Seduction's Bite

by Madison Layle

  "It wasn't an answer, either."

  He chuckled. She ground her teeth. Impossible man.

  "I should kick your vampire butt out on the curb."

  "But you like my vampire butt."

  She did, but she'd be damned before she'd agree with him. He was too cocky as it was. “Not if you don't answer a single question I ask."

  "Okay. Ask me anything, one question, and I promise to answer it."

  "How'd you become a vampire?"

  "Except that one."

  "You lying—” She pressed the brake and pulled the van to the shoulder of the highway. A horn blared. Turning off the engine and her hazard flashers on, she looked at him over her shoulder with a frustrated glare. “You said anything. You can't change the rules to suit you just because you don't like the question."

  "How about I answer your earlier question?” he asked, propping himself up on elbows.

  "No.” She'd find out why they were headed to the church when they got there. She wanted to know more about the man, the vampire she let ride in the back of her van. It wasn't fair that he knew so much about her, and she knew next to nothing about him.

  And if he couldn't open up a little, he could get out and walk to the damn church.

  "Answer the question or hitch a ride with someone else."

  After a moment's hesitation, he said, “I was turned against my will during a battle between a woman I'd loved and the vampire who'd sired her."

  She frowned. “I'm sorry."

  He nodded. What more could he say? What was done was done. Her pity didn't help. Her apology couldn't change it, and it wasn't her fault in the first place.

  "How? When?"

  He'd known more questions would come. It was inevitable. Humans were always too curious for their own good. He'd proven that himself centuries ago when he'd first approached the flamboyant opera singer with the contralto voice after a performance in Lully's Cadmus and Hermione.

  "That's more than one question."

  She blushed. Her gaze dropped. “You're right. I'm sorry. I shouldn't pry.” She reached for the key to start the engine.

  He chose to answer anyway. “The when was 1691 in Paris. The how...” He took a deep breath. It had been a long time since he'd spoken with anyone about Julia. “...was with death's kiss."

  "1691?” Cheyenne left the keys in the ignition and crawled out of the driver's seat to kneel on the edge of the mattress where he lay. “My God! The history you must've seen since then. So many people and places. I can't even imagine what it must've been like for you."

  He plopped back down, head in palms, and stared at the vehicle's ceiling. “Yes, I've seen a lot.” Alone.

  The friends and loved ones he watched die, one by one, until there was no one left on earth who'd known him when he'd lived. People he'd kept tabs on from a distance—family who thought he'd died at age thirty-five, having vanished without a trace. Acquaintances that had turned against him when they realized he was ... a monster.

  "You don't sound very happy about it.” She put a hand on his leg, a soft caress of comfort that drew his gaze to hers. “Who was she? The woman you loved..."

  "Julia de Maupin, a popular opera singer for Le Grand Monarque."

  "Le what?"

  "King Louis XIV. On stage, she was spectacular.” He could almost close his eyes and envision her again, dressed in sparkling extravagance ... Almost hear her voice raised in song, so pure and sultry. “Radiant. Backstage she was reserved, shy. Mysterious. She was sought after by many. But in private, she became my mistress, though I would've wed her had she agreed."

  "Oh."

  He reached with one hand to take hold of hers. “It was a long time ago."

  Her gaze shot to his. “Oh, I know. I'm not—It's not that—"

  He smiled at having flustered her and let her off the hook by continuing. “She declined my request as I'm sure she had many others before me. And for good reason, as it also happened that she was a vampiress."

  "You didn't know?"

  He shook his head. “What I didn't know at first, aside from her penchant for blood, was that her dalliance with me was unknown to her sire. His discovery of me did not go well."

  The events of that night, centuries ago, replayed in his mind as if it occurred only moments before.

  "Marsalis, no!” Julia said, fear evident in her unique aqua eyes.

  Kieran stared at his mistress, his lover—his beloved—as she threw herself at the feet of the monster who'd attacked them. Her voluminous skirts flared around her, the delicate lace and silk of her bodice torn in the scuffle to expose even more of her luscious form than usual. The pearls of the necklace he'd given her seconds earlier rolled about the floor amid the pools of blood from his open wounds across his chest, back, legs, and arms.

  The pain was excruciating, in his heart and his body. His own blood soaked his shredded clothes. He could hardly see anything. Still, he tried to crawl toward her, to shield her from the monster. His pulse grew unsteady, his breathing labored. So much blood...

  The whip in the monster's hand slithered along the floor as he moved.

  Julia clung to the vampire's leg, pleading with him for mercy, not for her, but for Kieran. “Please, I beg you. Do not kill him. Kieran doesn't know."

  "Doesn't know?” He looked at Kieran. There was no mercy, only hatred in the monster's eyes. “Don't be fooled, Julia. He knows exactly what we are.” He displayed sharp fangs to punctuate a menacing grin. The whistle was Kieran's one warning before the whip sliced a new stripe in his already battered flesh.

  "Please! Marsalis, please stop. You're killing him."

  He dropped the whip and dragged her over to Kieran where he forced her face closer to him. Then he jerked Kieran's head back with a fistful of hair, which caused Kieran to wail with fresh pain.

  "Bite him!” he ordered Julia.

  "I can't.” She tried to pull away.

  "You do it, or I will. You're a vampire. He's food!” He shoved her closer. “Do it."

  Her sharp teeth pierced Kieran's neck, and he stiffened from the shock. She sucked gently, once or twice ... thrice, before she pulled away with an anguished cry.

  Marsalis laughed. “You see? You are what you are, my pet. You cannot change that, so feast."

  "I can't. He'll die."

  "He's as good as dead already.” He went back to retrieve his whip.

  She scrambled after him. “If you let him live, Marsalis, I'll go with you. I'll do anything."

  "No...” Kieran's voice was weak, but still he had to try. Even though Marsalis’ words haunted him. He'd said, “...what we are,” not what I am, and he'd proven his point.

  Kieran believed he was better off dead, but he didn't want to see her enslave herself to that monster. He tried to reach her, to see her, but that became harder to do as his eyelids swelled from the beating he'd received. He clawed at the floor, his fingers finally touching and grabbing for her skirts.

  "Oh, you will go with me, Julia,” Marsalis said. “I made you what you are. You belong to me."

  Kieran heard heavy footsteps leading away from him. The whistle of the whip made him rigid with dread. The crack of that whip one final time made him jerk. The pain was unbearable.

  What made it worse was the sound of Julia's beautiful voice—a voice that should be singing, but was sobbing instead.

  "Your tears are useless,” Marsalis said. “Your lover dies. Hear it? Death's rattle ... Yes, he will soon breathe his last. Say your goodbyes, Julia. There is nothing left for you here."

  Julia fell toward Kieran, rolling him over and trying to cradle his head in her lap. The movements caused him more pain, and he cried out—a sound more like that of a wounded animal than a man. Her tears spattered his bruised face and left his heart torn asunder.

  "Forgive me, mon cher,” she whispered before she bent to kiss him. The exchange of blood happened quick and unseen. She'd bitten her own tongue and filled her mouth with blood before pressing her lips to
his, opening her mouth to his. The kiss was brief, but it was enough to finish what her sire had started, whether Kieran wanted it that way or not.

  His death as a human was certain.

  His life as a vampire had only just begun.

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  Chapter Ten

  Cheyenne had scooted closer to him while he recounted his last moments on earth as a human. She drew him back from his musings with a tender caress of her hand on his cheek.

  "I'm so sorry.” Her eyes held a wealth of sympathy, concern, and understanding. “I'm sure she only did what she thought was best. I mean, she gave you a chance to live on, maybe not as a human, but centuries later you're still around ... to help people."

  He hadn't meant to reveal so much, but now that he had, it seemed right. He'd been betrayed by a vampire, turned into the monster he'd once feared, and somehow found a way to live on to continue the fight. She'd suffered horrific tragedies at the hands of a rogue vampire and survived to fight on, too.

  Then, realization dawned. He no longer saw fear or disgust in her eyes when she looked at him. He saw compassion for another lost soul—not a monster, but a man. Staring into her eyes made him feel ... human.

  He lifted his own hand to cup her cheek and draw her closer. He let his gaze explore her face and settle on her lips, slightly parted, before he pulled her to him. Their lips touched, soft at first, then with more pressure as he swept his tongue inside.

  Her fingers slid from his cheek to cradle his nape, a silent display of her own determination to keep the kiss going.

  He fell back on the mattress and rolled her beneath him without ever pulling his lips from hers. She moaned into his mouth. He gave a deep-throated growl in reply and dueled with her tongue while his hands blindly fumbled with her clothes ... and those damn sheaths strapped to her body.

  He broke from the kiss only long enough to accuse, “You wear too damn many clothes."

  "So domph,” was all she could get out since he kissed her again. When he finally released her lips to plant kisses along her jaw, she said, “So do you.” She yanked at his clothes.

  Cars whizzed by outside. Large trucks rumbled past. A siren sounded in the distance, and a soft tick-tock of the hazard flashers continued to provide a steady rhythmic sound inside. The sun beamed down but in the shadowy confines of the van, none of it mattered to him.

  They separated as if by silent agreement. He stripped off his shirt and tossed it over his helmet on the floor next to his jacket. After another second or two, he had his fly open, and his pants and underwear shoved down.

  She removed her boots, pants, and panties, leaving her shirt unbuttoned but still on. Over her shoulders hung the straps to the underarm sheath with the blade snapped in place. The rest lay in a pile with their discarded clothes.

  Kneeling before him—her creamy thighs parted and the thinnest strip of flesh visible between the opened panels of her shirt—she was the sexiest, most erotic vision he'd ever laid eyes on. Sweet seduction with a hint of danger.

  She reached for the buckle of the shoulder straps, but he stopped her by fisting her lapels and tugging her toward him. Her gaze widened with surprise.

  "Leave it on."

  Her kiss-swollen lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, she nodded.

  Again they dropped to the mattress. He rolled her beneath him and picked up with the kiss where they'd left off. With his hips and thighs, he nudged her legs apart and settled his body between them. While her hands roamed his bare back, he grabbed and kneaded her breasts, slipped his hand beneath her shirt and pulled the cups of her bra out of his way.

  She bent her legs and bucked her hips against his cock.

  He grunted at her obvious demand, shifted, and slid into her moist, hot pussy. “Better?” he asked, his lips next to her ear, his nose nuzzling her hair.

  "God, yes."

  He chuckled and pumped his hips, driving his cock deeper into her warm depths. She clung to him, her heels digging into his thighs. Her hands, splayed over his back and shoulders, slid down to grab his ass. Her nails bit into his flesh, which made him groan, and he ground his body harder against hers. He claimed her mouth once more, kissed her with renewed vigor until they were both breathless.

  Rearing up, he took a deep, much-needed breath and gazed at her face, watched her eyelids droop, her eyes darken with desire. She raised her hand to brush her fingers across his chest and stared back at him with unveiled arousal. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips.

  He gritted his teeth. His heart beat erratically. His cock throbbed inside her body. Insistent. Needy. He reached beneath her knees, draped her legs over each arm, and forced them up as he fell forward to take his weight once more on his hands. The new angle enabled deeper penetration, and he took full advantage with a single hard stroke in her pussy.

  Her mouth opened and her eyes closed in response to the sudden thrust of his cock into her womb. She clawed at his shoulders for purchase.

  The rapid pulse at the base of her neck called to his darker nature, drew his gaze down. His fangs lengthened to razor-sharp points, but he kept his lips closed.

  "Pull your shirt open,” he ordered, his tone more harsh and urgent than he intended. But she didn't seem to mind.

  She yanked the two sides in opposite directions to expose her breasts, lifted by the bunched-up bra he'd pulled down earlier. Her nipples were hard little nubs, and her chest rose with each frantic breath she took.

  He bucked his hips, driving his cock into her body and watching her breasts jiggle with each impact. He bent down, kissed her, and was surprised when she poked her tongue into his mouth. He jerked back from the kiss and dipped his head to nuzzle her jaw and neck. He didn't want her to feel his fangs. Not yet. Not that way.

  She pressed her head against the mattress, arching her neck and back. The move thrust her chest toward him, provided unrestricted access to her slender, delicate neck.

  The urge to drink from her grew into an impossible need. Compelled by his hunger, his lust to be one with the woman beneath him, he licked a path downward until he could suck one taut nipple into his mouth.

  Her fingers found purchase in his hair as she held him to her and let him suckle at her breast. He circled the tip with his tongue, his pumps of his cock shallow but steady. Then he drove hard into her, once to the hilt, and sank his teeth into her breast.

  Her blood bathed his tongue.

  His cock erupted inside her womb. The orgasm was so intense it shook every muscle in his body.

  She screamed and fisted his hair, but she didn't try to push him away. Instead, she held him closer, so he sucked with greater force and drank her heady elixir.

  Her cunt milked him. Her thighs trembled along his sides, and her back arched her breast against his mouth.

  Although the vampire inside him raged for him to take all she offered, the man he was knew he couldn't drink much. He'd already bitten her twice before within a short period of time. She wasn't a vampire. She couldn't survive too many repeated feedings if he gorged himself on her blood, so he licked the fresh wounds closed and kissed her hardened nipple.

  Her hands fell from his head when he moved to reposition his arms. Her legs, no longer held up by his arms, collapsed to either side of his body. His cock, albeit softer, remained embedded inside her slick cunt until he pushed up to sit back on his knees.

  He eyed the woman sprawled out before him and grinned.

  "Feel better?” he asked with a teasing tone.

  "Mmm,” was her only answer.

  He popped her on one thigh, which jolted her upright. She blinked at him and frowned. “What'd you do that for?"

  He shrugged. “You seem to respond well to spankings."

  "You could've just said get up."

  He leaned over and gave her a peck on the lips. “And miss an opportunity to see that frown turn into a smile? I think not.” He kissed her again, once on the lips then on the tip of her nose.

  She
gave him a crooked, tight smile until he blew her another kiss. She rolled her eyes and grinned. “You're impossible."

  He bit back the chuckle and cleaned up, not an easy task in the tighter confines of the van.

  She chose to dig through her suitcase and don a fresh change of pants and tennis shoes instead of the boots. She kept the same shirt and the one knife in its sheath, but left the others piled on the floor next to the mattress.

  "I meant to ask earlier, before we got distracted—"

  "Is that what happened?"

  She swatted him on the arm. “I'm being serious here. You called her sire Marsalis?"

  "Yes.” All humor left him.

  "I've heard that name. Earlier, at the cemetery, one of the vampires said it."

  Kieran knew. He'd heard the vampire, too, just before he struck the first fatal blow. It was why he was taking Cheyenne to the church, or having her take him to be more accurate. Father Hardwin and the Order needed to know that Marsalis was in the area.

  "Yes, I know,” was all Kieran would say.

  After silence stretched to an awkward length, she squeezed his hand, moved back to the driver's seat, and started the van. A short time later, they arrived at the church.

  Father Hardwin seemed somewhat surprised by the sight of Cheyenne, or maybe it was the fact that she was with Kieran and he was still alive, in an undead sort of way.

  "Surprised to see me again, Father?"

  "Not at all. Not at all. Come in, please.” He motioned them into his office and quickly moved stacks of books out of a couple of chairs to provide seating. “Are you hungry? Can I get you some refreshments?"

  "No, thank you,” she answered. “I stopped and picked up some food on the way here."

  "I'm not hungry,” Kieran said with a teasing smile.

  "Okay.” The priest took his seat opposite them. “To what do I owe this visit?"

  "Marsalis,” Kieran answered without preamble, earning a subdued, wary look from the priest. “He's back and is after Cheyenne. We need to alert the others to be on the lookout for any increase in rogue activity."

  "I see. I can do that and, of course, find a suitable safe place for her to stay until—"