by Eden Bradley
He was still shivering with it as he licked the older vampire’s shaft clean, pausing to swirl his tongue at the head.
Ramsey released his head with a rough shove and stepped back so abruptly it took Rogue a moment to get his bearings.
“I’m going to my office now.” He turned his back to Rogue and strode toward a pair of doors on one side of the chamber. He lifted one arm high in the air, making a graceful gesture with his hand, the muscles in his elegant back rippling. He called out, “Julian! Take him away. And call the Council.”
In a moment Julian—whom he had already come to dislike rather fervently—grabbed his arm with a hurting grip around his biceps and pulled him to his feet, walking him back through the doors of Ramsey’s sitting room. Or perhaps it was a throne room of sorts, simply minus an actual throne. It may as well have been. Beautiful, bossy bastard.
He kept his grumbling thoughts to himself as Julian led him down a mirror-filled corridor. It soothed his own pique that Ramsey’s guard dog seemed unhappy with his current assignment. He couldn’t help but taunt the dour vampire.
“You seem a bit pissed off, Julian,” Rogue said. He couldn’t help but taunt the dour vampire.
Julian glowered at him. “Why are you talking?”
“Just curious. Don’t know many henchmen. Not a very high position in the all-important vampire hierarchy, is it?”
Julian gripped his arm tighter, and it hurt like hell but he wasn’t about to say so. “What do you know about it? You’re a rogue. You know nothing of the workings of our society, our hierarchy. After the things you’ve done this could be your first brush with civilization, as far as I’m concerned.”
“Is that what you call it? It seems to me to be a totalitarian government like any ever seen in human history. Or a monarchy, perhaps. Call me uncivilized, but I prefer it to that.”
“The Council is a ruling body, not a monarchy. You can’t have true civilization without someone making the rules,” Julian said, his jaw clenched. “Or didn’t your maker teach you that when he decided to waste his blood on you?
“Ouch. That hurt. Speaking of which, if you’re not careful you’re going to crack those pretty fangs.”
Julian growled. “I’m not about to have a philosophical discussion about politics with a criminal. Shut up and move.”
“I’m simply making conversation,” he said, which of course wasn’t true.
They’d reached a pair of high steel doors flanked by another pair of leather-clad guards—but these two were vampires. They opened the doors at Julian’s nod and Rogue was taken down a wide stone staircase.
“What is this? Some sort of medieval dungeon?”
He could hear the smirk in Julian’s tone. “Exactly where the uncivilized belong.”
Rogue tried to pull away, but he couldn’t fight against Julian’s superior strength, which irked him.
He was more than irked when they reached a row of cells, the steel bars—or pillars, really—a good foot wide each—impenetrable for a vampire of his age and he knew it.
Fuck.
“I’m not staying down here in the fucking ground while some council I never elected makes decisions about me,” Rogue protested. “Don’t I deserve representation?”
“No.” Julian shoved him hard into one of the cells and Rogue landed on his knees on the cement floor. The door clanged shut while he regained his footing.
“Are you bloody fucking joking? This is…ridiculous! It was an animal I was after, not your precious Ramsey’s throat!”
Julian peered at him from narrowed eyes. “An animal that didn’t belong to you. You are a thief. This is what happens to thieves.”
“I didn’t steal anything.”
“You intended to. Intent is guilt, punishable by our laws. We are vampires, lest you forget, rogue. There are no trials, no representation. There is only the decision of the Council. This is where you will await your verdict. Personally, I’ll be praying they aren’t in a firgiving mood.”
“So your boss fucks me, then throws me down here, naked and vulnerable to the whims of his powerful friends? Is he always so mercurial?”
Julian smiled. It looked as if it made his face hurt. “Yes.”
He turned and Rogue had to watch helplessly as he walked away, as he heard his footsteps echoing on the stairs.
“God damn it!”
He banged on the heavy bars with his fists, but they held solid.
He began to pace.
“Fuck…fuck. Fuck!” Why had he done it? Why hadn’t he have resisted temptation and walked away?
When had he ever resisted temptation?
He pushed his hands through his hair—the hair Ramsey had held fisted in his hand only minutes ago.
He had loved it—the older vampire fucking him, holding him down, commanding him. That aura of power he wore so naturally that had little to do with his title as a Council member. It was simply him.
Ramsey.
Gorgeous skin like coffee and caramel, soft and hard at the same time as only a vampire’s could be, as if there were solid stone beneath the flawless, silky flesh.
His naked cock was hardening again simply thinking about him.
He leaned back into a wall made of stone, pressing himself into the hard, textured surface, trying to absorb the coolness of it. But it did nothing to calm his need.
Ramsey.
He took his hard shaft in his hand and began to stroke.
He had the most beautiful mouth, his lips unbelievably plush. He wanted that mouth on him—on his cock, sucking and licking. Drawing his nipples into his mouth. Biting him. Desire shivered through him, a small shock coursing through his veins.
Oh yes, he wanted to be bitten, to have him drink from him again, to feel that lustful frenzy that came with the exchange of blood.
Except that it would never be an exchange.
No. He would convince him. If only he had the opportunity to be with him again.
But for now, he could imagine what it would feel like.
Oh, yes…
He pulled hard on his cock, squeezing the sensitive head until it hurt, scraping the sensitive skin with his nails, letting them bite into his flesh.
That’s how Ramsey would handle him-how he had. Pain and pleasure mixed until it all blended together. It was more than the usual rough sex play between vampires. It was more pure, done with intention to hurt. And he reveled in it.
He arched into his fist, pumping his cock. He sighed as pleasure built, thickening his cock even more, making it as hard as the stone wall at his back.
His hips thrust, his eyes squeezed shut, and he envisioned Ramsey’s beautifully masculine face. His strong hands—hands he knew could be merciless.
Yes.
He wanted it. Wanted him. Wanted the pain and the exquisite pleasure he could bring. The scent of him that filled his nostrils as his cock had filled his mouth, his throat.
“God…yes, fuck me, Ramsey. Fuck me!”
He bucked hard. Come spurted between his fingers. A roaring growl tore his throat as he howled his pleasure.
He looked down at his come-filled hand, tinged with the blood that ran through his body.
He hungered. For blood. For Ramsey.
He would have neither while he was stuck down here. If he even made it out intact.
“God fucking damn it.”
He raised his hand and licked it clean, tasting the earthy come and the metallic blood run with the flavors of brass and silver, the slightest hint of the last human he’d fucked. What had been her name? And did it even matter? Now that he’d been with Ramsey he could think of nothing else.
He was damned.
He was trapped.
He was fucked.
Chapter Three
Ramsey stood in front of the enormous mirror framed with scrolling gilt-work in his bedroom. He adjusted the collar of his white linen shirt, smoothed a hand over his long dreadlocks, pausing to twist one end between his fingers.
&nbs
p; It had been nearly twenty-four hours and he hadn’t been able to forget about the vampire held in the basement prison.
Rogue.
Last night he’d gone on a rage of blood-drinking—he’d had at least six different humans. He’d followed that indulgence with a regular fuck-fest, first two human women, then a male vampire—a rare American, and one of his usual favorites. But nothing had satisfied. Nothing would but Rogue.
He clenched his fists at his sides.
This was insane. He had important matters to consider—one of them what to do with Rogue himself. And the Council waited in the next room.
He shook his head at his own reflection.
“Oh, you should know better, Lucien Ramsey Dédé -Albarran. You are being a fool.”
There was a quiet knock at his door. “Ramsey.” It was Adriana’s soft voice. “They are ready for you.”
When he didn’t answer she pushed open the door and asked, “Ramsey? Is everything alright?”
“What? Yes, of course.”
“Yes?” she asked again tentatively.
He turned and smiled at her. “You know me too well.”
She returned his smile. “I do.”
“I am…a bit distraught at having to bring this matter to the Council.”
She moved into the room. “I understand. He is something, is he not, this Rogue?”
He nodded. “I do not quite know what it is.”
“But he has captured your attention.”
“Yes.”
They watched each other for several moments and he let his mind relax, to wander, to remember those many moments they had shared in the years she had worked with him at the Midnight Playground. The moments when they had shared their bodies.
Oh, she was lovely. A particularly sensual lover, for a vampire. Sex with her always took hours, sometimes days. And he loved her. Yet it had never come to pair-bonding.
Was that something he even wanted? That answer had always been ‘no’.
“I find that I cannot stop thinking of him…”
“What will you do?” she asked.
“About the fact that he is so much on my mind? Or in light of the crimes he has committed? I have no answer for either question. One is largely up to the Council. The other…” He shook his head.
She moved closer and laid a hand on his arm. “If you need me later, do not hesitate to call.”
He smiled once more. “As always.”
“Yes. As always, Ramsey.”
He patted her cheek, turned with a sigh and slipped through the doors and through the antechamber that led to his sitting room.
They were all there—nearly all of them. He’d received a message that Laurent and Xavier from the Paris club were unable to make it. And he saw only his old friend Aleron from the London club, as tall and strong and beautiful as ever with his short, spiky platinum hair and piercing blue eyes shining in the lamp light, all of him as flawless as polished stone.
Aleron was the first to rise to his feet, taking Ramsey in a warm embrace, his voice a lyrical French accent. “So good to see you, my friend, if under such…unpleasant circumstances.”
“And you,” Ramsey answered, truly pleased. Perhaps Aleron could help him to find a way out of this fascination with the young rogue vampire.
“Our friend Ever sends his regrets, with me in his place. He is still in the honeymoon phase with Mercy and Deo. And he believes it is too soon for Mercy to return here.”
Ramsey nodded. “Of course.”
He turned to greet his other visitors.
“Bastien, thank you for making the trip from Berlin.” Ramsey clapped him on the shoulder.
The German vampire shrugged, as beautiful as Aleron in his own way, with his shaved head and his dark, expressive brows framing his always-calm gray gaze. It was clear he wondered why they’d been summoned, but was prepared to wait. “You called. That is all I need to know.”
“And I, as well,” Dane agreed, stepping forward to clasp Ramsey’s hand. The owner of the Amsterdam club was the youngest of them at a mere two hundred years, but had proven himself to be responsible and levelheaded. Like Ever, the ancient creator of the Midnight Playground clubs, he wore his long, pale hair tied back from a face almost as pretty as Rogue’s
Don’t think of him now.
“Ramsey.”
He turned to find Storm, the owner of the club in Prague. He was the most mysterious of vampires, with his sharply chiseled features, his long, silken black hair and eyes that looked as if they’d been cut from milky jade. The milkiness was reputed to be a sign of great age, which they all suspected of Storm. No one was certain of his beginnings but it was thought he was one of the oldest, that his human roots were in the people of the Bavarii, who emerged late in Teutonic tribal times. But if he had ever spoken of it to anyone, it hadn’t been anyone in this room.
Ramsey approached him carefully. The ancient vampire radiated power and at times his mood could be unpredictable. “Thank you for coming, Storm.”
“I find the subject at hand to be very interesting. A rogue vampire who dares to poach at one of our clubs? Unthinkable. And arrogant.”
“He is that,” Ramsey agreed. “Have you all been served wine? Yes? Very good. Shall we begin?”
The doors at the end of the room opened and he smelled her floral perfume along with her natural scent—that of a cat in heat—before Chiara entered the room, a pair of albino alligators snapping and snarling at the end of long golden chains.
Ramsey sighed. “Chiara. Did you have to bring them?”
“But my poor babies don’t like to be left alone,” she crooned, her Italian accent as heavy as her dark, shining hair. She bent to pet one of the strange creature’s heads. “You see, my darling Avorio? I would not leave you behind.” The creature made a low growl in its throat. “And Nevos, my pet.” She extended her delicate fingers, the long nails tipped in scarlet. The alligator snapped at her, and she caught its jaws easily in one diminutive hand. “No, no, my sweet.”
Ramsey shook his head. The petite but powerful vampire who ran the club in Rome was not to be trifled with. Her demeanor was every bit as vicious as her prized pets’.
“Why don’t you let Julian take your beauties off to feed while we discuss the matter at hand?” he suggested.
“Certainly. If he thinks he can handle them.”
Julian stepped out of the shadows and reached for the leashes.
“Ah, ah,” Chiara scolded, danger in her dark eyes as she held the leashes away from him. “Be most careful with them. They do not care for strangers.”
“Of course,” Julian agreed, for once keeping his sharp tongue to himself. Chiara’s reputation always preceded her, and this was not the first time Julian had met her. He knew what she was capable of.
She gave up the leashes and strolled across the room in her high red stilettos, settling next to Dane, a longtime favorite partner. She kissed his cheek, making him smile. Ramsey was relieved. Dane always provided a good distraction for Chiara’s temper.
Ramsey took a seat by Aleron. “I’m sure you all know from my message that I have an unusual situation here.”
“A poacher!” Chiara spit out. “How dare he? And for what reason? Our rules are sacrosanct. An example must be made. No good can come of this behavior.”
“I agree,” Storm said quietly, his cold eyes glittering.
“And I,” Bastien put in.
“Perhaps we’d better have the details,” Aleron suggested, the voice of reason, as always.
Ramsey nodded. “He is a strange creature. Turned against his will, I think, when he was quite young, sometime around 1969. The strange part is that he has no memory of anything before his Turning. He calls himself Rogue because he knows no other name. I have never heard of such a thing.”
“Curious. I have never known of any vampire with such a condition,” Storm said, which made it so, being the oldest in the room and perhaps anywhere.
“Or he is lying fo
r some reason known only to him,” Chiara said. “Suspicious more than curious, Storm.”
“I think not,” Ramsey said. “I made it a point to drink from him. I have seen glimpses of the time just after his Turning. It was quite traumatic. And with no memory of his human existence there is nothing with which to temper his vampiric urges. With no one to mentor him, how can he know to live by our rules? How could he possibly understand their importance?”
Chiara pursed her lips, crossing her arms beneath her spectacular breasts, which were spilling out of her red silk blouse. “All the more reason why he could be a danger. He is a savage. He has lived for a century—it is inexcusable that he has not sought out our circle of civilization. He has been either unwilling or unable to adapt. He is a true rogue, Ramsey, even if his crimes are not the most common—needlessly murdering humans or Turning another and leaving them to fend for themselves.”
“As happened to him,” Ramsey said.
Chiara stood abruptly and leaned over him, her perfume enveloping him. “He jumped the walls of this club and attempted to hunt your deer without going through the usual channels. And you admit yourself he is unstable.” She planted her hands on her hips. “Dangerous, I say. Cazzo di rogue!”
Dane rose, took her hand and pulled her down next to him again. He leaned over and whispered something in her ear, making her tight mouth relax as she snuggled into him.
“I think not,” Ramsey insisted. Why was he defending him? A crime had been committed—there was no doubt about that fact. And yet he was unable to help himself. “He is only a hundred years old—not strong enough to pose a real threat, Chiara, to any of us.”
She shrugged. “Not yet.”
“Regardless,” Bastien said, “there must be consequences for his actions. He has trespassed on the grounds of this club, breached your security. And for what reason? Did you find out, Ramsey?”
“I…” He had to pause. The reason would sound unfathomable to the Council. “I do know—he admitted to me that he did it purely for the thrill.”
“Our laws must be upheld. There is no legitimate excuse for his of behavior. He must be punished,” Storm said. “Are we all in accordance?”
