by Eden Bradley
“Yet here we are, in this…particular situation. It’s almost comical.”
“Your cock isn’t laughing.”
Storm’s hand smoothed over the bulging front of Rogue’s leather pants. Rogue began to smile, then gasped in surprise as Storm squeezed painfully and gave him a hard shove that landed him on his hands and knees.
“Ah! I hope you are not choosing to end this so soon, Storm. Those other circumstances beckon,” he said, dusting the gravel from his palms. “I’d promise to be singularly amusing.”
“Of that I have no doubt. But your punishment has just begun and the others are eager for your blood. Run, Rogue! Run as if your very life depended on it! It might, you know.”
Rogue looked over his shoulder as he got to his feet and found that Chiara and Dane had leapt onto the path together. They were coming at him at great speed—there was no way he could outrun them. But he could try.
His legs pumping, he ran over the path, heedless of the stones on his bare feet, the beautiful lines of the statues he passed on either side: mortals and vampires, angels and dryads, centaurs and fauns, some embracing, some caressing themselves, some with great erections, all done in the most exquisite detail. But he forced his mind to focus only on the running, on the hard beating of his heart, the motion of his legs. The sensation of no longer being the hunter, but the hunted.
He caught the very faint scent of a herd of deer nearby, and felt more acutely his role in this game the Vampire Council played with him.
Fucking played with him!
Yet some part of him gloried in it.
His cock was still hard even as he ran for his life from the one creature who wished him dead, and whom he knew would happily defy the rules to tear him to pieces.
He smelled her perfume—right behind him.
He was tackled, a hand grabbing his arm and spinning him around so fast his head swam. But it was the elegant blond Aleron who held him.
“Aleron! He was mine!” Chiara raged.
Her hand snaked out and grasped Rogue’s shoulder, her scarlet nails digging in. He welcomed the pain even as he wondered if this would be his final moments.
He focused on Aleron’s enchanting blue eyes, like pieces of the afternoon sky.
“He is mine now, Chiara,” Aleron said, his tone patient and low, but simmering with threat. His lips pulled back, his fangs bared.
She yanked her hand back, taking a little of Rogue’s flesh with it. He groaned. Aleron reached out and stroked a finger over the blood seeping from the small wounds. He wiped at the blood, brought his hand to his mouth and licked his fingertip.
Rogue’s cock stirred. Desire hot and pure roared through his system. Aleron’s eyes gleamed, and he saw his own desire mirrored there.
“I should fuck you now, Rogue. Right here, for all to see.”
“Yes,” he murmured. “Do it. Fuck me. That would put me in my place.”
Aleron’s hand shot out and grabbed the back of his hair, pulling his head back until his throat was exposed. Then further, until he had to bend, to arch his back.
“This is exactly why I refuse to. You are far too cocky, young vampire. Let me teach you a lesson.”
His fangs sank into Rogue’s chest, just over his heart. He hadn’t expected it, and the sensation was awful and lovely all at the same time as Aleron drank, twisted his fangs painfully and drank some more. Rogue felt his body weakening—not a lot, but enough that he understood what Aleron was trying to tell him—that he was indeed the prey here. That his place was somewhere below these powerful creatures. That simply because of that he owed them respect.
The rage was back, roiling in his chest. But with it was also some understanding.
“God fucking damn it!” he yelled as Aleron tore his mouth away, tearing his flesh as he did so. Blood trickled down his chest. He looked down, a little unsteady on his feet, the Kiss making him dizzy with lost blood and desire that burned as brightly as ever.
Oh, to fuck one of them, right there on the garden path where humans had fallen before him. Just let them take him to his knees, take his ass…let them tear him apart if they wanted to…
“Focus, Rogue. You must run,” Aleron demanded. “Run and give us chase. And know your place in this as you do.”
He gave him a shove that had him moving once more. The high iron gate that marked the end of the first half of the Capture Gardens path—and the rules that went with it—was right in front of him. He passed through, the lingering weakness from his last encounter forcing a prayer to some forgotten god from his lips as he ran.
Through the gate and onto a wider path. Marble fountains and planters holding small trees and dark green ivy were in the in the middle of the path, leading him in a more complicated pattern as he dodged around them. He heard footsteps behind him—several pairs of heavier male treads, and the delicate patter of small, feminine feet. Chiara.
Hellfire.
Run.
He didn’t have time to do more than gasp when her tiny hands wrapped around his throat from behind as she tackled him and forced him down. The gravel bit into his knees, his palms, as he hit the ground. Her nails bit into his flesh as she raked them down his bare back. With a savage cry of victory she flipped him over, straddling him, and those sharp nails held his arms down at his sides.
“Did you think to escape me? Yes? You are even more foolish than I thought. You will be made to pay, thief. Made to pay at my hands. For my exquisite pleasure.” She scraped one nail down the underside of his forearm and he smelled the sharp scent of his own blood, felt it drip onto the small, smooth stones beneath him.
His heart hammered wildly. If only he could see Ramsey once more before this wild creature killed him.
Ramsey.
Chiara leaned down and breathed him in, her body making a small undulation. She was gorgeous, this vicious vampire. His cock went hard once more.
“Ah, you want me,” she purred, her Italian accent strong on her tongue. “But I shall have you. I shall have you in my teeth, your thieving flesh beneath my nails. I will rend you apart until your blood soaks the ground. And your traitorous cock will be hard as I do it. And I…” she paused, her eyes glittering, her fangs glinting in the sunlight, “…I will love every moment of your pain and despair.”
He looked up into her golden eyes and was momentarily mesmerized by her incomparable beauty.
“Yes…” he murmured.
She smiled, her lovely lips impossibly lush and full of cruelty. He breathed in her perfume as her hips ground against his erection. He arched up against her, but she let out a growl and slashed his chest. It fucking hurt. It made him even harder.
“Do not dare move. You will lie here and die if that is what I desire.”
He knew it was true. He could not deny her power.
Her hand went to his jaw and she bent his head back, exposing his neck, and a moment later he felt the points of her fangs drag down over his throat.
He groaned. At least there would be pleasure in his death.
Her teeth continued to make their bloody trail over his chest, his abdomen, while his cock strained with need.
She bit into him and he cried out as she ripped at his skin with her teeth, her clawed hands joining in. He tried to struggle but the pain was terrible.
Terrible.
Perfect.
“Fuckkkkkkkk! Ahhh!”
“No more! No more, Chiara! He belongs to me.”
Suddenly her small body was lifted from his and she let out a feline scream of rage. She was kicking, cursing in Italian as Ramsey held her.
“He is mine, I said.” Rogue had never heard him sound more dangerous.
“No! No, no, no! I have him, Ramsey! I took him down! Bastardo!”
Ramsey had her on her feet, holding her arms behind her back. He said very quietly from between clenched teeth, “Damn the rules of the Gardens. And damn you if you will not respect that this is my domain. I will be the final word here, Chiara.”
“Dio dannazione, Ramsey! You’ve ruined my fun. No one ruins my fun.” She jerked out of his hold, a pout on her lovely face. She looked at the torn elbow of her silk blouse. “And I have ruined a perfectly good blusa for no reason.”
“Have your seamstress send me the bill,” Ramsey answered, his emerald gaze locked onto Rogue’s face, his expression closed.
Rogue watched the exchange, pain wracking his torn body, the scent of his blood everywhere. He was weak with blood loss—it would be several days before his body could repair itself completely, he guessed. He had never been injured this badly before. That was, if Ramsey let him live.
Ramsey.
Perhaps the vampire that had enraptured him would be the last thing he would see, after all.
Ramsey’s brows came together as his gaze swept Rogue’s body.
“Julian!” he roared.
He appeared at Ramsey’s side.
“Give him your blood.”
If Rogue could have caught his breath he would have laughed aloud at the astonishment on the henchman’s face. “What?”
“He needs strength or he will…not be capable of a fight. It is the fight which amuses me,” Ramsey said.
“Ramsey, I—”
“Do as I say, Julian, or I swear you will be next vampire to be run in the Gardens.”
“Yes. Of course, Ramsey,” Julian said, swallowing.
He knelt next to Rogue, scowling as he tore his own wrist with his teeth, then held it over Rogue’s mouth. “Drink.”
“And I would so have loved to see you run,” Rogue taunted him shakily, but he took the offered wrist and latched onto the gash with his mouth.
He would have expected Julian’s blood to be as sour as his expression, but it was sweet, as another vampire’s blood always was. He kept his gaze on Ramsey’s face as he drank, fighting off the images that threatened to flood his mind—he had no desire to see into Julian.
His desire was only for Ramsey.
He felt the blood like a trickle of warm rain in his veins as he drank, felt his wounds begin to close. And Ramsey watched him closely, anger and desire both stark on his lush features, his eyes glittering like emeralds in the morning light. He was indescribably beautiful, his face etching deeper into Rogue’s mind with each swallow, as if it were his blood he drank.
If only he would allow it.
“That will be all,” Ramsey commanded.
Julian pulled his arm away with a grimace, rolled down the sleeve of his shirt and stepped back. But it was Ramsey Rogue watched, wondering what he would do now.
He began to sit up, but Ramsey’s booted foot pushed him back down onto the gravel and held him there.
He grinned up at him. “Oh, things are about to get interesting.”
“Silence,” Ramsey ordered.
“Yes, sir.”
Ramsey’s chin tilted. “I like the sound of that. You will call me ‘Sir’.”
“I will do so happily. Sir.”
He caught the beautiful vampire’s gaze and held it, trying to convey to him the need raging through his body, making his cock so damn hard it hurt. He didn’t care if Ramsey did tear him to pieces. He could only hope he would take him first. That he would know the extent of this vampire’s command—a command that made his body melt in a way he’d never felt before.
Ramsey placed one heavily booted foot on either side of his prone body, standing over him.
“Kiss it.”
“What?”
One boot came to press hard against his erect cock. Ramsey raised an eyebrow.
Rogue wanted to struggle, but the utter command in Ramsey’s tone, his look, the boot pressing painfully between his thighs was doing something to his head. He wanted him. Needed him.
He would do whatever Ramsey wanted. And Ramsey knew it.
Rogue smiled at him, but Ramsey didn’t like the cockiness he saw there, even now. Or rather, he did like it, but he couldn’t allow it to go unpunished.
In fact, Rogue’s attitude of challenge intrigued him as much as the younger vampire’s stunning looks. But he knew exactly how to deal with a challenge.
“A little assistance?” he asked his fellow Council members. “Who would like to hold this miscreant down while I fuck him into the ground?”
Storm stepped forward. “I would be happy to assist.”
“And I,” Bastien said, already pressing the erection straining against his tight leather trousers with one hand.
Ramsey smiled, lust pumping through his veins, hot and heavy in his cock.
He removed his foot from Rogue’s chest, enjoying the doubt that flittered across his fine features.
“You will kneel down before me,” he commanded. When Rogue moved too slowly for his satisfaction he barked out, “Strip him.”
Bastien got to him first, but only because Storm held back, grinning as he watched. In moments Rogue was beautifully naked, scraps of leather strewn on the path.
His body was too beautiful to be believed—long, lean limbs, the shoulders and chest a little too broad for his frame, but every muscle perfection. His porcelain cock was hard and ready.
Ramsey licked his lips, breathing in the heady scent of the lovely young vampire’s arousal. His blood burned even hotter watching Bastien holding his arms behind him, watching Rogue trying to struggle in that iron grip.
“Come on, Ramsey,” Rogue dared. “This is too easy for you. Come at me with your own hands.”
“Oh, I intend to. You will know my hands, young one. You will know my cock. You will know my teeth at your throat. And you will never forget.”
His own cock pulsed as he spoke the words.
Oh, yes.
“Hold him down.”
Storm stepped in and shoved Rogue onto his hands and knees, then his heavy booted heel was on the back of his neck, pressing his forehead to the ground. Rogue fought him, but it was useless, of course. Ramsey nodded and Bastien kicked the young vampire’s knees apart.
“Is this it?” Rogue ground out. “You’re going to take my ass while these ancient thugs have me trapped against their impossible strength?”
“That is exactly what I am going to do.” He moved in behind him and bent to take a fistful of the glorious blond hair. He leaned in and said very quietly, “In case you had any doubt, young one, about my intentions…I plan to hurt you. Badly. I may even kill you.”
He knew even as he said it that it wasn’t true. He wanted him alive. He fucking wanted him with a raging desire he could barely keep in check. And he frankly loved the fight in him.
He yanked on his hair before letting it go.
Rogue groaned.
Ramsey pulled his raging erection from his linen trousers, squeezed the dark, swollen tip. With a growl he was on him, pushing inside him. The beautiful Rogue was all sleek, clenching velvet inside. He gasped as pleasure swarmed his body and he began to fuck him in long, even strokes, then harder, faster, raking his nails down his spine until he drew blood.
Control.
But it was too damn good—the sheer beauty of this young vampire, fucking him while Storm held his boot pressed to the graceful neck, while Bastien laughed and stroked himself. Rogue’s pale skin gleamed, his dark red blood seeping from the wounds his nails had left.
Oh, yes…
Ramsey bucked into him, gloried in Rogue’s moans, in the hard, driving lust that threatened to overtake him. He shivered with it, had to force himself to hold back.
Control.
“Ramsey,” Rogue panted. “Do it. Fuck me. Hurt me….kill me. Only fuck me harder.”
“Vous me toez,” Ramsey gasped as the words scalded him with need.
Fuck me. Hurt me. Kill me.
He let out an animal growl and dug his fingers into Rogue’s shoulders, threw his head back and rammed into him, his cock nearly bursting, he was so fucking hard.
The young vampire was arching up, taking his cock deeper into his ass, moaning, gasping. Blood ran from beneath Ramsey’s fingers, down Rogu
e’s shoulders.
He bent to lick at the blood, hot on his tongue. Bit into the muscled flesh of his back, howled his pleasure, bit again. Then Bastien was on him, biting into Rogue’s shoulder, his biceps. Storm roared as he plunged his fangs into Rogue’s side. They drank from him together, ripped at his flesh. And lust spiraled to impossible heights in his cock, his tightening balls, as he took Rogue’s ass with a fury that shocked him. As his blood sang with the echo of Rogue’s pain. With the power play at work in that moment.
Rogue went down flat on the ground, unable to hold himself up against the assault. Ramsey plunged into him, over and over.
“Ah…yes…” Rogue muttered. “Fuck me, Ramsey…fuck me…”
He felt the young vampire’s ass spasm as he came onto the graveled path, and it shot a fierce pleasure through him, stabbing into him like lightning heat.
“Yes…fucking you…fucking you…Ah!”
He came in a shivering torrent, his blood singing, trembling in his veins.
He collapsed on top of Rogue’s beautiful, bleeding body. It was several moments before he noticed that Storm was fucking Bastien, the dark, German vampire bent over the edge of a graceful marble fountain while Storm plowed into him from behind.
But they took only a moment of his attention. The exquisite young vampire beneath him drew him even now, when his limbs were momentarily weak with the force of his orgasm.
He felt every stone-hard rise and valley of the young one’s muscled back. His cheek rested on one of those sculpted shoulders, a little of the blond hair caught against it.
He could smell him—his blood, his come, his skin. And the very scent of him was sending post-climax shocks through him, like tiny jolts of electric current.
Just the scent of him!
He pushed himself up onto his knees. Rogue remained still, weak from blood loss, probably—there was blood everywhere. On the gravel path, all over Rogue’s body, running in dark rivulets over his arms, his sides. But it was more than the blood and the weakness in his body, so close to death. He recognized in Rogue’s attitude his submission, had felt that moment when he’d given himself over to him.
