by K. L. Kreig
“Faster,” she pleaded.
Releasing it with a pop, he chuckled. “This is a marathon, beauty. Not a sprint.” Placing hot, open-mouthed kisses on her moistened flesh, he made his way to her other hardened nub, adding, “I told you I was going to fuck you until your throat was raw from screaming my name. I don’t think it’s hoarse enough yet.”
As he drew her other nipple between his teeth and gently bit, she squeezed her inner muscles, clamping down like a vice on his thick cock.
“Fuck, Sarah …” he grated. They locked eyes and she did it again. “Do it again,” he rasped. She smiled teasingly … and squeezed. And that was the beginning of the end. He tightened his grip and began fucking her with long punishing strokes.
“I’m going to make you mine, Sarah.”
“It’s about time, vampire,” she taunted breathlessly, but quickly lost her cockiness as he pounded viciously into her sex. Now her walls were clamping with impending climax versus her taunts from seconds ago.
Hips never losing time, his mouth quickly found that perfect spot where neck met collarbone and sucked, priming her for his bite. Her hands were at his head, holding him firmly in place like she was afraid he’d deny her again. But he was too far gone to deny her, or himself, what he so desperately craved. He struck hard and fast and relished in her sharp intake of breath right before she shattered in rapture in his arms.
Her blood … he’d never tasted anything like it. Her lush, spicy taste was an aphrodisiac on his tongue. It was heady. It was the Promised Land. And it was his. Two more thrusts and he joined her in mindless bliss, coating her insides with his hot seed. Every clench of her sex milked him, until he was empty and spent. One last pull and he closed the wound.
Now they would complete the bonding.
Chapter 37
Sarah
Pure unadulterated ecstasy flowed like hot molten lava through her entire being. She couldn’t form a coherent thought. Every brain cell was singed with the most intensely pleasurable orgasm she’d ever experienced.
“Sarah, drink.” Rom’s voice tried penetrating through her endorphin filled haze, but she didn’t understand the words.
Drink? Drink what?
Something warm touched her lips. Warm and coppery and tangy. And fucking magical. As the first drop of the thick sustenance touched her tongue, her stomach clenched in pain and she became ravenous. She latched securely onto wherever this enchanting flavor was coming from and drank with fervor, holding it tightly to her lips.
It was decadent.
It was power.
It was life.
“Sarah,” Rom growled. He sounded more animal than human. His cock was still hard and his rough thrusts resumed. She loved every single second of his unrestrained lovemaking. She wanted more.
With each swallow sounds became sharper. She could hear the wings of birds fluttering as they flew high overhead. Each cell felt renewed and strengthened. She felt impervious.
Awakened.
Immortal.
The smog of her human life was lifted and she was now perfect and untainted.
She felt Rom’s pleasure as clearly as she did hers and it was pure nirvana. This time they crested the precipice together. All too soon, the life giving nourishment was taken from her and she was being carried somewhere. Soft bedding touched her back and within seconds, a warm cloth was being run over her skin, cleansing her.
Undiluted electricity and power coursed through her body, humming deliciously under her skin.
This is what she was always meant to be.
Sleep beckoned and she couldn’t resist. Her last thought before she fell under slumber's spell was I love you. She swore she had heard a deep “I love you too, beauty” before she let the darkness claim her.
Chapter 38
Geoffrey
A week. He had a goddamned week to pull everything together needed to kill Xavier and take out the entire operation. No pressure. But Rom had said Geoffrey couldn’t kill Xavier, that pleasure was reserved for him. Well, get in line, fucker. No, he knew he couldn’t do this on his own, and he’d sought their help, but he’d still planned on being the one to take Xavier out.
When he’d talked to Rom earlier, they’d agreed to give him bits of information over the course of this next week. Just enough to make it appear he was making progress on both the additional clubs and the whereabouts of Xavier’s daughters to throw off the cloud of suspicion that hung like a thick, black fog over his head.
He now sat back in this dingy human bar, nursing a beer, updating Xavier via phone. It was still slop, but far better than the rum and Coke he’d had the other day.
“Devon and his mate will be back in the country in two weeks’ time.” Lie. They were already here.
“And that’s been verified?” Xavier’s smarmy voice echoed through the speaker.
“Yes, my lord.”
“Any progress on locating his new estate?” The new witch Xavier had found was actually working for Geoffrey, so of course, she hadn’t been able to locate shit. Except for two more of the facilities where they’d kept the children. He had six now located. Were there others? Could he find them in time? He hoped so.
But the information he’d uncovered today was actually far more disturbing and needed his immediate attention.
“I have a couple of leads, my lord. But nothing has panned out so far. His subjects are very loyal.”
Silence.
“I’m also checking out a lead on another club in the St. Louis area. I’ll have an update on that tomorrow.”
Also lies. Tomorrow he planned to be in the godforsaken hills of Wyoming where they’d located the newest child facility. He needed to scope it out and get in and out undetected, which shouldn’t be a problem.
“You have a week to get me something solid. At the end of those seven days, if you have nothing, I’ll have to seriously rethink your position in my ranks, Geoffrey.”
Which meant he’d be dead. Guess what, fucker … you’ll be the one missing his head at the end of seven days.
“Of course, my lord.”
Ending the call, he downed the liquor, waved for another and thought about his conversation with Rom when he’d asked about Ainsley. He was told, in no uncertain terms, to “fuck off and mind his own business”. So Ainsley was telling the truth and Rom’s life was in danger. Christ on a cracker … could this get any worse?
Wanting nothing more than to be with his Moira at the end of this blessed mission, he also felt an overwhelming obligation to repay the favor of trust that Rom had bestowed upon him in letting him live. Rom’s friend must be genuinely worried to seek him out, which meant this was a very real threat. So the question was … what was it and how could Geoffrey repay a debt, while keeping his life? If he had one after this next week. The last thing he wanted to do was to get out from underneath Xavier’s bootstrap only to be under one of the lord’s for all of eternity.
Feeling eyes on him, he glanced toward the door. Standing there was none other than the stunning Ainsley. Today she was dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans and some sort of red whimsical, flowy top. Apparently in her world, making eye contact was code for “don’t mind if I do” because seconds later, she had her ass planted in the chair across from him.
Leaning back, he crossed his arms. “You stalking me?”
“Why? Is your dick hard?” She waived the waitress over and ordered a double whiskey, neat.
“You wish, sweetheart.”
Laughing, she said, “I’ve seen a lot of cock in my days, vampire. I’m sure yours is nothing special.”
Geoffrey couldn’t help but smile. He liked her. “I beg to differ, but I guess we’ll just have to agree to disagree.”
Her drink was delivered and she took a healthy swallow, regarding him silently. He had a feeling meeting her here a second time wasn’t random in the least.
“So, you know Romaric?”
“You could say that,” he replied.
“How w
ell?”
“We don’t get together for afternoon tea and fucking biscuits, if that’s what you’re asking. We have a … common business interest. So, you talked to Romaric, then?” Of course he knew she did, he just wondered how much she would volunteer.
“Yes.” She hesitated before continuing. “It’s serious.”
“I gathered.”
“He could die.” She looked genuinely concerned for Romaric’s wellbeing and not for the first time he wondered the nature of their relationship. Not that it was really his business, but he was a nosy SOB.
“And you care …?” He’d asked her this question before and didn’t get a straight answer.
Smirking, “I told you. I’m an old friend and I care about him. He’s got a good soul.”
“You are aware how powerful Romaric is, yes?”
“Yes. But his father is more so. Or at least … different.”
Geoffrey thought on this for a moment. As The Reaper, Romaric could essentially steal another vampire’s power and it became his own. Since Romaric’s father would also possess the same skill and had lived longer, he’d had the chance to acquire more. Or different, as Ainsley had suggested. A thought crossed his mind.
“Does his father possess the skill of mimicry?”
She cocked her head, studying him. “No.”
A plan began formulating. If he lived through the next week, could this be the way he would free himself from any indebtedness to anyone, and finally, for once in his long life, be entirely free?
The simple answer was, yes. But would Romaric accept his help?
He had to. Geoffrey just wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Chapter 39
Mike
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Mr. Clark.”
“Oh please, call me Bud. Everyone does.”
Bud ushered Mike into the house, the screen door clanging loudly behind him as it closed. He followed him through the small, cluttered kitchen and into the living room, where Bud indicated he should take a seat on a heavily pilled, shit-brown couch that looked like it’d been pulled straight from the dump.
“Would you like some coffee or a glass of water?”
After seeing the state the kitchen was in, he’d pass. “No, thank you. I’m fine.”
“So, you said you had some information regarding Marna?”
Shit … he felt like a heel giving this man such false hope when he knew Marna was dead. Well … since there was no body, he didn’t know for sure, but there was simply no chance she was still alive.
“Is Mrs. Clark around? I’d rather talk to you both at the same time.” And I’d love to see what she looks like.
A sad look crossed Bud’s face. “I’m afraid Ellie passed last year. Her only wish before she died was that we’d find out what happened to our Marna. But I guess that wasn’t meant to be.”
You don’t want to know what happened to your daughter, Bud. Trust me. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“Not your fault, son. Now, what can I help you with?” Bud leaned back in his lounge chair, the kind his dad always used to sit in and watch TV from the time he’d get home from the shop until he stumbled up to bed, drunk, hours later. Mike always hoped his dad would silently pass by his room on his way. Sometimes he was lucky. Other times he wasn’t. It didn’t take Mike long to learn not to fall asleep before his dad was passed out for the evening.
“Well, I’ve taken on a couple of cold missing persons cases, your daughter’s being one of them. I’d like to ask you a few questions if you don’t mind. Maybe look at some old photographs and see if I can get any new leads.”
“Of course. Anything I can do to help.” He paused, gaining composure before continuing. “I know my baby is dead, but it would sure bring me peace to be able to properly bury her remains before I join Ellie. And Marna.”
Mike nodded respectfully. He’d put Bud over eighty-years old and his days were probably numbered. With the pallor, constant smoker’s cough and heavy stench of tobacco he’d smelled when Bud opened the door, he’d put him pretty damn close to death’s doorstep. And he’d like nothing more than to help this elderly man complete the dream of locating his daughter’s remains before he kicked the proverbial bucket. In fact, for some odd reason, that had now become his mission.
They spent the next hour talking about Marna. How she went missing, what she was like growing up and looking through old pictures that were mostly kept in shoeboxes. This man’s love for his daughter and his family was profusely apparent in not only every word he spoke, but the tone he used. It made his heart ache, wondering if he’d ever get the opportunity to build his own family. Love his own wife and children as much as this man apparently had.
Throughout their conversation, he’d discovered Bud and Ellie had been married for sixty-two years before she died. Incredible really. Living with one person day in and day out and to love them that deeply, that long. Would he ever get that? And while he wasn’t exactly sure how a human and vampire mating worked, he’d found the woman. She just needed to stop running.
His phone had buzzed in his pocket several times since he’d arrived at Bud’s, but he’d ignored it. Bud had taken the time to meet with him after just a phone call this morning and Mike thought it rude to whip out his cell. Besides, he was genuinely fascinated with Bud and his stories.
A knock on the door halted their conversation and Bud shuffled slowly out of the room, telling him he’d be right back, mumbling something about the damn doorknockers and that he needed to get a No Solicitation sign to hang.
Mike took the opportunity to pull out his phone, checking his messages. Three missed calls and six texts. All from Giselle. He didn’t have time to listen to the voice mails, but he quickly scanned the texts and each had gotten progressively nastier. A broad smile was plastered on his face. Aw…she did care.
Where r u?
Answer ur GD phone.
Is this some sort of childish payback? Grow the fuck up.
If ur fucking some othr whore, I will kill her. Then castrate u.
He didn’t get a chance to read the last two because Bud had returned and he couldn’t tear his eyes from the person trailing behind him.
“Detective Thatcher, this is my daughter, Brynne. Brynne, this is Detective Thatcher. He’s working on Marna’s case.”
He stood, still in a stupor. “Uh … Mike. Call me Mike.” Extending his hand to hers, she placed her smaller one in his.
“Mike, nice to meet you. I told my father to wait until I could get here, but obviously he ignored my request and went ahead without me.”
Mike turned to Bud. “I didn’t realize you had another daughter, Mr. Clark. I didn’t see Marna with a sister in any of the pictures you showed me.”
Bud threw his arm around Brynne, pulling her close. “Well, our Brynne was a surprise that came a little later in life, so there was quite an age difference between the two.”
He’d say. In fact, he’d put Brynne at no older than early thirties. Maybe not even thirty yet. So she came well after Marna even went missing.
But the thing that fascinated him most was that Brynne was the spitting image Sarah. They looked so much alike they could practically be twins. Mike didn’t need any medical records or blood samples or DNA. Because there was absolutely no doubt that he was standing in this dingy, grungy, messy house with Sarah’s maternal grandfather and her aunt Brynne.
And damn if it didn’t feel good to finally have at least one tiny win in his corner in this fucked up vampire nightmare he’d found himself mixed up in.
Chapter 40
Sarah
Warm breath skating over her inner thighs woke her. Thick fingers invading her tender, bruised flesh, which had been deliciously used the night before, caused an involuntary moan to escape. Even rousing from sleep, she was already wet and wanting her new mate.
“Rom … please.”
“I’m going to wake you like this every morning, beauty.”
What’s a g
irl to say to that? ‘Hmm … no I think I’ll pass?’
His tongue flicked her swollen bundle of nerves and her hips jackknifed off the bed. Rom wrapped his left hand under her thigh, and flattened it on her lower stomach, holding her in place while he assaulted her with his mouth and fingers. She was quickly racing to the finish line, only to be thrown over violently when Rom sunk his fangs into her fleshy mound, setting off a brutal, crashing climax.
Her legs still quivered when Rom crawled up her body, twined their fingers above her head and entered her so slowly her breath left her lungs. His large frame covered hers, their kisses languid, mimicking their lower bodies.
“I love you, Sarah,” he whispered, pulling back to lock eyes with hers. The truth of his words rang loud and she felt like sunbeams of happiness were bursting out of every pore.
“I love …” Gasp “… God, don’t stop.”
He chuckled, but it was strained with lust. “Take my blood.”
She’d wanted to from the second she woke, but she didn’t know how and she didn’t want to hurt him.
“You won’t hurt me, Sarah. Strike in the same place on my neck as I did yours. It’s that simple. Hurry, beauty. I’m close and I want my blood coursing through your veins when I come inside you.”
He freed her hands and she wrapped them firmly around his neck, drawing him to her. Once her lips touched his flesh, she instinctively knew what to do and the second she sunk her teeth into his skin, they both rocketed to blinding orgasm.
Seconds, minutes—hell, maybe hours later—they lay recovering and after Rom lovingly cleaned her again, he lay down pulling her back to his chest.
“What’s this?” He traced the cross tattoo she’d gotten on her shoulder in remembrance of her brother. He would have loved Rom. Idolized him. Six years was a lifetime, but only yesterday.
