Undead in the City

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Undead in the City Page 10

by Hera St. Aubyn


  She pushed away from the wall toward the shower. “Let’s get it the fuck over with.”

  Pausing just long enough to stick her hand in the stream, she thrust herself into the stall. When the water hit the open sores, she gasped. Malveaux, who’d quietly slipped in behind her, instinctively lifted her several inches above the floor.

  “What did you do that for? How am I supposed to get used to the pain if you don’t let me feel it?”

  He had no idea why he’d done that. It had just been an automatic reflex. He hadn’t wanted her to suffer. Shit. What was going on with him? He’d totally forgotten that he could just give her a suggestion that she wouldn’t feel the pain. Was he going to forget he was a blood drinker next? Maybe he was further along the path to madness than he realized.

  Lowering her slowly, he sent her the pain-free mental suggestion.

  Tempest rotated in the hot water, saturating herself, and then she grabbed the closest bar of soap, worked it between her hands, and lathered her face. She soaped the rest of her body, rinsed, and picked up the shampoo bottle. Within minutes her long hair was clean and conditioned. Malveaux watched her shower ritual with amused curiosity. She washed her body as he’d expect: systematically, thoroughly, with no wasted motion.

  She turned to him, “Let me switch places with you, Dracula. You really stink.”

  Malveaux laughed and took her place under the water. “Remind me to teach you the proper attitude for a thrall. Perhaps I should have you call me Master.”

  “Yeah, well, good luck with that.”

  He washed his body and hair with almost as much efficiency as Tempest had hers. When he finished, he turned to see why she was so quiet and was shocked to see how young she appeared without all the makeup. Her dark eyes were large in her pale face. He felt a momentary twinge about his plans for her. He even had a fleeting thought about finding another female to turn before he came back to his senses and remembered himself. What the hell was wrong with him? He wasn’t afraid of anything, but if his curse was going to turn him into a simpering, emotional idiot, he found that notion frightening.

  He needed to get the ball rolling. “You look cold. Get back under the hot water for a minute.”

  She stepped around him, moving under the hot water. She let the stream run over her body for several minutes, little involuntary moans validating the pleasure Malveaux easily sensed. The moans sang a special song to his rigid cock, and without even being aware of what he was doing, he inched forward and rubbed his hard thickness along the curve of Tempest’s ass.

  She pushed against him ever so slightly, giving an unconscious vote of approval to his activity. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her tighter against his cock while using his other hand to tip the water nozzle down to keep them out of the most forceful part of the shower stream.

  Selecting a bottle of liquid bath gel from the plastic tray hanging from the shower head, he flipped open the top and poured a generous portion into his hand. A spicy aroma filled the air. He rubbed his palms together, divided the gel, and then cupped Tempest’s breasts. As he spread the slick liquid in slow circles around her soft skin, her nipples hardened. She sighed and rested her head against Malveaux’s chest.

  “I’m already clean. Why are you putting more soap on me?”

  “This isn’t for cleaning. This is for touching.”

  She was shorter without her stiletto heels, and he enjoyed the sensation of the top of her head fitting under his chin.

  “Does that feel good?” Malveaux whispered. “Do you like when I touch you?” His cock brushed against her anus.

  “Good doesn’t begin to cover it. I love when you touch me… Uh, I mean, I don’t really have any choice, do I?”

  An unusual, warm sensation tingled through his body. He was absurdly pleased that she’d said she loved when he touched her, and he was impressed again by the strength of her mind. He hadn’t ever encountered a human who could fight against his mind control as Tempest did. She shouldn’t have been able to amend her statement as she had. Even among older vampires, Malveaux was powerful.

  He gently twirled her to face him and worked his hands down her body, pausing to add more gel from the bottle. As he lathered the dark hair covering her mound, she groaned loudly, closed her eyes, and shifted so her legs opened a few more inches. Using one finger, he massaged the gel along her clit, waiting for her body to tell him when he’d reached her pleasure spot. Before he could begin to sense the subtle somatic cues, Tempest thought, Oooh, right there, and he replaced his finger with his cock. As he angled his erection in and out of her pussy lips, she began rocking her hips, her breathing fast and shallow as she built toward peak.

  Listening to her pant and moan drove Malveaux to the brink. He lifted Tempest by her ass and turned, his back blocking the water as he pressed her against the wall of the shower stall. He sent a mental command for her to wrap her legs around his hips, and he thrust himself into her in one smooth motion.

  She clutched his shoulders and screamed “Yes!” as he pounded into her hot slit. His desire reached fever pitch, and he shifted his mouth to her neck, broke the skin with the sharp points of the fangs he’d allowed to descend, and sucked the blood from her pulsing vein. Tempest gasped, and her body stiffened. Malveaux soothed her with a distracting suggestion.

  Almost out of his mind from the taste of her crimson gift, he pumped frantically, enjoying the body rushes provoked by the ingestion of her blood. Satiated, he lifted his head from the small wounds, laved his tongue over them to stop the bleeding, and threw back his head with passionate abandon. The tension finally reached critical mass, and together Tempest and Malveaux exploded in pleasure, both groaning and clinging to each other.

  As the wave subsided, Tempest relaxed her grip on his shoulders, opened her eyes, and met his. He gazed into the dark brown depths of her eyes and felt as if he were standing on the edge of an abyss, a dangerous black hole filled with forbidden emotions and needs. It was a place he never knew existed, at least not for him.

  Tenderly, he brought his lips to hers, teasing his tongue into her mouth. She opened for him and danced her tongue around his. He deepened the kiss, slowing the movement of his lips, and held her tighter. His cock went rigid again inside her, and he groaned as she tightened her muscles, holding him like a hot, wet hand. The kiss became more intense, more intimate. He began moving his cock inside her warmth in long, slow strokes, locking his mouth on hers. It was the first time he’d experienced a kiss more erotic than fucking.

  As they climbed toward orgasm, his thrusts became deeper, faster, until they each groaned their release.

  Finally breaking the kiss, Malveaux used one hand to turn off the water.

  “I think we’re water-logged enough. Let’s go find a bed.”

  He braced her ass and walked them out of the shower stall. He grabbed a towel, his half-erect cock still nestled inside Tempest’s vagina, her legs still wrapped around his hips.

  She sucked his lower lip into her mouth, slowly released it, and then smiled. “You really are one helluva lover, Dracula. I’m kinda sorry you’re an undead psycho fiend because we could’ve had some fun together.”

  He laughed. “We will have some fun together, my sweet offspring. After tonight, our lives will change forever. But it is possible that you could still have your musical career. It’s perfect for a vampire, since you would work at night. In fact, we might relocate to a better place for a musician to find success, and I can be your manager. After all, humans can’t resist me. Imagine the deals I could negotiate for you.”

  She met his eyes, expression serious. “See? I knew it. I can read between the lines. You won’t really turn me into a bloodsucker. You like me too much. You don’t want to hurt me.”

  He laughed, but was troubled by her words. They held a ring of truth.

  “Wishful thinking, my dear. You definitely have the wrong idea about me. I’m a heartless killer who never had a warm thought about anyone. It simply i
sn’t part of my programming. You’re merely support personnel. Granted, beautiful and amusing, but of no real consequence.”

  She searched his eyes, then quirked an eyebrow. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you say. I’m a good bullshitter, too, and it takes one to know one.”

  It suddenly occurred to him that she might be picking up some of his thoughts. Maybe the slight sharing of blood had opened the gates both ways. How else could she know about his momentary weakness? He’d have to complete the ritual before he had any more lapses of reason.

  They reached a nearby bed, and he used the towel to blot the water from the easily-reachable parts of their bodies. He threw the wet cloth aside, lowered them onto the thin mattress, and then kissed her.

  Abruptly she turned her head and pushed at his chest. “Hey, wait! I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before. We’ve had sex a bunch of times without any protection. You must have zapped me with vampire voodoo because I’ve never forgotten to use a rubber. Can vampires transmit diseases? Can you get me pregnant? Am I even more screwed than I thought?”

  He lifted his head and grinned. “No. No. Definitely yes. I’d say you’ve been thoroughly screwed.”

  “Do all vampires have as big an ego as you do?”

  “No. I’m unique. Let me give you a demonstration.” He found her lips again and began pumping his erection into her willing wetness. She groaned and lifted her legs higher to take him deeper. She contracted her vaginal muscles, causing him to spasm inside her.

  He loved the feel of her tight pussy and her firm, curvaceous body. She was everything he could have asked for and more.

  Sensing her approaching orgasm, he lifted his mouth from hers and gazed into her eyes. “I’m not going to mute your awareness this time as I take your blood. I’ll erase the pain, but you’ll feel everything else clearly. I want you to experience me inside you in every way. After I take your blood, I’ll give you mine.”

  Thrusting vigorously, he lowered his mouth to her neck and pierced the vein.

  Tempest gasped, pushed at his chest and yelled, “No! Please don’t do this!” She started sobbing, her efforts to dislodge him useless.

  Despite her resistance, her body continued to respond to his pounding cock and slipped over the edge. She surrendered into her body’s release, and relaxed her arms, exhausted, no longer able to fight.

  He followed, groaning with his own orgasm, and then lifted his mouth from her bleeding neck.

  Pointedly ignoring her, he raised his upper body, used his sharp fingernail to make a cut above his nipple, and grasped the back of her neck to guide her mouth toward the blood flowing from the small wound.

  “Drink.” He knew she couldn’t refuse a direct command.

  She drew her tongue across the dripping lines of blood as he silently repeated the first half of the magical words necessary to seal the bond.

  She turned her head away. “Please don’t. I don’t want to be a vampire. Don’t do this.” Her sobs forced him to meet her tear-filled eyes, and he felt an overwhelming pain.

  The memory of the night he was captured, raped, and forced to give up his human life came back to him like a waking nightmare.

  He dropped Tempest’s head and stared down at her. Fuck it. He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t be what his sire was, even if it meant his own destruction. He’d find someone else. Either a willing participant or someone so foul that she -- or he -- deserved to be the servant of the damned.

  He climbed off Tempest and stood looking down at her as she cried, one arm thrown over her eyes.

  Something triggered his awareness, and he swiveled in time to see a dozen vampires transforming from mist to male forms.

  Quade stepped forward, smiling. “Ah, Malveaux. What a pleasure it is to finally meet you, although I’m sure the pleasure is all mine.”

  “What do you want?” Malveaux growled.

  “Why, I want you dead, of course, and I’ll take your little human plaything as a trophy of war.” He signaled his undead companions. “Kill him. Take the girl.”

  Tempest yelled and kicked her legs, fighting hard as two of the vampires grabbed her and wrapped her in the blanket from the bed. Malveaux leaped at her captors, only managing to pull at the arms of one of the bloodsuckers holding her before a wooden spear pierced the center of his chest, and he fell, gasping.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Malveaux!” Tempest screamed as she saw him crumple to the floor. She goggled at the wooden shaft protruding from his chest and watched the blood ooze from the edges of the wound. He lay motionless, still as death, his skin a sickening gray.

  Quade stood over Malveaux, shaking his head. “And I thought The Assassin would be a worthy opponent. Someone I could kill with pride. What a disappointment. Ah, well.” He turned his pale eyes toward Tempest, who still struggled in the arms of a huge, foul-smelling male. “I hope at least he was a good fuck and that he went out with a bang.”

  He laughed, flashing fangs. He obviously found his bad joke hilarious.

  Tempest shuddered. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the man in charge was dangerous. He looked like a larger, heavier Billy Idol, his light blond hair standing out in spikes around his head, his upper lip in a permanent sneer. No British accent, though. Closer to Boston, but with something else thrown in.

  As tempting as it was to dismiss him because of his caricatured appearance, she knew it would be a mistake. Something crazy and dark gazed out of those cloudy eyes.

  He sidled over to Tempest, lifted one side of the blanket covering her, and grabbed her breast.

  “Hey, asshole! Let go!”

  An evil grin quirked his lips. “I look forward to finding out what The Assassin saw in you, why he became so distracted around you.” He bent down, licked her nipple, then laughed as she flailed, pushing him away. “Excellent! A wild bitch.” He cupped himself. “I can’t wait.”

  “Should we cut his head off, Master?” a tall, skeletal vampire asked, pointing to Malveaux.

  Quade studied Malveaux, his head tilting from side to side. “I suppose we should. Just to put him out of his misery. But then again, his death is so much more hideous this way, and I do enjoy a horrible, lingering end for my enemies.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Tempest demanded.

  Quade swiveled his gaze back to Tempest. “While the spear remains in his heart, he’ll be lightly conscious, suffering, until he dies of thirst. I hear going without blood for weeks is, to say the least, painful.” He paused, his wicked grin reappearing. “Why don’t we let you choose? What’ll it be, my dear? A quick decapitation or a slow, torturous drying out?”

  Tempest shifted her eyes to Malveaux sprawled on the floor, his gorgeous face lifeless as a corpse. She didn’t know what the punk rocker was talking about. It was obvious Malveaux was dead. Nothing alive could be that color, but when it came to Malveaux, what did alive mean? She believed he was a vampire, but she didn’t understand how he could still be conscious while impaled.

  Her chest felt so tight she could hardly breathe. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she had to press her lips tightly together to forestall her chin’s quivering. She had a powerful sense of déjà vu, remembering the bad feelings she’d experienced less than twenty-four hours earlier when she’d thought Malveaux dead. Ever since he’d entered the bar, her life had been shit, but why was she so sad? Why did seeing him like that hurt so much?

  One thing was certain. She fucking well wasn’t going to help the vampire assholes kill him.

  Quade pushed his face close to hers. “Why so quiet, little human? Vampire got your tongue?” He noticed the tears gathering in her eyes. “What’s this? Tears? For your vampire captor? Is it possible you have feelings for the rotting carcass?”

  He walked over and kicked Malveaux in the ribs. Tempest gasped, struggling to break free of Frankenstein’s grasp, “You fucking asshole. Leave him alone.”

  She managed to extricate an elbow and slammed it hard into the tender area at t
he base of the big monster’s throat. She didn’t know if the trick would work on vampires as it did on humans, but she was beyond logical thought.

  Apparently, it did work the same because the big guy dropped her to the floor as he clutched his neck, gagging.

  She rose up from the blanket like a nude, avenging warrior goddess, her hands fisted and her eyes narrowed.

  Quade barely had time to give her a surprised look before she leaped through the air, executing one of her favorite martial arts moves, and thrust her feet into the center of his chest, sending him flying backwards into the wall.

  She figured he wouldn’t be hurt, but he’d be pissed. She was right.

  The circus of the fanged surrounded her. Quade’s minions formed a growling, wild-eyed, canine-exposed circle, their hands pulling at her. “Stop!” Quade commanded. “She’s mine.”

  He seemed to will himself to become vertical, then brushed off his studded leather pants and smiled.

  In the split second he hesitated before sauntering to where Tempest stood, she clearly heard a whisper in her mind. Offspring. She froze, listening. You must pull the spear from my chest. I will confuse them for a few seconds. That’s when you must act. I will come and find you.

  What? She stared down at Malveaux, then at Quade and his slaves. None of them gave any indication that they’d heard anything. Sliding her gaze back to Malveaux, she could’ve sworn she’d seen his eyelids flutter. Then everything went crazy.

  All the vampire thralls swarmed toward Quade, arms out, hands grasping, just like a scene in Night of the Living Dead. For the second time, the Master flashed a surprised expression as he backed up, attempting to evade his now-attacking troops.

  Tempest eased over to Malveaux, knelt, and grabbed the spear lodged in his heart. “Fuck, Malveaux. I can’t just rip this thing out of your chest. You’ll bleed to death or something.” He gave an almost-imperceptible nod, and she heard, You must. Quickly.

  Well, it was his funeral.

  She wrapped her hands around the shaft and pulled. Nothing happened. The sucker was in there. She let go, shook her hands, then grabbed on again. This time she pushed with her legs as well as her arms, lifting herself as she felt the spear begin to give. As it loosened, it made horrible, flesh-tearing, organ-rending sounds.

 

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