by Jessica Lee
A cold chill wracked her body, and she reached for her throat. Shifting in her seat until she faced forward, she wrapped her arms around her chest. “Oh God…” Nightmarish images flashed across her mind’s eye, and she swallowed hard at the nausea threatening to escape. Alex beneath a mass of hungry vampires—DEADs—feasting on her until they were drunk from her blood, swaying on their knees beside her corpse. Her life essence dripping like a garnet waterfall from their chins.
No! The denial echoed inside the walls of her skull. She squeezed her eyelids shut and shook her head. Alex was alive. She had to be, and Elle wasn’t about to give up until she found her.
“There’s more,” he said.
She opened her eyes, despite knowing she wasn’t going to like what he had to say. “Tell me.”
“I learned last night that the colony running Wicked Ways…”
“Yeah.”
“It belongs to Markus and Marguerite.”
Chapter Three
“You have to feed.” Markus jammed his wrist once more in front of the woman with midnight hair who called herself Alexandria.
“Fuck you.” She jumped to her feet from the edge of the small cot and turned around, giving him her back. “I’d rather die.”
Why the hell he put up with her belligerence, he hadn’t quite figured out yet. When members of their colony had brought her in with the group of humans a few weeks ago, he could have easily allowed her, like the others, to become food for the DEADs. She’d fought like a tigress though, her long, blue-black hair wild with damp strands clinging to her face and around her wide, deep violet eyes. Not once did she cry or beg for mercy. Instead, she’d bitten, kicked, and clawed anyone who came near her.
Quite simply, she’d captivated him.
And it was the only thing that had saved her life. But that defiant mouth—she was going to push him too far, and then…
“I can make you feed.” Markus pressed his chest against her back. She stiffened. He leaned over and brushed a lock of hair away from her ear. “I don’t have to ask nicely,” he whispered. The deceptively delicate-looking hand at her side curled into a fist. He grinned.
“Fine. Let’s get this over with.” She uncurled her fist and went for his wrist. Markus jerked his arm away and stepped back. She spun, her dark hair swinging around her like a midnight fan. The tips of her fangs glistened beneath her lip, and her full breasts rose and fell with each rapid breath, driven by her hunger.
The sudden rush of lust nearly took him to his knees. He inhaled, slow and deep, through his nostrils, doing his best to hold his desire in check. His fangs throbbed in time with the blood that pulsed in his groin, making his balls ache.
Elongating the claws within his tight fist, Markus drove the tips into his palm. The sharp bite of tearing flesh helped to take the edge off his need. He’d long since learned, during his time with Marguerite, that there existed a very fine line between pleasure and pain. The need for one was easily substituted with the infliction of the other.
Markus needed the pain.
Because he had a bad feeling that one hard fuck against the wall with Alexandria wouldn’t be enough to satisfy his appetite for this untamed vixen. And that would be most unfortunate. In fact, they would both end up dead.
Marguerite didn’t like to share.
Unless, of course, it was her idea, and she got to join in on the fun.
“What game are you playing?” Alexandria’s shout yanked his attention back to the present struggle at hand.
Markus turned around and backed away. “No game, vixen,” he said in a lazy drawl. He swiveled on his heels, facing her with an easy smile, then eased onto the chair behind him and crossed his legs. The fine interwoven silk of his Armani slacks shone in the overhead lights of the room. He ran his palm over the deep blue fabric. Life with Marguerite did have its perks.
He cocked his head to the side and raised a brow. Alexandria looked like she could claw his eyes out. And it was fucking sexy as hell. “I just thought you needed to show a little more appreciation.”
“What?” Her body tightened, and her head jerked back. She paced the small confines of her room. “Appreciation! That’s what you want from me?” She stopped mere inches from his chair. “For having my life stolen from me? For holding me prisoner?” She spread her arms wide. “This is what you want me to thank you for?”
He shot from his chair, and into her face. She jumped back, but Markus couldn’t stop. He kept going until he had her trapped between his body and the wall. He opened his mouth on a hiss. His fangs were hot and smooth as they slid against the underside of his upper lip. A sight he was sure displayed a nice visual of his anger.
He planted his palms beside her head with a satisfying thump. She lifted her eyes to his. They were wide, but she didn’t cower, even though she had to know he could kill her with a single blow. A low growl resonated from his chest as they locked stares. “Yes, vixen. This is exactly what I want you to thank me for. If not for me, you would be a rotting corpse right now. I gave you your life.”
Long, sooty lashes lowered over violet eyes, and she scowled. “If I’m so distasteful,” he said, “I would be more than happy to send someone else in to feed you.” Her eyelids lifted in surprise. “But he may not have the tolerance or restraint that I have, and you’d get more for your foul attitude than a full belly.” Markus grasped her chin and jerked her face to his. “He might fuck that pretty mouth of yours before he filled it with his blood.” He stroked her bottom lip with his thumb. “Then while you’re attempting to choke the shit down, he might turn you over and drive his cock into your ass, just for the hell of it.” A shudder ran through her, vibrating through his wrist. He’d made his point.
Releasing her chin, he reached up and smoothed the hair away from her face. “You see—I’m not so bad after all.” She didn’t answer. But he didn’t expect her to. She had too much pride. For her to survive here, she was going to have to bend, or he’d have to resort to other means to contain her. If she ever responded to Marguerite the way she defied him… Marguerite would kill her. Or worse.
“Come.” He stepped away and headed back to his chair. After taking a seat, he motioned for her to join him at his side. She hesitated for only a second before moving. Good. Progress. Once there, she stood in silence beside his chair. He glanced up. She stared at the wall behind his head, chin held high. “Kneel.” Her gaze snapped to his. “I said, kneel.” His voice dipped into a deep rumble. Air soughed in and out of her chest. “If you wish for me to feed you, kneel.”
Slowly, she sank to her knees, her gaze never wavering from his. He tightened the grip on his clawed fist, sinking the talons as deep as they would settle into his flesh. Nothing had ever been as erotic as the sight of her dropping to her knees at his feet. He wanted to spread his thighs and pull her body between them. Sink his hands into her hair and watch as she lowered her mouth around the aching head of his cock.
Fuck, yeah.
Instead, he extended his arm and offered her his wrist.
Soft fingers wrapped around his hand, and she pulled his wrist closer. He couldn’t look away. Full, moist lips drew back, revealing two long snow-white fangs, just before she drove them into his vein. “Shit.” His head bumped the wall behind him, and no way in hell could he hold back the groan that followed.
Chapter Four
Arran rolled his Ninja into the parking lot beside Gabrielle’s car and killed the engine. She’d taken the news flash about Markus and Marguerite pretty much like he’d expected. She’d made an oath of determination right before she’d kicked him out of the car. She wasn’t a member of the Enclave in name only. It didn’t matter that she didn’t work patrol. She was as much a warrior as any of the males. Life hadn’t dealt her any favors. And she wasn’t one to lie down and let it bulldoze over her. She stood and fought for every inch of ground gained.
He waited for her to get out of the car, then removed his helmet.
“You didn’t need to
follow me home,” she said over her shoulder, heading for the front door of a townhouse. He was surprised when she’d led him here instead of a hotel. The place must belong to her sister. He palmed his keys, slid off his bike, and shoved the keys in his pocket.
“I wasn’t going to let you leave alone after the info I just dumped on you,” he said as he came up behind her while she unlocked the door. “I wanted to make sure you got home safe, and to make sure you actually went home.”
“Oh my God, you are such an ass.” He could almost hear her eyes roll with that statement. She was right. He was an ass. But while he was here, he would be taking care of hers.
She flipped on the lights, and he followed her inside. The heels of her boots clicked on the hardwood floor of the foyer, echoing in the open stairwell of the two-story apartment. She couldn’t have been in town long, but the air in the place already carried her scent. He pulled in another slow, deep breath through his nostrils. His heart rate quickened. Honeysuckle. He wanted to smile but repressed the grin. Ironic that such a delicate and sweet fragrance emanated from the hellcat with whom he’d just been reacquainted.
Her keys clinked as she dropped them in a bowl on a table near the staircase. His gaze devoured her provocative profile. He’d never seen her dressed like she was tonight. Living with five male vampires within the Enclave walls, she had usually dressed a bit more conservatively. Not matronly, but definitely not this revealing. A short black leather skirt barely covered the lush curves of her ass, and a shirt that couldn’t have been more than a decked-out bra did its best to contain her full breasts. Shiny black leather boots wrapped her legs, highlighting the toned sweep of her calves. And the way her hips swayed with each step in those high heels… There could not be a repeat of tonight. Arran slowly shook his head. He would end up killing someone if she dressed like this again.
She turned her head to the side, facing him. “I don’t need a babysitter. I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.” She shifted and faced him head-on. “You’ve been gone a long time, Arran. Things have changed. I’ve changed.”
“Maybe so. But you’re not taking on that colony alone. I can’t believe Logan let you come here without him.” Gabrielle turned her back, rearranging her purse on the table. Shit. He recognized that body language. “You didn’t tell him, did you?” Arran closed the distance between them.
“No. I didn’t need him here.” She looked up, fierce determination written on her face. “I can handle this. Alex needs me. And I’m going to be there for her.” She shifted to face him again, leaning her hip against the table. “I’m smart enough to know if—and when—I need help.”
Arran closed in, crowding her personal space, wanting a reaction. Aching for it, actually. Gabrielle straightened and took one step back but stopped and lifted her chin, refusing to cower and give him the reaction he itched for. She caught on quick.
“You think you have it all handled, lass?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“You got it all under control?”
The amber color of her irises had grown molten. He allowed a small smile to pull at the corner of his mouth, loving the way she got all hot and bothered when he pushed her.
“Yes. I do.” The words had barely left her lips when she attacked, one leg coming out to catch the back of his ankle. Caught off guard, he stumbled.
Before Arran could regain his balance, Gabrielle had his wrist locked in her grip. Swinging his arm up, she spun underneath, twisted, and wrenched his arm up the middle of his back, then shoved him face-first into the wall.
Well, damn. Not bad. “You’ve been training,” he mumbled against the Sheetrock.
“A little.” She sounded quite proud of herself. Gabrielle was good. She’d caught him by surprise. But she was human. A woman. And no match for a mature vampire. Especially more than one.
With a burst of speed, Arran pushed back, forcing her to release him instead of falling on her rear. He whirled, catching her before she hit the floor. In less than a second, their positions reversed. Except this time, he’d pinned her back against the wall, her hands imprisoned by his, over her head.
The position pushed her full breasts up, almost spilling them from her top. Nice. He lifted his gaze, prepared for a hard glare. If her eyes were molten earlier, they were near boiling now. Arran couldn’t have stopped the next words that spilled from his lips if he’d tried.
“I win.”
“You asshole!” Gabrielle squirmed and bucked against him like a feral cat. Instead of gaining her freedom, though, each maneuver jammed her tighter into his hold. Her every inhale shoved her breasts into his chest. Heat radiated off her body, threatening to scramble his brain. Before he knew he’d even moved, his lips hovered over hers. What made him stop, God only knew. Maybe it was the way she’d suddenly grown still? Or maybe it was the moment she’d parted her lips, releasing warm, peppermint-scented bursts of air that seduced his mind. So damn enticing. All he had to do was lean in one more inch, and he’d—
Fire shot up his arm. “Son of a…” Releasing her, he jumped back and flung his gaze to the offending limb. Blood.
A thin line of crimson blossomed along the outside of his bicep. She’d played him. Purposefully distracted him, so she could pull her hand free and reach for a blade that must have been hidden under her skirt and against her thigh. The little minx.
Arran swiveled his head back in her direction. Air punched from his lungs. Christ. Blood surged to his cock. The overwhelming urge to stroke the rock-hard length at the sight of her was short-circuiting his brain. Gabrielle stood, one boot in front of the other, palming a short dagger. She was ready to fight.
He was ready to fuck.
Rocking from one foot to the other, he searched for the strength not to take what was his. Mentally, he shook his head. No. She’s not yours, asshole. But damn if his cock had the sense to listen.
“I know you weren’t about to kiss me, warrior. Were you?” Gabrielle raised a delicate brow and tilted her head. “Because last I heard before you walked away, my kiss was ‘forgettable.’”
Ouch. Arran had a feeling that asinine comment from two years ago would come back to bite him in the ass. It had been a lie. And hurting her had nearly killed him. But wounding Gabrielle had been what he’d had to do. He’d wanted her to hate him, to forget about him—to move on.
“Give me the blade, Gabrielle.”
“This?” She twirled the dagger, then palmed the hilt and held it up for display. “You want it?” A devious smile lit her face. With her other hand, she beckoned him with her fingers. “Come and take it.”
Bad challenge, kitten. A tremor started in his gut and worked its way up, until it was a buzz inside his brain. Every cell in his body wanted to take.
Mark.
Claim.
A gasp of air in her ear was the only indicator that he’d grabbed her. He didn’t remember the trip. Arran lifted her feet from the floor, whirled, and gently laid her on the stairs, pressing his hips, his chest into hers. He had to get his body next to hers. Everywhere. The dagger fell from her hand, rolling and thumping its way down the steps, each tumble a hollow thud.
The loud percussions bypassed the noise inside his head and brought him to a dead halt. He lay with his hips between her legs, his groin pressed to hers. His mouth suspended above her lips. Arran lowered his gaze. God, how he loved the delicate line of her lips, a perfect bow. So full and pink. Her tongue darted out and moistened the lower one. There was no stifling the groan rolling from the back of his throat.
He looked up. Passion mixed with doubt and fear stared back at him. “I’m sorry.” The whispered words tumbled from his heart.
Gabrielle blinked, then swallowed. “Why?”
“For hurting you.”
Her eyelids lowered, and her breath hitched. Did she believe him? Was an apology enough for what he’d done? He’d walked away, leaving her to think he’d never wanted her, when the truth was, he’d wanted her more than his next bre
ath. Sorry sounded so insignificant, compared to how much damage he’d done to her heart.
For years, he’d pushed the slow simmer of desire for her to the back of his mind, but now, having her this close, beneath him, it erupted into a full boil. His skin prickled, and the hairs on his body stood on end. The sound of Gabrielle’s heart was a thundering drumbeat inside his head. She’s yours—take her. Look at her. Gabrielle opened her eyes, her lips parted. She wants you. She just can’t admit she’s forgiven you yet. Arran jammed his eyelids closed, the voice of the beast inside his head chipped away at his control. No! I won’t do that to her. She’s not ready. And never will be.
His chest hurt. Inside his gut, his stomach torqued into a knot of hunger driven by his lust for blood. Gabrielle’s.
He had to get out of there. His arms shook as he pushed himself back onto his heels. She came forward into a sitting position and wrapped her palm around his bicep. He clutched one of the spindles of the stair rail as a cold sheen of sweat popped from his pores, sending a shiver racing up his spine.
Arran grabbed her hand, unable to halt the snarl that followed. He jerked back, stumbling to his feet, and jammed his fangs into his bottom lip. The taste of his blood filled his mouth. He couldn’t breathe.
“Arran?”
Running both palms over his hair, he gulped for a mouthful of oxygen. “Uh…” He sucked in hard for another breath, unable to take his eyes off the target every cell of his being wanted to claim. Get out! One foot moved back. Then another. “I gotta go.”
“Wh-what? Why?” She jumped up from the stairs. Confusion creased her brow. Maybe hurt. But he had to go. She needed a man. A real man. Not him. He hadn’t been human for more than a century. Gabrielle wanted to pretend he was more than the monster who owned him. She was dead wrong.
There was no way she could handle the beast he kept checked in her presence. Not after the trauma she’d suffered from the fangs of a DEAD. How the hell could she ever get past that?
