Last Vamp Standing

by Kristin Miller

She’d said the same prayer over and over again to each fallen elder, but this time, when she laid Thom to rest in her heart, something pinched.

  She knew him. Really knew him. Worked with him on a regular basis.

  It could’ve been her.

  For the first time since Savage attacked, the gravity of the situation washed over her. In the mud and clay, behind a fallen log, next to see-the-future-Thom, Ariana let her tears fall. It wasn’t until someone stepped up behind her that she wiped the tears from her cheeks and spun around.

  “Echo,” she said, looking up into his ruddy face. “What are you doing here?”

  “You okay, Ari?” he said, smashing one of her rolling tears with his thumb.

  “I will be.”

  When the recovery and reconstruction were over she’d be fine. When she didn’t have to think about the hundreds of elders lost or the amount of blood that was shed.

  “I got a message from Pike.” He pulled a dingy envelope from his back pocket and handed it over. “He says it’s for the eyes of the Primus only.”

  “I’m not Primus yet.”

  “But you will be in an hour, after the ceremony.”

  “I don’t want to touch it.”

  He quirked a bushy brow.

  “My hands, they’re . . .” . . . covered in things she didn’t want to think about. “Just read it to me, okay?”

  “If you say so.” He opened the envelope, pulled out a note, and read in his slow, monotone voice: “ ‘Ariana, it’s my hope that Watchers and elders will have a new understanding and newfound friendship without walls or barriers that may hide our intentions from the other. It is my dearest wish that we may put the past behind us and move forward into the dawning of a new day. Dante was right all along: it is not the fighting that condemns us but the motivations behind our fighting. But there is more. It is not lusting after the pleasurable energy we pull from a woman that will banish us from the Ever After. It is lusting after what is impure. Sex in a committed relationship, sex that is pure and full of love, strengthens the bond between us. We’ve been blind to these things, to our own heritage, and we are truly sorry. With deepest respect, Pike.’ ”

  “That’s a lot to take in,” she said.

  Ariana knew she’d have to thank Pike for the way he fought alongside them. There was no way they would’ve defeated Savage’s army without their help. Along their road to recovery there’d have to be some forgiving and a whole lot of understanding. Pike had been right about that part. There was still so much to learn about them.

  “What’d you want me to say back?” Echo flopped a dreadlock out of his face.

  “I say you better make a wife out of one of those wood nymphs if you plan to kick it in the Ever After.”

  He smiled, pushing out a coughing laugh. “We’ll be seein’.”

  “Come on, I’ve got to get inside for the ceremony. I’m already running late.”

  “You mean that I . . .”

  She hooked her arm in his and led the way into Black Moon. “I want you to be there when I become Primus. If that’s all right with you.”

  His cheeks blushed as red as his hair. “It’d be my honor, Ari.”

  “All right, but you’re going in the front door. I have to sneak around back. I’ll catch you inside.”

  As Echo left her side, Ariana slipped through the back door and whisked into the elevator before anyone was the wiser. When she hit the floor of her suite, Dante was waiting with a handful of roses. Buck. Ass. Naked.

  The fully bloomed beauties completely covered Dante’s manhood, but Ariana couldn’t take her eyes off the marbled glory standing before her. Dante was a warrior with scars galore, a black vine-like tattoo snaking up his side, and chiseled muscles that made her legs go weak and her mouth go dry.

  “For me?” She reached for the flowers and came up with a whole lot of rock-hard flesh.

  “Always.” Dante handed Ariana the roses, then dragged her into his arms and kissed her.

  She melted into his lips, into the warmth of his body. And when his mouth drifted from hers, Ariana kept her eyes closed in the hope he’d return for more.

  “I picked them from your garden,” he said, pulling her by the hand into her living room.

  She studied the flowers: the crimson reds, the pastel pinks, and the ivory whites. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

  “Today is a special day, and it’s important that you cherish every minute of it.” He stood in front of her balcony, a seductive gleam in his eye. Ariana felt like she was in trouble. Heaps of very bad—yet very good—trouble.

  As she set the roses down and wrapped her arms around his neck, she thought of nothing but this moment. This man who was half-Watcher, half-vamp, born of an angel, fathered by a former Primus of the haven she was about to lead. The man who filled her completely, any and every which way.

  She’d never loved anyone more. Hell, she’d never wanted anyone more.

  “I cherish you,” she said as her core flushed with liquid heat. She was close. So close to experiencing heaven with him all over again. “And every moment I’m with you.”

  “Are you ready to take your seat as Primus?” He kissed the arch of her neck, then stripped her out of her shirt.

  “I think so, there’s just so much to remember. Slade is going to ask me a bunch of questions from the records of Crimson Council and everyone will be watching, hanging on my every word. If I don’t answer them correctly, the way every Primus before me has, I’ll disgrace everyone.”

  “You’ll be fine,” he soothed, rubbing the stress from her shoulders. “Ruan, Eve, and Dylan will be there cheering you on, and everyone simply adores you . . . I adore you . . . and that’s all that matters. I have faith in you and what you can do here. It doesn’t matter how you answer a question from the Crimson Council rep. What matters is how you run your haven and how the khissmates view you.”

  She thought about it, nibbling on her lip. “I guess you’re right.”

  “I know I am. I’m a downright genius.”

  “Is that so?”

  “I told you that if we kept meeting beneath the sheets the voices would go away completely, didn’t I?”

  She smacked him in the shoulder, though he didn’t flinch. “Yes, but you didn’t know you could feed from me without pulling the innocence from my soul. That idea came from me.”

  “How was I supposed to know that your healing abilities stretched that far?” He nipped at her lip, then moaned into a kiss. “What do you think about showing up to your ceremony thirty minutes late so we could . . . stretch your abilities a little more?”

  She hopped up and wrapped her legs around his waist. “I suppose they can’t start without me.”

  As he kissed her harder, deeper, sucking her bottom lip into his mouth, Ariana felt the world beneath her disappear and the soft plush of her mattress replace it.

  “It’s over,” he said, fevering kisses over her breasts. “You’re in my arms and you’re safe, the two most important things in the world to me. I can’t believe it’s finally over.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong.” She unzipped her pants and pushed them down, then pulled him down over her. He hissed in utter pleasure as they met, flesh to flesh, heart to heart. “For the vampires downstairs, the elders in the Ever After, and for us . . . it’s a whole new beginning.”

  Keep reading to find out

  how it all began

  in

  InterVamption

  Available now from

  Kristin Miller

  and

  Avon Impulse

  Chapter One

  “Therians Declare War on ‘Blood-Sucking Creatures.’ Vampires Revolt, Fighting Back Against Natural Urges. Conflict Comes to a Head Beneath Golden Gate Bridge. Hundreds of Vampires Lost. City Mourns Dead.”

  —CR
IMSON CHRONICLE ARCHIVES: HEADLINES FOR FEBRUARY 1912

  SLADE DIDN’T THINK twice about slamming the blonde against his closed apartment door. She gasped as her head snapped back, hitting the wood with a resounding thud.

  “You son of a bitch,” she seethed, meeting his stare head on. “You think you can just push me around like I’m a fuckin’ doll?”

  “Yeah, I do.” He pressed against her, the wide span of his chest dwarfing her petite frame. His mouth hovered so close to hers, he could taste the cranberry from the Cosmopolitan on her breath. “Tonight you’ll do what I want, when I want, how I want.”

  Her chest heaved fuller now, her chocolate brown irises judging the strength of his words. There wasn’t a lick of fear in them. “Is that so?”

  To answer her question he wedged his leg into the gap of her barely-there leather miniskirt, pinning her in place with his hips. He knew she felt the swell of his arousal when her eyes flared.

  “And what if I just walk away, huh? Tell you I changed my mind and that I don’t want you, not one bit.”

  “You’d be lying through that perfect mouth of yours.” He nipped at her lip.

  The air hiccupped between them.

  For a split second Slade thought perhaps he’d pushed too hard. Overstepped one of those fuzzy lines between sexy-possessive and dominating prick.

  But then she whimpered, throwing her arms around him, crushing her mouth to his. Her tongue whipped and twisted like it was on some wild frenzy to explore the far recesses of his throat. She was good with her mouth. Expert even. He had to give her that much.

  He could tell she could do other things with it, too, by the way she sucked and pulled on his bottom lip when he tried to pull away.

  Despite her many soon-to-be-discovered talents, she was no match for Slade. Deep down she had to know it.

  His hands took control, palming her breasts, gripping handfuls of her ass, sliding under her shirt and down the lip of her skirt. She was putty in his arms, mewing into his mouth like a newborn kitten with every stroke of his tongue against her lips.

  Enough play time, Slade thought. Time to get down to business.

  He needed inside. Now.

  Damn it, why hadn’t he left the door unlocked? It would’ve saved him the minutes detaching from this cougar to search for the key. His apartment was ritzy as hell; with twenty-four hour security, break-ins were non-existent. It wasn’t like anyone would be stopping by to check on him, either. In fact, the only people who even knew where his apartment was were the girls he picked up at Club Fever or the Velvet Room. By the way each of those one-nighters had ended, Slade seriously doubted any of those lucky ladies would ever be calling on him again.

  As Slade pulled back, fumbling in his pockets for the key, she bit into his neck and grazed her teeth along his jaw.

  Lightning rods shot to his lap. It was a reaction that threw him for a total fucking loop. When she nipped at him again, he lost it.

  Fuck keys.

  He roped her smooth legs around his waist while ravenously working her mouth, stepped back, and front-kicked the door open.

  She laughed as he stormed inside, her platinum blonde wisps covering her face.

  When he smashed her against the wall and hiked her skirt over her waist with a jerk, she smiled. “You’re going to have to buy a new door.”

  He ripped open her see-through shirt right down the middle. Buttons scattered across the hardwood, rolling through the dark living room. “And you’re gonna have to buy a new shirt.”

  As his gaze traveled to her breasts that were overflowing a lacy black bra, Slade thanked the Lord for doctors with abundant tastes. And for front clasps. He popped the tiny thing open with a quick snap of his fingers.

  “Done this before, have you?” she said with a laugh.

  “Guess you could say a time or two.”

  Or a million, he thought, but kept his mouth occupied by sucking one of her nipples into it.

  Her fingers raked across his body, pulling and tugging his shirt over his shoulders, then his head.

  “Are you pleased with me?” she breathed, her hands dipping and riding the grooves of his abs. “Or would you rather I shift into someone with larger breasts? Longer legs? Different hair? I would do that for you . . .”

  “There’s no need to waste your shifts on my accord.” He certainly wouldn’t be returning the favor. There was no way to tell how many shifts therians had in the first place. Shifts were limited—numbered at birth and different for everyone. The idea that she’d waste a shift for a single screw and risk returning to weak mundane form again, made Slade wonder if the girl wanted to expend her shifts. Perhaps she wasn’t the only one being used tonight.

  He grasped a handful of her slick mane and pulled back, revealing the span of her neck. He smudged a line of kisses from her collar to her ear. “And what the hell would make you ask to change your hair?”

  “I was told you liked brunettes. At the club . . . they said you only . . . never mind.”

  When he released her hair and looked her in the eyes, he realized she could’ve been anyone. It didn’t even matter.

  Without word or warning, her hand slipped to his groin. After unzipping his jeans and making herself right at home in his boxers, she stroked his straining shaft. “Or if you want, we can play it real dirty . . .”

  Electric currents shot up Slade’s spine.

  Not wanting to hear another word about who or what she was going to offer up, Slade was on her in a flash, slinking one of her toned legs around his waist. He shot a hand to her center and was pleased beyond words to find she‘d left her panties at home . . . and was as bare as the day she was born.

  Thank the Lord below, this would be a speedy trip down Meaningless Lane.

  As his fingers went to work teasing her core, slipping in and out of her with quick, hammering strokes, his other hand pushed down his pants.

  He poised his erection at her center, and then hesitated a moment on the brink of drowning in her warmth. Somehow he knew he wouldn’t be able to do these one-nighters much longer. They just didn’t feel the same anymore . . .

  Throwing thoughts to the winter wind, Slade rammed into her in one hard stroke. Then pulled out and plunged into her again with enough force to shatter her completely.

  She threw her head back in ecstasy, scrubbing her hands along his skull-trim cut.

  He gripped handfuls of her ass, pulled her closer, pushed himself deeper inside. The more violently he drove himself, the more she cried out. He dug his fingers into her hips, kneading her flesh with raw hunger, guiding her swaying tempo until he felt the climax chill his core.

  When the momentum picked up and all Slade could hear was the sound of their bodies slapping together and her hot breath tickling his ear, he groaned on the verge of release.

  He met her eyes for a flicker of a second and saw that he wasn’t screwing the same woman.

  She was now a petite redhead with a spike cut and bright green eyes. The sudden change made Slade lose his grip with reality. He’d never had a woman shift in the middle of sex before. Now, he supposed, he’d seen everything in this godforsaken world. It was a good thing therians had evolved from their werewolf cousins or he might’ve found himself face to face with a muzzle and an overbite instead of glossed lips and a teasing smile.

  He slowed his pace and searched her glossy eyes for the woman who was there before. It’s not that he liked the blonde-betty better; he just felt cheated out of a ménage à trois.

  “What are you doing?” she panted, scraping her hands along his abs. “Don’t stop.”

  He pinched his eyes shut, concentrating on the pulsing of her core muscles instead of the shifting taking place around his cock.

  As he pumped into her faster and faster, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the woman bucking into a brunette, then a redhead, the
n back to a blonde. With each drive of his hips, she cried out in a different voice, from a different mouth. All the while wanting more. Needing more.

  With a grit of his teeth and a final disoriented push, he . . . couldn’t do it.

  Just. Couldn’t.

  Well. Wasn’t this a damned first.

  He needed some air to breathe without inhaling her sweet scent. That’s what it was, he decided. He needed some space where her soft skin wasn’t sliding along his.

  Racing through his mind was the thought that he was the one who wanted and needed more.

  So much more.

  Through his haze, he heard the woman asking what was wrong. Felt her long fingers stroking his arms. Heard her breathing slow until her chest heaves were normal. When he opened his eyes, he was pleased to find the blonde-haired bikini model he’d picked up in the bar was back, shuffling her handkerchief of a skirt down her thighs.

  “Look, I’m—”

  “Well, can’t say that wasn’t fun to watch,” a deep voice grumbled from the hallway.

  Slade spun around, yanking up his pants in a heart-flicker.

  Standing in the doorway was a beast of a therian, his caramel skin aglow from the dim hall lights. “You Slade?”

  “You a fucker who doesn’t know how to keep his eyes where they belong?” Slade went hand to handle, ready to slam the door on the bastard’s wide nose.

  “I have a message for you. From Moses.” He took a giant step into the apartment.

  Slade matched his step and went nose to nose. “If you take one more step into this apartment you’ll be delivering the message from your grave.”

  “That so?” The messenger didn’t flinch a single tanned muscle. “Whenever you want to try to make that happen, I’d be more than happy to arrange the day. For now, Moses wants to see you. Seems vampires are uprising.”

  Well, that was nothing new. Certainly nothing that would suddenly call Slade to Moses’s side. Vampires had been bucking against therians, fighting for the return of their blood rights, for hundreds of years. All that shit about being civilized and blending with society vanished with the drop of a fang on the streets. Vampires were leeches, sucking life out of the mundane race. Nothing more.