BLOODLUST

by Phoenix Daniels

  “Woo! It’s like entering another world,” Margo commented, stepping further inside.

  It was a bedroom.

  “Yes, two unique ecosystems together. The rainforest is a carefully controlled environment.”

  Bishop stepped past her and held out his hand.

  “Come. Make yourself comfortable.”

  Margo frowned when he walked over to a drink cart and pulled a bottle of Grey Goose from an ice bucket. If nothing else, the vampire was presumptuous.

  “Knew I was coming?” she scoffed.

  “Oui,” he responded plainly while pouring the clear liquid. “Lime?”

  Margo nodded and crossed the room. She sank into a plush, white leather sofa. The space was chic, with the feel of a modern city loft. The walls were stark white and covered in contemporary art, in clear contrast to the ancient paintings in the great hall of the estate. In a far corner was an enormous poster bed with a canopy made of sturdy oak. The headboard was made of tufted, dark brown leather. The bed was covered with crisp, white satin, and bright, crimson decorative pillows.

  “Here you are.”

  Bishop handed her a chilled glass of vodka with a floating wedge of lime.

  “Thank you.”

  He smiled and took a seat in a chair opposite her, giving her an appreciated view of his striking good looks. Margo looked down at the glass in her hand to avoid staring.

  “Tell me something, Marguerite.”

  “What’s that?” she asked without looking up.

  “Why does everyone describe you as this “carefree, noncommittal, party girl” when we both know that you’re anything but?”

  Surprised by his assessment, Margo looked up.

  “Well, I don’t know,” she said with a shrug. “You’ll have to ask them.”

  Bishop grinned. “I think you do know. In fact, I think you’ve intentionally led them to believe that you’re some kind of fun girl without a care in the world.”

  Margo chuckled.

  “And, why would I do that, Doctor Phil?”

  Bishop crossed one leg over the other and pushed his fingers through his thick, blonde beard. Margo noticed he did that a lot.

  “If I had to guess, I would say that you simply don’t want to be bothered. You want to avoid the responsibilities of what comes along with your magical ancestry.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Margo asked sarcastically.

  “Oui, you’d much rather everyone consider you the airhead cousin.”

  Margo shifted in her seat.

  “Airhead cousin? Well, that’s a bit much.”

  The conversation, or maybe that fact that he was dead-on accurate, made Margo uncomfortable. She lifted the glass and took a gulp that was less than ladylike. As if she wasn’t uncomfortable enough, Bishop abandoned his seat to sit next to her.

  “I wish I could tell you that your secret is safe with me, but unfortunately, that cat has been out of the bag for some time.”

  Margo glared into blue eyes that sparkled with amusement.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Bishop raised a brow and laughed.

  “You cannot be serious. The Toussaint wolves have been guardians of the Moreau tribe for more than a century. With no doubt, ma chéri. The twins know your every move, and they have since your birth... since all of your births.”

  Margo frowned.

  “Besides, the Toussaint twins own a hotel with a 5-star restaurant. Do you think that they wouldn’t know about every hotshot chef in Louisiana?”

  Well, damn! Maybe she was the “airhead cousin.” Since Enola’s return, she’d learned the true history of the Moreaus and the wolves. Why hadn’t it crossed her mind that their family’s protectors had known her secrets all along? She relived the twin’s reactions to every lie she’d ever told them while working on building her career as a well-renowned chef. Could they have known of her fierce ambition to open her own restaurant? Well, according to Bishop, and now common sense, of course, they knew.

  Bishop cupped her jaw and offered a sympathetic smile. Margo squirmed a bit, unable to ignore the fierce energy that traveled from his fingers to every nerve ending in her body.

  “No worries, beauty. If the wolves were going to divulge your secrets, they’d have done it already.”

  After a bit of reflection, Margo realized that the covertness of her comings and goings were no longer crucial to her. The moment she revealed her power of compulsion to her family, she knew that using it to protect them was not a choice to be made, but a given.

  “I’m not worried. The time for honesty is way overdue. I’d planned on talking to my family, anyway.”

  Margo studied his rugged features and spied desire in his cool, blue eyes. The rough pad of his thumb grazed her cheek. She shifted in her seat. The moisture that pooled in her core was a symptom of her own desire.

  “Bishop,” she cautioned in a whisper.

  Her insides burned as his face moved closer to hers. Margo gasped and before she knew it, she was on her feet.

  “I’d better get back to the party.”

  Margo moved toward the door. Had she not, it would’ve taken only seconds for her to be straddling him with her expensive cocktail dress gathered around her waist. She grabbed the knob and turned around, fully expecting to find Bishop still sitting on the sofa. But he wasn’t. He didn’t even appear to be in the room.

  Margo called his name and got no response. When she turned to leave, Bishop’s sudden appearance in front of her caused her to nearly jump out of her skin. Frightened by the sound of her own scream, Margo’s shaky hand flew to cover her mouth while the other clutched at her racing heart. She took a breath and struggled to calm herself.

  “What the fuck?”

  Echoes of frenzied chirping resonated in the air beyond the wall. The sound of her high-pitched shriek must have disturbed the birds. Margo could see the amusement in Bishop’s narrowed eyes.

  “You know I don’t like when you use that language, beauty.”

  Margo shoved him in the chest.

  “I don’t care what you like! You scared the shit out of me!”

  She took a step back, hitting the door with her back. Bishop grinned mischievously and rested one hand on the door next to her face, and the other caressed the back of her head. Margo cleared the lump in her throat and tried not to show her body’s reaction to his closeness.

  “I’d like to go back to the party now,” she recited with feigned indifference.

  As Bishop moved unnervingly closer, Margo’s eyes closed involuntarily as she inhaled the alluring aroma of mint and whiskey. Fire and undeniable lust were pumping through her veins as his thumb grazed her ear. Her lids fluttered open, and when their eyes locked, she could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ear. For a brief second, Bishop’s eyes lowered, his gaze trained on her neck. Margo tried to wiggle free, but couldn’t.

  “I’d like to go back now,” she repeated breathlessly.

  His eyes returned to hers.

  “You’re lying,” he whispered with a knowing grin.

  “I’m not ly-.”

  Without warning, without permission, her words were cut off by his lips assaulting hers. A moan immediately escaped from the intensity of their connection. His fingers pressed into her scalp as he eased his tongue between the seams of her lips. No longer willing or able to fight her desire for him, Margo snaked her arms around his neck and melted against his hard body.

  Bishop’s hand lowered to the hem of her dress. The anticipation of his touch was nothing compared to the fire that burned inside when he dug his finger into her flesh. His full lips covered hers as his tongue whipped her into a sex-crazed frenzy. Before long, her leg was creeping up the side of his muscular thigh.

  Bishop tore his lips from hers and peppered kisses along her jawline, eventually making his way down to her neck. A harsh breath escaped when his tongue grazed her neck. If Margo were in her right mind, she’d have been worried about his razor-sharp fangs piercing her ski
n. But the more her pussy throbbed with need, her mind clouded, and she was ready to give it all up to the sexy vampire. Unfortunately, the choice was no longer hers. Bishop pulled his lips from her neck and took a step back, leaving her cold and unsatisfied.

  Margo blinked up at him with confusion. She was speechless, but there had to be a barrage of questions in her eyes. Bishop adjusted an extremely large, and sadly, unwrapped package between his legs. He seemed cool and unbothered as he straightened his suit jacket, yet he couldn’t hide the desire in his eyes.

  “Let’s get you back to the party.”

  With undeniable frustration, Margo could feel her face twisting into a scowl.

  “Stop playing with me, Bishop!”

  “I’m not playing with you, Marguerite. Fix your clothes.”

  Margo blew out an annoyed breath.

  “You have got to be fucking kidding me,” she muttered irritably.

  Bishop closed the distance between them.

  “I have asked you not to use that language,” he growled.

  With a harsh shove, she attempted to push him back. Of course, he didn’t budge.

  “Fine! I’m going back!” Margo blasted, turning to grab the knob.

  Before she could twist, Bishop placed his hand over hers and pressed his hard body against her. Margo could feel his hard dick against her back.

  “I’m hungry. Are you willing to feed me, Marguerite?”

  Oh, shit!

  Feeding never crossed her mind. Biting, yes. But drinking her blood- absolutely not. Hell, Gideon had bitten her cousin. That didn’t seem that bad. But taking blood from her body... Margo wasn’t down for that. A sudden thought crossed her mind. Maybe for a vampire, sucking and fucking went together. Perhaps there couldn’t be one without the other.

  “No, sir, I am not.”

  Margo’s eyes rolled at the very thought. She twisted the knob and opened the door.

  “Do you want me to send your feed bag in here?”

  The cute little brunette was probably waiting on the other side of the door with a willing vein for him to pierce and drink from.

  Bishop smiled and pulled his thick, golden hair from the neat bun her fingers had disturbed.

  “No need, beauty. I’ll see to it,” he chuckled.

  He reached past her and opened the door. Margo ran her finger around her mouth to get rid of excess lipstick and straightened out her dress.

  “You look beautiful.”

  “Mm-hm,” Margo muttered on her way out of the loft.

  Bishop followed, closing the door behind him. They crossed the bridge with his hand pressed to the small of her back. The sexual electricity in his touch was jarring. Relief flooded when he removed his hand for her to walk down the stairs. She made it to the landing and reached for the door, but before she could touch the knob, it opened suddenly. To no one’s surprise, Basile and Bishop’s pretty blood bag was on the other side of the door.

  “Wow! Hello!” Margo scoffed. She knew her tone may have been rude, but Bishop had just tossed a metaphorical bucket of cold water on her.

  “Marguerite, Basile will escort you back to the party and I’ll join you shortly.”

  Margo turned around and speared him with a glare, but he showed no reaction. She rolled her eyes at him and stepped aside. Beth smiled awkwardly and entered the greenhouse.

  Margo stepped out to join Basile. Without conversation, they walked back to the house. Once inside, she quickly spotted Madame Belfour, Madame LaRue, and Madame Bennett. They were engaged in what appeared to be a friendly conversation with an attractive, well-dressed couple; probably vampires. Madame Bennett and the unknown woman were giggling at something the handsome man was saying. Seconds later, she found her family huddled in laughter. When Enola noticed her arrival, her lips twisted into a smirk.

  “Hey, girl! Where’s your man?”

  “Somewhere surfing Plenty of Fish I guess,” Margo sniggered.

  “Damn!” Enola blurted out with laughter. “What happened?”

  “What’s Plenty of Fish?” asked her mother.

  Margo rolled her eyes.

  “The same dating sight that I’mma throw you on if you don’t hurry and get you a man,” Margo threatened.

  “What, chile?” her mother huffed. “Ain’t nobody got time to be chasing no man. Anyway, where you been?”

  “Bishop took me on a tour of the grounds.”

  “Mm-hm,” Enola doubted with pursed lips.

  “More like took you on the ground, I bet,” Enola teased.

  “Girl, I-.”

  “Shh!” her mother interrupted. “Do you hear that?”

  The sudden seriousness of her expression was alarming.

  “Listen!”

  Margo closed her eyes and tried to mute the noise from the party and listen for whatever her mother was hearing.

  “I hear it!” Enola confirmed.

  Margo couldn’t hear a thing. She opened her eyes and looked around. Everything looked normal. Well, as normal as everything could look in a party full of vampires and werewolves. Still, the worried look on Madame Belfour’s face was a warning of some kind of danger. Margo turned to her mom.

  “What is it? I can’t hear anything.”

  “Chanting,” her mother whispered. “Rage. I sense rage. There is a vengeful presence in this room.”

  Margo turned to Enola. “And you can hear it too?”

  “Yes. It’s getting louder.”

  Margo closed her eyes again and tried to concentrate, but a blood-curdling cry jerked her to attention. She whipped around, just as a vampire’s fangs were tearing into Madame Bennett’s neck. It was the same pretty woman she was recently sharing a giggle with. Enola inhaled a sharp breath. Her hand flew over her mouth as she watched in horror as the she-demon tore out the older woman’s throat.

  “What the fuck?” Margo exclaimed.

  She and Enola took off in the woman’s direction, but Gideon and Gabriel immediately restrained them. Ready to defend his pack’s alpha, Boone positioned himself in front of their small group.

  “Wait!” her mother shouted. “Look!”

  She pointed out a group of vampires in the corner of the room. At first glance they just looked as if they were shedding their human-esque facade, turning into the natural born killers that she’s initially thought them to be. However, the more Margo watched, what she saw was a struggle; as if they were trying to fight the transformation.

  Suddenly, she could hear the chanting. The sound had gone from inaudible to a deafening clamor inside of her head. The voice was powerful and eerily familiar. So recognizable that Margo turned and looked at her cousin through a squint. She even found her mother staring questionably at Enola, who was scanning the room with wide-eyed panic. Like the rest of them, she must’ve noticed that the angry voice sounded just like her own.

  Fangs were extending everywhere. Margo looked on as the vampires fought what seemed to be an involuntary transformation. Unfortunately, for everyone that wasn’t a vampire, the battle was lost. Throughout the room, the once normal faces of the partygoers had distorted into something right out of a horror movie.

  Margo searched the room for the other members of their tribe. Madame Belfour was being carried over to them by one of the Louisiana wolves. Madam LaRue was crawling on all fours until she was scooped up by Hannibal, another pack wolf. Once the elder reached them, Madame Belfour glared at Enola suspiciously.

  “What on earth are you doing?” she shrieked.

  Enola’s mouth flew open at her accusation. She shook her head defensively.

  “Me?” she squealed with wide eyes. “How is this me?”

  Madame Belfour opened her mouth to speak, but her words were cut off by the horrific sound of bones, breaking and reforming, and thunderous growls of shifting wolves. Sharp claws scraped the floor as the wolves mobilized, forming a protective barrier between them and the angry, blood-thirsty predators. The chanting stopped, and the vampires attacked.

  C
hapter Eleven

  ENOLA

  Enola tossed her clutch to the floor when the wolves rushed the vampire’s front line.

  “It’s a spell! Join hands!” Ruby directed.

  All the ladies of the Moreau tribe did as instructed and grabbed each other’s hands. Together, they recited an ancient protection spell that would hopefully include the wolves. The incantation seemed to be working.

  Unfortunately, one vampire was fast enough to slip past the wall of wolves. Saliva dripped from his piercing fangs as he stalked toward them with red eyes full of rage. With a sinister hiss, he advanced with the full intention of mutilating them all. But, with one word, Margo stopped him in his track.

  “Stop!” she commanded, destroying any free will he may have had.

  In the vampire’s eyes, Enola could see his inner battle to break free of Margo’s compulsion. But in the end, he had no choice but to do as instructed.

  “Find the witches!” Margo ordered. “Kill ‘em all!”

  The vampire snarled and ran in the opposite direction in pursuit of witches. Margo’s attention returned and rejoined the chant. Together, they continued the spell that would hopefully protect them from the blood-thirsty predators. But chanting from an unknown enemy resumed. It got louder and apparently powerful enough to break their mystical circle. A funnel of supernatural energy penetrated their bond, and with a mighty gust of magic, they were all thrown to the floor.

  The back of Enola’s head bounced off the slate, leaving her light-headed. She rubbed her throbbing temple, blinking a few times to clear the fog. Like coming up from underwater, the muffled sounds of the surrounding chaos eventually became clearer. Then, suddenly, an overwhelming feeling of terror set it.

  Enola scrambled to all fours and searched the room for her family. She found Margo first. Her cousin was crawling toward Ruby, who was on lying on the floor. Her aunt was conscious, but she appeared to have had the wind knocked out of her. Next to Margo, Madame Belfour was surprisingly still standing, and helping Madame LaRue to her feet.