Xavier…he wanted me for a mate. But I couldn’t.” She shakes her head, determination rising on her face. “I wouldn’t marry him. In revenge, he held me captive for fourteen months. And he raped me, tortured me, and then he let his Guard do it, too.”
“Oh, my god.” I reach forward to rest my hand on her shin.
To my utter relief and happiness, she doesn’t recoil at my touch. On the contrary, she pushes onto her knees and falls into my arms. I cradle her against my chest as she curls her body into mine.
The strong connection I feel for Selina makes even more sense, now. I know what it’s like to be captive, to be tortured and to torture others… Some instinct deep inside me must be drawn to her pain.
“I escaped his court,” she says. “Just yesterday. But when I found a way out it was daylight, so I waited… I was so weak. I tried the door, five, maybe six times—burned by the sun each time. Then…”
She shakes her head against my chest and I bend down toward her, waiting for her to continue.
“You pretty much know the rest. It took hours for me to find someone to feed from. I was weak. I hadn’t fed from the vein in almost a year.”
Her breath warms my neck, her fangs within striking distance, and still I hold her. No chance would I invite her to feed from me, I know what that might lead to, but I won’t stop her either. If she needs my blood to survive I will give her every last drop. With pleasure.
“And now…” Her voice fades. “Now, I’m just tired. So tired.”
“Then sleep, Acushla. Just sleep.”
Shifting, I turn to lift one leg onto the sofa and she adjusts as I slide it behind her.
I lean back and she falls asleep, her hair a lilac silk blanket draped over my chest.
Chapter 9
Selina
I wake in the dark but my night vision’s fully working for the first time in a year, and I quickly recognize Rock’s apartment, although my head’s resting on a plush pillow instead of his hard chest.
As I sit, a thick warm blanket slides down my body to pool on the leather sofa beside me. I can’t believe he got up without waking me. When did I last sleep so deeply? Have I ever? Even as a kid, I slept lightly, alert to the risk that my stepfather might come into my room.
Whether or not I should, I feel safe here. Safe with Rock.
“Hello?” I pad across the Persian rug. “Rock?” I reach his bedroom, and getting no response, I slowly open the door.
The bedroom’s empty, his huge king neatly made, exactly how it was when I passed by it after my shower. Back in the main room I spot a huge plastic bag at the end of the sofa, half-hidden under the discarded blanket.
Curious, I check inside and discover it full of clothing, all in a
size that makes it clear the clothes are meant for me.
I slip on a dress in soft gray jersey, which hangs loosely down to my knees. High necked and long sleeved, it’s more on the Amish spectrum than my usual taste, but it’s warm and comfortable and I like the idea that Rock bought it for me.
At the bottom of the bag are four identical pairs of sneakers in different sizes, five different styles of underwear and seven different bras. I giggle, imagining the giant man picking all of this out.
Since I already have the dress on, I decide to stay braless and slip on a bikini-style panty in a pale pink, then the size 7 1/2 black Keds. It’s the second largest of the four size options he provided, and I sure hoped he kept the receipt for this stuff so he can return the wrong guesses.
Dressed, I head up the stairs. At the top, with my thumb ready to press down the old-fashioned tab of the door handle, I’m seized by a sudden panic. What if the door doesn’t open?
Am I locked in here? Blocked in by that cabinet? Trapped, like back in the dungeon?
But the handle works, the door’s not blocked and I step out into the storage area. Assuming this level is the same size and shape as those above and below, Rock sure must be storing a lot. Either that, or there’s a hidden space on this level, too.
I discover a wall behind dozens of crates of alcohol and bar snacks, but no obvious door. I’m curious about the space behind the wall, but my desire to go upstairs and see Rock beats my curiosity, so I ascend the final stairs to the ground level and slowly ease open the door into the hallway that leads from the bar to the alley.
The only windows I spotted in the bar were painted over from the inside, but I was so tired last night, so rattled, that I’m not sure if I can fully trust my powers of observation.
Still, I can’t detect any hint of sunlight coming from the bar, now. A scent—citrus combined with some kind of oily soap—fills my nostrils as I pad along the hallway and into the bar.
“Hey there, sleepyhead.” Rock lifts his mop toward me. “You slept nearly thirteen hours.”
“Guess I needed it. Thanks for letting me stay.” The bar is empty except for us, and I was right about the painted-over windows. A tiny bit of sunlight permeates a small scratch on one window, next to the entrance, but other than that the light in the room is warm, fully artificial and safe. “Can I help you clean?”
“Nah.” Rock grins and it makes the room feel even warmer. “I’m almost done.”
“Thanks for the clothes.” I half curtsey.
“Glad you found something there that works.” He rinses the mop and leans the handle against the wall near the door. “Feeling better?”
I nod. “What time is it?”
“Six twenty. Staff will come in soon. We open at seven.”
I did sleep a long time. Longer than I can ever remember. It was impossible to judge the passing of time in the dungeon, but I felt like I barely slept down there.
Leaving the pail and bucket near the door, Rock walks toward me and I fight the urge to dive into his arms. Now that he’s near, his scent pushes aside the citrus cleaning supplies and makes me want to be surrounded by him. Consumed by him. To consume him, too.
“Listen.” He rakes back his hair. “That vampire I told you about? Malcolm?”
Tensing, I nod.
“As soon as it’s dark, he and his wife are coming by. Hope that’s okay. I can call him to cancel.”
Rock is less than two feet away from me now, and his scent, like the woods and the mountains, overtakes my thoughts so fully it’s hard to even consider his question.
I close my eyes and inhale him, and as I drink in his scent, the rush of his blood fills my ears. Now that I’m rested and fed, my senses are back in full working order, and I can’t believe I missed his double heartbeat at first.
It makes total sense that such a large body would need more than one engine to run it—or at least one huge and powerful one. And speaking of large organs, my eyes brush down over his body.
As if he knows where I’m looking and why, he shifts his hips and his hands cross over his body, hiding my opportunity to study his bulge.
His expression shows shame when I look up into his eyes.
“It’s okay,” I tell him. “I trust you.” It feels good to say the words. It feels good to mean them, to be near him, and I wish I hadn’t fallen asleep so quickly last night. A slight smile warms my lips and heats my body as I imagine what might have happened between us, what I hope will happen soon.
My strong vampiric libido is fully awake. I know I should feel an aversion to sex after so many months of torture, but my body no longer operates on human terms.
Even after I escaped my stepfather, the idea of sex remained repulsive. But since my transition my body’s wanted sex—all the time—even though my emotions have not. And with Rock, my emotional and physical sides seem finally in sync. Consensual sex has to be better, right?
For the first time in my life, I feel ready to find out, to consent, to fully want someone inside me. For the first time in my life the idea of sex is neither repulsive or merely a physical need.
I step toward him, and lightly touch his upper arm, the size of a melon. “How long do we have before the staff show up?” My fingers stroke the protruding muscle, imagining I’m stroking him somewhere else.
I sense his heart rates increasing, both in force and in speed. He wants me, too.
But he steps back. “Do you need to feed?”
“I’m not hungry.” I lick my lower lip lightly. “Not for blood, anyway.”
“Listen.” He holds up his hands, palms forward while backing away from me. “We can’t. And the staff—”
“We can be quick.”
“No, we can’t. Not now. Not ever.”
“Is it the age difference?” I step toward him. “Because I dig older guys.” I don’t, or never have before. I just know I want Rock.
“Guys old enough to be your great-great-great-great grandfather?” He tries to frown, but it comes off playful.
“I’m totally into guys old enough to be my great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather.” I smile to show him I’m joking, but he doesn’t smile back.
“Rock—” his chest rises as I say his name “—I know you’ve been around longer than me, but you don’t look or act old. When we met, I figured you were about thirty, which isn’t all that much older than me, and I can’t see why that matters anyway. Not really. Unless I’m boring to you?”
I run my hand down the front of the soft dress, wishing it was sexier. “Or maybe you’re not attracted to me?”
A sound rumbles up from low in Rock’s chest that proves my point.
“Acushla,” he says on an exhale. “You just escaped your captors.” He frowns. “You were raped.” His entire body shudders. “I can’t—”
“But I want…” I can’t articulate what I want or why. Because he’s right. Wanting him, wanting him so soon after all that happened doesn’t make sense, yet I do want him. I hunger for him.
“Xavier’s dungeon was traumatic,” I tell him. What I told Rock last night, barely scratched the surface. “But shouldn’t it be up to me to decide whether I’m ready to move on?”
He breathes deeply, clearly fighting against what he wants. “It’s not just about that…”
“Then what?” I step toward him and the sound of his pounding blood washes through me along with his scent. I reach up to lay my hand gently on his chest and one of his hearts thumps hard against my palm.
“I…” His voice is hoarse, strained. “It’s been a long time for me. A very long time.”
Sliding my hand over his huge pectoral muscles, I trace their shape and then brush down over his nipple. His breathing grows labored and I look up to find conflicted heat in his oceanic eyes.
I want to banish that conflict, to make him see how badly I want him, and as I gaze into his eyes, his irises seem to undulate like true ocean waves. I want to dive into them, even if it might mean drowning.
Lifting one of his hands, I place it on my torso, his fingers curving around at least half of my ribcage and spanning the distance from my waist to my armpit. Heat from his palm radiates through my chest and quickens my breath, then I slide my hand up his chest toward his neck, as far as I can reach.
It’s all I can do to keep from jumping into his arms and trusting him to catch me. If he doesn’t kiss me soon—
In a flash, his other hand catches the back of my neck and he captures my lips, arching me back at such a sharp angle that all my weight’s in his arms. I feel a quick rush, like I’m falling, and then I feel safe, floating in his hold, swimming in his kiss.
In spite of the fast start, our kiss begins gently, tiny nibbles as we breathe into each other, exploring and tasting as anticipation builds, hard and strong, between my legs. As we continue, intense pleasure sweeps me further into an ecstatic haze. I had no idea kissing could feel like this, especially light, tender kissing, but the effect his mouth has on mine is beyond electric. Some powerful force courses hard between us, a force like magic, like fire. And I long to be burned.
Sliding my hand over his hip, I let it inch toward the front of his jeans, my fingers tingling with the anticipation of discovering his hard, thick ridge.
Growling against me, Rock deepens our kiss, his thick tongue plunging inside my mouth, and his firm but soft lips take mine with such fervor all the blood that’s not already pooled between my legs rushes to my mouth, giving me the energy to kiss him back with equal ferocity. I slide my tongue against his, relishing the taste of his skin, his saliva, even as I long for his blood.
Lifting me into his arms, he crushes our bodies together and I can no longer move any part of my body except my mouth. I don’t have the will to move anything beyond my lips and my tongue anyway, and even my fingers are temporarily distracted from their pursuit.
Regaining equilibrium, I try to move my thigh against his body, hoping to find the huge bulge.
“Holy shit! Get a room!” A female voice invades our private world.
