by Jessica Lee
“Oh, thanks.” She dropped her hair. “I haven’t had time to put the wig back on yet.”
“Right.” He nodded and strolled over to one of the high-back, overstuffed chairs facing the couch. After plopping down, he stretched out his long legs and crossed them at the ankles. He looked almost ridiculous, so much man wedged into such a narrow chair. Arran laced his fingers across his chest, as if he’d settled in for the evening, and announced, “Guess you’d better finish getting ready.” She gripped the back of the couch and bit down on her molars to keep from screaming.
“I didn’t agree to go anywhere with you.” It was all she could do to push the words out of her throat and not strangle him where he sat.
“Well, lass, if you intend to go back to Wicked Ways and search for your sister, the only way you’re getting through that door is with me as your date.”
“Your what?” She had to refrain from reaching up to manually close her mouth, because it had to be hanging open like a sprung hinge.
He leaned forward in the chair. “My date,” he reiterated.
“That’s what I thought you said.” She came from behind the couch and leaned against the arm, still keeping her distance. “This is your brilliant plan to get my sister back?” She smirked. “We start dating?”
He cocked his head. “No, smartass.” His eyes narrowed, but the fire there wasn’t smoldering from anger.
“Hey!” She straightened and grinned. “Watch it, asshole.”
Arran smiled—really smiled. Warmth spread through the center of her chest, the heat of it drawing her hand to her heart. She worked her palm over the sensation, and just for a moment, the tension in the room mellowed. Lowering her hand, she wished they could always be this way when together. Who knew, maybe even become friends? Something in her heart told her he really could use one. And nothing would make her happier than to be that friend. Even if he was a bullheaded Neanderthal most of the time.
“I thought about this last night. The best way to search for your sister and keep you safe is for you to appear taken.”
“Taken…” She raised her brows. “Kind of an extreme word choice, don’t you think?”
He pulled his legs in, stood, and made his way over to her. The way he moved wasn’t as simple as putting one leg in front of the other. It was as if the room buckled under his will. The walls collapsed inward, and space and time bent to bring him nearer to his target. Was it an illusion? She didn’t think so. He was magick.
A single callous finger lifted her chin, and his smoldering gaze held hers. Her breath caught, waiting on his next move.
“I think taken…” His words were slow and deliberate. “In this situation, is the perfect word.” He blinked and pulled his hand back. “If you’re with me, no one is going to make a move on you. We both know there’s a real possibility here that your search for Alexandria may lead us straight to Markus and Marguerite. It only makes sense we work together.” He stepped back and nodded toward the stairs. “So go on—finish, and then we’ll leave.”
She headed for the stairs. The cool wood felt good under her bare feet as she jogged silently up the steps. But it did little to chill the warmth brewing inside. Her broad smile reflected in the mirror. A date. She was going out with Arran. Not the normal kind of first date a girl envisioned for herself, but for her, the word normal didn’t exist anymore.
…
Markus plunged the extra-large purple vibrator deep into Marguerite’s ass once more, adding a hard suck with his mouth onto the head of her clitoris. She screamed, arching her back off the bundle of furs that lined the floor in her bedroom. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, her sharp nails boring into his flesh. The searing burn clouded his vision. A series of quakes rocked her body around him. Fuck. She was in her glory.
His cock ached to be the hard length sliding home inside her. But there were times when Marguerite liked her toys. Who was he to complain, when he got the pleasure of fucking her with them? In the end, she would reward him—if he pleased her well.
Her tremors cooled, and she uncurled her fingers. After pulling the vibrator from her lube-slickened hole, he dropped it onto a towel beside them and crawled up her body until he straddled her waist. Her pupils filled her eyes, leaving only a small ring of emerald green visible around the perimeter. With a hiss, he allowed his fangs to drop fully into sight. A wicked grin spread across her face, and she tilted her head to the side, exposing the pulsing artery at her neck. Markus dove in and struck.
Her hot, ancient blood burned a path through his veins. An erotic high that never failed to singe his brain. He drank in greedy swallows. So hungry for her again, as if he’d been starved for years.
A part of him hoped that each time she fed him, he would take enough to satisfy the craving. Permanently. But within days, the need for her would come back, like an itch under his skin that he could never quite scratch. If he ignored the call too long, the need went deeper, until it was an all-consuming pain, ripping his gut in two. The simple fact was—Marguerite owned him.
Markus reared back from her throat and licked the remaining traces of her blood from his lips. His cock twitched, hard and eager for release. Marguerite lifted her hand and stroked his aching length. A slow, promise-laden grin curled on her mouth. He inched forward along her body, her fingers never losing their grip, until the head of his cock bumped Marguerite’s red lips. She dropped her hand away as she opened her mouth, slid her tongue out, and licked the crown of his shaft.
“Shit!” he hissed. Markus’s heart pounded like a fucking bass drum in his ears, jacked into overdrive from the combination of her blood and the raging need boiling in his balls. “You want a taste of this, love?” Markus fisted his cock and stroked the flushed and leaking head of his erection across her lower lip. Marguerite pulled her lip in and sucked clean the traces of fluid he’d left behind.
“Delicious,” she purred. Marguerite reached out and seized his hips, her long nails biting into his flesh. “Give it to me, Markus. Now. I want you fucking my mouth and your cum filling my throat.” Her fangs glistened in the candlelight with her words, and her long black hair, like a raven’s wing, fanned out beneath her head.
His balls tightened in anticipation, and he placed a brief kiss to her upturned lips. He pulled back but hovered above her mouth. With his tongue, he brushed one of her exposed fangs before adding, “Play nice, Marguerite, and you’ll have me.”
She smirked beneath his lips. “I’m always nice. You can trust me with your dick, warrior.”
Every muscle locked. Why did she insist on calling him that? She was the epitome of a sadist, throwing his former title in his face when his cock ached for release. Marguerite wanted to watch him squirm over his past betrayal and then get her thrills while she fucked the anguish temporarily out of his mind.
“Don’t call me that,” he growled through his clenched jaw.
She gasped. “Whoops. My bad.” She shrugged. “I don’t know why I can’t seem to remember you don’t like that.” One corner of her mouth turned up in a wicked half grin. “I have to admit, I love the way the title rolls off my tongue when you’re fucking me.” She cocked her head. “You don’t mind. Do you, lover?”
Before he could form a response, she lifted her head, opened her mouth, and engulfed his cock. He gasped from the sudden electric sensation shooting up his spine and knocking all reason out of his head. She sucked hard, yanking at the tenuous string he held on his pending climax. Fuck. He wasn’t going to last long.
Dropping his head back between his shoulders, he focused on trying to stall his inevitable loss of control. His hips rocked in and out of her mouth. Shit, yeah. Her tongue, and the sharp edge of her fangs stinging the ridge of his cock, were blowing his mind.
A movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He lifted his head and glanced to his right. Just inside the doorway, Enrique stood stroking the large bulge in his pants. The other vampire’s stare was fixed to where his cock disappeared ins
ide Marguerite’s mouth. Markus stifled a groan in the back of his throat. Not from the pleasure between his legs, but from the confirmation of his suspicions.
Enrique wanted him.
And the feeling was most definitely not mutual.
Markus had done things under the influence of bloodlust during his time with Marguerite. Orgies were not unheard of. But females were his preference. Judging by the blatant way he stood there, making his attraction—and intentions—evident, Markus had a feeling Enrique was not going to be happy or understanding.
This would be another rejection Enrique would have to—well—swallow. He and Marguerite couldn’t afford to have him as an enemy, especially with the Enclave breathing down their neck. Marguerite’s former commander was quite old and powerful. In fact, if it were not for Markus’s steady diet of Marguerite’s blood, Enrique would be a fearsome opponent.
“Fuck!” The sharp sting of fangs scraping down his shaft jerked him back to the blowjob Marguerite was performing on his cock. He shoved his hands into her hair and stared at the red stains streaking his cock as it slid in and out of her mouth. “You said you would play nice,” he growled.
Her lips stroked his rock-hard flesh followed by a pulsation of suction to the head of his cock. He groaned. But this time it was from the orgasmic storm bubbling up his erection. Tossing his head back, he roared as his climax exploded from the end of his shaft and jetted down her throat.
A veil of darkness clouded his vision. A chill followed behind the hot tingles of pleasure across his skin. Pure evil knocked on the door of his soul.
Murky fingers of blackness filled his mind with utter despair, and the odor of burned embers overwhelmed his senses. Every time he gave himself to her, the darkness grew thicker, more absolute. The waves of pleasure she created within his body were sweet—and addictive. But each time the darkness came for him afterward, he questioned his sanity for the price he was paying with the pieces of his soul. He was losing the battle against the evil crawling over his skin.
He collapsed back onto his palms, sucking air into his lungs, and swung his head in Enrique’s direction. “Did you enjoy the show?” In his peripheral vision, Markus glimpsed Marguerite turning toward Enrique.
The other male eased out of the shadows and farther into the room. “Mistress, please pardon the intrusion,” he said, dipping his head low in submission. “But the commander has a visitor.” Markus rolled onto his feet. Enrique’s gaze dipped lower, then quickly back to Markus’s face.
Marguerite stood behind Markus, her naked body pressed to his. She circled his waist with her arms and her hands moved higher and stroked the hairs on his chest.
“Tell Markus’s guest, Enrique, that he’ll be with them in a few minutes.” She shoved Markus’s head to the side then pushed him forward onto his knees and on top of a chest at the foot of her bed. “He’s not quite finished here yet.”
Long fangs sank into his neck, sucking a wheeze from his lungs. If he hadn’t already been kneeling, his knees would have buckled under the strong pull she gave to his vein. He grabbed the footboard railing in front of him for balance. Arousal flooded his mind and body once more. His cock twitched with excitement as blood pounded into his groin. His head swam. A moan sounded within the room. His, Marguerite’s, or Enrique’s, he wasn’t sure. At this point, he didn’t really give a shit.
About a half hour later, he stepped into the office on the first floor of the multilevel home he shared with Marguerite and their minions. A man paced the room. Large, and most definitely human. He stopped short when the door clicked shut and whipped around, facing Markus. Recognition dawned. It was the bartender from Wicked Ways. The man was one of the donors for the former master of Fairfield’s colony, Jean-Claude—his Calix. He didn’t know his name. Didn’t really give a fuck. The human ran a thick palm over his brown crew cut before dropping his chin in submission.
“Sir, please forgive the intrusion to your home, but I bring news regarding…” He swallowed hard, and his eyes darted up for a quick glance in search of his commander’s position. Markus slipped into the large executive chair behind his desk, propped his elbows on the arms, and laced his fingers. The human, hearing the squeak of the leather, swung his gaze in Markus’s direction.
“Go on, Calix.” Markus wasn’t sure when the Latin term used for a human in service to a vampire started or who came up with it, but it was so apropos. As Marguerite would say, they were nothing more than a vessel for a vampire’s meal.
The human cleared his throat. “Alexandria.” Markus dropped his hands and leaned forward. A sudden knot of unease built in his gut.
“What about her?” The Calix took a step back. With good reason. No doubt his eyes were a neon red that flashed “killer” to the human in front of him. And he would be right.
“There was a woman at Wicked Ways last night who was asking about her. She showed me a photo. It was Alexandria. I recognized her from…before.” Markus peeled his upper lip away from his fangs as a deep growl rumbled off his chest. “I—I,” the lackey stammered. “I didn’t tell her anything.” He shook his head in sharp denial. “I told her I just serve ‘em drinks; I don’t babysit ‘em.”
“What else? Was she with anyone?” Markus could barely contain his irritation. He itched to tear into something, someone. He didn’t care. Markus sucked in a deep breath and fought for control. What the fuck was wrong with him? He was acting defensive and territorial as shit over the little vixen. His fingers repeatedly curled into a fist and then released, as if reflexively seeking to wring the life out of an invisible enemy he wanted to crush.
“She wasn’t there long. A man showed up—one I’d never seen there before.” He shrugged. “He went up to her, talked for a few minutes, and then they left together. That was it.” The Calix bowed his head. The acrid stench of his fear hovered like a cloud in the room and enticed his lust for violence. The bartender was only the messenger, but any Calix knew that alone wouldn’t prevent him from bearing the brunt of his master’s anger.
He rose from his seat and rounded his desk. The bartender tensed, preparing his body for punishment. But he needed the Calix alive and well. And at his post, keeping his masters informed.
“Relax, Calix. I’m not going to kill you.” He leaned back against the front of his massive, carved teak desk. “Not yet, anyway. You’re proving yourself useful.” The bartender released a long exhale. “Now, tell me, what did this couple look like?”
He lifted his head before speaking. “The usual goth look, Commander. She had long black hair. Pretty. The guy was big. Probably over six feet. Muscular. Green eyes. He’d streaked his hair in a crazy mix of black and blond. I didn’t get a chance to do more than serve him a beer before he was gone. But what little time he spent at the bar was enough for me to notice the dude gave off some serious I-could-kick-your-ass vibes.”
It couldn’t be. Markus pushed away from his desk. Blond, green eyes, more than six feet, and the attitude… Arran? He shoved one hand into his hair and paced the room. Could the Enclave have tracked them? No. He shook his head. The odds were too great. He and Marguerite had been so careful.
“Commander, are you all right?”
“What?” He stopped his pacing and swung his head in the bartender’s direction.
“I…I was just asking if you were okay. Do you need anything else from me?”
“I’m fine.” Markus tugged at the sleeve of his white silk dress shirt and repositioned his steel and rose gold TAG Heuer watch.
Paranoia. That’s all it was, and he needed to shake it off. The Enclave had to be jonesing to sink a dagger into his heart. That was a given. And of all the warriors, Arran, his former partner, was sure to be at the front of the line. He knew, from the ten years he’d spent working with Arran, that the male had a tolerance level of absolute zero for betrayal. The Enclave warrior took shit personally and would have made it his duty to hunt him down. Friend or not. Arran would feel obligated to see his former friend and part
ner exterminated.
“We’re done here,” Markus announced. “But I want an immediate report if those two enter the club again. Understood?”
“Yes, Commander, I understand. I’ll let you know right away if or when they return.”
“Then get the fuck out of here, before I lose my patience with you.” He nodded toward the door, and the bartender scrambled for it in less than two seconds.
He edged around his desk and sank back into his chair. The Enclave. For two years, he’d kept them at bay. What if it had been Arran at Wicked Ways last night? Doubt nagged at his gut. A roar burst from his lungs as he flung his arm across the top of his desk, clearing the surface of it in a shattering display of metal and glass across the room. He grasped the edge of the wood, his chest heaving under the fit of his rage.
“Fuck you, Arran!” He closed his eyes and collapsed against the back of his chair, mentally reaching within himself to stabilize his heart and lungs. “I know you too well, highlander,” he muttered into the empty space of his office, his breathing coming easier now. “Probably better than you know yourself.” The familiar muscle twinges that signaled a smile tugged at the sides of his lips.
“If you are here, come and get me, old friend. I dare you.”
Chapter Six
He was in heaven.
And he never wanted to come back down to earth. Arran leaned into the last turn on his Ninja that took him and Gabrielle onto Dalton Ave and in front of Wicked Ways. About a block past the club, he found an empty parking space and slipped into it. Gabrielle released her hold from around his waist and pulled away. Damn. He closed his eyes against the sudden chill. The loss of her body pressed against his back shouldn’t make him feel so—empty.
After placing his heel to the kickstand and settling the bike, he pulled off his helmet. He dismounted and turned as she handed over the black spare helmet she’d been wearing.
“Wow.” Her face beamed with the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen, and it lit up the night. His chest tightened. At that moment, he knew he’d do anything that was asked of him if he could keep her happy, smiling, just like this.
