by Talyn Scott
With an eager smile, Maxim flicked the clasp, tossing the contents on a mirrored tabletop. “Ah,” he said with a luxurious moan, lifting Jen’s handkerchief to his nose. “Dried blood is never the same, but if the creature is potent…”
“Shall I ring for a cup of boiling water?” Cyna waved at the dried handkerchief sarcastically. “Or can you think of the implications here and set aside your appetite?”
“Obviously, Jen was sending it out for DNA matching. Smart girl,” he praised, shifting his wings across his naked ass. “I am the devil, after all.” The next missive, however, caught his attention. He lifted the envelope, read the note, and grew serious. Maxim faced Cyna, tapping the envelope on his palm. “You have to hand it to her, Jennifer keeps interesting company.”
Cyna finally smiled. “Now, will you get rid of her?”
His eyes traveled to his bed where smooth entangled limbs invited him back to play. Turning away from them, Maxim got dressed and signaled for a Sentinel to remove his toys from the bed. “There are all sorts of ways to get rid of creatures.” Cyna wouldn’t be privy to his plan. “Fortunately, I know them all.”
He stretched his wings as he moved to his favorite weapon’s chest. Maxim loaded his body with guns and blades, then turned to Cyna, tossing her back the small envelope. “Allow this missive to go through exactly how Jen planned.”
A cruel smile curved Cyna’s lips, because she smiled no other way. She nodded in understanding and relayed the missive to her personal Sentinel. After the guard left the bedchamber, she followed Maxim through his private side door, permeating the air with her eager anticipation.
“You are a blood thirsty witch, Cyna.” Maxim led her through a corridor barely large enough to fit his wings, the cobwebs sticking to his feathers. “You must know that’s the only reason I keep you around.”
His feathers shifted then, not from dust and cobwebs, but from the sense of smoldering aggression. He kept walking, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Cyna hadn’t an ax aimed at his head. But she gave him the look — that look — she got when blood would be involved. She wanted to fuck him.
“Save your charms, Cyna.” Maxim hated her more than he hated his own mother, and that was saying a lot. “I won’t have you.”
She stopped just short of snarling.
Above their heads, he could hear rats scurrying, then sensed something behind the rodents’ quick steps. As though they were gathering together to run away from a predator.
Maxim locked his hand around the hilt of a blade, the bones taunt beneath his skin. Could it be him?
Cyna moved to his side when they stepped onto an open catwalk, which connected the manse to what Maxim greedily called his cargo hold.
He glanced down, waving at all of his wide-eyed lovelies looking up through grates. “My little chickens are more frightened than usual.”
Cyna moved closer to his back, her breath on his wings. “Wonder what’s been in the hen house?”
“Let’s find out.”
Beyond a pallet of crates, Maxim could see a looming shadow, too large and oddly shaped to match anything stationary. He shifted his weight to the right, putting his blade in his left hand. His wings would become too damaged if he were to fly off the catwalk and hit any of the metal support beams, so he braced his body to jump.
“The shadow,” Cyna whispered, “it’s moving.”
“Get out of here now,” he murmured. “Get back up.”
He squatted and searched all corners as Cyna made her way back to the manse. When she’d had enough time to alert the Sentinels, he decided to play offense.
Launching himself over the catwalk, he raised his blade as a blast of sweltering, copper-tinged air smacked into him like a brick wall. What the hell was that? He spun a three-sixty, trying to find its source.
A hand closed over his forearm, wrenching it like a twig. His blade clanged across the floor just as a punch landed square on his throat. Maxim stumbled back, blood pouring from his mouth as his esophagus swelled shut.
You! He wanted to bellow.
Maxim brought a solid leg up alongside his right wing, flinging out for a side hit, when the whirl of a scythe came at him from behind. Maxim dropped to the floor, the blade protruding from his chest, piercing his heart with death’s blow.
Wall sconces flickered in the underground ballroom, illuminating at least one-hundred unmated vampires in attendance — all waiting for what was to come.
Potential Brides.
A way to end an eternity of loneliness.
Andreev fought not to get his hopes up as he caught his reflection on a polished, silver urn and straightened his tie. Immediately, he noticed his liquid-gold irises kicking up, swallowing the whites of his eyes. His fangs were dropping by the second, scraping his bottom lip. He’d gone too long without feeding, far too long, and Andreev wouldn’t doubt he’d scare one of the attending virgins half to death, if only by the length of his fangs.
Taking a step, he lifted an amber goblet to the urn’s spigot, his palate immediately rejecting the blood flowing into the goblet before it even reached Andreev’s tongue. However, a no biting rule stood when attending Maxim’s affairs, and rule breakers would lose their heads.
Literally.
So maybe the foul blood swirling in the goblet would suffice for the next few hours. He took a sip, moving the acrid fluid over his tongue and just stopped short of making a face. Maybe not...
“I think lemon floor polish would make a better choice,” a male said, gliding next to him. He gestured to the goblet. “I take it — you didn’t have time to feed before arriving.”
Andreev flicked his eyes to the exceptionally tall vampire and set his drink on a table for empties. “I arrived from Russia just four hours ago.” He shrugged. “Barely made it inside before the doors were locked.” If it weren’t for his whiskey-colored irises, Andreev would swear the vampire before him was a Vampyr Vojak.
“Four straight hours of misting?” The vampire tilted his head, his platinum-streaked hair tinged red from the sconces’ glow. And in that moment, he appeared more demonic than vampire. Though most thought the two creatures were one and the same. “You must be starved.”
Andreev felt his mouth curve as he urged back his fangs. “Centuries upon this earth have taught me self control. I am Andreev.” As per club rules, he refrained from using his surname.
“You can call me Siel.”
“Excellent to make your acquaintance, Siel.”
Without preamble, ebony double doors, reaching at least twenty feet high, opened across the majestic ballroom. Guards dressed in black and crimson escorted in female after female, all glorious, much the way colors meshed yet stayed separated within a rainbow.
And the way they smelled...
“Hmmm, what is this?” Siel whispered. “A pureblood werewolf in the mix?” He stood straighter, Siel’s eyes alighting with lust. “Tell me it isn’t so.”
Andreev followed Siel’s line of vision and spotted eyes of cerulean and hair of the deepest, darkest night. She was tall and thickly boned in comparison to the other females of mixed human genetics. And although inherent instinct shouted he should feel appalled to find himself attracted to a rival species, Andreev thought she was the most tantalizing creature he’d ever seen.
This female, he realized, was why Maxim insisted he arrive this night. Without a doubt, others as wealthy as he would become rivals for her hand.
When Siel signaled her Sentinel, Andreev just barely stifled a territorial hiss. His hands clenched at his thighs. What was this? This feeling of...
His hunger surged.
His cock roared.
Andreev placed a hand on the wall, bracing himself.
“Are you okay, man?” Siel asked, concerned. “Maybe you should try again next week.”
Because Siel mistook Andreev’s behavior for the stirrings of bloodlust. This would work out perfectly for Siel if Andreev went topside to feed. Then Siel could take the werewolf for
himself.
Not. Happening.
As the Sentinel led the werewolf Siel’s way. Andreev inhaled deeply, pulling the room’s varied scents within his lungs before exhaling through his open mouth. Yes, her scent was even lovelier than her beauty.
As she stepped closer, Andreev spied her delicate, blue veins running beneath the skin of her throat. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to tap her, drink in her life source.
Siel lifted her gloved hand and brushed his mouth over her glove covered knuckles. “I am Siel.”
“I am Jen,” the werewolf replied, worrying her bottom lip. She stood in fine attire, exquisite gown and heavy diamonds — all quite expensive for human tastes — but Andreev could do much better for her.
“I am Andreev,” he dared to interrupt.
“My pleasure.” She lifted her hand and Andreev clasped it, swallowing her smaller frame with his.
He placed his lips against her palm and whispered across the fabric, “You are exquisite.”
Ebony curls were piled atop her head, one drifting across her right cheek, another thicker one sliding down her nape. “Thank you.”
“She is extraordinary.” Siel glowered at Andreev over Jen’s head. “I’m first.”
“This is true.” The Sentinel glanced between them. “Siel signaled for the first dance.”
“Actually,” Siel corrected, “I’m requesting a private alcove, so the lady and I can talk.”
“I would request a dance, thereafter.” Andreev could smell Jen’s perspiration through the white silk as he gently lowered and released her hand.
The Sentinel searched Jen’s face. “What does the lady want?”
Suddenly, adrenalin wafted from her nape, and Andreev nearly frowned. Did she want to be here? Did Jen desire a lifelong mate as much as every attending vampire in this room? Or was something more going on? Something amiss? His suspicions escalated as she tightened her wrap around her shoulders, shielding her back from his gaze.
“I can’t dance to this music, in this dress anyway,” she said on a slow exhale, her creamy breasts nearly spilling over the ballgown’s tight confines.
“I’ll help you,” Andreev pressed. “None will be the wiser.”
“Very well.” She nearly white knuckled her silk wrap as it slid a fraction lower and directed her Sentinel, “I’ll meet with both vampires.”
The Sentinel shook his head in agreement and gestured to the first alcove to the left. It was free of guests and visible to all attenders, though conversations were warded for discretion.
Siel winked at her as he started to lead her away, but Jen stopped and pressed her fingers on Andreev’s forearm. “I won’t be long. I hope you’ll wait.”
Andreev felt as though he’d been waiting a lifetime for her. All the breath left his lungs when he agreed, “I will.”
Syon glared at Jenny, fighting to keep his smile. When they reached the alcove, he said, “After you, my lady.”
“Thank you.” Her smile was off when she settled on the red velvet settee nestled between black drapes.
Syon checked the miasma surrounding them twice. A faint bubble protruded outward, sort of like an old-fashioned phone booth. But he trusted it about as much as he trusted anything, which was nil. He leaned down and pressed his lips against her ear. “Watch what you say for a few minutes so I can see if this miasma holds. Close your eyes and pretend you’re enthralled by me.”
Unfortunately, Syon didn’t have to pretend much to be enthralled with Jenny. His balls pulsated every time she neared him.
She leaned closer, lifting her hands to his shoulders. “If I act like this with you”— Jenny pressed the pointed heel of her shoe into the top of his booted foot — “the others will expect me to climb all over them, too.”
“One day you’re going to go too far with that mouth of yours.” His hands itched to turn her over his knee and spank her so hard... Right then he grew hard between his legs, his zipper straining against the rage of his cock. It was a savage pain — as though he’d popped a thick vein down the center of his erection, and any other time he would give in to it.
Relish it.
While savoring the most gorgeous ass he’d ever seen in all his years. Yes, even with her fresh scars her ass was a sight to behold.
To further antagonize his dick, he nicked her earlobe with the tip of his right fang. She jumped ever so slightly and came down brutally with that damned pointy heel. “You’re breaking their
rules.”
“A nip... doesn’t count.” Syon relished the tangy drop of her blood on his tongue. “Have I mentioned how much I love your flavor?”
“Only a thousand times,” Jenny said as she turned to his ear, so no one could read her lips. “Just so you know, I found out you had only to feed from me once, to track me. So the additional three feedings? You owe me, Commander. You owe me big.”
“I’ll give you big,” he purred. “We both know you enjoyed those feedings as much as I did.”
Was it her fault the endorphins jacked up her arousal? “You’re fucked up.”
“Sometimes.” His hand found her throat, his fingers tightening slightly around the delicate column. Oh, to mark her there so no other could drink from her... Syon had to slow his roll, remember why he was in attendance this night. This was an investigation! The miasma still in place, he asked, “You have no idea how difficult it is to get in here. Why did you send for me when you endanger this mission by doing so?”
“A Gryph is endangering my mission for me,” she spat, wrapping her fingers around his hand and trying to push him away. He wouldn’t budge. “You must do something. The winged bastard is hellbent on revenge.”
He thought of Jenny’s scars, the massive injuries she’d acquired during the rogue Gryph’s attack on the werwolves’ Sanibel Island compound. If anyone deserved revenge, it was Jenny, not a Gryph.
“Why, Jenny?” He dreaded hearing the answer. “Why does he seek vengeance of you?”
When she stayed quiet, he gripped her chin, preventing her from turning away. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“I killed his brother.”
In the immortal world, in which they lived, this sort of thing should never have shocked Syon. But it did, especially coming from this delicate creature. But he had no time to press for details since, in his peripheral vision, he saw that his time was up, Jenny’s Sentinel heading their way. “Little werewolf, quickly, what is this Gryph’s name?”
A tear slipped down her cheek. “Niall Donn.”
“Did you say, Niall Donn?”
“Your private time is over,” said the Sentinel, cutting off Jenny’s reply.
Syon discretely wiped her tear. “I would meet with the lady again, in a few days.” He kissed Jenny’s cheek. “Perhaps, I could better sway her to choose me, at that time.”
Jenny smiled tightly. “I’ll consider this, thank you.”
Syon squeezed her hand in assurance. But for the first time since they’d brought Jenny into this investigation, he wasn’t so sure he could reassure her of anything. At least, not if it involved Niall Donn.
Chapter 15
“You seem upset,” Andreev speculated, his feet leading hers around the dance floor.
“Let’s just say I find Siel lacking, and leave it at that.”
“Then,” he smiled, the chandeliers illuminating the gold in his eyes, “I am encouraged.”
“And a fantastic dancer,” she praised. “I can’t believe I’m finishing up my first waltz while actually enjoying it.”
“Oh, you are quite young.”
She shrugged. “But old enough to know what I want.”
“Some vampires in attendance wouldn’t find that intriguing,” Andreev explained as he spun her by the small orchestra. “They would prefer shrinking violets.”
Andreev was a striking vampire, but he wasn’t her vampire. She tried not to glance across the room again, but it proved impossible not to look at Searlas. Just tonight, he�
��d licked her pussy, loving her without taking anything in return, but her promise that he was hers for eternity. She chewed her lip, hoping that eternity started sooner rather than later. Jenny needed to get on with her life — with Searlas. “Shrinking violet or bore in the bedroom, what’s the difference?”
A devilish smile flashed. “How would you know about such things?” He whirled them by the next alcove, and Jenny lost her breath. Not due to her damaged reflexes but because of what she saw. There, talking to a bevy of beautiful females, was Niall Donn.
Niall lifted his head, locking gazes with Jenny, and the impact nearly sent her reeling. Dressed in all black — this time a tuxedo almost as dark as his wings, only shinier — his blacker than midnight eyes traveled from her intricately tied knot of ebony hair, down the slope of her throat, then back up to her lips, contemplating them so intently she knew he was thinking about their earlier kiss.
So was Jenny.
Dammit.
Adding to her irritation, she couldn’t help but lick her lips, her tongue having a mind of its own. A muscle jumped in his jaw before Niall’s eyes dropped, hooding. Next thing she knew, he pushed himself off the column and took a step forward.
Way to go on thwarting the Gryph’s interest, she internally berated. Just get caught ogling him.
“When I received a personal invitation from Maxim, I was … looking for a human,” Andreev admitted, slightly flustered.
Jenny blinked away from Niall. “Excuse me?”
“Well, I had no intention of wedding any creature of your species, or even mine. And definitely not a Habaline,” he added as a quick afterthought. “So that pretty much left me to choose from a human.”
“I’m flattered.”
“Forgive me.” With a slight bow of his head, he explained, “I had hopes of assimilating more into human society. You know, getting away from the drama and death that taints our world.”
Right then, Jenny realized this vampire had suffered tragedy. Though it was unaccepted behavior in any immortal faction, she asked the obvious, “Why not find a human on your own?”
