Had it been guilt? She was his ward, not his betrothed, not his wife. She was nothing but a pawn in a political battle of wills, and yet, as the women had kissed, licked, and suckled him, the nauseating sense of betrayal knotted his gut.
Had he actually felt shame?
Yes.
As he had lain beneath the women, he had found himself wishing he were with Eva. Wishing that she were the one kissing his chest while her elegant fingers pumped his cock.
A moan escaped his lips as he became hard. His eyes drifted closed as his imagination went wild. Her long, dark hair would fall about her waist in waves as she leaned over him. Her generous breasts would brush over his chest, her hard nipples teasing him as she slid down his body to his aching erection. She would trace the crown of the head with her tongue before sucking him between her soft, pouting lips.
Hadrian’s hand slipped from the wall to grip his shaft. His fist worked the hard length, his body growing taut as he envisioned Eva. Her smooth, golden skin would glow in the candlelight. He could almost feel her hips cradle his, her legs encircling his waist as he drove into her.
He shuddered as he came, his legs nearly giving out on him. Stumbling, he pressed his back to the cool wall. His chest rose and fell with rapid breaths as the intense pleasure of his orgasm receded. The relief and calm that accompanied his release quickly faded as his anger rose to the front.
Shutting off the water, he shoved open the glass door. It snapped back, the force causing it to shatter, sending shards of glass sliding across the floor. He stepped out, snatched a towel, and roughly dried himself. Feeling no pain as he padded over the sharp edges that covered the floor, he stormed from the bathroom.
After slipping on a pair of jeans, Hadrian collapsed in the chair behind his desk.
His hunger for blood was nothing he could not handle, having lived on the verge of starvation for so long. He was accustomed to the ache that came with the deprivation of his body. He understood his need for sex, for one who had often times took multiple women to his bed each night. He was not surprised his desire had come back to him in a rush.
What was not normal and what he could not understand was his absurd need for Eva. Never had he craved one woman in particular, never had he obsessed over a single female’s blood or body. Rarely had he slept with the same woman twice.
He had hoped his mind was improving, but perhaps the opposite was taking place.
The scowl that creased his brow darkened.
Eva was not his type. She was too short, too slim, and mortal. He could easily snap her arm with just a pinch of his thumb and forefinger. He had always enjoyed robust women who could take and enjoy a rough tumble. But he could not deny the fact that despite her size, Eva was nicely proportioned with lush breasts and flaring hips. If only he were a human male with natural desires—
He lashed out, swiping his arm across his desk, sending the books and papers crashing to the floor.
He was a vampire. He was a king. And he was cursed with loathsome memories that would drag him to hell one way or another.
She was innocent. She was kind. He had no right to want her. No right to even fantasize about touching her. He had the beast in his bones, evil coursed through his veins, poisoning his heart and killing his soul. He was a murderous, bloodthirsty, demon and nothing or no one could change that fact. He was a creature destined to bring death.
Just like his maker.
Much to his shame, he had been more like Imbrasus in the early years of his transformation than he cared to admit. He had slain and drank deep of innocent blood, but he never raped, he never tortured, and never once had he taken pleasure from another’s pain.
Oh, how he had reveled in the sweet taste of blood and the addictive ecstasy of death. Feeling a mortal’s pulse slow as the warmth of life faded from their flesh, the soft sound of their last gasps of air tickled his ears, and then death. It had washed over him, heating his flesh until he felt as if the sun was burning him, the bliss numbing his mind.
Hadrian’s fangs slipped from their sheaths as his lungs expanded with needless air. His senses grew sharp at the faint scent of vanilla. His eyes shot to the shirt that lay in a crumpled ball on the floor just inside his closet. Standing, he forced a fire to jump to life in the hearth across from his bed. Snatching up the offending fabric, he viciously threw it into flames.
What had the half-breed done to him? Despite his earlier release in the shower, his body continued to ache for her. It was as if she had cast a spell on him.
The thought gave him pause but he brushed it aside.
With a heavy sigh, Hadrian went to his bed. His mind was weary and his limbs heavy. Praying for one day of peaceful, dreamless slumber, he laid back.
All his troubled thoughts and strange behavior could be contributed to his lack of rest. Counting back, he could not recall the last time he had slept. Perhaps a little sleep was all he needed. And blood. Yes, he would need more blood; the two bags he had drunk earlier had done little. Once he was well rested and fed, his attraction to Eva would surely become nonexistent.
Allowing his eyes to drift close, he braced himself for horrors that only his mind could possess. For when he slept, he dreamed and when he dreamed the hellish memories of his demon mixed with his own until he could no longer tell the two apart. He and the vampire became one and the same.
As sleep claimed him, Hadrian could only hope that his fragile sanity would survive the hell that he knew was to come.
Crimson flowed like rivers down his chest as he wiped it from his eyes. Imbrasus smirked as he stepped over one body, then another, and another, crossing the blood slick tavern floor.
The veil between Hadrian and the demon he carried evaporated, leaving him to feel every evil impulse that belonged had belonged to his maker, Imbrasus.
Death surrounded him as bones cracked beneath his boots. His eyes darted about the tavern. One. There was one mortal that still lived. Her soft, frantic breaths drew him to her hiding place. His muscles flexed, his claws lengthened as he bared his fangs. Fear, it was delicious, the aroma made him hard.
Rounding the bar, he found a hatch in the floor.
Her scream pierced Hadrian’s soul as she was wrenched up from the cellar. She hysterically pleaded for her life as his claws sliced the thin material of her sleeve, drawing blood.
Hadrian’s stomach rolled in revolt but he could do nothing except relive the evil.
Snatching the woman to him, she trembled in his grasp and he felt his lips curl into a sadistic smile. With a swift swipe, he tore her bodice, revealing creamy breasts.
More pleas, her voice shook as she began to sob.
Anger.
It filled him, driving him to shove the female down. Blood splashed beneath her, coating her limbs as she struggled.
Laughter rumbled his chest.
Hadrian felt his lips move as he heard Imbarsus sneer, “Pathetic.”
Hadrian fought against the nightmare, grappling to wake but the madness was too strong. It held him, trapped him within Imbrasus’s body as the vampire pinned the woman beneath him and ripped at her clothing.
Hunger.
Blood.
In the recesses of his mind, he heard himself bellow as the victim screamed, while the tender flesh of her throat yielded to his sharp fangs.
The room began to spin as he choked on the terror-spiked blood.
Rain slipped down his face like tears and wind viciously whipped at him.
“No!” He heard himself yell as he was swept back to the night his life had changed forever.
Hadrian blinked, clearing his vision. His chest felt heavy, as if a steel cage imprisoned his lungs. Agony like he had never known tore at him with poisonous talons.
Closing his eyes, he refused to look down. He knew this scene all too well. He had relived this moment thousands of times, praying it had ended differently, that he had fallen to his death instead.
“Titus,” the anguished roar ripped from his throat,
the force brought him to his knees.
He could feel the barrier that divided him from Imbrasus’s demon crack. With every passing second, his mind crumbled. His world was collapsing into chaos.
Again and again he shouted. Sorrow shattered his heart as guilt crippled his soul. The sound of his pain echoed through the night. The trees swayed from the impact while the mountains cringed. A demon had risen.
Hadrian opened his eyes. Blood dripped from his fingers. Was it his own or did it belong to Titus?
Struggling to maintain his control, he mentally clutched the shreds that remained of his sanity. He wiped his shaking hands on his white tunic, forever staining the pure fabric, branding him a murderer.
“No,” he breathlessly gasped.
The mental wall he had spent years building and fortifying fell. The sulfuric scent of unadulterated evil burned his nose and scalded his lungs as Imbrasus’s essences invaded his body. Visions of death and carnage filled his mind as his grief mixed with hate and anger.
Gripping his head, his nails drawing blood, he began to rock back and forth on his knees.
This was not real. This could not be real. Titus could not be dead.
Shoving himself to his feet, he stumbled toward the stone railing. Lightning flashed, cracking the night sky and with it the last of his sanity.
Titus laid stories below, impaled. The steel cross of the castle’s rooftop protruding from his chest. The rain washed away the blood that covered his body.
“Titus. Titus! Brother, no! Come back to me. Come back!” His throat grew tight; his voice became hoarse as he screamed until he could speak no more.
Please, he prayed, please come back. You cannot be dead. You cannot be—
Hadrian’s mind snapped as he collapsed to his knees, his shoulders slumped. His head hung low as the world faded from his sight, leaving his eyes vacant obsidian pools.
Ice settled in his bones, never to be removed, his reality melted away.
Falling. He was falling into the abyss. He felt his lungs expand as he tried to scream, but only silence met his ears. Darkness reached for him as insanity welcomed him to Hell with open arms.
Hadrian came awake with a violent jolt. Blinking repeatedly, he frowned. Had he teleported to the lake just outside the labyrinth or had he been sleep walking? And why would he come here? Why not teleport to Titus’s grave or the cursed Hall of Mirrors like all the times before? After reliving that fateful night, he usually awoke where his nightmare had taken place…where his brother had died.
Deciding there was no logical explanation for his illogical action, he turned his eyes to the dark sky—peaceful, loving night. The cold was a balm to his raw emotions and tortured mind. His lips turned up in a rueful smile, as he whispered, “No rest for the wicked No cliché has ever been more true.”
Chapter Nine
With a frustrated sigh, Eva snapped the book shut and tossed it on the bed beside her.
God, her head ached. Rubbing her temples, she leaned back against the pillows. She had gotten little sleep the night before and tonight was not shaping up to be any better.
No matter how hard she tried, she could not stop herself from obsessing over Hadrian and the almost kiss. She had lain awake until sunrise wondering what the hell had happened. One second they were talking, next she was in his arms with her body tightly pressed against his. The evidence of his arousal had rubbed against her belly, flaming her already raging desire. His dark eyes had burned with lust and consuming hunger.
Yet, he recoiled. Did she disgust him? Or had he been revolted by the fact that he had been about to kiss her? Surely, that was it. She was an ‘abomination’ after all. And, why would someone like him want someone like her. He was a king for god’s sake while she was too low for anyone of worth to notice.
Upon reflection, Eva surmised that the incident was most likely caused by Hadrian’s lack of feeding. She had over heard Falcon complaining to someone on the phone about how Hadrian refused to eat and even refused to sleep. His hunger could have driven him to—
Eva shook her head remembering the pained expression on his face and the sympathy in his cold black eyes when he had pulled her to him. He had seemed genuinely upset by her words. Could he possibly relate to her feelings?
No, he must have agreed with what I said, she thought, why else would he refuse to kiss me?
Besides, if it had been blood he wanted, Eva knew she would have freely given it. Yes, she knew that was a shameful confession, but when it came to the mad king, all her good sense vanished.
Then again, I don’t know if I truly want him. He could be using his powers on me. He could be making me think I want him.
Eva rolled her eyes at her absurd thoughts. Why would a vampire use their power of compulsion and not capitalize on it? That made absolutely no sense, unless he is some twisted bastard who enjoys playing mind games. He was beaten with the crazy stick after all. He could be on a power trip.
Yet, she doubted the thought. Hadrian was a sexy man, plain and simple. A woman would have to be a fool to not find him attractive, and she was no fool.
“What I am is sexually deprived,” she huffed.
She had enjoyed the boyfriends she had when she was a free spirited teenager, but her life and fun ended way too soon.
Now, she was a woman who wanted to know all the life experiences that had been denied her. And she was trapped in a castle with a devastatingly sexy vampire who seemed to be physically attracted to her, if nothing else.
His eyes were hypnotic, his lips sensual and his face ruggedly handsome. He was tall and built, but by no means bulky. He was all solid, lean muscle. And his penis, from what she had felt from the times he had pressed her to him, was thick and long.
A moan escaped her lips as she imagined what it would feel like, his body dominating hers, pressing her down into the mattress as he drove into her.
Her thoughts were an endless vicious cycle. She had tossed and turned last night as her mind raced with questions. She restlessly wandered the castle all day as she desperately fought to come up with answers and every time, she ended up envisioning Hadrian’s powerful body moving over her as he—
Eva gasped as the thundering sound of a jungle cat’s purr met her ears. Her hands shot to her throat. Her body went cold; her breath froze in her lungs as she waited for the sound to happen again.
Silence.
Tension slowly eased from her body as confusion set in. As if she did not already have enough to contemplate she had to add this weird shifter like phenomenon to the list of questions that desperately needed answers.
She could not have made that sound. She should not have been able to make that sound. She was a half-breed and though she possessed every physical trait of her father’s line, her blood was diluted. She did not possess enough magic to tap into her animal spirit and yet, she had growled and purred.
Impossible.
God, she wished she had someone to talk to, someone to help her find answers. That was what Eva missed most about her mother. She had always been there to listen, to guide, to help her smile about her problems by helping her find a way to solve them. She had never judged, never chastised or betrayed her. She only ever gave her support.
Eva blinked away her tears, refusing to let them fall. She had to be strong; her mother would have wanted her to be strong. And she would not live in the past.
Coming to her feet, Eva donned her snow boots and snatched her jacket.
She needed some fresh air and a walk would help her clear her mind and maybe grant her peace, if only for a little while.
The storm had broke early in the morning, leaving behind fresh snow and clear sky. As she walked, the snow rhythmically crunched beneath her boots and Eva found the sound oddly soothing. For a moment her mind was calm, her mass of questions and troubling thoughts forgotten. She idly wandered through the maze, occasionally plucking a frosted leaf from the hedges. She took in a deep, cleansing breaths of fresh night air and sighed in co
ntentment.
Her mind finally cleared and her thoughts became serene for the first time that day. She rounded the last corner of the maze and—he was there. Hadrian stood on the ice-covered lake, his face turned up toward the moon, basking in the soft glow. Dark jeans that hung low about his hips were all he wore and Eva could not resist running her tongue over her lips as her eyes devoured him. He was all lean muscle, his pale skin smooth and perfect.
She caught and held her breath as he slowly turned to face her. His chest and abdomen were flawlessly formed, all hard and chiseled, like a Roman sculpture.
“Enjoying the view?” he asked.
Eva nodded, sweeping him with her gaze once more. Her breasts felt heavy as she drew in breaths. Her bra felt tight and she sighed, the thin material caressing her now hard nipples.
Get a grip, Eva, she chided herself.
Snapping her gaze from his body, she met his stare. She stumbled back as if she had been struck. His black eyes whirled with rage, loathing, torment and… primal hunger.
Hadrian’s chest heaved, his hands curled into fists, his fangs glinted in the moonlight. He looked wild.
Eva knew she should be frightened. He appeared ready for battle, the hard lines of his face set. Threatening power radiated from him as he continued to stare at her. Would he rip her head off, or shred her clothing and—Self-preservation sparked in the back of her mind, she should leave, but instinct told her if she ran, he would give chase.
Her pulse leapt with excitement as she envisioned the vampire tearing through the labyrinth. He would catch her, ensnare her in his arms and pin her down with his body…
Hadrian’s dark eyes narrowed with predatory delight. Eva felt a blush creep to her cheeks. She knew he could read her body. Her heart pounded with anxious anticipation, as her breaths grew shallow. She had no doubt he knew she wanted him.
Which is insane, she told herself.
She should not be standing here, gaping at him as if he were a wild animal on a nature reserve and she on a tour. She should apologize for interrupting whatever he was doing out in the snow half-dressed and go back to her room and that damn book.
Caressed by a Crimson Moon (Rulers of Darkness) Page 9
