Hunt the Darkness

by Alexandra Ivy

  “This is insanity,” she moaned.

  “No.” He nibbled a path to the tip of her breast. “Insanity is trying to fight this.”

  A part of her agreed. The part that was shivering with a breathless anticipation that made her heart pound and her knees weak.

  Another part, however, understood that this was more than a casual quickie.

  The mating mark on her arm still tingled from his light caress, emphasizing their unnervingly intimate connection.

  Did she really want to take the chance of becoming even more tightly bound to a vampire who was desperate to get rid of her?

  “Roke . . . wait.”

  With a soft curse, he lifted his head, his expression tight with frustration.

  “I can feel your desire, Sally,” he rasped. “You ache with your need.”

  She flushed. It was awful enough he could scent her arousal without having a direct peek into her inner fantasies.

  “Which is precisely why this is such a bad idea.”

  His eyes flashed with silver fire. “It’s not an idea. It’s fate. We both know it.”

  “And if it somehow interferes in the magic binding us together? There are demons who use sex to complete their mating.”

  Without warning, he had her scooped in his arms and stretched across the narrow bed.

  “Right now, I’m willing to take the risk.”

  She shuddered as he leaned over her, burying his face in the curve of her neck.

  “Roke—”

  “Ssh.” He nuzzled soft kisses down the line of her chin. “There is more than one way to share pleasure.”

  His fingers gently traced the curve of her breasts, as his mouth sought her lips in a kiss of stark need.

  She moaned, her toes curling as his tongue penetrated her lips, a flood of melting desire rushing through her.

  She knew she should fight.

  There were a thousand reasons this could be put in the worst-decision-ever category.

  But hell, who was she fooling?

  It hadn’t only been her appetite that had suffered when she’d been apart from Roke. Her restless nights had been plagued by a craving for his touch.

  Now her body was responding to him with a fierce joy that couldn’t be denied.

  Maybe he was right.

  Maybe this was fate.

  As if sensing her capitulation, his fingers circled the tight buds of her breasts, learning what made her gasp in delight before he lowered himself to capture a sensitive tip between his lips.

  Sally gave a choked cry of pleasure, her fingers tangling in the silken strands of his hair.

  She’d always heard that vampires made the best lovers.

  Perhaps predictable since they used seduction to feed. But her intense reaction as he sucked her nipple wasn’t the result of skill. It was the response of a woman completely enthralled by one specific man.

  Roke.

  Only Roke.

  “So sweet,” he murmured, his lips traveling between her breasts as his hands gently tugged her legs apart.

  Vaguely aware he was still fully dressed while she was stark naked, Sally was too aroused to feel embarrassment as he trailed his fingers down the curve of her waist and cupped her hips in his hands.

  With delicious care his mouth followed the path of his fingers, planting soul-melting kisses down her quivering stomach.

  Sally undulated beneath his teasing touch, glancing down to meet the smoldering silver gaze that monitored her with a searing intensity.

  A slow wicked smile curved his lips, exposing his snow-white fangs. She groaned, the dampness between her legs flooding the room with the scent of her arousal.

  His smile widened.

  “Peaches,” he growled.

  Then, before she could brace herself, he was sliding off the edge of the bed so he could tug her legs over his shoulders and nibble a path up her inner thigh.

  She closed her eyes, dropping her head back on the mattress as he at last found the center of her aching need, licking his tongue through the wet heat.

  Oh. Yes. Yes, yes, yes.

  Her hips tilted upward, silently encouraging the slow, steady stroke of his tongue, her hands gripping the blanket beneath her.

  The exquisite pleasure was building at a rapid rate.

  Too rapid.

  She wanted to prolong the pleasure. To drown in the ripples of delight that shimmered through the very core of her.

  But it’d been so long. And it felt so damned good.

  His hands loosened their grip on her hips, sliding up her body to caress her stiffened nipples.

  “Roke, I—”

  Her words were lost as his tongue dipped into her body, thrusting in and out with a rhythm that destroyed any hope of savoring the moment.

  She hissed between clenched teeth, reaching down to shove her fingers through his hair, pressing his wicked tongue even deeper.

  “Yes, sweet Sally,” he growled between strokes. “Come for me.”

  As if his words were magic, the pleasure swelled to a critical level and with a last thrust of his tongue, Roke catapulted her into ecstasy.

  Stunned in the aftermath of her cataclysmic climax, Sally lay in a boneless daze as Roke kissed his way back up her stomach, lingering to lavish her sensitive breasts with detailed attention before he covered her with his hard body.

  “I think I’m addicted to peaches,” he teased, his fangs scraping lightly over her throat.

  Sally shivered, her hands sliding beneath his heavy leather jacket to shove it away from his shoulders.

  “Off,” she murmured.

  With liquid grace he shrugged the jacket off and tossed it on the floor. The leather garment landed with a thud, revealing he had a weapon tucked in a pocket. Probably more than one.

  He gazed down at her with smoldering silver eyes. “Happy now?”

  She slowly shook her head, her hands tracing the smooth planes of chest. Beneath her fingers she could feel his muscles flex at her touch, his body shuddering in pleasure.

  “Not yet.”

  He smiled. “More?”

  “My turn.”

  She yanked the tee up and over his head, her breath catching as she stared at the width of his naked chest.

  She’d expected the chiseled muscles and smooth, bronzed skin. What made her breath catch was the magnificent dragon that had been tattooed over one pectoral muscle and down his rib cage.

  Softly, she traced the outline of the golden, mythical creature before moving to the brilliant crimson wings and dark jade body.

  “The mark of CuChulainn?” she asked. She’d heard of the mark given to those vampires willing to endure the battles of Durotriges to become clan chief, but she’d never actually seen one.

  He made a choked sound of pleasure at her light touch. “Yes.”

  She stroked to the tail that curled around his side. “Is it sensitive?”

  He held her gaze as he slowly extended his arm. “Not as sensitive as this.”

  She shivered at the sight of the mating tattoo that ran beneath the skin of his inner arm, the memory of his lips tracing the crimson marks stirring the desire she’d assumed to be well and truly sated.

  Holding his gaze, she lifted her head to use her tongue to trail over the intricate curves of the crimson lines, her heart racing as his eyes darkened to a beguiling smoke.

  “Shit . . . that feels good,” he muttered.

  She continued to nuzzle the marking, her fingers moving to skim over the curve of his ribs and then down the hard ridges of his stomach. Reaching the waistband of his jeans, she popped the snap and unzipped his jeans.

  Immediately his cock sprang free.

  “And what about this?” she teased, curling her fingers around his impressive width. “Does that feel good?”

  “Oh, hell yes.” He shoved himself up to perch on his knees, straddling her as he watched her explore his rigid length. “But, this isn’t—”

  “This is what I want.”


  She inwardly shrugged off the premonition that this . . . this intimacy was every bit as dangerous as full-out-interlocking-parts sex.

  They weren’t hurting anyone, were they?

  Besides, there was a thrilling pleasure in knowing this aloof, frigidly controlled vampire was in her power.

  Not because of a spell.

  Or a trick.

  But because her touch set him on fire.

  Refusing to contemplate why his fierce passion felt like some sort of victory, Sally stroked her fingers down his straining cock, amazed by the cool smoothness of his skin. Satin over steel.

  Excitement curled in the pit of her stomach as she reached the soft sack, giving him a squeeze that made him choke out a strangled groan before she was exploring back to the blunt tip.

  Roke squeezed his eyes shut, hissing as she pushed downward again.

  “Oh, gods. I’m not going to survive.”

  She chuckled as she wiggled until she could sit up, angling downward so she could take the fully engorged erection into her mouth.

  “Sally.” He cupped her face to pull her back, his harshly beautiful features tight with need.

  She met his smoky gaze. “Let me.”

  He gave a slow nod, his lips curling back to reveal his massive fangs as she took him back into her mouth, her fingers circling his base as she swirled her tongue over his tender tip.

  His fingers shifted to tangle in her hair, the ground shaking and a frost coating the ceiling as his power flowed through the room.

  “Yes,” he groaned, his entire body trembling as he jerkily surged in and out of her mouth. “Perfect. So perfect.”

  Chapter Seven

  Roke had been a vampire for more centuries than he could remember.

  Which meant he’d assumed that he’d seen and done just about everything possible in the world.

  An assumption that had been blown to hell by the tiny witch who was tucked next to him with her glorious autumn hair spilling over her pale, satin skin.

  Christ almighty.

  He’d expected pleasure. He’d even expected it to be explosive. A man couldn’t lust after a woman with such painful intensity and not be blown away by when he at last got her naked.

  But what had happened between the two of them . . .

  It went beyond pleasure.

  The mere touch of her hand had been enough to set him on fire, the resonating feel of her own arousal pulsing through their bond until he couldn’t tell where his passion ended and hers began.

  And when she’d taken him in her mouth . . . holy hell, it’d been nothing less than sensual ecstasy.

  Now he was perched on his side with Sally lying next to him, her fingers lightly tracing the dragon tattoo that marked him as a clan chief.

  Yet another first.

  He hid a rueful smile.

  His image of a loner wasn’t just an act. He didn’t do “cuddling.” Hell, unless he was in the middle of sex, he didn’t want anyone touching him. Period.

  This shared moment was even more astonishing than the tiny quakes of pleasure that continued to vibrate through him.

  Why wasn’t he pulling away to leave her alone on the narrow cot?

  It was his usual modus operandi.

  Instead he held himself perfectly still, afraid the slightest movement might break the spell.

  “Was it terrible?” she murmured, the brush of her fingers down his ribs sending sparks of euphoria through him.

  “Was what terrible?”

  “The battles of Durotriges.”

  He shrugged. Terrible didn’t begin to describe the gladiator-style games. The weeks he’d been locked in the arena had passed in a blur of blood and pain and death. But in many ways it’d been a simple time.

  You lived or died.

  No in between.

  “It’s never fun to kill a worthy adversary.”

  “Then why did you enter them?”

  He lowered his lashes, hiding his bleak stab of fury at the memory of his former clan chief, Gunnar, and the female vampire who’d ruined him.

  The selfish bitch’s only power had been her beauty, but she’d managed to use it to turn Gunnar from being a strong, influential leader of a clan that was feared by all, to a mindless fool who spent so much time pandering to her lust that his people had lost everything.

  But it wasn’t just Gunnar’s self-destruction that caused the raw regret that refused to heal no matter how many years had passed.

  He’d deliberately entered the battles of Durotriges to challenge his former friend as chief, but while he was gone Gunnar’s lair had been struck by lightning and burned to the ground.

  Or at least that was the story he’d been given.

  He’d never been able to shake the suspicion that his beloved sire, Fala, had been responsible.

  The female vampire might not have her memories of life as a human, but she’d clung to her beliefs as a wise woman, searching for mystic portents in nature. Including an omen that she’d read the night Roke was turned.

  She’d been convinced that it meant that Roke would one day be a great leader.

  After Gunnar’s death he couldn’t help but wonder if the ancient vampire had taken matters into her own hands.

  It was the only way to be certain that he wouldn’t lose the challenge to become chief.

  Aware that Sally was beginning to frown at his continued silence, Roke struggled to speak.

  This was not a subject he discussed.

  With anyone.

  “The previous clan chief . . . was difficult.”

  She studied his clenched expression, no doubt sensing his instinctive retreat.

  “Cruel?”

  “Worse.” His voice was cold, flat, his rare sense of peace shattered by his unwelcome memories. “He was indifferent.”

  There was a pause, as if she was struggling between the knowledge she was touching a raw nerve and curiosity.

  Unfortunately, curiosity won out.

  “How could that be worse?”

  His jaw clenched, his thoughts veering toward the sheet of paper he kept locked in his lair. On it were written what had been lost after Gunnar’s mating.

  The silver and gold mines that had been the source of their wealth.

  The acres of territory that had been claimed by rival clans.

  The weaker members who’d been stolen from their lairs and sold to slavers.

  He stood at his sire’s grave and read from the list, promising her that her sacrifices wouldn’t be in vain. He would regain everything they’d lost.

  “Vampires are by nature savage creatures.” He pointed out the obvious. “Without a strong leader a clan splits apart or becomes victims of more aggressive demons.”

  She grimaced. He didn’t have to explain what happened to the victims.

  “Why did the previous chief bother forming a clan if he didn’t want to be a leader?”

  “He did, at first.” Roke had still been a fledgling when his sire had joined Gunnar’s clan, but he’d heard enough horror stories to realize how fortunate he was to be trained by the honorable warrior. “He was a rare clan chief who was willing to kick the ass of anyone who got out of line, but was fair in his judgment.”

  “What happened?”

  “He mated.”

  She blinked at the clipped explanation. “That’s it?”

  “The female was jealous of the time that Gunnar devoted to his people.”

  She studied his tight expression. “You didn’t like her?”

  The temperature dropped at the mere thought of the bitch.

  “I hated her for destroying a vampire I once considered my friend.”

  Sally shivered. “What happened to him?”

  He glanced down to where her fingers continued to trace the dragon tattoo, his body savoring her gentle touch even as he twitched with the need to pull away.

  The dark memories were crowding through his mind, a sharp reminder of the people who depended on him. The people who were
once again left without a chief, despite his promises.

  With a sudden shove he was off the bed and pulling on his jeans.

  “That’s not my story to tell,” he rasped. “You should rest.”

  There was a sharp, startled silence followed by the sound of Sally turning on her side and yanking the covers over her naked body.

  “Got it.”

  He lifted his gaze to study the rigid line of her back visible through the thin blanket.

  “Sally.”

  “I’m tired, Roke.”

  And pissed, he silently added, ruefully using his powers to extinguish the candles.

  Combined with a large dollop of hurt.

  Dammit. He hadn’t meant to . . .

  What?

  Lure her into a sense of intimacy and then slam the door in her face?

  He grimaced, moving to take a position where he could keep watch over Sally while making sure nothing tried to slip through the entrance. The spells should be enough to repel any intruder, but he was still bothered by the strange demon who’d attacked them.

  There’d been something off about the creature and until he knew exactly what the demon was capable of, he wasn’t about to let down his guard.

  Not when his mate depended on his protection.

  Keeping his gaze trained on the female who was rapidly turning his well-ordered life into chaos, Roke leaned against the cement wall, allowing the day to creep past as he leashed his painful memories and tucked them into the back of his mind.

  They’d done enough damage, thank you very fucking much.

  The sun was setting when Sally at last stirred, looking adorable with her gorgeous hair tumbled around her flushed face and her eyes velvet dark with lingering sleep.

  She sat up, the blanket dipping down to give a peek of smooth satin skin and the gentle swell of a breast.

  Roke clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to cross the room and pull her into his arms.

  Would she actually turn him into a toad? He didn’t think so, but now didn’t seem the time to push her.

  As if to emphasize the point, her head swiveled to discover him standing near the waist-high counter, her expression instantly smoothing to a cool mask.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded, wrapping the blanket tight around her body.

  He nodded his head toward the water that he’d poured into a large pan and placed on a kerosene heater.